Gav failed the exam.
That came to him only when the academy’s herald walked to him and, with a disappointed look, asked to clear the room by the next morning. Then he left and Gav stayed there, surprised and confused, thinking that, indeed, he failed the exam.
He changed his clothes, forgetting that he still was forced to stay in academy for a night, and packed his belongings: some underwear, a spare shirt (almost clean), a small magnifier, three quells (broken), two work diaries (filled only for a half) and a brush. The third and the most useful diary wasn’t his — he borrowed it from Eoin the day before. Gav opened it and, making out the rush handwriting, skimmed over the examples of proper verb usage. When Gav asked Master Shihi whether or not it would be on the exam, he got angry and said: “I’m not preparing you for the exam, only for what comes after!” He hadn’t understood that topic and, as it seems, he would never get another opportunity.
Or was it just a mistake? Herald must have mixed up the rooms or, maybe, it was his roommate who failed the exam. Yes, yes, it was clearly a mistake! Gav looked at the closed door, then at his roommate’s tidy bed. No, everything was right, his new roommate was a freshman, the previous one went on to became Master Macha’s first assistant, and he, indeed, failed the exam.
He tried again to read the notes but at some point Eoin just started to write everything in the old language Gav struggled to understand. Was that even at the exam? He couldn’t recall anything. Something clicked: there would be no exam, it was over.
As frustration and anxiety were filling his soul, Gav grabbed the work diary and rushed out of his room. He wanted to find his friends and, hopefully, talk everything out. Although he was sure all his friends passed, he hoped, for some reason, that this year everybody failed due to a cunning injustice of fate. “They’ll all regret what they’ve lost today!” would exclaim Eoin, Sé would add some obscure quote and Muire would laugh it off, congratulating everybody on their newfound freedom. Gav smiled, going through dormitory passages.
“The exam! Oh, my sweet foolish children, you cannot even imagine the exam!”
Gav’s smile faded away, as he reorganized the voice. It was Connor, his other classmate, he lectured freshman in his usual ironic manner.
“Kneel and obey my words, as I am the Apprentice — embodiment of courage and wisdom. Read your books ‘till your eyes are fallen out, write your notes ‘till your hands are crooked, drink your concoction ‘till your stomach is no more and, most importantly, hug your dead ‘till Master is satisfied”.
Everyone laughed, Connor’s merry voice went on.
“And, as my saint patron Conchobhar-” he mimicked sneezing, saying this: “once said, maybe then gods take their mercy on you and lend you some brain. Listen, my children! And listen closely! You may seem smart now but, when the exam comes, it’ll reveal all the hay between your ears. Take a look at the pity results of a failure!”
Connor pointed out Gav to his astonishment. He forgot he was wearing his laic clothes instead of usual academy robe, what instantly gave out his misfortune.
“Take a look at his naïve confused face — a type so commonly found in villages all around our country. The empty look of this beautiful blue eyes may be appealing to some but the exam undeniably concluded: this head is empty. So, my dear friend, would you give us some commentary on how to survive in your terrible condition?”
Gav froze, unable to say anything. Some freshman laughed, while Connor looked right into his eyes. Not even trying to defend himself, Gav rushed to the door. As if this humiliation wasn’t enough, he run right into Master Shihi, who gave him that tired look of mere disappointment Gav was always so afraid of.
“I’m so sorry,” he stuttered, nearly keeping himself in hand, and run off to a garden before Master Shihi could lecture him.
He run through the heather bushes and old oak trees, deep into the garden, often going off the path as if he was chased. Only when he went short on breath, he finally stopped in the middle of a glade, still pressing the work diary to his chest. Unable to overcome his anger and frustration, he let out the short cry and fell to the ground.
“My name to hell!”
That was when he noticed the light in one of the bowers and heard a muffled conversation. Gav got up, afraid of being seen it such state, when suddenly he reorganized the familiar voices.
“Gav, here you are!” It was Eoin and Sé with him. Finally, friends!
“Guys, you have no idea how glad I am to see you,” Gav sighed with relief.
“Come to us and join the celebration!” Sé looked out of the bower and invite him inside.
They were drinking wine, mixed with some spices, what was apparent due to a distinct smell. When Eoin put the glass in his hand, he drained it in one go, even if he would be hesitant in any other situation.
“What a marvelous night! Our glasses are full, our spirits are high and the moon lights our way to the bright future,” said Sé.
“Hold on to your pathos for an initiation ceremony,” Eoin laughed. “But you’re right, the night is great.”
Eoin leaned on the parapet and looked at Gav with a fondness only drunk students are capable of.
“We are just talking about you, believe me or not. Thank you so much!”
“For what?” Gav asked.
“For what you told me about the fireflower when we were waiting for exam to start. That has saved my life. Imagine, my first vision was all about field of fireflowers. And I thought: ‘What would little Gav do?’ I ducked and crawl closely to the ground, as you said, and pollen had no effect on me. Thank you!” Eoin smiled and Gav nodded silently.
“And just after that I saw a mirror and everything was over! It took me less than an hour.”
“It’s interesting,” Sé added, “I’ve also seen a mirror. A mirror in the lake.”
“Yes, with lots of flowers on the other side.”
“Flowers and bright fish.”
“Have you seen the mirror, Gav?”
“No,” he answered with irritation.
“How have you passed than?”
“I haven’t passed,” Gav’s voice trembled. “I’ve failed. I’ve failed the exam.”
Everyone went silent for a moment. Eoin and Sé exchanged quick glances.
“Well, as I guessed,” Sé said.
“He wanted to say,” Eoin rushed to correct his friend, “that it doesn’t really matter, does it? It’s not like you won’t be able to visit us time to time. This outcome might be expected, but-”
“Expected?” Gav asked.
“Well, you were here in your clothes cursing into the night.”
Gav lower his head, trying to hide his frustration.
“Don’t let yourself down, it will be fine,” Eoin went on to quote some ancient poem, a sense of which escaped him.
“Yes, yes,” Sé answered with another quote. Then they laughed and continued talking like that, as Gav was catching only the glimpses. He flew silently, trying not to disturb them. His eyes were wet.
Gav wandered the garden aimlessly, until he stumbled on the ancient stone cell. Masters of the past used to face the exam there, locked up behind the heavy door. Back then you could either pass or die, free of the loser burden. Gav got into and shrunk into a corner. He opened the diary once again (he had completely forgotten to return it) but in the dark he couldn’t even distinguish one letter from other. He threw the diary away and start sobbing.
His friends had become estranged from him long ago, but he remained oblivious, thinking he’d been a part of conversation, when in reality his existence was only tolerated. He was nothing but a fool, their little Gav, to serve as the example of a rural naivety. And the exam, being a nightmarish dream he couldn’t ever recall, snapped it all, opened his eyes and left him soul-crushed and alone.
As a shadowed figure approached the cell, Gav tried wiping his tears with his sleeve but unsuccessfully.
“Are you Muire’s friend?” Master Shihi asked softly.
Gav answered nothing, sobbing and hiding his face in his hands. Master Shihi sighed silently and set next to him.
“The exam?”
“I didn’t ask for it,” Gav stuttered through tears. “I didn’t… I didn’t ask for studying here. Why… why didn’t you tell me earlier. That I’m un-… unworthy.”
“You are not unworthy.”
“I am! I am! I can’t even remember… even understand…” Gav pointed out the work diary. “We are talking different in my home, more clear. I can’t explain it. See! I can’t even explain! Why did you give me hope if I’m incapable of anything?”
Master Shihi leaned closer to Gav and asked, softly and quietly.
“Why did Masters of the past stop putting students in cells for an exam?” Gav didn’t answer, and he continued: “They simply realized that failing the exam isn’t the end and it never should have been. Yes, you are leaving the academy and you aren’t allowed to do necromancy, mind control or write a lengthy treatise on proper verb usage. But you still can devote yourself to botany, music or medicine. You can open a publishing house or a shop or a school. Or do you really into proper verb usage?”
Gav shook his head.
“As I thought.”
“Why are you talking to me now?” Gav asked quietly. “I thought I’m your least favorite student.”
“No, no, I don’t really have the least favorite student, as for now. It’s also not my job to comfort anyone,” he answered. “I just can’t stand seeing anyone pining away because of an exam. To be entirely honest, I was searching for you. It’s about Muire.”
“Is she fine?”
“She injured herself during the exam and… Well, you both need a friendly hand, don’t you? You should really come to visit her.”
Gav had finally come to himself, as Master Shihi helped him to get out of the cell.
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