After another few days, the mid-semester exams took up most of their attention. Good thing Ryan had made them start the study group. Even as it dissolved into them studying alone together, it got them there. New faces joined and people cycled in and out as they pleased—Anne and Myra’s friends, Micah’s roommates and colleagues, Saga, Stephanie.

More often than not toward the end, Ryan missed out on sessions, but Micah always caught him studying alone. It was somewhat motivating.

Surprisingly, a large part of the student body did not join in. The libraries were never as full as they could have been. The foyer was filled with people horsing around instead of studying. Micah witnessed one classmate even show up to an exam with no idea it was taking place. He needed a moment to wrap his head around that. He guessed it just wasn’t as urgent to them. Micah needed to do well in these exams—in all of them.

He did do well. In most.

His Alchemy, Biology, and Social Studies scores were near-perfect or perfect. Mana Manipulation and Grammar were still great. Above ninety percent. Overseas and Tower Studies were also great, but barely. Everything else was only good, with Physical Education, History, and Math being his lowest scores. Gym because of his injuries and multiple absences. Micah missed a grade entirely. The other two, he’d screwed up on the day of. Even if he hadn’t, he hadn’t studied enough to get a perfect score. Micah just had … gaps. He suspected he always would. It was a consequence of skipping two grades on a whim, with none of the proper preparations.

He’d wondered about hobbies before and now he knew what it would be for the near future: catching up.

It kind of sucked.

Being able to finally make alchemicals again and manipulate his mana helped. The first morning after he’d gotten the go-ahead from the doctors, a little over a week after the cast had come off, Micah had fiddled with his mana until he made a screen of cold water and maneuvered it over Ryan’s showerhead.

He’d jumped.

That was one benefit of showers, he guessed.

The school posted the exam results openly again, but not publically—Micah guessed to motivate them by motivating them to compete. They were hung out on the first floor of the foyer for everyone to see. Some complained, but not like they were going to do anything about it.

He was fine with his being out there. They were better than his entrance exams’ had been. He was a good student, now. Above average. But good enough to steal a partial scholarship away from someone?

When the nail-biting anxiety of not knowing his scores passed and he could finally breathe again, he searched the hangouts to check for how some of his friends had done and found the scores Ryan and Anne shared. They had nearly the exact same scores—or actually the exact same ones—on all of them. Always perfect to near-perfect. That was great. Then they wouldn’t have to compete anymore like they had sometimes during study group.

They could get along.

“You have to be careful. It isn’t a perfect carving,” Connor said. “We talked about this?” He wrung his hands nervously next to Ryan, looking embarrassed even though he had no reason to be.

They were in the mage’s gym instead of the gymnastics one, in case they needed to test the spear out.

Ryan ran his hand along its wood in awe. It was great work. Better than what he had been expecting, if he was being honest. Connor has said he knew how to carve a spear, but had made it sound like he had never actually done it. This seemed too high quality for a first try. Had he practiced? Ryan doubted he had any Skills for it. The guy was level three.

“How do you mean?”

“The pipe thing?”

“Ohhh,” Ryan nodded, remembering now, “right. There was a problem?”

“Yeah. Sort of. You haven’t tried it yet? I think you would notice right away if you did.”

Connor had explained to him that spellwoods were inlaid with invisible pipes from hypothetical years of mana flowing through them. Those pipes sometimes had curves, waves, patterns, splices, or even loops—depending on the wood and if it had an innate spellscript. This spear didn’t. The pipes were just ideal for conducting fire mana along with its resistance.

But of course, if the wood was filled with invisible pipes, what happened when you shaved away bits and pieces? Breaks. Those could be stoppered with some effort. Leaks, if you weren’t careful.

Ideally, the outermost layer would be shaved off while leaving the one below perfectly intact. You had to trace them and then carve the wood exactly so. Bumps and curves could be straightened out. Some people had Skills to help with the entire process. Ryan wasn’t exactly familiar. The conversation had taken place a while ago.

Now, he laid a finger straight out on the wood and pushed some mana into it. There was the barest hint of resistance—a little more than there had been before, he thought. Probably because of the finish. He had to keep it up to get the mana to travel all the way. He chose two different pipes and used one to ignite the other, something Mrs. Burke had taught him.

Near the tip, a lick of flame shot out of the side of the shaft. A puff of flames escaped the top.

“There,” Connor said.

Ryan had seen it. There was at least one small leak. It was conveniently placed between two “rings” of the wood that, in any other tool or weapon, might have marked a handle. It looked almost decorative, here.

“Don’t grip the spear above the first ring if you can help it,” Connor told him. “I don’t want you to burn yourself.”

Ryan smiled. “And the second?”

“It’s actually something else. It’s a loop. Try testing it with mana? Outer channels. You can stockpile some mana there for charging up slightly bigger spells, or to prepare them. It won’t make the difference between a [Firebolt] and [Fireball] but it might give you an extra edge?”

Ryan had started feeling his way there the moment he said to. If he used the right pipes he could make the mana loop around in circles near the tip of the spear. It allowed him to hold a spell there like he sometimes did under his skin. As Connor said, for stockpiling or quicker access. He just had to figure out how to properly adapt his spellscripts to the spear, but that should go quickly.

Awesome.

“Did the staff have this, too?” he asked. “I never noticed.”

“It had the cradle,” Connor said, “but like we said—”

“That had to go.”

“Yeah. Instead my uh— a relative helped me with that.”

Ryan looked at him. “A relative?”

“Don’t worry,” he quickly told him, “it was easy for him because he has years of experience with these kinds of things and a bunch of Skills besides. It took a quarter hour for him, tops. You don’t owe him anything.”

“Okay …?”

Ryan had been a little worried, admittedly, but he had been more interested in hearing about Connor’s relatives. He guessed he’d been misunderstood.

Connor pointed as if to show him something on the spear, but was obviously imagining out loud. “We used part of the network leading up to the cradle for that. It almost broke, too, even though we were just reshaping some of the wood. The pipes, not the wood. The rest of the connections lead to the nubs, which should give you a little extra control. It’s better than nothing?”

There were tiny wooden nubs around the end of the shaft, right before the metal of the spearhead, leftover from where the crown of the staff had started. Ryan furrowed his brows as he fiddled for a bit and managed to get a tiny flame to pop out of a single one like a miniature torch.

He smiled. “Definitely.”

There was also something else.

“And that?”

He held it up with one hand.

“Oh. Uhm, we just had that lying around,” Connor said, sounding skittish. A lie, then. “It’s a sheep's wool tassel from the Gardens, so it’s highly flame retardant. It should catch some sparks falling down from your spells and soak up blood. I heard more and more monsters have real blood, now?”

Its color was faintly green and orange. Garden sheep’s wool most often was green, but always looked like someone had mixed acrylic paints with far too much opaque white so it barely had any color.

“A sheep’s wool tassel,” Ryan said, “from the Gardens, which the companies haven’t even reconnected to yet.” They were incredibly expensive right now. He knew from Micah, who could have used them in a fire resistance potion for the exam. “You just … had one lying around?”

Connor avoided his eyes and rubbed his shoulder. “Yeah.” He quickly tried to distract him with, “But it won’t hold forever. You can only wash it so often before you have to get a new one, and it might be damaged. You might even want to get a spare for the exam in case you can’t wash it during.”

Ryan might do that. His spear looked so … cluttered, now. Before, it had been a simple boar spear. Now it had two rings, those nubs, its wood was treated and clearly spellwood of some kind because of its patterns, and it had an expensive tassel. Not that he was complaining.

“Is it okay?” Connor asked.

“Is it okay? It’s awesome,” Ryan said. He turned to Connor and smiled at him. “You’re awesome.”

He quickly looked away again.

He tried gripping it in a few spear fighting stances. It was shorter than his last had been. The Kobold’s staff had been sized for it after all. Maybe Ryan should get a longer spearhead to put on top. Or a spare spear in general. He’d given Connor his last one.

Still, it was great.

“Thank you,” he said. “Best [Enchanter] ever!”

When he looked at Connor again, the guy was frowning deeply and had taken a step back. He looked almost … disappointed? Or was it self-conscious? Had Ryan said something wrong?

“Uh, wanna’ try it out?” he blurted out.

The frown lifted a little. “Huh?”

“The spear,” Ryan explained. “Now. ‘Want to— Do you want to try out using the spear? Do you know how? If not, I could show you the basics …?” He held the spear out toward him with one arm, an invitation.

Even as he did, Ryan wasn’t sure. The last time he had done this hadn’t worked out so well.

Connor seemed tempted, but shook his head and took another small step back. “Thanks for the offer, but no,” he said. “I can’t. I mean, not that I’m much of a fighter anyway. I am at a school for climbers, I know, but I’m sort of new? To this. So I don’t know which weapon I’ll end up preferring to fight with. Spear training might be good. I just can’t because I have to leave. Not right now, but soon. So, I wouldn’t have time for a longer session and—” He was rambling and needed to catch his breath. Ryan got the gist of it. He didn’t want to for whatever reason.

“You should try it out first,” Connor insisted. “I wouldn’t want to take up all your time. You should get used to it, you know? It’s your weapon. If you notice anything off or have any more questions—”

“I’ll come see you,” Ryan said.

“Yeah? Yeah. So … do you have any questions now?”

Ryan glanced at the spear, a little bummed out, but shook his head. “No.” He had read up on most of what he needed to know already. Stupid of him or else he could have asked now. “I do have to get used to it,” he admitted. “I’ve been practicing a little with some training exercises Mrs. Burke gave me, but …”

“You’ll probably be great at it in no time,” Connor said. There was a smile somewhere in there. Ryan just wasn’t sure which kind. “So, uhm, if that’s all …”

“Thank you for this, Connor. Really,” Ryan told him.

“It was nothing. I still owe you one,” he said, taking another step back. “And I think it helped me, too?”

“Oh?” Ryan smiled. “Did you put a lot of effort into it?” If he had, it might help him level. He awkwardly tried to keep a conversation up while the guy backed up, but then realized himself that it was futile. He switched tones and relaxed. “It’s great. I’ll be sure to use it well during the exam. Thank you again. See you later, then?”

“Yeah, uhm, later … bye.”

He left, glancing back every now and then. Ryan idled around for a moment before he traced each and every “pipe” inside the staff. They weren’t literal pipes. They were more like grooves in the ground where water flowed more easily. Sometimes, they swept into one another. If he didn't concentrate, he wouldn't notice them at all. Once he had familiarized himself a bit with it, he got to practicing.

In addition to the four to six spellscripts he’d already practiced, he had to adapt what would hopefully someday be a [Create Fire] Skill to spear fighting and spellwoods. He’d started on that a little while ago. No wonder it was taking him ages to learn.

He tried for a few more minutes and spent maybe a third of his mana until he quit and looked around. He wasn’t alone in the gym, but he wasn’t in company either. Not that the gym was empty, he just had nobody to hang out with here. Maybe he should go somewhere else?

Micah was in the gymnastics gym, working out. They had an obstacle course with nets, ropes, and walls set up. He was with Anne and a few others.

Ryan gave practice a few more shots before he headed out and got changed. He slipped the green sack over his new spear, wrapped a cloth around it, and took a slight detour through the foyer to see if Lisa was around, but she wasn’t. There were two of his roommates at a table playing cards with bets. He considered sitting with them, but didn’t.

On his way to the cafeteria building where Micah would be, Ryan was stopped by someone calling his last name.

“Payne!”

A young woman in business clothes. One of the secretaries? She was waving at him in front of the door just outside her office and called him over to her. How did she know who he was? He didn’t remember speaking with her before.

“You’re Ryan Payne, correct?”

“Uh, yes, miss?”

“We received an urgent message for you ten minutes ago,” she told him. “It’s about your mother.”

At first, Ryan didn’t know what to do. He thanked the lady and took a step back. She might have been staring at him. He wasn’t quite sure. He didn’t have time. He was already late. The message had come ten minutes ago and been urgent. Urgent. Didn’t they have some kind of announcement system for this at school? How long had it taken for the messenger to get here? He thought other schools had something like that. Hadn’t Micah once mentioned the staff being low-leveled?

No. Think. Focus. He needed to go. He headed toward the courtyard doors, froze, and headed for his room instead, then froze again, and took a step toward the cafeteria building. Where to go first?

When he raised his hand for the door, he noticed the spear and his sports duffel over one shoulder. He couldn’t show up like this. Was there anything he needed? He needed—

He ran. To his room. He burst through the door. Two of his roommate were there. Glove Gu— Kyle asked some stupid question—Micah and his stupid nicknames. Ryan threw his stuff under his bed, ignored him, and grabbed a handful of things. He locked his spear in his wardrobe. He couldn’t get the key in the hole fast enough. Then he was out the door again.

He patted and checked all his pockets once to make sure he had everything before he sprinted to the gym. When people didn't move fast enough, he ran around them. A teacher might have shouted at him in the distance. He practically tripped over his feet as he stumbled into the brightly-lit hall and needed a moment to find them.

There. Near the horizontal bar. Micah was covered in sweat, smiling, and bracing himself against his knees while he caught his breath. He stood with Anne and Navid in gym clothes. They were talking about something.

“Micah!” Ryan bellowed across the distance. He only took a few steps toward him and was halfway turned toward the door, ready to run off again.

Micah broke off and looked over, suddenly battle ready. The shift in his stance, of his hand to where his knife would have been, his eyes.

Not that, Ryan thought. Not that he was complaining.

“My mom!”

His expression immediately shifted to worry and he started to ask, “Is something wr—?” But then he must have seen it in Ryan’s own eyes. His face shifted to disbelief and a twitching smile.

“Now?!”

“What—” Anne began.

“Yes, now!” Ryan waved a hand over in a broad gesture. “C’mon! Move, you lazy ass!”

“What’s—?” Anne tried again. She looked a lot confused and a little worried.

“Bye.”

Micah just ran off.

They headed through the shadowed hallway to the lockers, Ryan urging him along with every step. He got changed and Ryan handed him the clothes. “Hurry. C’mon. Faster, faster.”

“I am going fast.”

“Jacket, jacket, jacket. And scarf. It’s cold out. No way I’m letting you catch a cold today. Or get there with a cold.”

“I won’t catch a cold,” Micah promised him.

“Faster. No talking.”

His voice was muffled as he spoke through a sweater. “I am going fast!”

Ryan bent down to pick up one of his shoes and toss it in his bag. “Not fast enough!”

“Pwah.” He shook his head and gasped for air as he forced his head through the sweater neck. His mop of dark hair was a mess, but he was smiling. “Are you excited?”

“Hurry!”

Shoes next. Micah propped them up against the bench to tie their laces. “I’m going to take that as a yes. Oh, do you even know where she is?”

“A clinic near Westgate,” Ryan said. “She’s been there for check-ups before. I know the way. You just need to hurry. C’mon. We don’t want to be late. And we need to get the present after. Oh, and tell your family— Your sister and brother-in-law, I mean. And Lang, and Finn, and Lisa, and we’ll probably have to help bring her home or get some stuff my dad forgot—”

If he’d been only half as panicked as Ryan was right now, his dad has forgotten something on the way to the hospital.

They rushed out of the gym, through the shaded hallways, and onto the campus, arms slipping into their backpack loops as they spoke. Questions. Answers. Directions. But then the talking got too much and they were running through the streets too fast. It was a drab, grey cold Winter afternoon around them. Smoke rose off chimneys. A break in the clouds revealed billowing rolls along its heights. Cold grit and moist mud stuck to their boots like tacks and the sky dimmed as street lamps were lit.

A beautiful day.

“I’m excited!” Micah gasped when they reached Westhill.

Ryan was, too.

He was going to be a big brother.