Free The Wizard Heir by Cinda Williams Chima Page A

foster mother. A
sorcerer.”
    “That must've been fun,” Bruce said, making
a face. “Raised by a sorcerer. Did she have you hunting toadstools and
grinding up frog's tongues and like that?”
    Seph blinked at him. “Well, no. Can't say that I
ever did that.” He thought of saying, We used to go to markets in
Chinatown and pick exotic roots and vegetables.
    But he didn't.
    “Anyway, I haven't had much training in wizardry.
I was hoping you could tell me something about the program here.”
    “We have a great library, reserved for the use of
the alumni,” Aaron said. “Thousands of volumes on charms,
incantations, attack spells, and shields. Plus Weirbooks from famous
families.”
    “So. Is it mostly independent study?” Seph
asked.
    “Well. Kind of,” Bruce said. “Dr.
Leicester has a magical shortcut system that allows all of us to share
knowledge and power. So you'll be in business in no time.”
    “Shortcut?” Leicester had mentioned
something about that at their meeting. Seph looked down the table, and it
seemed that there was a lot of foot shuffling and seat shifting going on.
    “Plus we're involved in a lot of off-campus
assignments,” Warren said. “Special operations.”
    “Like what?”
    “Well, you know.” Warren looked
uncomfortable. “I think Dr. Leicester told you something about his dream
of uniting the wizard houses. So we work on that.”
    “It's really cool. Getting out on our own,”
Bruce said. “We've traveled all over the world. Thailand. London.
Brazil.”
    Seph felt that somehow he still wasn't getting it.
It's was like sex, the way people talked all around it but you could still end
up not knowing the basics. “Who pays for all this?” he asked.
    “Dr. Leicester has backers,” Aaron said.
“Trust me, money's not a problem. We don't pay a penny for tuition,
clothing, room and board, or anything else.” He picked up a shrimp.
“As you can see, everything's top shelf.”
    “How long does the program last?” Seph
asked, handing his plate to the server. “How long do most people
stay?”
    Everyone just kind of stared at him as though it were
a really hard question.
    He tried again. “I mean, by the time I graduate
next year, will I know everything I need to know?”
    Aaron was the first to recover. “Yes,” he
said, smiling. “By next year, you'll know all you need to know.”
     
     
    Over the next two weeks, Seph settled into the cadence
of life at the Havens. Schools were totally different; they were totally the
same. The course work wasn't as rigorous as he'd feared. In fact, it was rather
superficial. It seemed that the administration at the Havens wasn't focused on
the Anaweir students who filled most of the seats.
    It was a small school, and because Seph and Trevor
were both juniors, they had several classes together: algebra II/trig and
physics, social studies, and English literature. But Trevor's warm friendliness
had morphed to a sullen and twitchy mistrust.
    Trevor must have told the others about what happened
at Alumni House. Harrison and Troy and James were still chatty and cheerful,
but it was the spun-sugar kind of speech about nothing, usually reserved for
snitches and the rich, insufferable cousins you see once a year. Seph knew he
could win them back if he tried, but he reined in his powers of persuasion. Friendship
didn't mean much if it was inflicted. Once or twice a week he ate dinner at the
Alumni House. He wondered what they said when he was gone.
    At first glance the faculty seemed to be a mixed lot,
from the charming Aaron Hanlon to gruff Elliott Richardson to the buff physical
education teacher Kenyon King, to tiny, blue-blooded Ashton Rice. They were
diverse, but there was something the same about them, too, some shared
experience.
    Like Harvard men. They all have the mark of the Havens
upon them.
    One evening, Seph received a note at dinner, on the
sailboat stationery, please be AT
THE ALUMNI HOUSE AT 9 P.M. G. LEICESTER.
    Nine o'clock was a