Page 85 of Awakened Ash and Alchemy

“And that’s my cue to leave.” Picking up her soaked skirts, Angela followed the water trail down the corridor away from the classroom. She didn’t know who’d done it, but she was ever so grateful for the escape.

THIRTY-ONE

“What is going on in here?” Lord Gellar demanded as he and several of the Sworn Exarchs shimmered into the corridor that led to the classrooms for Magick School. The silver thread of news had pulled them from their meeting about magic breaching the wards.

Zarek hadn’t expected to find water pouring from the classroom ceiling in a steady cascade. It pooled across the stone floor and streamed into the corridor, where servants scrambled with cloths and buckets to contain the beginnings of a flowing creek.

“I’ve never seen that before.” Martar grinned, failing to hide his amusement as he extended a hand from the classroom’s open doorway and let droplets strike his palm, where his magick turned it into ice.

“Neither have I.” Gellar’s frown deepened with concern.

“It began without warning. All the students swear they didn’t do it.” The flustered professor stood before them, completely saturated.

Fifteen students stood trembling in a line against the corridor wall, their drenched tunics and regional dress colors plastered to their skin.

“Aren’t these rooms protected?” Condorr held his palm out as if to read the magick, then shrugged. “I can’t feel any form of magic within that room, but I can feel the wards holding.”

“And yet here we are.” Rocharde caught some of the water and tasted it. “It’s freshwater. This is proper rain. Cold, too.”

“No wonder the students are trembling,” Condorr murmured.

“Sure it’s not your presence and those shoulders doing that?” Rocharde teased, with Martar chuckling beside him.

“Could it be a spell?” Zarek asked the professor.

“I thought so at first. But I’ve tried countermeasures. The witches and sorcerers have as well.” The professor gestured toward the other teachers gathered in charcoal robes, their silver-threaded sleeves soaked, all in a huddle as if trying to solve a math problem. “Nothing stops it.”

Gellar turned to the students. “Who did this?”

No one spoke, as several lowered their heads.

“Zarek,” Gellar said quietly. “Read them.”

A visible ripple of fear moved through the line.

“Keep your heads down. Do not look up,” Zarek commanded. He had no desire to scorch young minds.

He focused on them one by one. Surface thoughts rose easily—confusion, fear, fragments of lesser pranks and guilty memories. Nothing like this.

“Their thoughts are clear,” he said calmly. “To press further would cause harm.”

“Please, Lord Gellar. We didn’t do it,” one student pleaded.

Martar gestured back toward the classroom. “Is this everyone?”

The professor hesitated. “Miss Duboise was here… but she was dismissed. I allowed her to leave for the afternoon.”

Gellar’s eyes flicked to Zarek.

Zarek understood the command.

“How is Miss Duboise progressing in your class, Professor?” Gellar asked mildly.

“Exceptional. She knows the material. Passed every assessment, but she seems… bored.”

The professor’s thoughts fell openly and remarkably quickly to Zarek’s magick for reading minds. “There were questions she asked you before the rain began… fire safety. Sprinklers. What would you do if a flame broke out?” Words about a mortal safety system.

Zarek broke the connection, leaving the professor to gasp for air and rub his temples.