Chapter 91: He Finally Had a Court

Dante carried the first chair into their new study room and placed it beside the door for whoever arrived late.

He made that decision before considering where he should sit. It seemed worth preserving, so he left the chair there when Jett arrived with another stack.

The room opened off a ground-floor teaching corridor. A broad window faced a planted court. Shelves covered one wall, a long workbench stood beneath task lamps, and the kettle had a counter separate from the spell diagrams.

Their prize had become a place to put things. Dante had not expected that fact to feel so good.

The review allowed ordinary use under clear conditions. No deliberate unsupervised overrides. Professor Bell would supervise unusual research. The ruby remained at Northline. Jett read the agreement once more, then pinned it on the noticeboard with all three names visible.

Dante considered a more flattering frame. He decided the room had suffered enough paperwork before its first cup of tea.

A cart golem arrived with the shared targets and stopped at the threshold. It pointed at the banner draped over its front, then at the floor it couldn’t see.

"The words are encouraging," Dante explained.

The golem stayed perfectly still.

Lucan lifted one corner. "We could encourage its ability to navigate."

Dante removed the cloth. The golem rolled inside, unloaded with heavy clicks, and escaped before anyone offered it a title.

Posey chose a seat where she could work without turning her back to the room. She moved Dante’s cup away from the place his elbow would inevitably find, then opened her notebook.

"Shall I save the chair beside mine?" he asked.

"My bag is already there."

That pleased him more than another victory announcement. He remembered her struggling with the curling cheer flyer on his first afternoon. Now they had a room where she expected to leave her bag beside him.

Honey brought a plant suited to the window. Rhae delivered drinks that Jett had ordered and paid for separately. She handed him the receipt before anybody could confuse her business with the equipment fund.

Anika stopped a narrow draft under the window while Lucan examined the latch. He fixed the catch, and she released her little wind spell.

"I refuse to become permanent insulation," she said.

"Would a title help?" Dante asked.

"Only if it comes with an hourly rate."

He watched the room improve through several kinds of work he could not replace with one command. He liked the people doing it. He liked the noise of their bags and pencils and arguments about shelf space.

For a while, wanting it to be his meant wanting to stay.

Jett claimed a shelf for shared repair pieces. Lucan marked a place for finished diagrams so students could find them without asking. Dante tested the least impressive cupboard twice before putting spare cups inside. Its hinge squeaked on the first attempt. He shifted a cup away from the edge and tried again, discovering that the door had been catching the saucer rather than failing through disloyalty. Jett witnessed the correction and wisely confined his response to an expression. Dante pointed at the kettle. There were other useful duties available to smug people. A door that closed properly seemed a good foundation for a new civilization.

They checked the target positions before using any grip. Professor Bell had approved the ordinary setup, but a newcomer still needed room to make a mistake without striking somebody’s knee. Jett moved one chair back. Dante shifted the nearest landing mark so it could be seen from the operator’s place.

Nell arrived with corrected exercises and a fresh session sheet. He thanked her for keeping the release mark clear. She placed the papers where anyone could reach them.

"Should this chair stay empty?" she asked, touching the one beside the door.

"For whoever comes next."

Her smile was immediate. Giving that answer still felt easy.

Evan came next.

He carried Lucan’s borrowed diagram in his good hand. The wrist support remained, although he managed the folder more easily than he had after the party.

Dante noticed himself looking at the chair before looking at the man.

"I wanted to check the open sessions," Evan said. "Lucan said they’d move here when you got access."

"They will."

"How does the private list fit?"

"Planning with the people helping us. Not every meeting needs to be open."

Evan nodded, accepting the distinction. Then he looked at the blank space beneath Nell’s next private meeting.

"What if someone on that list thinks you’re wrong?"

There was no laugh attached to the question. That should have helped. Dante still remembered the party, the chairwoman collecting Evan at the residence desk, and the miserable sense that every welcome might become an examination.

"They can tell me," he said. "I don’t promise to keep protecting someone who works against me."

Jett looked up from the kettle. Lucan’s hand stopped beside the agreement with the three names.

"I asked about practice," Evan said. "Not protection."

Dante understood the difference. He disliked how little the first required of the person receiving it. Gratitude felt warmer. Loyalty felt safer. Neither appeared on the room agreement.

Evan said he would check the public schedule later. He left the diagram with Lucan and went out.

The room started moving again, but more quietly.

Nell waited until the door closed. "Would a list help? People who keep trying to embarrass you?"

Dante remembered the padded bar and Evan’s hand twisted against the bench. He knew what Nell had once made of a complaint.

"No threats," he said. "No holding anybody. Don’t approach them without asking me."

She nodded, attentive to the limits. That attention reassured him more quickly than it should have.

Then he told her to invite Evan to the private table the next evening. Before Evan joined the open sessions, Dante wanted to hear where he stood.

Jett set the kettle down. Lucan looked toward him. Dante could see their objections forming and told himself a conversation was fair. He was offering a chance to explain, not punishment.

The room belonged to three winners. Its open sessions had already been promised. Minutes earlier, he had set a chair beside the door for whoever came next.

Honey watched Nell write. She knew the chairwoman intended to show Evan Anika’s demand. Dante knew nothing about the photograph or the message sent in defense of his name.

He looked at the empty chair, remembering how badly he had wanted doors to open when he arrived at Blackwell.

Now he had one. Hearing a man explain himself before he entered seemed perfectly reasonable.