“This is where the understudies train the apprentices,” said Abelard. “There aren’t enough masters in the Magisien body, so we delegate what we can.”
So many explanations. After the latest long-winded speech from Abelard in front of several dozen adolescents, by now, Kai must have mastered the art of tuning him out, a vital skill Anzi too possessed. She believed in the great strength and glory of the Imperial City—even now despite recent doubts—but she didn’t put on performances for its sake. The elderly mage, on the other hand, had waxed poetic about the storied history of the Empire’s mage class and its renown throughout the land for the last half-hour.
No one liked his speeches. Anzi was an outsider, but the practiced, dead-eyed stares of all the students at their desks were proof enough. Oza hadn’t liked him either. At least, he hadn’t…the last time they had spoken.
“And for the chieftain’s pleasure, we will be going down and doing some demonstrations. Up, everyone.”
Kai looked
