The Hunters of Sian

The Final Stretch

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Chapter Eighteen

The Final Stretch

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The next day came with more nervousness and stress. Sallos roused Nell early and they both went to bathe before heading to breakfast. Once again, people sat around the tables, their noses buried in textbook as the ate distractedly. The servants seemed bemused by the hush that had settled on the stronghold. Nell didn't bother bringing down his textbook. He didn't think that staring dully at the tiny print was going to help him retain any information thirty minutes before the start of the exam.

If he didn't know the answers now, he wasn't going to learn them properly in the time they had left so instead, he piled some kippers, white rice and scrambled eggs onto a plate and sat alone to eat. Jeremy was too distracted with his own notes to talk. He had smears of food all over his face. He kept missing his mouth with the forkful of sausage he held in his off hand. Nell sighed.

After the meal, they dragged themselves back up to the tower room. The desks were set up in staggered rows and the massive hourglass had been placed in the centre of the main desk. They all took their seats, the room tensely silent. Arabella's hooves rang loudly against the stone floor, and she strode around, handing out the exam scrolls.

'You will have two hours to complete the exam. Anyone caught cheating will be thrown from the tower.' Whether she meant they would be tossed out of the room or out the tower window was debateable. No one was particularly keen to find out. They all picked up their quills as she flipped the hourglass. Nell took a deep breath and started to read down the scroll.

The first couple of questions weren't too bad.

1.What languages are best used in San Tier'n, one of the largest port cities?

2.Which common language is popular with merchants from the western region of the Steil Duisternis Mountains?

There were a couple of simple translation exercises, most Nell felt sure he could do. As the scroll went on though, there were several translations he knew he was going to struggle with. An entire paragraph was written in Verdraaid, a language he had always been rubbish at speaking let alone writing. Remembering Sallos' advice, he gave a resigned grimace, dipped his quill in his ink pot and set to work on the questions he knew he could answer.

He made his writing as neat as possible. If he could only answer some of the questions, he needed to be sure he, at least, go full marks for the ones he could answer. It was slow going. The sand seemed to drift through the hourglass at a tortuous pace until Nell ended up staring at it for several minutes just to make sure the damn thing was even working. Arabella cleared her throat, making him jump and put his head back down to the task.

Two hours later, with much groaning and grumbling, the class left the tower room. Jeremy was clutching his writing hand but looked relatively pleased with himself. Nell was less enthusiastic. There had been a lot he had not even been able to attempt. The final question wasn't even in a language he recognised and suspected Arabella had included it as an added "bonus" for the nobles. Denzil had swaggered out of the tower room, saying in a very loud voice how it had been the easiest exam so far. Nell felt like a wrung-out sponge and his head ached. He trudged miserably down to the banquet hall. Jeremy gave him a nudge.

'Cheer up, this was the worst one, right? We knew it was going to bad but it's over with now,' Jeremy offered. Nell nodded. He thought about mentioning to Jeremy that they hadn't done their combat exam yet either but now didn't seem the time. The sight of Sallos sitting alone at one of the massive tables eased a little of tightness Nell felt in his chest.