“Ellisia writes highly of the quality of her education at Academy,” Kelton mentioned at dinner, reaching for another sprouted biscuit and slathering butter inside.
Laelara’s chin lifted. “Of course,” she snapped, laying down her spoon in preparation for the discussion she knew must follow. “She always has her nose buried in a book. She’d love any place that let her read, but especially one with a ridiculously massive BookHall like I hear Academy boasts of. What do you expect?” She tilted her head still higher, ignoring how Kethin set down his cup and Liliora eyed Father.
“An awfully good opportunity for her, I’m thinking,” Kelton stated calmly, methodically setting the top squarely on his biscuit. “For anyone. There’s nothing of the sort anywhere near Frydael. Academy is the only place for an education, and so many people nowadays don’t care to educate themselves at all. But anyone who does can get any job they want.”
“If you want a job, you can find one no matter what.” Laelara emptied her mug into her throat. The sweetness of the acai juice was almost overpowering today. She’d have to tone it down a bit more tomorrow. She frowned at the brownish mix still in the pitcher.
“Still, educated people take priority. They can have literally any job they want,” Kelton pointed out. “Most people who do get educated only do it for the fun of being at the Academy. Ellisia’s serious about her studies, so she has a distinct advantage.”
“So?” Laelara asked. “Good for her.”
“I agree with Kelton,” Father spoke up from the head of the table.
Laelara scowled. If Father cared enough about the issue to speak his agreement, he must be serious. What did he have up his sleeve? She scraped her spoon against her empty bowl, refusing to look at him.
“I’d like to further my learning,” Liliora put in from her end of the table, “but Amadel Academy sounds like a place to get only a biased education.”
“The atmosphere, perhaps,” Kelton agreed, “but Ellisia says many of the classes are pretty good. And you certainly couldn’t get that quality of education in many other places.”
“Other schools weren’t able to support their overhead costs due to a declining student body, Draewyn says,” Father muttered.
“So?” Laelara repeated. “We’re farmers. We make our own living. And we could get jobs anywhere. What do people like us need an education for?”
“Maybe we want one, Lae.” Kelton leaned back in his chair. “Maybe we don’t want to be farmers forever.”
“Why is that so important to you?” she challenged, looking him right in the eyes. “We’ve always been farmers. We’re happy here.”
His gaze escaped, seeking the edge of the table. His hand clasped his napkin, and he unconsciously squeezed it tightly. She waited, but he said nothing.
She shrugged and turned back to the others. “Trivia this afternoon. I’m going. Anyone care to join me?”
As usual, silence met her request. “Very well. I’ll go alone again.”
The house had been too quiet since Kaelan had married and moved out. The boys—Kelton and Kethin—weren’t the most talkative, and neither was Liliora. Father hadn’t participated much in conversations since Mother had died nine years ago. Kaelan had been the most conversational of all her family members. Unlike the rest, he’d accompanied her to the trivia contests once in a while.
Father pushed back his chair with a loud scrape, stood, and beckoned to her. “I’d like to speak to you.”
She wrinkled her nose, sighed, and followed him to the bedroom. There was no way she was going to like what he had to say, right?
Laelara shut the door behind her and turned to face him. “This is about this school thing, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Father’s gray eyes searched hers a bit uncomfortably. “It’s time, Laelara.”
“Why now?” She steepled her fingers and stared at him, her eyes unblinking.
“Liliora’s thirteen now. The boys are doing fine on their own. You can’t use them as your excuse any longer.” He paused. “And you aren’t getting any younger. The time is now. If ever.”
“I’d rather never,” she muttered, crossing her arms.
“You know I can’t condone that,” he returned. “We need further income. We can’t live solely on the farm work anymore. It would be very helpful if you could get a good job that—that brings in decent income. You can’t get that without schooling.”
“And so…?”
“I heard that the life skills study lines are scholarshipped this term. Incentive. Too few students taking those lines. It’s a perfect time for you. Free academy would help us. And they’ll feed you for the year. That doesn’t hurt matters.”
“Why can’t the boys do it instead?”
“I need Kelton and Kethin on the farm right now. You know that.” Father sat down heavily on the bed. “Someday I hope they will have better jobs too. But it’s your turn now.”
“What if I don’t even live here after Academy? You wouldn’t benefit anyway.” She longed to sink into the bedroom chair, but something about that would feel like giving up. She needed the advantage of her height, even though it wasn’t more than average.
“I want this for you, Laelara,” Father replied wearily. “You need a better life. Even if you marry, there just aren’t men with good jobs anymore. I want your wellbeing.”
She sighed. “Can’t I just plan my own life? I hate school. It seems like such a waste. I could be doing something practical. A new garden plot. Knitting winter hats for the children. Reducing kitchen waste.”
He didn’t answer at first. Then quiet words came. “Your mother wanted this.”
Laelara’s next words died on her lips. Any reminders of her mother always silenced her. She didn’t want to argue with her father, but she wasn’t going to Academy if she could possibly help it. The very thought sickened her. School! Reading! Books! Wasting time listening to some professor drone on and on about entirely impractical subjects! Why her mother had wanted her to get an education was a mystery. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have plenty of other talents that she could use to make money to support herself. And with all the housework she did, she certainly contributed her fair share to the family’s support. Academy was unnecessary.
Besides, Father himself hadn’t had much education; he’d gained a position as ackerman, working with oxen, and then married Mother. Laelara wasn’t planning to marry any time soon—plenty of time for that later on in her life—but she didn’t want to waste these days in a stuffy schoolroom. She wanted to be doing something that mattered.
“Laelara, please.” Father was speaking again. “Do it for her. Do it for me.”
She sighed. Much as she detested the idea, it wasn’t worth arguing with her mother’s wishes. “Fine.” She squared her shoulders and turned toward the window overlooking the vast farm fields. “If I must. But you know how much I’ll hate it.”
“Laelara.” Her father’s hand rested on her shoulder. “It’s only a few years. You’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you. I do want you to live the best life that you can—the one that Adon Olam wants you to live. I truly hope—” His words stumbled. “I hope—I pray that you will find life at Academy to be more enjoyable than you expect. You’ve never truly given learning a chance, you know. It’s not all bad.”
“Father,” Laelara sighed. “You know what I think of that. But I’m willing to give it a try. For you. I’ll go to Syorien, at any rate. At least Ellisia is there, so I’ll know someone.” This last bit was added with a roll of her eyes. Kaelan’s sister-in-law wouldn’t add to her enjoyment of Academy one iota. While Laelara despised all things academic, Ellisia doted on them. Books had been Ellisia’s life since childhood. Would she ever get her life together and accomplish something worthwhile instead of living in a story world?
“I’m sure you’ll meet new friends,” Father reminded her. “There’s sure to be someone in Syorien that you’ll get along with.”
“I’m not so sure, after Kaelan’s stories,” Laelara replied, inching towards the door and striding out.
Halfway across the hall, she turned. “When do I have to go?”
“Perhaps after harvest?” Father asked hesitantly. “You’d still be here to help with the extra harvest work, and then you could do the winter session at Academy.”
Laelara shrugged. “Just as well.” She might as well get it over with. Wouldn’t the days and nights at Academy be tedious? Sighing again, she tried to picture what her life there might be like. She’d never listened much to Ellisia’s explanations of day-to-day Academy living when Ellisia was home on holiday. Perhaps Laelara would be able to fill most of her days with activities other than school.
Half-smiling, she imagined smuggling a bit of knitting into class, completing her assigned work early…or attending the trivia contests at the Palace Theater! Now there was a thought. Contests at the PT, as the facility was termed even in Frydael, were sure to be far more exciting than those in her small town. Perhaps going to Syorien wouldn’t be all bad.
Humming under her breath, Laelara bounced up the stairs to the bedroom she shared with Liliora. Today’s trivia would be between the old Frydael champions Pelton and Jaems. She smiled into the cracked glass as she rebraided her hair. Surely Pelton would win.
After a few final touches, she slipped on a cloak and made the brisk walk to the ShowHall alone. Even before she entered, the welcoming hum of voices inside warmed her soul. She’d be able to sit with the regulars tonight.
Nodding and smiling at the faces she recognized, Laelara wiggled her way forward, headed for her usual front-and-center seat.
For the next few hours, she lost herself in the excitement of a trivia contest. The glittering colors, the tension of each question, the breathlessness of waiting for the answers—it was perfectly thrilling. Her cheers joined others as Pelton emerged victorious, and the celebratory party that followed proved just as exciting, especially when she got to shake Pelton’s hand towards its conclusion.
But as she walked home in the late afternoon shadows, her thoughts flew back to the lifestyle change that quickly approached. By winter, she wouldn’t be here for the contests. Pelton and Jaems wouldn’t be competing in Syorien. No doubt the PT wouldn’t host open competitions in which she could join as the Frydael ShowHall did from time to time. Even if it did, she wouldn’t have much of a chance of being able to participate among so many other people. But still…competition there would probably be better. Even though it could hardly get much more fun than tonight. To think that Jaems had stumbled at the question, “What do you call someone who shoes horses?” Laelara smiled. If she’d gotten that question, she’d have been well on her way to winning.
Once home, Laelara pulled the door open, removed her hat and cloak, entered her own room, and threw herself across the bed, reaching for a dusty volume on the far shelf. She simply had to look up what one would use to bind the color pigments when making tempera paint. If only the question would have been forced to an answer instead being overridden with a substitute question—oh well, she was capable of researching the answer herself. Even if she hated books. At least the encyclopedia was indexed by subject.
Sunset colors streamed in the window by the time that Laelara finally looked up from her musings. The paragraph on tempera paint had been short, but it had provided her with an array of fascinating ideas regarding the art form. She’d have to try it the next time they got eggs—for “egg yolks,” apparently, was the answer to the question. She’d never known that one could make paint with simply egg yolks and coloring. Perhaps she could use the flat, white bark of the yer trees as paper. Then she could paint instructions or recipes or other useful information on them and sell them and…
Suddenly Liliora stood before her. “It’s suppertime.”
“Oh.” How was it so late already? Hadn’t she just gotten home? She hated wasting so much time. How had she done it again? With a weight in her heart, she followed her sister to the table.
The stew was bland again. Liliora did the best that she could, but she lacked the experience of an older chef. Laelara wrinkled her nose but held her tongue. She shouldn’t complain; she hadn’t had to cook the meal. Even though she ought to have helped.
On the other hand, Liliora ought to cook alone more often.
On second thought, maybe just when Laelara wasn’t there to eat it.
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