Free Summoner: Origins The Prequel by Taran Matharu

hurried to the door, suddenly aware of how close Elizabeth and Elaine were standing to him.
    â€˜I’ll see you tomorrow morning. I’m assisting in the summoning lesson with Lord Scipio.’

10
    Arcturus spent most of the day attempting to improve his living conditions, taking spare sheets and broken furniture from the storerooms, creating a makeshift blockade for the window and adding another few layers of cloth to his threadbare blanket. He was exhausted and hungry by lunchtime, but fortunately food was brought up by a waspish Ulfr, who dumped the tray unceremoniously in the room and left without a word.
    The food was plain lamb and potatoes, obviously prepared for the servants rather than the nobles, but it was far better fare than Arcturus was used to at the inn and ambrosia compared to the slops he had eaten at the workhouse. There was even a bowl of mincemeat for Sacharissa, which she gulped down with relish and then nosed the bowl for more.
    As instructed, he went searching for Obadiah in the afternoon, but was swiftly herded back to his room by one of the dwarven servants. It turned out that the Provost had been called away earlier than expected, and was no longer at Vocans. This was fine by Arcturus. He wasn’t sure if he liked the man.
    They spent the rest of the night practising with wyrdlights, delighting in the way they floated aimlessly around the room, as if they had lives of their own. Sacharissa would snap at them in the air, leaping and diving to catch them, while Arcturus tried to nudge them out of the way. Whenever she managed to touch one, her look of complete bafflement at its disappearance and the fresh darkness entertained Arcturus no end.
    When night fell, his room was considerably warmer than the previous night, with no cutting draft to chill his bones. He was lulled to sleep by the gentle rise and fall of Sacharissa’s chest, pressed against him among a tangle of blankets.
    â€˜Wake up, you’re late!’
    The banging on the door jerked Arcturus from his slumber. The room was still dark, a consequence of his improvised window shade. He had no idea what time it was.
    â€˜Wassat?’ he mumbled as Sacharissa whined at the noise.
    â€˜Summoning lessons started five minutes ago. Rouse yourself, or stay and face the consequences!’ Ulfr’s voice came from outside the door. His footsteps echoed down the corridor as Arcturus’s sleep-addled mind processed the words.
    â€˜Oh no!’
    Arcturus was glad that he had slept in his uniform, for he was pelting past Ulfr and down the stairs ten seconds later. Sacharissa ran ahead, punctuating each leap forward with a low pant.
    He found her nosing at the summoning room doors, but he paused and composed himself before they entered.
    â€˜Not a great first impression for Lord Scipio. Plus we’ve missed breakfast.’ Arcturus groaned, preparing himself for the worst. He turned the handle and stepped inside.
    The other students stood in a circle, but they ignored him as he tiptoed into the room. The group were surrounding a low, round table, but Arcturus could not see what was on it. The nobles did not attempt to make room for him, so he looked over Elaine’s shoulder, as she was the smallest of the group.
    The table was made of pure white marble, polished to be smooth and round as a river pebble, but it was the object embedded in the centre that took Arcturus’s breath away: an enormous gem, the size of a large carriage wheel and as black as ink, shone up at him like volcanic glass.
    â€˜Nice of you to join us, Arcturus,’ a voice said from behind him. Arcturus turned, an apology already forming on his lips.
    A man stood in the centre of the room. He was powerfully built, with lambchop sideburns and curly hair the colour of chocolate. He stood with his arms crossed, but the smile on his face showed Arcturus he did not mind his tardiness, so he cut his apology short. His gold edged officer’s