Bryony gave me a quizzical look. “What did you do?” she whispered.
“Nothing,” I admitted.
She frowned, no doubt confused, but didn’t attempt to question me further in the middle of class. I didn’t interrupt any of my year mates’ compositions that lesson, my mind distracted with what I had discovered inside Alvin’s working.
Already the exact knowledge on plant growth I had so easily grasped in the moment was fading away. If I had been able to access power normally, I couldn’t have replicated his efforts. But something of the feel of his composition lingered.
I had stumbled onto something valuable. While I would have to think carefully about small ways I could adjust instructor compositions that wouldn’t be detectable, I could also learn without diverting them at all.
Two days later, Amalia announced in our discipline class that the time had finally arrived for us to start visiting other classes. I had always known that was the eventual intention, but the timing couldn’t have been more perfect for my purposes.
No one was interested in me, of course. As far as they were concerned, I was trailing along just to observe. But I felt almost euphoric at the access our visits would give me to expert mages across a range of disciplines.
When Amalia led us into the first class, a number of unfamiliar faces greeted me. I hadn’t expected the class to be so big until I remembered that discipline classes were mixed across the year levels. It was easy to forget when Bryony and Tyron were the only energy mages currently at the Academy.
Amalia had chosen to start with the wind working class, and an undercurrent of excitement threaded through the room. Not every group of trainees who studied at the Academy got the chance to train with energy mages.
The wind worker instructing their class deferred to Amalia, and she explained that we would be working with this class for two weeks. To start, the class would watch Bryony and Tyron compose and then work an energy composition. Isabelle had already had the chance to experience receiving some of their energy in our arena battles, but the trainees from other year levels would each be given such an opportunity.
In return, Bryony and Tyron would observe some of the specialist compositions the class had been learning. The two energy mage trainees would then work together with the class to develop ways the ability of the energy mages could benefit the compositions of the class.
“Surely that’s obvious,” one of the fourth years drawled. “We’ll be able to complete much more powerful compositions.”
Amalia gave him such a withering look that he sank back into his chair. I had to stifle a smile. Clearly this class had yet to be exposed to Amalia and her teaching style.
“Certainly that is one benefit—the most obvious one. The true rewards will come if you are capable of looking beyond the obvious.” It was clear from her tone that she didn’t expect such a feat from him.
When she looked at the rest of the class, no one else said a word.
My role in the lessons was to sit in the back and observe, which perfectly suited my purposes—as would all the demonstrations apparently planned for the next few days. But since they started with Bryony and Tyron, I didn’t immediately interfere.
Even Amalia understood they couldn’t compose endlessly, however, so it would take a number of days to produce enough energy compositions for all the wind worker trainees. Thankfully for me, that meant by our second combined class, the wind worker demonstrations had begun.
To give the class full rein to work, we met out in the grounds. I caught a glimpse of the grower class working in the extensive Academy garden beds, but Amalia led us past both the training yards and the gardens to a large stretch of open ground on the far side of the Academy.
Several outbuildings sheltered on the edge of the wall, but a substantial patch of clear space stood between them and the Academy itself. I had never noticed this part of the Academy before, perhaps because there was nothing here of any particular visual interest.
“It’s best if we have the Academy building between us and the stables,” Isabelle said to me quietly when she saw me looking around. “Captain Vincent doesn’t like it when we terrify his horses.”
No doubt wanting to impress us, the wind worker instructor began by composing an enormous whirlwind, which roared around the confined space without so much as ruffling our hair. After that she had a couple of her fourth years produce first lightning and then rain.
By the time they had completed the workings, I was almost bouncing with excitement, eager to connect with one of them and see what it felt like on the inside. I chose to start with the instructor, not confident to fiddle with such a powerful working if it might not be entirely stable to begin with.
When she explained that she would next show us the whirlwind again, but in a smaller form, I was initially disappointed. But as soon as I whispered the words to take control of the working, all such feelings flew away.
A smaller whirlwind might look less impressive, but it was actually harder to compose because it required more control. Once the air started spinning, it wanted to draw more air into it and grow in size. I didn’t try to change anything about it, merely releasing it to do its pre-shaped job and marveling at the expertise required to safely complete such a working. My mind filled with an instinctive understanding of not only the wind dynamics of the funnel itself but all the flow on impacts on temperature, weather, even cloud formation. A responsible wind worker didn’t interfere with the weather until they understood the full consequences of their actions.
When the whirlwind died out, the power dissipating, disappointment filled me. I had admired the intricacies of our composition instructor’s workings, but they were nothing to the feeling of pure power from holding the weather itself in your grasp.
In the classroom, Bryony had been ushered to the front, but now that we were standing in a clump outside, she had stubbornly stuck to my side. When I finally regained proper awareness of my surroundings, I found her frowning at me.
“Are you sure that was a good idea?” she asked.
I waved her words away. “Nothing went wrong, did it? I wish you could feel it, Bree. It’s incredible.”
She didn’t look convinced, but I was already concentrating on the instructor’s words, wondering what compositions she might have the class demonstrate next.
The fourth years were given the most access to Bryony and Tyron, presumably because the younger trainees had two more years after this one to work with the energy mages. It was fascinating to feel the difference in the compositions of the fourth years compared to the second years. Their workings had noticeably more power and control, but they still couldn’t match those of the instructors.
After our two weeks with the wind workers, Amalia moved us on to the creators, and then the growers, which involved spending most classes out in the gardens, despite the increasing cold. This new access to compositions proved almost absorbing enough to overshadow thoughts of Darius in my mind, and I could feel my understanding of not only my own ability but compositions in general growing by the day.
Bryony never sat with me in these classes—she was always the center of attention, while I lingered unobtrusively in the back. When she did glance back my way, an unhappy expression on her face, I always waved her off. This was her moment to shine, and I was too distracted to feel lonely or overlooked anyway.