All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [37]
The small boy parried another attack, riposted—and with a deft twist, skewered the larger boy’s hand . . . pushing his blade almost up to the hilt, and then twisting until the larger boy was on his knees.
“See?” Dante said. “Just first blood.” He turned away, no longer interested.
Fiona was horrified . . . but couldn’t look away.
The smaller boy smiled, accentuating a long scar on one cheek. His opponent was escorted away by two older students.
She wouldn’t forget the smaller boy. She might have to face him in gym class.
“Make sure to pick up your reading assignments at the gate,” Dante told them, and pointed east. “Miss Westin expects you to be caught up for her first class. You wouldn’t want to disappoint her.”
“Thanks,” Fiona said.
Dante gave her an appreciative nod and then strode across the quad to the library.
“Well,” Jeremy said, rubbing his hands together, “we have a fine team. We’ll be sure to trounce any competition.” As he said this, however, his gaze slid around Amanda, as if she weren’t there and his description of fine didn’t apply to someone like her.
Fiona glanced back at the bloodstains by the fountain and then looked over her teammates.
They, in turn, glanced at one another, maybe thinking the same thing she was: Would any of them get challenged to a duel? Would they end up fighting each other? Dante said duels were mutually consensual. No one actually had to fight. Or was it trickier than that?
“Yeah,” Fiona said. “We’re all going to do great.”
There was an awkward silence, which Mitch broke. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m getting over to the gate. I’ve heard Miss Westin assigns a mountain of books the first week.”
“We all passed,” Sarah said, and casually brushed a hand through her hair. “So what’s the worry?”
Fiona had missed almost every question in the magic section on the placement exam. She had a lot of catching up to do.
“I’m out of here.” Robert turned and walked toward the gate. He uncharacteristically looked deep in thought.
“Me, too,” Amanda murmured, and trotted off to the library.
“We better go,” Fiona said, and nudged Eliot. “It was nice—”
Her eyes locked with Jezebel’s. It was like staring into clear green water, and drowning. Fiona couldn’t quite say it was nice to meet her. She had a feeling this girl was going to be nothing but trouble.
She jogged after Robert, calling, “Hey—wait up!”
Eliot came, too. Fiona knew he would, and that was fine because she couldn’t leave him alone with that group, but she still desperately wanted a few moments alone with Robert. Why couldn’t he have figured that out?
Robert had gotten very far ahead of them, although he was just walking. She and Eliot had to sprint to catch up to him as he approached the gate.
Mr. Harlan Dells, the brawny Gatekeeper in the three-piece suit, handed Robert a page-long list of books. Robert scanned it. “I’ve never read so many books in my entire life,” he said.
This was one great difference between her and Robert: Fiona had read almost every book on everything . . . save the one small area of mythology.
Mr. Dells handed her and Eliot their reading assignments. There were titles like Tanglewood Tales, The Golden Bough (twelve volumes), The White Goddess, and The Hero with a Thousand Faces.
Even for her, this might take a little time.
“We need to talk,” she whispered to Robert.
“I know,” he said, and he pretended to still be looking at that stupid list. “I don’t know where to start. Things are so weird.”
There was something in Robert’s voice she had never heard before: doubt. She wanted to take his hand, but that felt wrong in front of Mr. Dells, the man who said he could hear and see almost everything.
“Walk me home?” she asked Robert.
Fiona nudged Eliot, who for once in his life got the hint.
“I think I’ll check out that coffee shop,” Eliot said, “just to—”
Eliot’s mouth was open, but he was no longer talking. He stared beyond the gate.