Perception Read online

  Helaine chewed her lip, wondering what the story was there. Something had happened between Selina and Quinton the night the Music for Enjoyment class had performed for the Heartstide Festival. Helaine didn’t know what, exactly, but based on Vatara’s news the following day, she assumed it was something serious. Vatara had visited her once or twice during her stay in the infirmary. Normally, Vatara was a wellspring of information, but their conversation had never turned to Selina. Of course, Helaine had never asked. Perhaps she would. Not that she was one to gossip, herself, but she did like knowing what was going on around her.

  Something covered the sun, casting a long shadow across her body.

  “May I join you?” asked Petrin.

  “Of course, silly.” Helaine grinned up at him and accepted the offered cup, patting the space beside her.

  As Petrin folded himself down onto the blanket, Helaine thought back to the day they’d met. Her cheeks reddened even now as she recalled how she’d brazenly marched right up to him and introduced herself. How she’d gotten up the nerve to ask him to be her partner for their Sound Theory project, she’d never know. But she seemed to recall Nadja having something to do with it.

  As a child, Helaine had few friends and was teased often about her extra sensory problem. As a result, she grew into a shy young woman, often preferring to keep her own company rather than chance rejection by others. But, at the conservatory, things were different. Those who knew about her issue were intrigued or even delighted by the idea. The time she’d spent within the conservatory walls had allowed her to feel, for the first time, she could be free to be herself. Perhaps that was why she had made new connections here so easily. Not many, mind you. But what she lacked in quantity she made up in quality.

  She lifted the cup to her lips and sipped. The bubbly drink tickled its way down her throat, and her tongue detected a bitter taste hiding behind its sweetness. She suspected someone from the crowd of dueling trumpeters had made a clandestine visit to the punch bowl, and she made a mental note to take it easy on the refreshments.

  She peered at Petrin above the rim of the cup. A patch of light brown hair behind his left ear stood fluffed at odd angles, a sure sign he had been deep in his studies before venturing out to the picnic. She’d warned he would wear a thin patch in that spot if he didn’t quit pulling at it, but unconscious habits were the most difficult to break. He squinted against the glare as he took in their surroundings, bunching his facial features into something resembling the most adorable otter imaginable. Helaine’s giggle echoed in her cup.

  “What?” he said, turning to her.

  She tilted her head and set her cup on the blanket, the smile still on her lips. Petrin was not the handsomest of men, but he was one of the best. He was intelligent and kind, private, and diligent in his work. And though he tended toward logic and practicality, he endured her spells of frivolity and flights of fancy with ease. She suspected he secretly enjoyed them.

  It was his desire to know her at a heart-level that had won her over. He had always been more interested in who she was than in what she could do. To Petrin, she wasn’t Helaine-the-woman-who-could-smell-sound. She was simply Helaine, and that seemed to be enough.

  Perhaps it was the energy flowing around them, or the promise of a new future, or the memories of the day they had met. Whatever it was, it prompted Helaine to boldness once again.

  “You, that’s what,” she said, grabbing his face with both hands and planting a kiss on his mouth.

  Petrin’s eyes were wide when she released him, and it was all she could do not to laugh.

  “Ah . . . thank you,” he said, his eyes darting back and forth, no doubt acutely aware of their current surroundings. They’d enjoyed their fair share of kissing, but never in so public an arena. Still, despite his preference for discretion, she glimpsed a lopsided grin before he hid it behind his own cup.

  “Are you ready?” she asked, knowing full well he was probably better prepared for tomorrow’s examinations than any other apprentice.

  He swallowed and shrugged his shoulders. “Can any of us ever truly be ready?”

  “Yes. You can. You’re one of the smartest men I know. If you’re not ready, I don’t stand a chance.”

  “You’d have a better excuse than anyone.”

  “I would, wouldn’t I?” She raised her cup to her lips and tilted it back.

  Setting it aside, she leaned back on her elbows, lifting her face to the sun. “Thank you for keeping me on track while I was stuck in the infirmary. I wouldn’t be prepared now if it wasn’t for you. You’re kind of amazing like that, you know?” She looked his way in time to see the tips of his oversized ears turn red.

  “It helps to have a talented pupil,” he said, diverting her compliment back to her. “I can only hope I’m so lucky next week.”

  “Oh, I know you will be. And even if your students aren’t the brightest, you have such a way of explaining things. And you’re so patient. Other than the obvious required knowledge, I can’t think of any greater qualities for a teacher to have.”

  “Thank you.”

  With examinations falling at the end of the spring, and regular classes not scheduled to resume until the autumn, conservatory students spent the summer months involved in scholarly activities of their choice. After being paired with an advisory grandmaster, the students could do most anything they could imagine, so long as it related to their chosen focus. Petrin would teach string craft under the guidance of Grandmaster Craftsman Cora Wayguard, who led a summer program for young Amrantirians who showed interest in the craft.

  For her own part—

  Helaine bolted upright nearly knocking over her cup. “Oh no! What am I going to do?”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Petrin, concern washing over his features.

  “My summer study. I’m supposed to keep working with Grandmaster Westbrook, researching and exploring my . . . you know. Only I don’t have that problem anymore. Which, on the one hand, is wonderful. But, on the other hand, it makes my summer study worthless. It’s too late to set up something else—we start next week.” Her shoulders rose and fell with panicked breaths. “I’m going to have to tell him. And I was hoping to keep it to myself for as long as possible. You know they’re going to want to ask me all sorts of questions. Probably run more tests. And I was hoping I was finished with all of that.”

  “Slow down.” Petrin reached across her body and cupped her cheek, turning her face toward his. “Let’s start with the facts. Number one, you’ve lost your gift—”

  “Problem.”

  He placed a finger over her lips, silencing her. “Gift. Since that was the basis of your summer study, of course you must tell Grandmaster Westbrook. Two, he is the dean. I doubt he’ll have a problem helping you arrange something different, even last minute. And three, he is as kind as he is wise. There’s a good chance he will keep your secret. Speak with him before rushing to conclusions.”

  At Petrin’s words, the tension melted from her shoulders, and she nodded in agreement.

  “Besides,” he continued, “now you have numerous possibilities before you. What do you want to do?”

  That was a good question. Until now, she’d focused most of her attention on coping with her problem. Now that it was a nonissue, she was free to imagine anything. What did she want to do?

  It was easy for Petrin. He was a craftsman. Making instruments is what he did. But musicians had a much broader range of specialties to choose from.

  She glanced at the petrology students, their stone towers now reaching well above head height. No, nothing about the geological sciences spoke to her. She knew Vatara was leaning toward horticulture, but Helaine had never enjoyed playing in the dirt. She chewed the inside of her lip.

  “While you’re thinking about that,” Petrin said, clapping his hands together and rubbing them eagerly, “I’ll go get us something to eat.”

  “Don’t you want to wait for Pax?” she asked.

&
nbsp; Laurel Willowcroft, the smart and gorgeous adept-level student who made no secret about her feelings for Pax, had cornered him his first day back in class and practically demanded he escort her to the picnic. Pax had made his excuses to her, saying he already had plans with Petrin, thereby making himself their third.

  Not that Helaine minded in the least. Pax seemed to be taking Nadja’s absence rather hard, which wasn’t a surprise to her. She was glad to offer any help she could.

  She scanned the lawn, but Pax was nowhere in sight. “Where is he, anyway?”

  Petrin sniffed. “He’s, ah, been detained.”

  “Detained? What in the world does that mean? Every student and grandmaster is here. There’s no one to detain him.”

  Petrin looked away. “It’s nothing,” he said, tugging on his earlobe. “He’s just answering a few questions.”

  “From whom?”

  He shrugged. “The guard.”

  “The Cantio Guard?” she exclaimed.

  “Shh,” said Petrin, twisting to face her with his hands in the air. “Please, keep your voice down.”

  “Why is Pax being questioned by the guard?” she hissed.

  “It’s nothing, really. I wasn’t even going to mention it, except you asked.” He dropped his hands but kept his voice low. “They’re investigating something that took place at The Hen and Harp the night of the Heartstide Festival. I don’t know what, but they’re questioning everyone who performed with the Music for Enjoyment class, not just him. I’m sure it’s merely a formality.”

  “Like some kind of crime?” Helaine’s hand flew to her chest.

  “It’s likely, since the guard is involved.” His eyes dropped to her thumb, which patted a brisk beat against her collarbone, and his features softened. “But I’m sure it’s nothing so terrible. If some violence had taken place that night, we would have heard about it. I’m certain no one was in any real danger.” He reached out and pulled her hand down, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze.

  “No, you’re probably right.” She released her fingers from Petrin’s grasp and reached for her cup, taking a fortifying gulp. “Nadja didn’t mention anything out of the ordinary when she returned that night. Not that we talked for long. Still, I would think she’d have said something if she had witnessed a crime. That’s not something you keep to yourself unless you’re involved in it.” She huffed out a tight chuckle, releasing some of her nerves along with it. Nadja had said as much about that night’s performance as Pax had said about his week-long absence.

  She wondered how he was faring in his questioning. Was he being as tight-lipped with the guards as he had been with her? Every time she brought up Nadja’s disappearance, Pax avoided her questions. He simply reiterated the same words: He had seen Nadja safely to her uncle in Chansey, whom she was now helping with an urgent family problem.

  Five days he had been gone. And that was all he knew?

  Helaine’s honest nature predisposed her to believe everyone as genuine as she was, unless they proved otherwise. Pax had never given her a reason to doubt he was anything but forthcoming, yet his recent behavior suggested he knew more than he said. And if his gloomy mood was any indication, it wasn’t anything good.

  What if Nadja was in trouble? What if Helaine could help her? If Pax wasn’t sharing any details, she would never know.

  She took another sip of her drink, unconscious of the tingling on her tongue.

  Helaine’s eyes widened. There was one question she hadn’t yet asked.

  Who told Nadja about the urgent family problem that sent her chasing down her uncle?

  If Pax had to catch up to her, it wasn’t him.

  Helaine thought back to the last time she’d seen Nadja, searching her mind for any clue about what might have happened. She remembered waking up in the infirmary a little disoriented, but well. Nadja had reassured her and sent for Petrin. Doctor Corinson, Nurse Silvers, her friends, all jumbled in her memory, but she recalled Nadja there among them. Then came the visits from the grandmasters. Grandmaster Gilmoren had offered her a rare smile, and Grandmaster Westbrook had made it clear the conservatory would take the best care of her. Grandmaster Kero had popped in briefly to check on her.

  That was it. That was the last time.

  Doctor Corinson had just begun another test, and she remembered spying Nadja following Grandmaster Kero out the door.

  A tiny sliver of hope flickered in the back of Helaine’s mind. If Pax wouldn’t give her any more information, perhaps Grandmaster Kero knew something. She just needed to figure out the right way to broach the topic.

  “Now,” said Petrin, interrupting her thoughts, “may I go get us some food?”

  Helaine glanced down at the cup in her hands, remembering its contents. She was suddenly aware of the warmth in her belly and the way her muscles felt like putty as she slumped on her seat.

  “That’s probably for the best,” she said with a giggle. She could think better on a full stomach, anyway.

  And she had a lot to think about.

  Chapter 3

  Grandmaster Westbrook sat back in his upholstered armchair, the most worn-looking piece of furniture in his office, and rubbed his hand across his white-and-gray goatee. A stone-faced Helaine stood motionless before him, waiting for him to say something. Anything. She discreetly grabbed the back of her skirt with both hands, bunching the fabric in her fists to erase the dampness from her palms.

  “What an interesting development.”

  He rose from the chair and folded his hands behind his back as he paced over to an enormous bookcase. “Naturally, this negates the purpose of your summer studies.” He turned and crossed back to the armchair.

  Helaine’s gaze dropped to the floor.

  “And you first noticed this change after you awoke in the infirmary?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes traced a faint line that ran across the floorboards between Grandmaster Westbrook’s bookcase and the chair.

  “One would assume a connection between your illness and the loss of your extra sense.” His feet broke her study of the line as he followed it like an expert tightrope walker back to the bookcase. “It may be a clue as to the cause of your illness. Doctor Corinson will be most interested in this new information.”

  “Oh, no, sir,” she said, taking a step forward as her eyes snapped to him. “If it’s all right with you, I’d rather not tell anyone else about this. I’ve already spent so much time in the infirmary as it is. Can’t we just keep this between us? I mean, does anyone else really need to know?”

  “Of course Doctor Corinson needs to know.” He offered a dismissive wave and continued his perambulation. “The safety and security of my students is my top priority, under which this clearly falls. Based on what little we understand about your extra sense, I would assume you’re affected on a physiological level. Consulting Doctor Corinson is the next logical step.”

  Grandmaster Westbrook resumed his seat and looked up at Helaine. His features softened as he took in her rosy complexion and furrowed brow, and he offered her a reassuring smile.

  “Oh, Miss Vastrof, please, do take a seat,” he said.

  Helaine shuffled to the wooden, high-backed chair in front of his desk and sat, her heart pounding and her muscles taut.

  Grandmaster Westbrook sighed and let out a low chuckle. “Perhaps we do not need to tell him today.”

  Helaine’s eyes widened.

  “You seem in fine health and spirits, otherwise,” he continued. “And I understand you had a trying time in the infirmary.”

  “Oh, thank you, sir.”

  He held up a wrinkled hand. “I’m not saying I won’t tell him, mind you. But,” he said, lowering his hand, “I will give you time to yourself before placing you once more under the scrutiny of Doctor Corinson and his associates. Besides, who knows? Perhaps this will clear itself up in a few days, just like your long sleep, hmm?”

  Helaine replied with an enthusiastic head bob.

  “Now,” said the gra
ndmaster, leaning back in his chair and crossing an ankle over his knee. “Back to your summer study. Here we are in the first week, and you are without work. Perhaps if you had come to me sooner . . .” He gave her a reproving look. “But, I know you had your mind on other things. Well done on your examinations, by the by.”

  “Thank you,” replied Helaine, the blush returning to her cheeks.

  “No matter. I’m sure we can find a project for you. Have you decided which area of study you would like to focus on during your time here?”

  Thanks to Petrin’s prodding, she’d found time to consider the matter.

  “I don’t know what, exactly, I’d like to do,” she said, “but I’m leaning toward animal sciences.”

  “Excellent choice. I believe Grandmaster Brightwater still has room for another student.”

  Grandmaster Westbrook rose, crossed to his desk, and opened a notebook. His eyes traveled across the large grid printed there. “Yes, that should work out nicely.”

  He closed the notebook and gave her a warm smile. “She is always in need of help for something or another. I’m sure she’ll have no trouble coming up with something to suit your interests. She’s usually in the aviary this time of the morning. Just tell her I sent you.” He left his desk and settled back into his armchair, reaching for the book that lay open on the side table.

  At the dismissal, Helaine stood. “Thank you so much.” Relief settled into her shoulders as she smiled at the grandmaster. She had bought herself more time. At least for now, she could go about her business, enjoying her new circumstances. With a lighter step than when she’d entered, she turned to leave the office.

  But at the door, another thought halted her feet.

  “Grandmaster Westbrook?”

  “Hmm?” he said, looking up from his book.

  “Have you heard any news about Nadja?”

  “No, nothing more than she has made it safely to her family and will be with them for some time.”

  That was news to Helaine.

  “Oh, good.” She took another step toward the door and stopped again. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you learn she made it safely to Grenyan?”