Arts, Sub-Nine of Proudfoot House, Corcoran
Brilliance Amadeo
An intermediate lesson in the Wundrous Art of Veil
Age of Endings, Tenth Wednesday, Spring of Nine
14:21–14:38
This one was a long shot, since Owain and Elodie weren’t named in the listing. But Morrigan had a strong feeling that Brilliance wasn’t going to be alone in a room teaching herself the Wundrous Art of Veil. So strong, in fact, that she skipped her Wednesday afternoon Undead Dialects lecture to find out. (It was only one class, she told herself, and it wasn’t as if her presence would be missed in the audience of a darkened lecture theatre.)
This ghostly hour was seventeen minutes long, and one of the few looping ones she’d seen. Morrigan didn’t think it could be called a ‘lesson’ as such. Ezra laid his hand on a wooden desk and stared at it in silence, concentrating hard, until his skin transformed, chameleon-like, to almost perfectly resemble the wood grain.
He and Brilliance both remained silent until the very end, when she smiled at him and said softly, ‘Well done, dear. You’re making progress. I’m proud of you.’
Ezra beamed back at her, his cheeks colouring slightly, clearly thrilled to have earned the praise.
Morrigan watched from the corner, trying to figure out why this particular moment had been dredged up from the annals of history. There wasn’t a lot of instructional value in watching two people sit in a quiet room for seventeen minutes. Perhaps whoever made this ghostly hour was simply as fascinated by the young Ezra Squall as she was.
How had this mild, happy, studious boy grown up into such a monster? Morrigan was certain that one day, if she watched him closely enough, his mask would slip. She’d see a shadow of the man he would become. He was in there somewhere.
And yet, she’d already begun to think of them as two different people. Ezra the boy and Squall the monster.
The looping ghostly hour would play forever instead of dissolving around her, so Morrigan had to find the tiny gap in the air and step back out again. When she emerged on the other side, she found a small, furry face looking up at her.
‘Hello, Morrigan,’ said Sofia pleasantly. ‘Shouldn’t you be in a lecture theatre on Sub-Six?’
‘I, er … yes.’ Morrigan had thought briefly about making up some lie, but then realised it was pointless. She gathered up a bit of boldness, opened her notebook and thrust it under Sofia’s nose, showing her the ghostly hours she’d copied down. ‘I’ve been looking for Ezra Squall.’
The foxwun didn’t blink or look away. ‘Yes, I thought as much. Conall said you’ve been spending a lot of extra time down here.’
‘You – oh.’ Morrigan felt all her defiance melt away, apparently unneeded. ‘Sorry.’
‘No need to be sorry.’ Sofia turned to leave Corcoran, motioning for Morrigan to follow her into the hallway. ‘This is your school, Morrigan. The rest of us – Conall, me, the Sub-Nine Academic Group, even Rook – we’re all just guests here. The School of Wundrous Arts belongs to Wundersmiths. It belongs to you, and so do the ghostly hours. They’re here to educate you, after all. We just don’t want you to wear yourself too thin.’
‘Why didn’t anyone tell me about Squall?’
‘We discussed it before you came, the three of us,’ Sofia admitted. ‘Conall had the measure of you much better than I did – he said you could handle it. But I thought it might be too frightening or distracting, if you realised there was so much of Squall still down here.’
‘So you took his name out?’
‘Heavens, no!’ said Sofia, scandalised. ‘We’d never deface The Book of Ghostly Hours. Professor Onstald deliberately omitted Squall from the book to protect it from scrutiny. He didn’t want the Elders to confiscate his life’s work … or worse, to destroy it. Everything Squall’s name touches turns to ashes.’
‘But the Elders must realise that Squall would be in some of the ghostly hours?’
‘You didn’t, until you saw him,’ Sofia pointed out. ‘I don’t think they want to know, really. It’s like Conall said: they ask us no questions and we tell them no lies.’
They walked for a bit in companionable silence towards the Sub-Nine entrance, before Sofia asked, ‘You really don’t find it spooky? Being in a room with him?’
Morrigan shrugged. ‘It’s not really like being in a room with him. He’s not much like the real Squall. Um, from what I’ve read,’ she finished, catching herself in time. She hadn’t told Sofia, Rook or