A SCHOOL  FOR SORCERY

     Home

     Who I Am

      Books for Teens

     Photos

    What's New?

     Reviews/
               Feedback

     Links

      Novel Chapter:  

                Bryte’s Ascent

                (Book 4 in the

               Arucadi  Series)

      Archived Chapters of                 

                 Bryte's Ascent

When Tria Tesserell arrives at the Lesley Simonton School for the Magically Gifted, she is disappointed to find an old, dilapidated building, only 36 students and six faculty members in addition to the stern Headmistress. She's convinced that the school is only a scam until she's faced with a roommate who shapeshifts to a black panther, she gets involved in a power duel with a fire-thrower, and faces the challenge of rescuing two young men from the Dire Realm, a dread place of demons and destruction.

(This book was  placed on the New York City Public Library System's List of Best Books for the Teen Age, 2003!)

trade paperback in Tor's Starscape YA line

Cover art by Marilee Heyer, ©2003   

                                   EXCERPT                    

Nubba came up and leaned on [Tria’s] shoulder.  “Whose classes are you in?”  She peered at the schedule.

     Tria shared the paper with her, saying apologetically, “Headmistress told me I’d only be allowed to learn theory, so that’s what all my courses seem to be.”

     “She’s just trying to scare you,” Nubba said with a chuckle.  “All first-year students just learn theory and history and stuff.  It isn’t until second year that you start getting practical courses.  And even most third-years don’t have all practice.”

   Nubba pointed to the schedule.  “See, your first class is Metaphysical Theory.  I’m in that too, so we’ll suffer together.  Master Tumberlis is so old his bones rattle.”  She scanned the rest of the schedule.  “Oh, you poor thing!  You have Elementary Logic with Old Tumbles, too.  He’ll bore you to death.  Ugh!  Beginning Ethics with Master San Marté won’t be any better.  Well, at least you have Survey of Ancient Rites with Mistress Dova.  She’s tough but interesting.  Three morning classes and one in late afternoon.  Too bad.  Doesn’t leave a long-enough stretch of free time to go into Millville or anything.  Well, better luck next term.”

     Nubba’s pessimistic assessment depressed Tria.  She had to force herself to summon the courtesy to ask Nubba about her schedule.  Nubba seemed pleased with it, but Tria didn’t bother to listen or remember more of it than the single class they would, as Nubba said, suffer through together.

     “Speaking of suffering, Nubba, please excuse me, won’t you?  I have a headache and need to lie down.”

     “But it’s almost lunchtime,” Nubba objected, following Tria toward the building.

     “I know.”  Tria walked faster.  “I’ll only have a few minutes to rest after I take a headache powder.  That’s why I have to hurry.”

     Clutching her schedule, she broke away from Nubba and dashed into the building and up the stairs.  Not daring to look behind to see if Nubba was following, she rushed to her room and stepped inside.

     And stopped, halted by an array of suitcases, a leaning stack of hatboxes, a large trunk, and several crates, piled on every available inch of floor space, on both desks, on Tria’s trunk, and on her neatly made bed.

     The only free space in the room was the second bed, newly adorned with a green silk coverlet and several splendidly embroidered throw pillows.  Seated cross-legged on that bed was a beautiful girl, her black hair cut short in a stylish bob, her catlike green eyes gazing at Tria from beneath long, curling lashes.

     “I gather you’re my roommate,” the girl said in the tone one might use to comment on the presence of a cockroach.

     “I’m Tria Tesserell.”  Tria tried to be polite.  “You must be Lina Mueller.”

     “My fame precedes me.”  Her voice became a saccharine purr.

     “The maid told me your name,” Tria snapped, losing patience.  “And what are you planning to do with all this stuff?”  She flung out a hand, striking and toppling the stack of hatboxes.

     “Careful of those.”  Lina pointed a perfectly manicured finger at the fallen boxes.  Slowly they righted themselves and floated upward to reform the tall stack.

     Tria snorted.  “Look, I could do that, too.  But we’re forbidden to use our power without permission and without supervision.”

     “Oh, are we?”  Lina arched beautifully shaped eyebrows.  “And who is to know what we do in the privacy of our own room?  Unless we have a tale-bearer.”

     “I’m no tattler, but I would like to get to my bed and sit down on it.”  Tria glared at the girl.

     “You’ll be able to do that eventually.  The maid promised to help me find room for all this later this afternoon.”

     “Do you expect her to work a miracle?  You can see for yourself there’s no possible place to put all this.  Let’s move it out into the hall until you can send most of it back home.”  Tria stooped to pick up a heavy crate.

     A snarl stopped her.  She looked up.  A sleek black panther stood on the bed, its tail twitching, its lips pulled back to expose its fangs.

     Tria screamed.

     The panther hissed and settled back on its haunches.

     The door popped open, and Tria looked around to see Nubba stick her head in, panting for breath.  “What’s wrong, Tria?”

     Tria jerked her head toward the bed.

     It held only Lina, who said with a demure smile, “My roommate was startled by a little spider that climbed out from between the boxes.”

     Tria repressed the denial that rose to her tongue.  “It’s nothing, Nubba.  Thanks for checking, but there’s no problem.”

     “And don’t you know it’s rude to enter without knocking?” Lina added coldly.

     “I——I’m sorry.  I hope your headache is better, Tria.”  Nubba backed from the room, closing the door behind her.

     “Did you have to be unkind to her?” Tria asked sharply.

     “She needed to be put in her place.  Nosy pig.”

     The loud ring of the lunch bell cut off Tria’s angry retort.  She reached for the door handle.  “We have to go to lunch.”  Eyeing the barrier of luggage and crates, she added maliciously, “If you can get to the door.”

     A panther leaped from the silk-covered bed to the top of the trunk, vaulted effortlessly over the stack of hatboxes, and landed in the space Tria vacated by jerking the door open and jumping outside.

     Laughing, Lina stepped into the hall beside her.

     Tria looked to see whether anyone was near enough to hear, and assuring herself that no one was, she said in a furious whisper, “Shapechanging is strictly forbidden.  You’d better read the rule book.”

     Lina laughed again.  “I make my own rules,” she said.