Chapter 8 | PoV: Sanya
A kind of lounge was beyond. More furniture adorned this room than the last, and still contained some comfortable accommodations.
Inside was quite the scene.
Four individuals dotted the room, plus a temporal mage.
Barakat stepped into the room. Sanya hesitantly followed. She could feel a weird resistance as she entered, and a noticeable change in the air. She entered a time bubble.
Ha. A time bubble to help speed up the time for some kids? Some kids? . . . That was unfair. They were about Sanya's age, if not only one or two years her junior.
Two individuals were engaged in talking back and forth, resting casually on a couch, facing each other. One rested casually on a couch, facing the other conversant. They had a hand draped over the couch's back, another idly playing with a carafe of water. This individual had short but messy brown hair and unnotable trousers and tunic. The couch had a few cushions that this individual was making use of. The couch sat loosely diagonal, but mostly aligned parallel with the right wall.
The second sat upside down on the couch, legs up against the back and kicking, two braids of hair pulled down by gravity.
Sanya amended her observation—the first was trying to talk to the second, but the second did not give long or devoted answers. It was, for the most part, a one-sided conversation. The first might have found more enjoyment talking to a wall, at least it wouldn't give them signs that it didn't want to talk.
A third individual paced behind the couch, unengaged with the couch antics.
A fourth sat on a chair, opposite the side of the room from the door, and to the right—in that corner. The temporal mage stood on guard to the left side of the room.
Aside from the individuals, once again, almost empty bookshelves kept the walls from looking too plain. Unused pots and pots of dead plants sat on the bookshelves and small stools around the room. Rectangles of brighter tan on the walls reminisced on paintings that once hung there. Just like the last room, a table sat in front of the couch.
The couch conversants, the temporal mage, and the pacer stopped immediately and glanced up as Barakat and Sanya entered the room.
“Barakat,” the couch lounger nodded, with an emotionless voice in the midst of puberty's woes.
“Ooh!” The upside-down individual quickly sat right-side up. Her voice was higher and . . . bubbly? “Another one!”
Barakat gestured to Sanya. “I would like to introduce Sanya to you. She is a realized abyssal mage. I hope to establish connections with her and anyone in this room.”
“Hey!” The once upside-down girl waved, two long braids of black hair swaying. Yellow ribbons tied each end in a bow shape. Her green eyes sparkled. Freckles splattered her face on her nose and under her eyes. Sanya couldn't describe her as anything other than . . . cute. Huh. “Sanya? I hope we get along well! I'm Mai!”
Sanya felt stunned. Mai's social energy felt overwhelming. Sanya waved shyly.
“Abyssal mage,” the third muttered. “That brings the group to forty percent abyssal mage. That is a very high and anomalous data point . . .”
“Words?” Mai asked. “Ooh. Do you not talk? Mysterious. Maybe I can squeak some words out of you!” She cracked her knuckles. She was . . . thin. Also small. They were all thin. Sanya doubted Mai could do anything, but Sanya appreciated the effort. Or not. She wanted to stay silent, at least, for as long as her voice betrayed her.
All four of them looked like they had been picked off the streets. That was probably because they all had been. Even Sanya.
It was what they—Nur and the others—wanted.
Small was probably not that accurate. Sanya was just too tall. Curse her body!
“Sanya?” The couch-lounger said. It sounded mocking. “That's a pretty feminine name. A bit tall. I also don't see any—”
“Ismael,” Barakat warned. “I will not tolerate wherever you're going.”
Ismael crossed his arms. “You should dump this deviant back into the streets and find someone else.”
“No.”
Ismael rolled his eyes. Sanya's face went red, eyebrows furrowed. She just got here, and she already had to deal with an ignorant buffoon that got some sort of twisted satisfaction by trying to put her down?
Her fists clenched. Her innate ability connected with her intent.
Ismael jumped. “Golden shell of the divine!” Then he fell over the back of the couch with a thud.
Sanya let out a little smug smile. No one would see it under her scarf, though.
The fourth one in the back gave a small smile too.
“A golden shell would sell for a fortune,” the third muttered, taking no care about anything that was happening. He was already back to pacing. “How big would Heliux's shell be?”
Mai laughed, then looked towards Sanya. “Woah. Did you magic him?”
Barakat shot a look at Sanya.
She nodded reluctantly.
“This one—” Mai pointed to the third individual. “—Wouldn't show me magic. Thanks!”
“I . . . I suppose it's fine—this time,” Barakat shrugged.
Mai looked both fascinated and scared. Sanya thought the fascination outweighed the fright. Hopefully.
“You monster!” Ismael cried out, standing up.
That wasn't the first time Sanya heard those words. Sanya took a step back. She resisted the urge to shrink or to run away. Tears threatened her eyes. Monster? Ismael was the one not acting with any human decency!
“Nobody has ever proven the existence of anything relating to a monster,” the third continued muttering. “Well, some humans could be considered monsters I guess.” Heliux, this one was so weird.
“What,” Sanya whispered to Barakat. “Why'd you say I was realized earlier? Why did Mai look surprised?”
“Ah! Yes, you see—not everyone we have gathered has proven they can use abyss magic yet.”
Sanya tilted her head.
“We haven't found a lot of you. So we have had to prioritize getting normal, literate orphans and homeless. Worry not! They can become abyssal mages!”
“They can? How?”
Barakat glanced behind him, back into the room where Nur nursed the carafe. “Trade secret for now, I'm afraid.” Barakat winked.
Sanya wanted to throw up on his face.
Okay, maybe that was too much. Actually, that was a really weird thought, where had that come from?
“Barakat?” Mai asked, something weird in her voice. Fear? Worry? Nervousness?
“Yes?”
“What . . .” Mai swallowed. “Where did the others from Halimah's House of Opportunity go? . . . Why did that man only get us four?”
What was Halimah's House of Opportunity? Was that an orphanage? That meant none of them would be over seventeen. Who was “that man?”
Barakat frowned. He opened his mouth, then closed it. “They weren't chosen for the academy. I—I don't know how to explain this. I'm sorry.”
“Why can't you?” Mai continued.
“Please. All I can say is—you will know why eventually.”
“Why not now?”
“I can't answer that—actually, I can, a bit. We had to negotiate for you, so you wouldn't go . . . elsewhere—an elsewhere with much more room and a lower budget.”
Mai crossed her arms, distress all over her face. Why were there only four of them, indeed? Mai's questions were completely valid. So, what was Barakat hiding? Why was Barakat hiding something?
Sanya glared at Barakat, if only for a moment. Would knowing this information stop Sanya from going to the academy? How would it change things? Argh! Secrets!
“Mister Barakat,” Ismael said.
“Yes?”
“How many of us will there be?”
“Seventy or so, to start off. Divided into abyssal mages, dormants, and illiterate abyssal mages. Why?”
“To calculate my chances of being able to stay away from this freak,” Ismael nodded towards Sanya.
“Ismael . . .” Barakat said, voice quivering. “Any more of this, and I will send you back to Halimah's. Do you want that?”
Sanya opened her mouth. She didn't know what that was, but that sounded like a threat. Dang, they were really going there.
Ismael shook his head slowly.
“Good.”
Sanya thought that Barakat was the nice guy. Guess he had a sword side too.
“Um,” the fourth said. “Not to ruin the threat-offer, but Halimah's was inspected and shut down.”
Barakat gave the fourth a death glare.
Shut down!? Was it run by an evil person—Halimah, presumably? What was the story behind it? Hopefully Mai and the other three were reasonably free of trauma? Heliux, they were orphans, trauma usually came with that.
Ismael scoffed. “Guess you can't send me back, old man.”
Barakat raised his staff and uttered something . . . “[Breathless]” is what it sounded like. Was it a spell?
Ismael was suddenly back on the floor, coughing. “What in the name of Heliux?!”
Sanya's mouth gaped. As did Mai's. Had Barakat just used aeolian magic to choke Ismael? Metal.
Barakat ignored him. “Sanya is not much of a talker now, but I hope she grows comfortable enough with the rest of you three to be able to do so.”
“M-me too!” Mai exclaimed.
Barakat turned around and exited. Sanya didn't know if she should follow.
Barakat beckoned to her, comedically slow. He was out of the time bubble.
Sanya exited the bubble too.
“That room there is a washroom,” Barakat gestured to the door on the far left side of the room now, or the back-right from the entrance Sanya and Nur had used. “Why don't you take some time to use your stolen item? Afterward, we can eat!”
Sanya nodded, thinking about what Ismael had said.
Monster.
Freak.