Vice Chancellor Quillen
Vice Chancellor Lucretia Quillen sits at her desk, efficiently finishing some correspondence as I arrive, motioning me in with a sharp flick of her hand. She’s Gardnerian, with straight black hair pulled into a tight bun, her dark tunic finely made.
Her office is located high up in one of the White Hall’s many towers, the diamond-paned windows providing a panoramic view of the lamp-lit University city.
I stare, amazed, at the breathtaking view of the entire valley and the mammoth Northern Spine beyond. It’s clearing outside, the gray clouds breaking up, stars pricking through. There’s a sea of domed Spine-stone roofs laid out before me, the cobbled streets like small paths from this height, a stone bridge below us connecting the third floor of the White Hall and another building.
All stone and so little comforting wood, I lament. But still, it’s beautiful.
It’s uncomfortably quiet, and I can make out the ticking of the clock that sits on the bookshelf behind the Vice Chancellor. There are framed maps of the Western and Eastern Realms hanging on the walls, as well as one of Verpax. A set of bookshelves below the windows holds a small library. The ceiling is a curved dome, much like the White Hall, and painted to resemble the night sky in a similar fashion.
I’m positively leaden, so exhausted I’m barely able to concentrate around a now-vicious headache.
The Vice Chancellor sets down her pen and regards me coolly over gold-wire spectacles. “You’ve had quite an eventful day, Mage Gardner,” she observes in a voice full of authority not easily questioned.
My pulse throbs against my skull. “It’s been very difficult.”
“Yes, I imagine it was.”
“I’ll be happier when my brothers get here...and it’ll be good to get some sleep.”
The Vice Chancellor hands me a sturdy necklace—a gold disc hanging from a linked chain. “This is your Guild insignia. It will get you into the Apothecary Archives.”
I turn the disc over in my hand and run my thumb along its bumpy design. Warm excitement wells inside me over my new status as an official Guild apprentice. I slip the chain over my head.
“You’re to meet with the Kitchen Mistress tonight,” she informs me levelly. “About your work assignment.”
I riffle through the papers Aislinn has given me and find the one detailing my labor assignment. I hold it out for the Vice Chancellor’s inspection. She gestures dismissively to indicate that she’s already familiar with the details and does not need to see it. I lower it back into the pile of parchment on my lap.
“I’m supposed to be living somewhere called the North Tower?” I mention tentatively.
“Ah, yes,” she says, turning briefly and pointing toward the windows behind her. “It’s past the University’s northern grounds, just beyond the horse stables. You can see it from here.”
I peer out. I can just make out a gloomy stone structure at the crest of a long hill, the open wilds visible at its back and the Northern Spine beyond.
“It looks like a guard tower,” I say, heavily disappointed, wistfully remembering the richly lit lodging houses Lukas and I passed on the way in.
The Vice Chancellor purses her lips. “You entered late, Mage Gardner. Our lodging houses were full. In any case, you won’t be alone. We placed you there with two other scholars.”
“Ariel Haven and Wynter Eirllyn?” I ask, having seen them listed as my lodging mates on the papers I’ve been given.
The Vice Chancellor’s eyes narrow at this, and a small smile twitches at the corner of her mouth. “Yes, they will be your lodging mates.”
“Are they Gardnerian?” I wonder. Wynter is a strange name. I’ve never heard it before.
She gives me a cryptic look—the same look my aunt gave me when she explained that Selkies are sometimes kept as pets.
“Ariel Haven is Gardnerian,” she replies slowly. “Wynter Eirllyn is Elfkin.”
An Elf. That’s unexpected, and despite my painful headache and aching wand arm, I find myself intrigued by the idea. I’ll be lodging with an Elf. “Oh,” is all I can think of to say.
The Vice Chancellor is still studying me closely as if she’s trying to figure something out. “Your aunt was hopeful that you would someday follow in the footsteps of your grandmother,” she says stiffly. “Apparently, this will not be the case.”
My disastrous wandtesting. Well, at least the truth is finally out. “I think, because I resemble her...”
“You look exactly like her,” she corrects sharply.
I’m thrown by her icy approach. “I’ve only seen paintings of her, and I was only three when she died, so...”
“So you have no clear image of her,” she says, cutting me off. “Unlike you, I remember her quite well.” She pauses a moment to stare at me, her lips pressed into a thin, tight line.
My brow creases in confusion. Why is she being so terse at the mention of my grandmother? Our greatest Mage. Our people’s Deliverer. Most Gardnerians worship her memory.
She stands up unexpectedly and gestures toward the door. “Very well, Mage Gardner. It would seem that it’s time for you to report for your labor assignment.”
For a moment I just sit there, blinking at her, then realize I’m been summarily dismissed. I gather up my papers and make my departure.