September 1, 2015 by Lyn Thorne-Alder
Tairikie, Enrie thought, was sulking. At the very least, she’d headed off after classes without a word to either of them.
“She thinks I should have stood up to Pelnyen,” Enrie posited. “And I can’t blame her — but he was all wound up and he was just going to get worse if we fought.”
Saydrie nodded, although it was impossible to tell from his placid expression if he agreed with Enrie, with Taikie, or with neither of them. “I should go after her,” he offered.
Enrie considered that. “It’s probably better you than me,” she agreed. “And that way she won’t end up, mmm, doing something unwise again.”
Saydrie cracked a smile. “I don’t have the direct ear of the Three; I doubt I can keep her from doing anything too unwise. Good studying tonight, Enerenarie.”
“Good studying tonight, Saydrie. And smooth roads and clear skies with Taikie.”
“If there were those things, she would not be Tairiekie.” He bowed to Enrie, a nice bow made ironic by his gentle smirk, and wandered off.
That left Enrie alone to work on her paper on Akebviedkeb, the All-Thought School of philosophy, and overhearing your House-mates.
And that meant that the most reasonable place to go was the Library.
Each House of the school had its own library — Engineering books housed in the Engineering classroom building and so on — but the central Library of Edally was one of the three greatest libraries in all of Calenta. Like almost every building here, it had been built on to over the years, leaving to small snail-shell rooms and passages which led nowhere, every single one covered in shelves and in artwork. The walls themselves were painted in vibrant murals; in some places, a portion of the mural had been covered up by yet more bookshelves.
The section of Philosophy which covered the All-Thought School was down a half-staircase, mostly hidden behind a painting of the Empress Arinyanka and her eldest son and next to a section of old treaty documents.
Enrie looked between the All-Thought and the treaties, back and forth again and again. She stepped out of her niche to take a look at the large clock ticking away the hours. She could spend a half hour on the paper first and then look at the treaties. A half hour, that ought to be enough. It was only a 2-page paper.
Enrie settled down at the small desk — it looked like a student desk that had seen better days — and began pulling books on the All-Thought School. It was a strange school of philosophy, not one of the better-known or better-respected schools. It was odd that Pelnyen was focusing on it at all in a first-year class.
The third book she pulled began to explain it. The hand-bound text was a final-year thesis, written by Pelnyen himself.
The All-Thought School,
Why There is No Excuse for Stupidity.
Enrie stared at the title wryly.
“This is going to take longer than a half-hour,” she muttered to herself. There was going to be no cutting of corners in a subject their Instructor had cared enough to write a 500-page thesis on.
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