Chương 15: Classroom

The room was a circular amphitheater carved from stone, designed to draw every eye downward to a single point of authority at its center. The floor at the center lay fifteen feet below the door they entered from. At the bottom lay a circular platform of polished dark stone, its surface embedded with strange symbols that shone in colors which Mark suspected were only visible due to the addition of his new ultraviolet cones.

On this platform chalk markings formed complex patterns that shifted when Mark tried to focus on them, making his eyes water with the effort of perception. A simple wooden lectern stood in the middle of the platform. The seating rose in twelve concentric rings, each row higher than the last. Four stairways climbed from the recessed central platform to the highest ring of seats, one of them passing by the doorway Mark and Wes had entered in from.

Wooden benches were on each row, and massive stone tables curved between the stairways, serving as desks for each quarter ring of students. Tall, narrow windows were set at irregular intervals above the highest row, each admitting a different quality of light. One showed bright morning sun, another revealed what might have been sunset, while a third displayed green and silver moonlight that had no business existing at this hour. Time, like geometry, was evidently negotiable in this academy.

Before he consciously decided to check, Mark's tongue flicked out, and the chemoreceptive organ in the roof of his mouth catalogued the room in layers. Old parchment arrived first and Mark did see bookshelves carved on the bottom stone tables pointed inward to the center platform. Chalk dust followed with its sharp mineral edge. He sensed chemical signals likely coming from the familiars and students present in the room telling him their sex and aspects of mood.

However, the worst thing he sensed was something sulfurous in the room. Unlike the other things his tongue had sensed he had no idea what in the room was causing this stench. Perched on the wooden lectern was a raven. It was perfectly still except for the movement of its eyes as it watched the room.

"Is that someone's familiar?" Mark whispered, trying not to disturb the creature.

"Probably," Wes said, fidgeting with the stone he had previously pulled out of his pocket.

"Don't stare, though. That's rude." I need to invent a fidget spinner for this kid. The raven fixed one dark eye on Mark and held his gaze long enough to make him suspect it had understood every word. Then it looked away. Mark felt this was not an ordinary raven or even an ordinary familiar, but none of the other students appeared to be paying much attention to it. Apparently, a raven watching from the professor's lectern was ordinary enough that no explanation was required.

Several wizard-familiar pairs were already present, scattered across the lower rows. Another entrance existed at the very top of the circular chamber, opposite from where they'd entered, allowing students to choose their approach depending on which staircase they'd taken and how much they wanted to be noticed arriving. Near the front, in the first row, a young woman about Wes's age sat with dark hair pulled into a practical braid and bright orange robes that looked much cleaner and more expensive than Wes's.

Beside her sat the most golden, fluffy dog Mark had ever seen outside of a pet food commercial. The dog's tail was wagging so enthusiastically that its entire back half participated in the motion. It was strange Mark had always liked dogs and he remembered having pets off and on throughout the thirty-five years of memories from Earth, but in this body being less than three-feet tall he suddenly had a feeling of intense fear. If that dog wanted to, it could hurt me pretty badly.

Even with my claws and teeth, I doubt I could stop it. Mark's tongue flicked out without permission, and the dog's chemical profile arrived with startling clarity even at this distance. First it was a female. However of far more importance the molecular signature was aggressive in the feeling of happiness coming from the dog. It was as if a wagging tail was embedded in its chemistry somehow. Was this just an extreme amount of serotonin he was tasting? Mark had no idea.

Regardless of what he was sensing, it did reassure him greatly. On the far side of the room a high-pitched voice was loudly rambling. From Mark's angle he couldn't tell who was talking nor who they were speaking to. At the very back, directly behind the woman with the dog, sat the most intimidating student/familiar pair present. A young dragon-humanoid sat there with bronze scales, small horns curving back from his forehead, and actual wings folded behind him. Mark's initial thought was that this was a dragon.

However, the humanoid shape made him reconsider. Wes had mentioned the term dragonkin before. Could this be one? It definitely appeared to be the kin of a dragon but there was no way to be certain. Whatever the creature was, the dragon-humanoid had the physique of a bodybuilder and despite sitting looked extremely tall. Possibly more than a foot taller than Wes. Mark just hoped he was friendly.

Despite Wes's earlier dream of a dragonkin familiar, there was no mistaking that this dragon-humanoid was the wizard of the pair, as beside him sat a scarred kobold in a well-fitted vest with copper clasps and formal trousers. Despite wearing this formal attire he looked rather uncomfortable in it. The scars and formal clothes gave Mark the immediate impression that this was not a magical construct. Was this a wild kobold who had become a familiar voluntarily?

The kobold intimidated Mark almost as much as the dragon-humanoid. He was larger and definitely appeared stronger than Mark. Wes had stated before that Mark was in the body of an adolescent kobold so this made sense if this was a true adult kobold. The scars on the kobold suggested he had survived several fights. Seeing this kobold just made Mark feel even more like an imposter in his skin. Mark's tongue informed him that both the dragon-humanoid and his kobold familiar were in fact male.

The kobold's head snapped up the instant Mark glanced at him, as if he had been waiting for exactly that moment. His bright copper-colored eyes went very wide. He immediately grabbed his master's arm and began speaking in rapid, urgent whispers. Despite the distance, Mark caught every word. It was the same guttural, ancient-sounding language full of sibilants and growls that the dimensional kobolds had used when they prayed. Mark's brain translated it without conscious effort just like he did in the warren.

Despite hearing the doubled language in the kobold warren when the kobold spoke in Draconic he did not repeat words. There was no "yes-yes" or "good-good" to speak of.

"One of us who is not one of us. Master Torvax, do you see? That one is construct-made. It smells of fresh magic and new stone, not earth and old warrens. I must speak with it, please, Master. I must judge for myself. If it is like the others, it is a disgrace to that body." The dragon humanoid's response came in that same language, also without any word repetition, his voice calmer than Mark had expected.

"Patience, Skarl. Let it greet its master's friends first. We will meet it soon, and you will not harm it, no matter what you think of it." Mark forced himself to keep moving, following Wes down toward the front rows, and used every remaining piece of his professional composure to do it. He had just heard a kobold say he needed to judge whether Mark was a disgrace.

He had just heard that same kobold's master tell him he was not allowed to cause harm, phrased in a way that suggested the question had needed to be asked. The worst part was the pronoun. Not him. It. Skarl could smell his sex as easily as Mark could smell Skarl's. The word was not ignorance. It was because this real kobold thought he wasn't a person because he was a construct.

Then again, if this real kobold was a dragon worshipper who had willingly given up his freedom to become a wizard's familiar, Mark doubted they would have much in common anyway. Mark's hand found the coin pouch around his neck, which held his one piece of treasure.

"Wes!" The young woman's face lit up as they approached.

"You actually showed up early! I was wondering whether you went through with the familiar creation." Her eyes dropped to where Mark was walking.

"Oh. Is this your familiar? The one you've been saving up for?"

"Tessa, this is Makriss," Wes said as he turned to Mark.

"Tessa and I have been in the same cohort since first year." Tessa gave Mark the quick smile you give a dog before getting back to its owner, then angled herself toward Wes and lowered her voice.

"You told Sannic and me that you were aiming for a beastkin, dragonkin, or sphinx. With the way you talked about Venwick's ritual and Morty helping, you sounded so certain you'd get a great familiar. You must be so disappointed. All that work and you only got a kobold?" How rude… I'm already not a fan of this friend…

"I was," Wes admitted, looking solemn.

"When he first emerged I thought the whole ritual had been a failure, but I ran his stats and..." He shook his head and a smile returned to his face as he looked down at where Mark was.

"I would not trade him now."

"Well. If you ever change your mind, my family could cover another attempt. Just say the word." What?! She just offered to give him the money to try again. To kill me due to my species?

"Tessa," Wes said.

"He's right here."

"It was a joke, Wes. Besides, he was just created a day ago. He probably doesn't even understand me all that well." Mark was angry, his eyes narrowed at Tessa and while he had the impulse to go up to her and bite her in the face was able to express his displeasure just with words.

"Can you not offer to kill me and fund my replacement?" Mark said.

"You were threatening me and not jokingly. Please don't do it again." This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Tessa's smile vanished. A moment later, she turned back to Wes.

"He can already speak that well? Venwick's ritual truly is able to produce an intelligent non-citizen? That's extraordinary, Wes!"

"Yep, I ran his stats," Wes said.

"I know what I have. I'm not interested in another attempt."

"My stats," Mark said. Wes looked at him.

"That is why you would keep me." His voice was very even.

"Not because I am standing here breathing, but because my numbers came back favorable so I may be of use to you?" He had a small pause before continuing.

"If my Intelligence had been eight instead of eighteen, would you have thanked her for the offer and taken it?" Tessa's mouth fell open slightly, her expression shifting from impressed to genuinely shocked.

"Eighteen? As a newly created familiar?" She turned to Wes with open awe.

"That's exceptional! That's higher than most students when they graduate." Wes's face reddened.

"No. That came out wrong. Your status was why I realized the ritual hadn't failed, but it isn't why I want you now. You aren't just the numbers. I'm sorry." Mark nodded. He believed him, but he also remembered which answer had come first. His grip on the coin pouch loosened slightly.

"I didn't realize you could fully understand what I was saying," Tessa said.

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you for apologizing," he said, and left it there. He remained wary of Wes's classmate. Nobody said anything for a few seconds. The dog's tail had been wagging through this entire exchange. It seemed like just an over enthusiastically happy dog to Mark. Given the class he knew it was a familiar but was this dog sapient like Mark? Eventually the dog decided that there had been too much silence and decided to introduce herself by pressing her nose firmly against Mark's torso.

"That's my girl, Goldheart," Tessa said resting a hand on the dog's head.

"Six generations of my family have elevated their pets. Healing magic is enhanced best with a familiar who is loyal and charismatic, and nothing is more loyal than a dog." Pet. She thinks familiars are pets. No wonder she had been so quick to offer Wes a replacement. The fact that it was common to elevate pets into familiars made Mark angry at Wes all over again. Wes kept denying that Mark was a pet, but Goldheart was proof that, for much of this world, the association was there..

"Friend!" Goldheart confirmed, pressing her nose more firmly against Mark. Mark scratched behind Goldheart's ears, which she seemed to greatly enjoy. While doing so Mark's thoughts wandered. Goldheart truly was the perfect pet, one you could actually reason with. There would be no chewing shoes or stealing food off the counter if you could have a conversation with her and she could understand why these behaviors are wrong.

Then Mark looked down at his own scaled hands petting Goldheart and immediately regretted these thoughts. He had just demanded that Tessa see him as more than a species and a favorable set of numbers, yet he was reducing Goldheart to a more convenient dog. She was sapient now and wasn't a pet even if she was before the elevation. Even though it seemed a bit humiliating to be compared with her. If Mark was to claim he was a person this sapient dog was a person also.

He scratched behind the ears again albeit more carefully.

"Hello, Goldheart."

"Good!" Goldheart said, mission accomplished, then returned to Tessa's side with her tail continuing its perpetual motion in defiance of all known laws regarding energy conservation.

"She's wonderful," Mark said.

"I bet she will be the friendliest familiar in the cohort," Tessa said with obvious pride.

"Her Charisma is fourteen. Intelligence is only six, but we're working on it." She paused, studying Mark.

"I'm sorry I treated you like you couldn't understand us. When I saw a kobold, I assumed you wouldn't be much different from Goldheart. That was wrong. Wes told me he was using Professor Venwick's modified ritual, so I should have realized you would be intelligent." She caught herself, her expression shifting to mild embarrassment. Mark recognized the flaw in the apology the moment it arrived. Should have realized you would be smart still implied the joke would have been fine if he were not.

Also the "joke" in question clearly had not been a joke in the first place. She had legitimately offered to give Wes the funds to try again. However, Tessa had been Wes's friend for the past couple of years, and the first day of the new class was not the time to be overly rude to her and potentially ruin Wes's friendship. Wes still had the power to request dissolution before the week was out, and Mark had no interest in testing whether destroying friendships counted as unmanageable behavior.

"Thank you, I appreciate you apologizing." He scratched Goldheart's ears again instead of saying anything else.

"You seem to have decent Charisma too," Tessa said.

"Smart, articulate, and polite, and despite being angry at what I said you calmed down after we talked."

"I try," he said, which was technically accurate. A sharp voice cut across the room before Tessa could answer.

"Your people's obsession with stonework is nothing more than compensation for a weak mind!" As Mark turned to look around he saw a dwarf student sitting on the opposite side of the circle in the front row. He was glaring at an exhausted-looking young man.

"You want to say that again, weasel?" The dwarf said. The dwarf's war badger familiar which was standing next to him growled low in its throat. At first Mark wondered why the young man was being called a weasel. Until he noticed a strange creature which was perched on the man's shoulder.

"I'm not a weasel," the creature snapped.

"And yes, I'll say it again." The creature resembled an anthropomorphic ferret at first glance, but the details refused to settle into anything familiar. It stood bipedal, with forward-facing eyes bright with self-regard, dexterous paws with opposable thumbs, webbed, clawed feet like a platypus, and a prehensile tail curled around the young man's shoulder for balance.

"Whisper," the thin young man said wearily.

"Please. We've been here just ten minutes and you're already making a scene."

"I'm simply stating facts, Edwin. If the truth offends, perhaps they should examine why."

"That's Whisper," Tessa said, her voice dropping to a whisper herself to ensure the creature who likely had much better hearing than humans would be unable to hear her gossip about him.

"He's the other high-intelligence familiar here, and everyone wishes he was as polite as Makriss. Pretty sure the name was picked to be ironic.

"He has memories too," Tessa said.

"He claims he was a powerful magician before his species went extinct. Now he thinks he was brought back to restore them, and he keeps promising to do it with 'real magic.' Edwin told me before you walked in that Whisper has an Intelligence of 15, but from what I've seen, his Charisma cannot be much higher than two." Across the room, Whisper had apparently moved on from stonework to the dwarf's choice of familiar. The war badger's growling increased by several degrees.

"Edwin told me that Whisper thinks his species is at war with all other sapient races," Tessa added.

"Which, if you spend five minutes listening, it's clear he still believes that is the case." The raven made a soft, disapproving sound in Whisper's direction. This Whisper had memories of being someone before creation, just like Mark. All Mark wanted to do was cross the room and ask Whisper all about these memories. Does he remember being from a different world? Does he remember being a different species like Mark does? Does he have a family and a life he needs to get back to?

Maybe they could work together to research the issue. Instead Mark remained beside Wes. He would have to find a chance to talk to him soon. Currently Whisper was provoking a war badger, and Mark had no intention of talking to this potential ally when he was already angry especially if he truly thought all species were at war with him.

"He's exhausting," Tessa said.

"Very, very exhausting. Edwin's a nice person, but I don't know how he tolerates it. If he doesn't improve I bet he will chase away all of Edwin's friends." Tessa leaned closer and lowered her voice, apparently trusting the room's scattered conversations to cover her gossip.

"I wonder whether Edwin has already taken him before the Board. A familiar's master can request dissolution at the first-week review, but once the Board recognizes the familiar, that option is gone." Mark's hand found the coin pouch without him deciding to move it.

"What happens to Whisper if he does decide to dissolve him?"

"The bond ends. The familiar will return to magical essence. It is not like he is killing it. Constructs are not legally alive yet before the week is up. It is more like... unmaking something before it fully exists."

"I have existed for about one day," Mark said.

"If dissolving me would not kill me, then you are saying I am not alive right now." Tessa opened her mouth and then closed it again.

"Because from where I am standing those two things cannot both be true," Mark continued, his voice staying level with some effort.

"Either I am alive and dissolution would kill me, or I am not alive and you can dissolve me without consequence. I would just like to know which one you think it is."

"I had not thought of it that way," Tessa said finally, and she sounded like she meant it. She glanced at Goldheart, who was investigating a dust mote with her full attention, tail wagging without a care in the world.

"I genuinely had not thought of it that way." Mark watched Edwin reach up and absently pat Whisper's head despite everything, the gesture so automatic it looked like a habit already.

"Regardless if he's seen the Board or not," Tessa added, the certainty gone from her voice, "I don't think Edwin is going to request dissolution."

"I have memories too," Mark said, "Of being someone before my creation. Wes told me it's common among Venwick familiars." Tessa leaned forward.

"You do?" Wes shot him a warning look.

"We said we shouldn't discuss those, Makriss. You know how distressing they are for you."

"Yeah," Mark said.

"It's been complicated."

"I hope your memories don't make you miserable the way his seem to."

"They make me confused," Mark admitted, which was perhaps the understatement of both lives.

"But I'm not angry all the time. I'm just trying to figure out what's real and what isn't." He was fairly certain he'd been a practicing psychiatrist, with a wife and a daughter and continuing education credits he'd never get to use.

"Confused" though would have to do as a description since he was still thinking about Wes's previous threats.

"High Intelligence means opinions," Wes was saying, his tone suggesting he'd been preparing this explanation for a while.

"Makriss here has lots of opinions."

"I have so many opinions," Mark confirmed.

"And Wes is great at telling me why I'm wrong and he's right and vice versa." Tessa laughed.

"But it worked! Venwick's modified ritual actually produces the results he claims. Congratulations, Wes! Really." She then looked directly at Mark.

"And congratulations to you, Makriss. That Intelligence means you'll be able to learn, grow, and really develop as a person."

"If I am a person," Mark said before he could stop himself.

"You're speaking to me. You have opinions, and you just made me question something I'd never thought about before." Tessa's face went protective when she looked at Goldheart.

"That sounds like a person to me." Mark looked at her for a moment and decided Tessa was probably worth the benefit of the doubt. She was clueless, yes, and privileged enough that she had apparently never needed to think carefully about familiars and personhood before today. That did not erase what she had said, but it kept Mark from writing her off completely.

"Friend!" Goldheart contributed to the conversation albeit was mostly focused still on the dust mote from before.

"Yes, friend," Tessa confirmed, patting her head with obvious affection. From somewhere behind him, claws clicked against stone. It was not the random scrape of a restless familiar shifting position, but a deliberate sound, sharp enough to cut through the fading conversation. Mark did not need to turn around to know who it was. His tongue had already caught the scent. Skarl was done waiting.