Read Online Daughter of the Disgraced King by Meredith Mansfield - Free Book Online Page A

There
seemed to be more open than enclosed space at this Institute. Just looking at
the expanses of green eased Ailsa’s nerves.
    Grandmama tugged her forward. “You’ll have plenty of time to
explore later. The master is waiting for us.”
    Ailsa swallowed, nervousness returning at the reminder. “Who
exactly is the master?”
    “The oldest and most experienced mage at the Institute, of
course. He’s available for consultation, and he tests new students, but his
main job is coordinating the various mages who’ve graduated from the Institute
to help see that they get to where they’re most needed. Most contracts for
mages come through the Institute.”
    Ailsa stopped. “ He coordinates the contracts? The why
doesn’t he stop mages from taking contracts with the worst of the Far Terran
barons? The ones who really mistreat their mages? Couldn’t he discourage that?
Maybe even influence the way mages are treated in Far Terra by withholding
mages from the very worst barons?”
    Grandmama slowed down, but she didn’t stop. “I suppose he
could, if he knew which barons to disallow.”
    Ailsa hurried to catch up. “But . . . I know Mama
sends letters to the Institute regularly—almost every month. Surely she tells
him which barons are good to their mages and which aren’t.”
    Grandmama stopped and turned to Ailsa. “Yes. That’s exactly
the sort of thing your mother would tell him. And no one would be in a
better position to pass that information on, either.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll
talk to the Master after your testing. But now we have to hurry.”
    Ailsa paused while another thought slotted into place in her
brain. “If my mail is being read . . .”
    Grandmama nodded. “Yes. As I said, I’ll talk to the Master
about it later. After your testing.”
    Grandmama made for the first building on the right. It was
one of the smallest, measured by length and width, but also the tallest, going
up and up until it ended in a thin spire. An odd mixture of building materials—stone
at the bottom, then brick, timber, and the spire was either metal or
metal-sheathed. Each level ornamented in a different style, as if the structure
itself had grown along with the Institute. Ailsa squared her shoulders and
followed Grandmama up the broad marble steps and through the huge, brass double
doors.
    She blinked as the doors clanged shut behind her. The only
windows were high up, so the interior was dimly lit, all but a square in the
exact center where the light of all the windows combined. Ailsa blinked again
as she realized that the interior was one big room. There was space outside of
that square of light for dozens of people on each side. A slight rustling in
the dimness made Ailsa think that there might be some people already there,
invisible in the shadows.
    The square of light revealed a colorful tile floor and five
ornate cast-iron benches, one on each side of the sunlit area and one in the
exact center. Ailsa had a sinking feeling about where her place was going to be
in all of this. Sure enough, Grandmama led her forward into the sunlit square.
She stopped at the edge and gave a small bow, nothing so distinct as a curtsy,
to the elderly man sitting alone on the bench at the far side. Ailsa made the
same curtsy she was used to making to King Ewart. The old man remained seated,
but he nodded to Grandmama before indicating the center bench to Ailsa. Just as
she’d feared.
    Ailsa closed her eyes briefly, then strode forward with as
much confidence as she could muster. She stood in front of the bench, unwilling
to sit until she was invited.
    The old man across from her—and he was without doubt the
oldest person she’d ever seen—smiled and gestured for her to sit. “I am the
master of the Institute of Magical Arts. It will be my task and my pleasure to
test you for magical talent and determine your special gift. As Malina might
have told you,” he nodded toward Grandmama, “the testing mainly consists of
seeking