Aedan Calahan and the Silver Hand

Chapter 10

The dorms were luxurious compared to his Dublin home. Red and silver tapestries hung from the ceilings like vines; the walls were furnished grey stone, cool to touch, yet keeping the room comfortably room. Aedan sized up the bunk bed. Top or bottom? proved to be the hardest question he asked himself all day. The top had a good view and sort of reminded him of all the rooftops he used to climb on. The bottom, however, provided the incomparably great utility of being able to easily navigate to the bathroom in the dark of the night. He chose the bottom.

There were four beds per room that were assigned to them by last name, which meant he shared a room with Callum and two other boys. Shannon—wasn't that a girl's name?—and Dirik. Shannon was silently organizing his quarters; Dirik never showed up when the Junior Poet called his name.

As promised, and to Aedan's great surprise, all the stuff that was on the letter's supply list were waiting for him beside the bed. He had already rummaged through it all, taking care not to look too impressed and green in front of Callum and Shannon. On the cover of Transmigration and the Four Laws was a green sheep. Spirit Walking in Groves didn't have a cover at all, aside from the color black.

Aedan still held onto old habits, so he carefully concealed his money in the wooden chest that had his name engraved on it. He stashed the coins at the very bottom, below the books.

He eyed his school clothes skeptically. Red and silver robes with matching wool trousers. He envisioned himself melting in the middle of class, wearing all that this time of year. Still, he smiled. This was the first time he ever owned multiple wardrobes of any sort in his entire life. Gratitude surged through him.

"You boys getting ready?" a voice said from the doorway. The voice belonged to an older kid, at least a fifth year by Aedan's guest. He wore a wolf's grin. "Three minutes." Then he disappeared out of sight.

"Ready for what?" Aedan asked his suitemates.

"Tryouts," Callum said. He was remaking his bed, smoothing out every wrinkle until the bed was flat as a whetstone.

"Hurling," Shannon added, seeing the confusion on Aedan's face. Shannon was inconspicuous in all matters of appearance except for the air of serenity he had about him. "You don't have to attend, but in some respects, yes, you absolutely have to attend."

Aedan did not care for the riddles Shannon was already speaking. Whatever he said, however, made sense to Callum, who nodded his head in agreement.

Aedan knew the sport of hurling. He had seen it played many times on the outskirts of West Dublin, where the wealthy lived. He remembered watching the giant men chase the ball, as well as each other, with massive sticks designed to scoop and thwack. He remembered thinking how fun it looked. He had never been part of a team before, unless you count Cheddar's gang of thugs, which Aedan didn't. Flying solo was a thief's only lifestyle. Maybe joining a team wouldn't be so bad, although the thought sent his stomach churning.

"What if you don't have any equipment?" Aedan asked. "Do they still let you try out?"

"Yes," Shannon answered. "Although, if you make the team, you'll have to buy your own equipment for the matches."

Aedan's hope sank, an automatic response from living a life of poverty. Then he remembered something that caused hope to surge high. He wasn't dirt poor anymore; he had plenty of coins to his name now.

Before Aedan realized what Callum was doing, Callum was dressed in a hurling outfit. His dark green striped shirt read "Skye Scoundrels."

Callum reached into his bag and pulled out the exact same shirt and pair of plain white shorts. He threw it at Aedan, who snatched it midair with enough speed that Callum arched an eyebrow.