The next bell and a half were a series of excruciating revelations. At the end of it, Jarl sat stunned in his seat. Mirja brought him back to the living.
"What?"
"I think Mistress Varja wants you to come forward," she said nodding down at the podium.
Jarl nodded. He closed his eyes and tried to get rid of the pictures of insides of people's bodies. To no avail. There were just some things that could not be unseen. He rose on stiff legs and wandered down the stairs to the podium. It seemed like the rest of the class had left long ago. As he approached the podium Mistress Varja looked up. Jarl was too exhausted to flinch and just looked back at her.
"So, what should I call you? Prince Jarl?"
"Just Jarl is fine," Jarl let out in a whisper.
Mistress Varja nodded. Then she smiled a little smile that Jarl did not know what to make of.
"I hope that the first class was as you had expected."
Without thinking about it, Jarl nodded.
"Good, good," Varja said and then looked at him intently for a while.
Jarl blinked. Her eyes shifted color for just a second. Then again. And again. Blue. White. Yellow.
"As I thought," Mistress Varja sighed. "This will require some work. Report to my office at five bells. How old are you by the way?"
"Twenty-one," Jarl said.
"So, not a boy then," Mistress Varja said smiling. "Dismissed," she said turning around.
Jarl stood there for almost a drop until he realized that she was done with him. He turned around and walked off. Mirja was standing close to the first row of benches and grabbed his arm as he passed by.
"Did you see that?" he asked.
"What?"
"Her eyes. The way they shifted color."
Mirja looked up at him with a concerned expression on her narrow face. Then she shook her head.
"I think I need some sleep."
Mirja nodded.
She brought him back to his room and stayed while he lay down for a little while. When he woke up the room smelled of grilled chicken. He sat up yawning and a plate was pressed to his stomach. He looked up at Sigrid.
"Eat," the Sister said. "You will meet Mirja at fifteen drops before second bell."
"What? Why?" Jarl said groggily.
He had just had an awful dream that included a dismembered woman. Then he blinked and realized that it was not a dream. It was that seventh damned Matrimancy class.
"Your Introduction to Elemancy class starts at second bell. You will not be late."
Jarl raised an eyebrow.
"What, are you my mother now?"
He later realized that he did not actually see Sigrid close the distance between them. All he knew was that suddenly he had two finger-long daggers scraping against his neck.
"You. Will. Not. Be. Late."
Each word came with a trickle of blood. He almost nodded but stopped himself just in time.
The sun shone through the red domes as if they were not there. Jarl looked up at them once more and then shook his head. They must be visible to someone else. He touched his neck. He could almost feel the cold steel of Sigrid's blades still against his skin and shivered. If only his father had let him bring Tilda instead. By the ravenfolk, he missed that girl.
"Sleep well?" Mirja said as she sidled up to him as they entered the Elemancy building.
"Not really," Jarl said just as he walked straight into the person in front of him.
Jarl was a well-built young northerner which led to the noisy trip and fall of the man in front of him. The man on the floor turned over and just as Jarl was about to apologize and help him up, he saw the face of the Idiot. Jarl couldn't help but laugh. The man on the floor turned beet red and scrambled to his feet putting his face two inches from Jarl's. The Idiot was a head shorter but made up for it in fury.
"I don't know who in the seventh you are but if you do not get out of my way right now I will make you regret it," Jarl said with a growl that made the other man step back.
The Idiot brushed himself off and raised his finger to Jarl, saying something, probably profane, in Imperial.
"Whatever," Jarl said pushing him to one side.
These southerners were scrawny. No wonder they had never been able to invade the north despite numerous attempts. Jarl and Mirja left the cursing man behind.
"Did he say anything interesting?" Jarl asked as they entered the amphitheater.
"Something about using your guts to tie you to a tree."
"Figured it was something along those lines," Jarl said smiling as he sat down.
A surprisingly muscular man entered the stage and began lecturing in Imperial without taking attendance. Jarl sighed. He looked up towards the door where Sigrid was standing. She pointed one small dagger towards him, and he looked at the teacher again. Mirja was furiously taking notes next to him. Jarl looked around the room and located the Idiot. He was sitting with some people that Jarl vaguely recognized from before. They had the same stupid haircuts as the Idiot and once in a while one of them threw a glare his way. Jarl did his best to ignore them. At least the theatre was large enough so it would be easy not to have to sit next to them. Mirja poked him. He looked at her and then down at the teacher who was looking at him.
"Master Cerdic addressed you," she said in a whisper.
The broad-shouldered Master said something and Mirja replied. Then he made the same kind of gesture as Mistress Varja had done the day before. This time Jarl was certain he could see faint traces of light making a roughly octagonal shape then the dim light appeared around the professor's mouth.
"So, we have another of Tordgrim's line among us. Would you please stand up?"
Jarl hesitated for a blink before he stood up.
"You have inherited your ancestors build I can see. As I said before. The power of a Geomancer is always proportional to his or her physical strength, therefore, no misogyny intended, men are almost always superior Geomancers. However, for the finer manipulations agility and dexterity is of utmost importance and the greatest artificers in history have all been women."
Master Cerdic paused and looked at Jarl. Then he waved him down.
"I'm intrigued," the Master said as Jarl made his way down the aisle. "I never met your ancestor; he died a century before I joined. But I have heard things. Stand here."
The Master indicated a spot at the center of the podium and Jarl made his way there. He looked up at the assembled students. They were all looking at him. He was used to being looked at from all the formal settings back in Nordheim, but it still felt slightly weird. The Master picked up a fist sized rock from a table and held it out towards Jarl.
"Put your hand against the rock."
Jarl did as he was told, and the Master released is grip slightly and the rock was held between their two open hands.
"Feel it."
Jarl blinked. He did feel the rock against his palm.
"Feel it," the Master repeated.
Jarl was about to open his mouth when he felt it. He felt it. The rock was pushing against him. But not his palm. Against him.
"Good. Now push. Not with your hand. With your spirit," Master Cerdic said nodding.
Jarl drew a breath. The audience was gone. All he could see, or feel, was the rock. It was hanging in front of him. He pushed. There was a sharp crack and the rock burst into a thousand tiny fragments that fell onto the podium in a clatter. The Master nodded approvingly.
"Definitely better than your uncle. Horrible, horrible man that," the Master said shaking his head. "Now, back to your seat."
Master Cerdic turned to the assembly.