A Dreadful Thing

7: MOONS OF JUPITER

SEVEN: MOONS OF JUPITER

Orla

At the bottom of the steps, Orla stared at Vera, and Vera stared at Orla, both clearly at a loss for words.

"Well," the latter said. "We should get going before curfew comes."

"Okay," Orla replied, tugging on her bag's strap. "I'm sorry about getting you stuck as my tour guide?"

"Oh! That's no problem!" Vera smiled and gave her chin a lift, her long, curly hair glossy under the light thrown by the nearest lamp. She showed none of the earlier reticence she'd exhibited when Dean Samson decided they'd be roommates. "It's actually interesting, isn't it? I'm the only other Bloodless in our year."

"Blood...less?"

"I believe the proper name termed by the empire is 'demi-human,' but that sounds even worse, doesn't it? Like we're only half of something. Before Chancellor Sinclair championed a change, it was Homnius, which is just as weird—."

She started walking, and Orla staggered into motion, struggling to remember everything she said.

"The undergraduate dorms are this way. We're closest to the administration building—Jupiter, and its Forum. Our dorm is Ganymede Tower. You can see it just there, past these trees—."

Passing the closest hemlock revealed the pointed spire of a Baroque tower, all its windows glinting warm and golden against the sky's deep, violet shades. The stars had started appearing, bright and earnest so far away from any city.

"Bilarthus was founded not long after the Salem witch trials, you know. None of the accused were actually Seraphium, but I read it became more imperative for them to protect children with volatile Talents from the ever-increasing curiosity of mankind. There were other Sanctums at the time that people of the region considered relocating to, including Solath in Appalachia and Manitov in the west, but the latter was closed to Seraphium of European descent, and the former is landlocked. Seraphium of the time worried a burgeoning population in the mountains would lead to detection and eventually to siege by the human inhabitants—."

Orla gawked at the girl as she kept talking without a breath, chatting on like a walking encyclopedia. Maybe that's her Talent, she wondered. Probably would be rude to ask in case it's not.

"Which all led to Bilarthus being isolated for the Seraphium's use. Back then, the Seraphium would create disasters—fires, food shortages, floods, bad omens—to encourage settlers to move on from certain areas—barbaric, I tell you, and outlawed by the twentieth century—and the Seraphs had the ability to strike that area from known memory. Blotted it right off of maps, if you can believe that! Naturally, it worked best with islands where wards could be established to buffer ships, and of course, the increased concentration of Talent has a habit of changing the land—."

They came to a fork in the cobbled path, guarded by a looming statue wearing a blindfold and holding a pike. It had to be twenty feet tall and clothed in a long, rippling cloak carved from marble. When they took the right fork and Orla glanced at the statue again, she swore its great head had turned in their direction, and its covered eyes were watching. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and she rushed after Vera.

"It was Bram Obarin who founded the academy and became its first Headmaster, but a scandal with the third Headmaster, Jurio Rhuux, soon saw the practice diminished and replaced with a deanery and individual directorships for each of the houses. Oh—." Vera came to a sudden halt, and Orla did too, wondering why she'd stopped. The wooded stillness of the isle didn't much lend itself to a friendly atmosphere at night. Vera gave her head a sheepish tilt and looked over her shoulder. "I've done it again, haven't I? Babbling on. I don't often get a chance to do so. I'm sorry."