The Will of the Many (Hierarchy Book 1)

THERE’S LIGHT AS I WAKE, more than there should be. I rub my eyes against the red sting through my eyelids, opening them to find one of the desks in the corner occupied, a lamp burning above it. Shuttered, but still bright in the enclosed space.

It sluggishly comes back to me where I am. Only three other boys share the same room as me now, though I haven’t met any of them yet: it was late by the time I gathered my belongings and found my way up, and it didn’t seem polite to introduce myself by waking them. The floor belonging to Class Six—marginally smaller than the one below, but housing almost half the number of students—is divided into several rooms, each one offering more space and significantly more privacy.

Just enough, I think, to sneak out one night soon without anyone noticing.

I lie motionless, observing the figure at the desk across the room. It’s ominously large. Familiar. Close-cropped hair is auburn in the lamplight.

Vek.

Eidhin is shirtless, which I think is strange given the evident chill in the air. Though if he’s a southerner, he’s accustomed to much colder climates. He’s bowed over a wax tablet, stylus in hand, jabbing at it with short, sharp motions and muttering something just low enough that I can’t make out the words. There’s no mistaking his vexation.

Darkness glowers through the window beyond but my body tells me it’s time to get up, so I roll to my feet. I don’t think I make a sound, but the murmuring from the corner cuts short, the broad-shouldered boy twisting in his seat to look at me. The whole of his chest is tattooed in complex patterns, black lines intersecting and overlapping in dizzying knots and whorls. His eyes are a startling blue as they bore into me.

We watch each other for a couple of wary seconds.

“Lentius is gone?” He enunciates each word in a careful growl.

“I…” I’m ruffled, not following, then, “Oh. The boy who was here before me? Yes. I’m his replacement.” Lentius must be the name of the boy who was ranked last in Class Six. He’ll be a Seventh, now.

“I liked Lentius. He said little.” Eidhin examines me, then deliberately turns back to his desk, resuming whatever he was working on.

I stand there, debating whether to say anything else, then shake my head in irritated resignation and start getting dressed.

With no materials of my own to study, I splash my face with water using the bowl on the table, then head for the exit. I can at least get in a run before breakfast.

The red-headed boy at the desk doesn’t stir from his frustrated attack on the wax tablet as I leave.

DESPITE THE BRUSQUE INTERACTION, I’M feeling good as I jog down the lantern-lit external stairs of the dormitory, the dewy chill of dawn nipping at exposed skin. I’m two days into my time at the Academy, and already advancing. Getting into Class Three before the end of the year feels just a little more possible.

I spend some time exercising in the quiet of the parkland nearby, morning air starting to burn in my lungs by the time the chime for breakfast quavers across the grounds. I spot Callidus a little way ahead on my way to the Curia Doctrina and, after a second’s hesitation, jog to catch up to him.

“So. I saw your things were gone this morning. Ferrea didn’t waste any time,” he greets me cheerfully as I fall into step with him.

“She recognises excellence, clearly.”

He grins. “Well. She recognises participation. A lack of incompetence, maybe.”

I make an amused, acceding gesture. “And as it turns out, that lack of incompetence has landed me in the same room as Eidhin.”

“Ooh.” Callidus cringes. “Tense?”

“He didn’t seem pleased to see me.”

“To be fair, I don’t think Eidhin has ever been pleased to see anyone. But you’re a Sixth too, now. If he didn’t try to hit you again, you’ll probably be fine. Probably.”

I cough a laugh. “Thanks.” My good mood improves at the easy way we’ve slid into the conversation. It’s been a long time—a long time—since I’ve felt even the tenuous bonds of friendship, and I’m surprised to discover just how much I’ve missed it.

When we reach the mess, though, Callidus shakes his head emphatically as I move to the seat opposite him.

“Sit with the Sixths,” he urges me seriously, his gaze assuring me that he neither means offense, nor will take any from my conceding. “You burned your boats with this lot”—he jerks his head toward the steadily filling tables nearby—“on my account. Don’t make me feel guilty twice over.”

I vacillate, but can see the wisdom in his advice. “Alright. But don’t think this means I won’t drag you out for some sparring tomorrow morning.”

“Sparring?” He groans good-naturedly, but when I raise an eyebrow he waves me away with an agreeable nod. For all his complaining, I think he enjoys the company, too.

There are already a group of Sixths gathered with their morning meals, perhaps ten boys and half as many girls clumped around one of the long tables. Eidhin, I note, is seated there too but separate again. Not ostracized, but with just enough space between him and the others to indicate that he’s not part of their conversation.

That conversation trails off at my approach, then stops altogether as I slide into a vacant seat with what I hope is sociable confidence. “Sorry to interrupt. I’m Vis. I’ve just come up from Class Seven.”

There’s a long, awkward silence.

“We know,” one of the boys eventually says edgily. It’s Ianix, the brooding Catenan who was angry at my defending myself against Eidhin. “We’ve heard all about you.”

“Oh?” I ignore the implication, maintain my genial expression.

“What Ianix is trying to say, is that it might be better if you don’t sit with us.” The interjection from the dark-haired girl on the left is quiet but blunt. She pushes long curls away from her face, glancing around at her companions rather than me as she says it.

“Sorry,” adds the girl who was speaking when I arrived. It’s a soft apology, seems genuine. None of the remainder of the group will meet my gaze, though.

I let my friendly façade fade, trying to look offended more than angry. “Look. I know I didn’t make the best first impression, but I promise you that—”

“Come on.” Ianix pushes back his chair and stands, addressing his companions. “There are plenty of other tables.”

I feel my jaw twitch as the other students follow suit. The way they move—hurriedly, anxiously, with none of the stalking offense that would indicate an actual dislike of me—indicates they’re more afraid of appearances than anything else. A few of them even steal glances up toward Iro at the Class Three table as they go. The result remains the same, though. Within ten seconds, I’m left at the table with only Eidhin sitting a few spaces away.

The muscular, red-headed boy looks up from his food at me, as if sensing my intent to try talking to him. “No.” He bows his head again, ignoring me. Resumes his meal.

I sigh. Briefly consider pushing my case, or trusting that some of the Sixths yet to arrive might be more receptive.

“No. Rot this,” I mutter, feeling heat in my cheeks as I pick up my meal and head back down to Callidus’s table. I pause before putting my plate down, though. “Do you mind?” Genuinely asking. I don’t want to be responsible for Callidus getting in more trouble.

He gives me a sympathetic grimace, evidently having seen what just transpired. Unfortunately, I think just about everyone else present did, too. “No,” he says, drawing out the word, his hesitation suggesting he considered answering otherwise. “But you do this, and it’s as good as admitting you belong down here. It won’t help your standing with anyone.”

“I’m not sure that can get much worse, anyway.”

“Alright.” He shrugs and raises his mug jovially. “To the Pariah Table.”

Despite Callidus’s good cheer it’s hard not to remain stiff as I start eating, but soon enough the other boy’s laid-back demeanour rubs off, and there’s only the occasional prickling at the back of my neck as I imagine scornful gazes settling on me from above. The conversation stays light, and by the time the chime sounds to signal the start of class, any embarrassment has faded. Replaced, if I’m being honest, mostly by hot annoyance.

If everyone in Class Six is going to try and ignore me, then I’ll just have to make them pay attention.