The man’s eyes slowly went wide, and his face turned a shade of pink that might have turned if I’d slapped him, which I was inclined to do. It wasn’t often that I used my noble birth to get what I wanted, but with a worm like this man, I would have been willing to say that I was the lover of the leader of an entire frontier settlement to get him to snap to it and take me seriously.
I didn’t know what I expected from the man, particularly when he stood up and leaned slightly toward me over the desk. Thank God he was about an inch shorter than me. Whatever I could have expected, it was not for him to narrow his eyes at me and say, “Kettering, you say? You’re late. We expected you a week ago. The course has already started.”
It was my turn for wide eyes. The man knew who I was.
“Of course,” he said, inching back and reaching for the edge of the desk, “you’ll have to prove that you are who you say you are to the dean, Magister Titus.”
He lifted up one side of the circular desk, which surprised me, as I hadn’t noticed the hinges, and stepped out from inside. He then let the desktop drop down with a loud crack.
“Wait here,” he said, narrowing his eyes, then marching off to the side of the room.
I scowled and hefted my pack higher on my shoulder, watching the man cross the room. So far, my time in the Old Realm had been pleasant and the people I’d met had been kind and helpful. I wondered if that stretch of luck was at an end and people throughout Royersford would be nasty like this or if it was just this one man.
Once he stepped into a room off to one side, I took a moment to look up and turn in a circle. The building I stood in truly was amazing. I didn’t think anything like this sort of construction was even possible on the frontier. It was just so vast, and at the same time, sturdy. The foyer where I stood was like a cloisters, but three stories tall. I was in the Old Realm to study healing, not architecture, but if there was a way to learn how to construct something on this grand a scale, I was certain Magnus would want to send someone to learn about it.
Then again, Magnus had grown up in the Old Realm. He knew all about its wonders, and yet, he’d still chosen to run away with Rurik to the frontier. Ludvig had been born here and still chose to move to the frontier as well, and the traveling family Uriah, Pasha, and I had met near Tesladom, and countless other people I didn’t know about, I was certain.
So what was it that could convince someone to leave the sort of architecture and convenience I’d seen so far since descending the mountains into Aktau for the relative backwardness of the frontier?
“Conrad Kettering?”
I whipped back to the room the young man had disappeared into to find him returning at the heels of two men, one taller and slightly older than the other. The men both wore simple clothing in the style of the Old Realm, but that appeared to be some sort of uniform or robe that sparked instant respect in me. The shorter of the two men wore his hair in a slicked-back, oiled style that seemed to compliment his slippery, condescending facial expression. He reminded me right away of a salamander.
It took a huge amount of self-control not to laugh. I would definitely be writing home to Dushka about the way the man looked as soon as I sat down to pen a letter telling him I’d reached my destination safely.
“I am Conrad Kettering,” I said, darting a quick, smug look to the young man, who looked as sour as ever.
“Can you prove that?” the salamander man asked.
I blinked. “You want me to prove I am who I say I am?”
The older man looked impatiently at the salamander man, but salamander came to a stop a few feet away from me and crossed his arms. “Yes,” he said.
I hadn’t expected this. Back home, I could have had any number of men vouch for my identity in any of the cities or settlements I visited. I didn’t know anyone here, though.
The only thing I could think to do was to set my pack down, open the flap, and search through until I found the wooden box containing my writing paper and pens. I set that on the desk, opened it, then took out the acceptance letter I’d been sent several months ago.
“Will this do?” I asked, showing the man the letter. I glanced to the older man, hoping he was Magister Titus, the dean, and not salamander man.
Salamander man took the letter and held it at arm’s length to read…which made me wonder about his eyesight.
“That doesn’t prove anything,” the young man said. “This one could have waylaid the real Conrad Kettering and robbed him, stealing the letter.”
I sent the man a frown, as if to ask him why in the world he thought I would fake something like my identity just to enter a healer’s course, and what was his problem anyhow?
The older man seemed to be on my side in the matter.
“Settle down, Lucius,” he said, taking the letter from salamander man and handing it back to me. “I believe he is who he says he is, although you’re a bit late.” He turned to me to say the last bit. “I am Magister Titus, dean of Royersford Healers’ College.”
I breathed a sigh of relief that I’d been right.
“I got here as soon as I could,” I told Magister Titus. “It’s a long way from Yacovissi.”
Magister Titus made a sound that might have been agreement, or maybe disapproval.
“You’ll need to catch up,” he said. “Although if the letter of recommendation that came with your application is any indication, you’re a clever lad, and catching up shouldn’t be too terribly difficult for you.”
I paused, cold prickles shooting down my back. “Letter of recommendation?” I asked. I hadn’t sent any such letter with me. I’d only given my application to Dushka, who said he would entrust it to someone heading toward a city, and that it would be put in the hands of a mail-carrier headed to the Old Realm. Five months later, I’d received a reply with an acceptance, but that was it.