Chapter 20: Good Company

  Although Vanderborn had teleported them to his office, Ambrose had to make his own way back. After walking down several flights of stairs and the entirety of the campus, he made it in time to hear the crowd scream their heads off. He paused at the entrance, heart sinking as he understood what had happened. The talk in the office took a while, as did the walk. He missed the match.

  His fears were confirmed when he ran in and saw Raeva limping out of the arena with the help of Luthor and Jessica. Raeleq stood in the center holding his massive club and bellowing in joy.

  “Damn,” he said. There went one of his own wagers, down the drain. That meant he had to take Raeleq more seriously. With Jessica’s gift, he was confident he could do it, but it would have been nice to see the fight and get more information to strategize with. Once again, Vanderborn managed to punish him in ways he didn’t expect.

  Rather than linger and watch the next fight, Ambrose went to the infirmary, where Jessica and Luthor stood guard over their friend on the cot.

  “Look who’s here,” Raeva said in a wheezy, raspy voice. “Looks like you might get that rematch afterall.”

  His eyes widened. “How the hell did he beat you? I was like ninety percent sure you’d win.”

  She started to answer, but her breath hitched and turned into a coughing fit. Jessica got her some water, while Luthor said, “She spent some time dodging, waiting for the next hand, and [Reggie] got her in the chest with a kick. The healer’s getting a potion for the bone damage, but she’ll be fine. Other than her pride.”

  “Pride, hah,” she said in her weak whisper. “I’m proud of him. Ransas win.”

  For the first time that he could remember, Ambrose felt a tiny stab of jealousy. His own siblings were as awful as he was, in their own unique way. His brother resented him for having a knack for magic, and his younger sister loved to mock every perceived weakness. What was it like having a sister who actually liked you?

  “Ransas win,” he agreed. “For now, at least. First Jessica, and now Raeleq. What a good day for upsets! Hey Luthor, maybe you’ll stand a chance against me in a couple days.” And just like that, he slipped back into his usual role.

  No one rose to the bait, but the healer came in with a chalky white potion in his hands. “Here it is. Be warned, this is going to hurt and taste awful, but you should be back on your feet in under an hour.”

  “Thanks,” Raeva rasped. She popped the cork out and raised it to her nose. Judging by her expression, the smell was more unsettling than bad. She took a deep breath and chugged it. The more she drank, the worse her distress on her face became.

  “There you go, it’s over now,” said the healer. He took the bottle, then addressed Luthor. “Make sure she sits still for at least half an hour before you take her home. This is critical, and her bones could heal wrong if she moves around too much.”

  “I will keep her steady and still,” said Luthor with a nod. The healer patted his shoulder and went back to his office.

  “Oof, this does not feel good,” Raeva said, reaching to touch her chest.

  Jessica grabbed her hand and pulled it away. “None of that. Fifteen minutes. Just grin and bear it.”

  “Then I’ll take my leave,” said Ambrose with a smirk. “Sitting around, hearing you moan in pain sounds miserable.

  Raeva laughed and then winced. “Find Raeleq. Tell him I’ll honor our deal for tonight’s dinner. Come with us.”

  A snarky refusal came to his lips, but then he paused. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” Jessica looked at him funny.

  Luthor noticed it too. “Nothing funny or mean to say?”

  Ambrose shrugged. “I’m tired from having to listen to you and the headmaster thinking you know me so well. I’ll find your brother and tell him, and then I’ll decide from there.”

  “Be there,” Raeva insisted, breathing deeply through the pain.

  While the idea of a mystery dinner didn’t quite appeal to Ambrose, it would be a good time to gather information, and maybe push the Ransas into overindulgence to hurt their future performances. The problem with that was the risk of his own propensity for excess getting in the way, but with the stress of the fights, it sounded appealing.

  Raeleq waited where they always did, in front of a statue of a roaring dragon at the front of the campus. When he saw Ambrose, his dark eyes narrowed, but he put a pleasant smile on. “Ambrose. Tomorrow, I’m going to pay you back for a lot of insults.”

  “I’m sure you are,” Ambrose returned just as pleasantly. “I honestly am worried more about you than Molly. Well, about your pet dinosaur. Not that I’ll have trouble killing it, but you’re going to have to worry about my special ace in the hole.”

  “And what’s that?”

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  Ambrose grinned. “My unstoppable imp, of course.”

  Raeleq laughed, one of those surprised bubbles of uninhibited delight. “Yes, it is ferocious indeed.” His eyes slid past Ambrose to where he came from. “Where’s my sister? She said to meet here.”

  “She sent me to tell you that she needs to heal a little longer, but that she’ll go where you choose for dinner.” He thought about it for a second, then added, “She also said for me to come, and that you would treat me to drinks all night long.”

  The big man’s face broke out into a wide, friendly grin. “Did she, now? Well, I guess it can’t be helped. Hope you like Bedamin cuisine.”

  That gave him pause. “Am I going to spend the entire night on the toilet because you people make everything spicy?”

  “It’s possible,” Raeleq admitted. “It would make tomorrow’s match more interesting.”

  “Excellent. The hotter the better. Lead the way.”

  Ambrose stayed about half a step behind Raeleq as they went to the far south side of town, where there was a small population of savannah Bedamin, mixed in with the various assimilated people from all over Amaria. It was the type of neighborhood his parents would never be caught dead wandering. Maybe that’s what made it more appealing. It was the safest form of rebellion possible.

  The place Raeleq chose was a wide, open hall with eight large, round tables equal distance from each other. The smell of simmering, spicy meats clung to the air, eye and mouth-watering. It was still early, and there were only a handful of people, but the woman working the front recognized Raeleq immediately. “You won your match! Good, good, we’ve prepared quite the feast for you. How many will there be again?”

  “About eight of us, I think,” he said. “And can we get a couple of ales? My friend is apparently thirsty, and it’s on me to show good hospitality.”

  “You got it, sweetie,” she said, bowing her head and filling two steins from a keg.

  Ambrose was baffled. “Why on earth would you call me your friend? How long have I spent making fun of you? What is going on with everyone?”

  Raeleq shrugged and sat at the nearest table. He was as tall sitting as Ambrose was standing. “Everyone is my friend until proven otherwise. I don’t want enemies if I can avoid them. And Luthor wants you on the team. That’s good enough for me.”

  “Why though?” Ambrose pressed, getting increasingly bothered. “What in our history has made me seem like I’d join a group of wannabe crusaders? My services will go to the highest bidder. I’m not going to protect or do good things like the rest of you. I’m likely going to be an assassin, and maybe even hired to take one of you out, if the good Commander Graves pokes the wrong bear.”

  The waitress eyed them, and slid two steins over the bar. Ambrose took them and handed one to Raeleq without thinking about it. The wild wizard toasted him and took a long, rapturous drink. “Gods that’s good. I like to imagine my ancestors watching me closely, jealous of my ability to enjoy such food and drink. They cheer me on and tell me to have as much as I like while I’m alive.”

  Ambrose stared at him. “What the hell does that have to do with my question?”

  “Nothing, just a thought.” Raeleq took another deep drink. His dark eyes had crinkles around the edges from smiling too much. “But maybe all of those are reasons Luthor wants you. Better the hateful imp you know on your side than the devil you don’t know, on the other guy’s side.”

  “That’s not how the saying goes,” Ambrose said, rubbing his temples. He drank as well, and perked up a little. At least if he was going to be confused by the people around him, he’d enjoy some free beer. “I still don’t see what’s in it for me.”

  The door to the restaurant opened, and the rest of their class trickled in.

  “Well,” said Raeleq, “for one, you get to work with friends, and maybe keep your soul.”

  “Why do you people insist that we’re friends?” Ambrose groaned.

  “Why do you keep joining us for food and drinks?” Raeleq shot back. “Relax and enjoy. It’s good food and company! No need to ruin your pleasure with doubt.”

  As conflicted as Ambrose was, it turned out to be true. Bedamin food was largely stewed meats and vegetable dishes in savory, salty sauces. It came with thin bread to break apart and sop everything up. Eating with his hands didn’t sit well with him, but the explosion of flavors made it more than worth having to request extra napkins.

  “It was a close match,” Raeva said, partway into the meal. The rasp in her voice was gone. She sat on Ambrose’s left, with Raeleq on his right. “If I had another five seconds, I would’ve had it. I feel a lot worse for Ambrose now.”

  They laughed, including him. “I don’t have the most humiliating defeat, so it’s okay. Let’s raise a toast to Jessica, a natural born killer.”

  “Oh no.” The girl in question covered her face and shrank. She tried to pretend she wasn’t pleased by the end of the duel, but she wasn’t fooling anyone.

  Everyone but Girard and Molly toasted. They weren’t particularly happy with the rest of the group, but there had always been a schism in the class. It wasn’t exactly a two sided rivalry so much as a natural pair of cliques that had popped up, with Ambrose floating somewhere in the middle of them.

  “I’m pretty pleased with all of the duels,” Luthor said in his usual quiet, steady voice. “We’re all putting in some good showings. Even if we can’t all make it to fourth year, I feel we’ve all proven ourselves worthy and capable wizards.”

  The restaurant seemed to quiet down after that, until Ambrose groaned out loud. “God, you make it sound so damned stiff and unappealing. Let me enjoy the prospect of not seeing some of you again after this.”

  He smiled at the round of boos and thrown bread. He caught one piece from Raeva and used it to scoop up some leftover lamb and eat it.

  Raeleq leaned back and patted his belly. “This is a good night. Over the next two days, I’m going to remain undefeated. This will be a great honor for the Ransa family, and for me. When we graduate, we’ll have the proof we need that the Bedamin aren’t a conquered people, we’re thriving. Amaria won’t hold us forever.”

  Alarm filled Ambrose, and he looked around. He wasn’t alone. Molly, Girard, and Kim were aghast. Saying something like that was borderline treasonous, and getting overheard by the wrong person was likely to get them a threatening talk, at the very least. Was that what they were after with their little group?

  What the hell would Ambrose, a full blooded Amarian from an old family, want with rebellion or revolution? Asking him was foolish, saying that was foolish. They were all a bunch of fools! He tried to hide his reaction by drinking, finishing off his third ale. His head swam pleasantly, and he vowed to stop after just one more.

  “You know, if I turned you in, I think I would win by default,” he said. All eyes were on him, and he wondered if speaking up was a bad idea.

  “I know,” said Raeleq with a strange serenity. “But you won’t. It’s going to be a good match.”

  It was weird, having Raeleq of all people get him.

  “On that,” said Ambrose, “I completely agree.” He picked up and ate one last piece of bread. “So, I guess, may the better man win.”