Brightly Burning by Mercedes Lackey Read Free Book Online

well feel that their responsibilities toward the students ended at the classroom door.
    That only made Lan angry all over again, and finally he took the only outlet he had for his emotions. He broke into a run, and much to the astonishment of those making their decorous or weary way home, he ran all the way to his own front door.
    He paused long enough to catch his breath, then opened the door. One of the servants met him there and took his bag of books; the family was already at dinner, and Lan joined them without a word.
    Sam had been in the midst of describing some experiments with new dyes, and took up the thread that Lan’s entrance had interrupted. Lan was grateful to Sam for once, for taking all of the family’s attention away from him. He concentrated completely on his food, driving all the anger and tension of the day out of his mind. And perhaps that was the only reason why, when he excused himself from the table and his mother asked him how his first day of lessons had been, he was able to look her in the face, and say calmly, “All right.”
    And before she could continue questioning him, he retreated upstairs to his room. Books had never been his friends, but tonight they were better and safer company than any other alternative.

THREE

    L AN wondered if highborn children were as arrogant as Tyron and his coterie. The Sixth Formers certainly couldn’t possibly be any more arrogant.
    Now in the second week of his attendance at the school, Lan’s strategy of avoiding his tormentors was having mixed success. By slipping into the Hall behind a clot of taller boys and keeping his head hunched over his food, he had managed to keep from being spotted at meals while the Sixth Form was busy stuffing their own faces. But in order to get out before they got bored and started really looking for amusement, he had to bolt his own lunch like a starving badger, which made for an uneasy stomach during the next class. They usually got bored with hanging about and left the entrance before he ventured out to go home, but he couldn’t avoid them on coming in, without taking the risk of being seriously late. Tardiness brought its own set of problems, not the least of which was the humiliation and pain of having his hand caned by the teacher.
    Lavan had made another major mistake in his first week; he’d tried, shyly, to make up to one of the pretty girls in Fifth Form. How was he to know that she was the girlfriend of one of Tyron’s hangers-on?
    She’d rejected him quite out of hand, and he’d overreacted by withdrawing from all the girls. Now the Sixth Formers had another name for him.
    Shaych.
    When he’d found out what it meant, he’d tried to disprove it, but of course by then it was too late. Now there was another reason for Tyron and his friends to bully him.
    After being shoved around like a game ball and then thrown sprawling for three mornings in a row, he decided that his best protection was the presence of the other persecuted. So for the past week, he’d waited for a group of the underdogs to arrive for classes, and ducked into their midst. With so many available targets, no one person got excessive abuse.
    At least, that was the case so far.
    But the whole situation made him so angry he sometimes thought he was going to choke. It didn’t help that he always turned a brilliant scarlet with suppressed rage whenever one of the bullies so much as looked at him. They seemed to find that terribly amusing, and went out of their way to put him in that state.
    This very morning he had arrived at his desk with his face still flaming, his skin feeling slightly sunburned and tender—and all from his own anger.
    â€œYou looked like you were going to have an apoplectic fit this morning, Scr—I mean, Lavan,” Owyn whispered as they took their seats for the first class of the morning.
    â€œIs that why you got between me and Loathsome?” he whispered back. Owyn