Beautiful and Broken

10.

There was no way to be late for breakfast at the base, because the sirens wailing in the corridors were loud enough to wake the dead. Half asleep I threw some clothes on and I stumbled to the chow hall, looking for coffee. Fedyor was already there, cheerful and seemingly well rested, sharing a table with Ivan.

"Altair", Fedyor greeted me with a beaming smile. "Did you sleep well? I'll grab you a coffee. Come, sit."

"Now look what the cat dragged in." Ivan obviously wasn't as happy to see me. "General Kirigan's latest little pet."

"That's rude, Ivan, stop it", Fedyor interjected.

"I'm nobody's pet, Ivan. I'm here on a field assignment from the Atlantis Council of Mages."

"Oh, are you sure? He's made a habit of it lately. First the Sun Summoner, now you, there's a pattern forming."

"I have nothing in common with your godforsaken Sun Summoner, I haven't even met the woman, for crying out loud." It seemed I have raised my voice a little more than intended, as the Grisha from other table were now staring in our direction.

"Is that so? I've heard you also summon light."

"All mages in Atlantis summon light, so that we don't trip in the dark. All of us also summon a fire to cook our dinner, heal each others wounds when we get hurt, and we do nasty things to people talking down to us."

I was readying myself to throw up a shield in a moment's notice, but nothing came. Instead Ivan surprised me with a genuine grin. He seemed to be one of those people who only took you seriously after you stood your own in their pissing contest. Fedyor and him did their best to demonstrate the saying that opposites attract. Where Fedyor was a lovely spring afternoon, Ivan was a grim winter night. Where Fedyor's laughter came easy and abundant, Ivan obviously had a quota of no more than one smile per day. Fedyor enjoyed doting on people, Ivan could hardly bare to be doted on. 

They made a lovely couple, and I enjoyed spending time with them – that is, when they had any. I had no idea what army people did when they were not fighting a war, except maybe push ups and cleaning toilets with toothbrushes, but it sure seemed to keep them busy. My days settled into a predictable rhythm, meeting the guys at meals, dedicating myself to Morozova's journals for most of the day, and ending in training session with Aleksander. The latter proved to be rather hopeless, as the differences between the way we practised magic in Atlantis and the way they did in Ravka seemed irreconcilable.

The former only yielded a little more in terms of results. It baffled me how Ilyia Morozova needed to start his research on magic basically from scratch, without any former knowledge to rely on. It either meant that nobody ever studied magic in an organized form in Ravka – or that at a certain moment, all existing information was carefully erased from history. In a society where Grisha were persecuted as abominations, it didn't seem impossible for such a purge to take place. 

I pictured Morozova experimenting alone, in an unheated hut, often going hungry in the middle of a hostile village, and remembered our majestic halls dedicated to magic in Atlantis, our unending walls filled with books, the special care and support each child has received from the moment they discovered their abilities. It was making me angry. How must Aleksander feel?

I took a special interest Morozova's family: a human wife and two daughters, one Grisha, the other human. But he rarely ever mentioned his Grisha child, it appeared to me that instead of bonding with the one member of his family who resembled him the most, he rejected this little girl. Reading between the lines, it was obvious that she was a shadow summoner like Aleksander. I only know one other like me. Could it be Morozova's daughter he was talking about? As long-lived as they were, she may very well be alive. I intended to ask him about it, but before I could, I have asked someone else an unfortunate question.