Just a Bystander

Precision Matters

The vibration of my watch woke me at 7AM sharp. Ambrose still seemed to be fast asleep, so I gathered my clothes as quietly as possible and headed for the shower closest to our room. I was surprised to hear someone else already in the other shower in our dormitory since I assumed that no one else would get up this early on their first day.

In 15 minutes, I was out of the shower. Everyone in the dorm had briefly exchanged names last night before turning in so I recognised Devon, who was already in the common area towelling his hair dry.

He nodded at me as I joined him at the table. 'Hey, early riser too?'

'Helps to start the day right,' I said.

'Hope no one else gets up this early, otherwise we'd need a roster for the showers.'

We went through the usual pleasantries and I found out that Devon had come from a pretty well-to-do family. He had developed the ability to channel ambient arcana when he was only 7, so his parents threw him into a school that catered specifically to preparing children to enter the arcanist preparatory schools. He was a product of ruthless, rigid training.

I wondered if he even wanted to be an arcanist but I didn't think it was polite to question his dedication. Instead, I asked, 'Did you enjoy it?'

'Not at first, no,' he sighed. 'Hated my parents for awhile. But no one else in my family has managed to enter the Academy. I think the last one was like four generations ago or something. So it's kind of a big deal for them, and I can understand that. Anyway, I'm pretty good at it now, so it worked out, and it's hard not to enjoy something you're good at, you know?'

'Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.'

'So, what about you? You're an independent study. Must've been hard?'

I was acutely aware of how different our situations were so I tried to be as tactful as I could. 'Maybe not in the same way as you think. Both my parents are arcanists so I always had plenty of help, but you can't escape your teachers if they live with you.'

'Shit, both arcanists? How far back does your family go?'

'Uhm, both my parents are first-generation, so I'm not from some pedigree or anything.'

'Okay, but does this mean you're really far ahead? I mean, how do you map over onto the average preparatory school standard?' I could see Devon was getting worked up - equal parts curiosity and competitive interest. I shifted uncomfortably.

'I, uh, had to take the same test to get into the Academy, so I've got a score, same as anybody else.'

'What score?' Devon leaned towards me across the table, his eyes boring a hole into me.

'It's not a competition, right?' I was desperately hoping this wouldn't become some sort of cliche rivalry. Not for the first time in my life, I wished I didn't have two arcanists for parents.

'What score?' Devon repeated, leaning halfway across the table now. He looked ready to seize me by the collar.

I leaned out of his reach and took a deep breath. 'I'm... I'm the top scorer in our batch.'

Devon threw his hands up in the air with an inarticulate cry. I couldn't tell if he was horribly angry or extremely excited. Before he could do anything else the door to my room opened and Ambrose popped his head out, looking around blearily.

'YOU'RE ROOMING WITH THE TOP SCORER,' Devon roared, pointing at a nonplussed Ambrose. The other doors were opening now as everyone in the dorm was trying to see what the commotion was about.