The Floating Islands by Rachel Neumeier Page A

three years.”
    Master Kopapei appeared in the doorway, bringing with him into the room a warm scent of cardamom and, more faintly, cloves. He was an alarmingly large man with shoulders like a laborer and a belly like a chef who loved his own cooking. He was bald as an egg, but he had bristly eyebrows over shrewd dark eyes. He wore clothing of plain dark blue, rather wrinkled. His shirt was slightly too big even for him and had a small rip on the cuff, and his broad leather belt was shiny and thin with age. His rumpled, cheerful air made Araenè guess that he might originally have come from the Third City.
    “You’re always nearly on time for meals,” Master Kopapei told Kanii, but without heat. Though he spoke to Kanii, he was gazing at Araenè. She flushed nervously, afraid of what he might see. But Master Kopapei, like Master Tnegun, seemed as oblivious to Araenè’s deception as everyone always had been. He only continued mildly, “A new student, Kanii? Where are your manners? Introduce this young person to me properly.”
    Kanii bowed, not very gracefully. “Master Kopapei, allow me to make known to you Arei, a new student of Master Tnegun’s.”
    “I’m not!” Araenè said sharply, afraid to let this pass because it sounded oddly like something that might be true. “I am not going to be a mage! I’m going to be—” She collected herself and stopped, finishing lamely, “Anyway, I’m not going to be a mage.”
    “No?” Master Kopapei gazed at her, blinking vaguely. “You have some other plan for your life? But you know, young Arei, we do need mages rather badly. And chance or life or the Gods do have a way of interfering with even the firmest-set plans. If magery is rising in you, you might consider permitting it to rise. Hmm?”
    Araenè stared at him. She did not know what to say. Another plan? The only life available to a girl of decent family was marriage and children. She knew she couldn’t be a chef, not really—she couldn’t live her whole life disguised as a boy, could she? And she knew she didn’t want to marry anyone. But how could she possibly be a mage? She said quickly, trying not to think too hard about whether she might actually want to be a mage, “I need to go home. Kanii promised he’d show me the way out.”
    “Did he?” Master Kopapei tilted his head to the side, regarding Araenè with good-humored indulgence. “Well, then, certainly he must. Kanii, you had better make certain young Arei finds a door that will take him properly home. That will make you later still for your lessons with me, but no doubt you will be happy to work after supper to make up for it.”
    “Certainly,” Kanii agreed, not in the least perturbed. “That means you won’t want me this afternoon, of course, sir. I thought I’d show Arei around the school before he goes—if you have time,” he added to Araenè.
    It was still early. Araenè nodded, cautiously, to be polite. But then she realized she really was interested, and nodded again with more enthusiasm. “As long as I’m home by seventh bell,” she said; then, because Kanii was always late, prudently amended this to half past sixth.
    “Of course,” Kanii assured her.
    “Be sure of it, if you undertake this trust,” Master Kopapei commanded him sternly. “It’s important to keep promises. Arei … family complications have a way of working out. You need to decide whose life you’re living: yours? And if not, then whose?”
    Araenè looked up at the mage. She found she liked him a great deal—rare for her. She wanted to ask him why Master Tnegun might want her for his apprentice—her particularly. But she didn’t quite dare. She asked Kanii, though, once they were out of the tower room and clattering down flights and flights of stairs.
    “And why all the stairs now, when we didn’t come this way at all on the way up?” she wanted to know, exasperated.
    “Would you want to climb that many stairs?” Kanii asked reasonably.