“Thank you, Morley,” Askell said. “So we’ve seen that the tactics used by Alger Waterlow, known as the Demon King, were both innovative and devastatingly effective.”

Some of the students made the sign of Malthus to protect against demon magic.

Askell rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t rely on Saint Malthus to protect you from magical attack,” he said. “Now, then. Some scholars suggest Waterlow may have traveled to Carthis and trained under sorcerers there. I can find no primary sources to support that. We do know that just prior to the Breaking, he was well fortified on Gray Lady with Queen Hanalea and an arsenal of weapons. He might have held off the armies of the Seven Realms indefinitely, save that he was betrayed by someone inside.”

Askell looked up from his notes. “Surround yourselves with trustworthy people,” he said. “If you don’t, all the weaponry and tactics in the world can’t save you.”

When the lecture was over, Raisa collected her notes and stuffed them into her carry bag. Then walked up the aisle to where Askell was gathering his materials together.

“That was excellent, Master Askell,” Raisa said, smiling. “Thank you. I learned so much. You have an amazing knowledge of a topic that we don’t talk about at home.”

Askell stopped shuffling papers and gazed at her for a long moment. “Thank you, Newling Morley,” he said dryly. “Suddenly it all seems worthwhile.”

Raisa blinked at him. “Sir,” she said. “Have I done something wrong? To make you dislike me?”

Askell sighed. “Newling Morley, dislike implies a certain degree of interest, a certain engagement or focus, as on an adversary.” He shook his head. “No. I don’t dislike you particularly. Nor do I like you.”

Raisa held Askell’s gaze for a long moment. “Thank you, sir,” she said finally. “I am reassured.” She saluted him, her fist pressed to her chest, turned, and walked out of the hall.

At least, if it ever came to war between Arden and the Fells, Ardenine arrogance would work in her favor.

C H A P T E R  E L E V E N

MYSTWERK
HOUSE

Han and his party finally reached Oden’s Ford one afternoon in late September, four weeks after classes had begun. They entered the eastern gate of the academy in a driving rain, on the Wien House side. The guards at the gate gave them directions to the Mystwerk House quad on the far side of the bridge.

The main road wound its way around and between the buildings of the academy. Han scanned his surroundings with interest. As the bells in the temple towers bonged four o’clock, students in hooded rain cloaks burst from doorways, hurried down covered galleries, and splashed through puddles between the buildings. They all seemed to be in a hurry.