Traitor Savant (Second Seal of the Duelists) by Jasmine Giacomo Page A

gleefully ignored them as he ran past, thumping his fist on all the still-closed doors. “No, you moron. He’s gone crazy since he witnessed the headmaster killing the Master!”
    “No one can kill the Master,” Cormaac called back. His voice migrated from right to left as he pounded down the barracks’ second-story hallway. “It’s he who killed Langlaren, and now he’ll rule us all!” The boys’ gruesome laughter receded down the stairwell, leaving Bayan, his hexmates, and the other Avatar students standing in their doorways, grumbling tiredly.
    Calder rubbed at his eyes with pale fingers. His motion stretched the flame-shaped scar that marked his right cheek. “None of that better be true.”
    “Any of those choices would be horrific for the whole campus,” Eward said.
    “Aye, but I’m more interested in pounding Taban for lying at this unsintly hour of the morning,” Calder replied.
    Since there was no more sleep to be had, the three got dressed and headed across campus for breakfast. The dining hall was abuzz with rumor when they arrived, though; most tables were surrounded by talking instead of eating.
    Tarin slapped her tray down on the table. “Have you heard?”
    “Aye, we’ve heard it all, and then some,” Calder replied. “Trouble is, we can’t tell what’s fancy and what’s fact.”
    “What have you heard?” Eward took a bite of his porridge.
    Tarin sat, then leaned forward conspiratorially. “I passed Instructor Wekshi talking to the other elemental instructors in the tunnel to the Chantery. She said something about starting an interview process for a new Hexmagic instructor.”
    “What happened to Master witten Oost?” Bayan asked.
    “Good morning, students.” Master witten Oost’s voice boomed from the staff table behind them. Bayan spun on the seat of his chair, surprised by the instructor’s stealthy entrance. His eyes narrowed as he saw the master standing before the headmaster’s chair.
    Witten Oost spoke again. “I’m afraid I have a few solemn announcements for you. If everyone could please give me your attention.”
     
    ~~~
     
    Bayan stood with his hex in the sand of the Shock Arena. Other hexes clustered up nearby as they awaited Instructor Ithrakis’ belated appearance. They muttered about qualifications for leadership and true masters needing freedom. No one made a real effort to warm up. “This is a nightmare. How could Master—Headmaster—witten Oost get all those changes made overnight?”
    “He is a Master Duelist , Bayan,” Eward said.
    Bayan let out a frustrated sigh. “No, I mean, shouldn’t there have been a review, a committee, a vote, something ? You can’t just boot the Headmaster of the Duelist Academy. He’s a Hexmagic Duelist, for Bhattara’s sake. He doesn’t belong in charge of Peace Village. And witten Oost practically banished Doc Theo! Sending him all the way to Pallithea in his condition, despite Langlaren’s perfectly reasonable suggestion to try and treat him here, seems… well, it just doesn’t make any sense. But it seems ‘Master Iggy’ just waved a finger, and the world changed for him.”
    Tarin cleared her throat and kept her eyes on the coarse sand underfoot. “I think that’s exactly how it’s supposed to work for Master Duelists, Bayan. Their magic is stronger—different—than ours.”
    “It’s not right, though, what happened,” Bayan insisted. “Why is it acceptable to change the world to suit your own needs? What about those lives you’d disrupt? Shouldn’t a Master Duelist be looking out for all the empire’s citizens?”
    “Bayan, Master witten Oost dinna ask for the position of Headmaster. The emperor gave it to him.”
    Bayan gave Tarin a look of disappointment. “And you don’t think a Master Duelist could change the emperor himself, so he’d do exactly that?”
    Eward twitched his Wind avatar, a thin corridor of sound-carrying air that snaked down the arena tunnel. “Snort says Ithrakis will