"It's not real, is it?" The female voice that broke through the pleasant humming of relaxation in M’kar’s mind sounded far too young to hold such strong cynicism.
M'kar turned
to gaze up four steps to the doorway of the contemplation pavilion. She had
passed those five new students maybe twenty minutes ago. How had they found
their way down here already? These contemplation pavilions should be marked as
out of bounds for first-years. They were rather personal territory, established
for each special class for a reason.
She
knew if Thyal were here, he would tease her for being so territorial. Still,
that girl’s tone of voice irritated her. Knowing her private quiet time had
just died, M’kar stood and stepped out of the shadows and looked up the steps
to the doorway. Five sets of eyes widened and flicked down and up and back and
forth, translating the emblems and ranking marks on her uniform.
Lieutenant.
Talents grouping. E&D ship assignment. The stylized shield emblem for the Defender.
None
of those big, suitably impressed eyes flicked up high enough to catch on her
facial tattoos: red lightning bolt on her left temple and blue lines extending
her upper eyelids.
Thank Enlo.
M’kar
could almost laugh. The first students within five meters of her who didn’t
immediately stink of panic, silently shouting, What is that barbarian doing
here on Le’anka?
"What
isn't real?" M’kar asked.
"The
sunbird." The smallest of the five, a boy, gestured into the center of the
pavilion, at the infrenx.
"Here
on Le'anka, it is an infrenx. On my father's homeworld, there is a similar
creature, with a name that translates as emberwing." She held her breath,
waiting for them to ask what her father's homeworld was.
"Sorry
for disturbing you, Commander," the tallest girl said, giving her a little
nod-bow.
M’kar decided to be generous and not correct her; lieutenant, not commander. "As your teachers will tell you many times in the years to come, the pursuit of knowledge and understanding is always disturbing to someone, but that is no reason to hesitate."
"Always apologize, however," the smooth baritone voice of Master Scholar Thyal interposed. A moment later, robed in dun brown, with the infinity symbol pin of a master glistening at his throat, he stepped into view in the doorway behind the students. "Politeness is a mark of civilization. As the Lieutenant will testify, it knocks aggressors off balance and buys you valuable time."
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