Free Steelhands (2011) by Jaida Jones, Danielle Bennett

mention all the magicians?”
    The gears in my brain began to click and whir once more—clogged as they’d been by Hal’s freckles and the gentle manner in which he stood to one side observing the rest of us, even making his own notes from time to time.
This
simple soul was the man who’d saved Thremedon? That made him a hero, on top of being everything else, which added up to a great deal in my eyes.
    It was almost too much to bear, really.
    “I just want to say that I’m looking forward to getting to know you, and that if you ever have any problems, I’m … that’s what I’m here for,” Hal was in the midst of saying, obviously picking up on a cue from the professor that I’d missed simply because I hadn’t been paying attention to him. His voice was gentle. If Laure had made me miss some of his speech with her gossip, I would—well, I wouldn’t be able to do anything to her in revenge, but oh, how I would sulk! “Other than that, I hope that you enjoy the class and—if you don’t mind my saying so—welcome to Thremedon.”
    Something loosened in my chest, like a whole host of doves being set free at a king’s coronation, when Hal finally smiled at the class. He was a far cry from the statues outside, a thin coating of snow now frosting their austere features—hard men carved from hard stone and ranged together like the Cobalt Mountains themselves to ward against any invading danger. Hal was small, his nature warm and inviting. His wrists were delicate, and he was the first person to welcome us to Thremedon
without
also trying to relieve us of our valuables. Besides which, it was thanks to him we were even here in the first place.
    Now that my gratitude had become more personal in nature, it was stronger than ever before. All the awfulness of my cramped little room, the dust in every corner, the taffy on the dresser handle, the pot in the chimney, and the foul man who had attempted to steal my things seemed insignificant in the face of this new life I was starting.
    Something dropped against my desk and I looked over at it to find a crumpled ball of paper. Its inelegance told me at once it was a present of some sort from Laure, and I nervously unfolded it, spreading it out beside the rest of my notepaper, attempting to smooth the wrinkles.
    CUT IT OUT!!! it read in Laure’s unmistakable hand. To emphasize her point, she had even underscored “out” three times, and employed a matching three exclamation marks.
    “You up there,” the professor said, pausing midlecture, with a voice so sharp it commanded all our attention. I swallowed miserably, stomach swooping in terror. Was it possible he had noticed Laure’s indiscretion, and we were in trouble on our very first day, not even halfway into our very first hour?
    I waited for the blade to fall, but somehow, it did not.
    “I’d like to see your pens
moving,
” Ducante continued. “That goes for all of you. Since this is
history
of the magicians, I daresay the
history
I’m giving you might just be the most important part.”
    My fingers twitched and began moving of their own accord, neatly marking down the date in the top right corner of my paper before I began to copy down, word for word, everything our professor was saying. At that moment, somehow, Hal looked up into the audience of the lecture hall and met my eyes—as though he had sensed my fear and sought to ease it somehow.
    Only a bare moment later he looked away, but I was content in knowing he had seen my face even if he would not remember it.
    That evening, when I pulled out my notes to look them over just before tucking the sheets around myself in bed, I would not remember a single word written there, in my spindly writing, as it had been said. My mind—and my heart—were far too full of other things for that, I was afraid.
    And so began my first love in Thremedon.

ADAMO
     
    I wasn’t in a good mood at all that morning. Part of it was because it was the start of a new term, and,