The Mountain Dancer

Chapter 22: Shaynike & WeeSeu

The General Feast Hall was divided into separate areas by big wooden interior walls that went halfway up to the ceiling. These sported many doorless archways. There were nine areas, each a perfect square in a three by three arrangement. The middle segment (through which the boreway drilled) held the tables that contained all the complexly crafted food that was flashstepped up from the Monan Kitchen a few stories below.

Pupils, tutors and advisors dined in the others. Naturally, the cliques and pecking order of the academy dictated who usually ate in which area. The younger pupils tended to congregate in the north and northwest areas. Advisors and tutors ate exclusively in the northeast. The east area was the “quiet zone” where you could eat and study relatively undisturbed. Southeast was the weirdo-loser-loner place, quarantined by the quiet zone and the southern “neutral zone.” West was where you could sit if you were a graduating pupil, the younger sibling of a graduating pupil, or coupled with a graduating pupil. It was sort of a stepping stone area to the coveted southwest zone, where the Summittasks and Boulderins of the academy held court in the corner, their loyal followings radiating outwards by rank.

Shay had been a longtime denizen of the quiet zone, which kept her safely out of the swarming mess of hierarchies and offered a respite from Monarec whenever that was needed (often).

She sat there now, puzzling over the impromptu library meeting with Rek for probably the eight hundredth time. It had been almost week since and it was still bothering her. Learning about Faevock’s plan to steal Rek away to the Dance had been bad, and not being able to see him for days on days on days had been worse. He had insisted that it was necessary to keep the rumors about them from spreading... and while that was logical, it didn’t make it any easier. Or fair.

Either way, the plan was working. The speculation over the Crown Guide and some other slightly disturbing rumor about a missing Fistshield had taken top positions in the gossip train of late, and shards asking after her status per the Crown Artyss had slowed to a trickle.

But she had begun to wonder if it was just his way of letting her down easy after deciding that Fae was an obviously superior choice. It didn’t seem likely, as they exchanged shards on a pretty regular basis, and twice more he had sent her snippets of poetry that had made her all stupid and gooey and foolish. But every time she insisted that they hang out, even in the Grand Library or roof or somewhere where no one would snoop (she hadn’t nearly worked up the courage to suggest her room), the response was pretty much the same: ‘Not yet.’

‘But when?’ (Was she being too needy?)

‘Soon, I’m figuring it out.’

‘What’re you figuring out?’ (Was she prying too much?)

‘There’s some Artwork I need.’

‘I could help?’ (Ugh, she was too needy).

‘I have to do it by myself.’

Shay was glad to have council meetings, the twins, and final lectures to worry about; else she would have overanalyzed their conversations to the billionth degree instead of just the millionth. She toyed with the green pin in her hair as errant thoughts chased round and round.

“Heyhey Shayshay! Look what I did!”

Shay looked up from her untouched meal to see a triumphant Tuneryke before her, hands outstretched. The redheaded girl held several apple seeds.

“Tune, shh.” She beckoned. “This is the quiet area. People are trying to study.”

“But look!”

Now the other pupils were giving Shay exasperated looks. The simple code of the area was being violated not only by a youngster, but a loud one at that.

“Come on, show me over here,” she swiftly ushered Tune into the southeastern area, which would be infinitely more tolerant.

“You made these with Cropforth?” she asked, when they had safely crossed the threshold and found a table.

“Like you showed me!”

“That’s very good Tuneryke. Did Ryke help?”

“No he made his own. Mine are better.”

A low voice spoke. “You could have extracted those from apples from the tables in the centre chamber.”

Shay looked across the table. WeeSeu Clintfast, Decorator of the council of Ellawek, sat across from them. The tall, spindly, moon-faced girl had flowing gold-orange hair and was what Mona would call an “odd duck.” You would sometimes see WeeSeu with her eyes closed, mouthing something to someone. Maybe to herself. Maybe she was reading shards out loud. No one really knew.

Tuneryke was not impressed at all. “I did not!”

“You cannot trust the sight of them, nor the taste, smell or even the feel. How are we to know?”

“Because I said!”

“WeeSeu, why would she lie?” asked Shay, noting that this was their first real interaction, despite having shared two council meetings already.

“To impress you, perhaps,” replied WeeSeu.

“I’m not lying!” Pupils were starting to look over at them.

Shay narrowed her eyes at the troublesome Decorator. “‘Seal the word with a deed,’ that’s something they say where you’re from, isn’t it?”

“I prefer: ‘send a kiss with the wind.’ They both amount to the same idea.”

‘She’s saying you should send down more seeds, right here,’ Shay sent to Tuneryke.

The little girl played it well. She made no indication that she had read the shard, which surprised Shay. Usually the young ones couldn’t help their eye-light when processing shards of any size. Instead, Tune glared at WeeSeu, said, “you’re a butt!” closed her eyes, and scrunched up her face.

This time her eyelids did glow, and a sprinkling of wet seeds popped into reality into WeeSeu’s lap. Tune crossed her arms and stuck out her tongue.

WeeSeu plucked one up, regarded it for a moment, and said to Tuneryke, “consider me kissed.”

“Ew! You’re weird!”

“It’s just a saying Tune,” Shay said. “WeeSeu’s part of the world has all sorts of funny sayings.”

“What’s your colours?” Tune asked WeeSeu, the dispute forgotten instantly. Ever since the lesson on the Sects, Tune had become more than a little obsessed with everyone’s birthright and scholarright paths.

“My colours?”

“She means your birthright. And the path you mean to take.” Shay said.

A girl barked laughter. They looked to see Other-Shay, the she-hulk, standing nearby, meaty hands planted on meaty hips. “That freak’s birthright is filthy Iskiss, puppy. Stay away or you might catch something.”

WeeSeu said, “I’ve never heard anyone speak of filthy wind before, but filthy mud... filthy ground... filthy floor... yes, much more common.”

Other-Shay’s paws became fists and she took a menacing step forward. Tuneryke, oblivious, asked her: “and what’s your colours?”

This also confused Other-Shay, stilling her for the moment as she squinted at the twin. Shaynike tensed, praying that a brawl wouldn’t break out. She had a short but vicious internal debate over whether or not she would be obligated to try and defend a fellow council member or let Fae’s goon do what she pleased. Shay tugged at her hairpin and stole a glance back over at the relative safety of the quiet zone.

“You’re here for a reason?” WeeSeu said, apparently unafraid. Or crazy.

Instead of leaping at WeeSeu, Other-Shay just sneered and thrust a finger at Shay. “Follow me. Now.” Then she lumbered away.

Tune looked at Shay and shrugged. Shay looked at WeeSeu, who had closed her eyes and appeared to be meditating. She got up and walked after the gorilla.