He shook, and brought trembling fingers up to his forehead. “I could have been killed,” he said wonderingly, still staring at Yenni. “You saved me.”

She frowned. “Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

He stared at her for a few more moments. “Why indeed. But how in all creation could you simply catch a falling blade like that and hold it?”

Devon piped up. “Speed runes to catch the blade, pain ward runes to hold on to it as it cut into her skin, isn’t that right, Yenni Ajani?”

“Yes,” said Yenni, still pulling on pain ward.

Mainard shook himself as if coming out of a trance, and took in her bleeding hand. “Byen above! Get yourself to the infirmary posthaste before you faint from blood loss.”

“I’m not sure I can,” said Yenni, still pulling on pain ward. “I’m no longer a student here.”

Mainard squinted his eyes at her, rubbed his balding head. “Devon!” he barked. “Have you got the teaching assistant application with you?”

“Why, yes, Professor Mainard.”

“Give it here, I’ll sign it.”

Yenni gasped. “Truly?”

“Yes, yes,” he said, motioning for Devon to hurry.

Devon scrambled to fish the application out of his robe pocket and Mainard scribbled his name on it without even looking at it.

“Now go! Show that to the attendants if they give you any trouble.”

“Thank you, Professor,” said Yenni, even as she cradled her dripping hand to her chest.

“GO!” he thundered.

Devon grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her out of the office, and the two of them dashed for the infirmary.

Yenni sat on the edge of a narrow white bed. With no classes in session, all the other beds in the row were empty, the room quiet. Once Devon had concluded that she would be fine, he hurried off to file the application, ensuring no security would show up to escort her from her residence tomorrow. It was lucky indeed, praise Ib-e-ji, that she had noticed that dagger-like instrument, and that she had been able to use her runes to protect Mainard. Nothing less than saving the man’s life would have been enough to convince him of her worthiness to stay.

But as useful as her runes had been, her pain ward lasted only so long, and now the row of stitches along Yenni’s palm itched and burned, and the slices through each of her fingers stung. An ugly red pucker split her father’s rune, but it remained. Once a rune was set, it was set. Nothing short of cutting it out of her skin would destroy it, and even then, her people had accounts of captured warriors miraculously using runes their enemies had already carved from their flesh.