Lights blazed in the kitchens and dining halls. Most students were still at dinner, though a few had begun walking back to their dormitories, chatting and calling to friends across the commons in all the languages of the Seven Realms. Others trickled down the main road toward the river, unburdened by schoolwork, since classes hadn’t started.

“What are these buildings?” Raisa asked, pointing.

“This is the Mystwerk side of the river,” Amon said. He gestured to an elaborate stone building that sprawled over several acres. “That’s Mystwerk Hall, the oldest building in the academy. Supposedly the academy was founded when a wizard built a hut on the riverbank and began taking in apprentices.”

Raisa studied Mystwerk Hall, tilting her head back and taking in the massive bell tower. Was Micah Bayar somewhere inside?

How long had Micah waited for her at the West Wall? Had he given up his plans to come to Oden’s Ford in order to hunt for her?

They passed elaborate herb gardens quilted with flowers, some familiar, some not.

“Those are the healer’s gardens,” Amon said, noticing Raisa’s interest. “People come here from all over to train as healers and to be treated in the Healer’s Hall.”

Ahead, a stone bridge arched high over the water, lined with shops and vendor stalls, most shuttered for the night. The taverns were still open, and clusters of students spilled onto the street.

“The bridge and the shops along Bridge Street are kind of a borderland, where students from both sides mingle,” Amon said. He pointed at Raisa with his gloved hand. “So you need to stay off Bridge Street.”

Amon led the way onto the bridge. Raised voices poured out of an open tavern door to the right, followed by two students locked in a wrestling match. One wore a dun-colored uniform, the other red wizard robes. More students spilled out of the tavern and joined the rainbow of House colors.

“Must be a philosophical disagreement of some kind,” Amon said, carefully circling the mob.

“What about the Peace?” Raisa asked.

Amon laughed. “The provost guards handle fights between students.” He pointed toward three stern-looking men in drab gray uniforms striding across the street behind them, making for the struggling students.

“They’re thick out here, especially after dark, and you go before the rector if you get caught,” Amon said. “Serious or repeat offenders get booted from the academy, and there’s no appeal. Students usually try to work things out themselves.”

They reached the far end of the bridge and descended into the streets on the Wien House side. The buildings here were of newer construction, though still hundreds of years old, built of the same gray stone that must have come from a quarry nearby. The dormitories were less elaborate, more utilitarian, yet there was a stark, simple beauty about the architecture that appealed to Raisa.