Bramblewick Thistlehop's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

By the time Bramblewick climbed down from the crate, three strangers were already standing under the sign. One held a bent ladle like a sword. Another wore a soup pot strapped to her back. The third was barefoot and grinning. They had read the carved letters above them and decided, apparently, that they had arrived. Bramblewick tucked the badge into his coat. He had not opened a school yet. He had opened a door, and people had walked through it before he could close it. More arrived by the hour. They drifted toward the great tree-grown hall down the path and made camp on its worn stone steps, refusing to leave until someone enrolled them. Bramblewick counted nine, then twelve. The seller would see this by dusk. He had to move first. He dragged poles and old canvas into the clearing and lashed together a crooked tent across from the crowd. He pinned his cards to the flap. He set a carved figurine of a winged, lion-maned spirit on a stump beside the entrance — a trinket from his pack, polished to look ancient. "Enrollment opens here," he called. "The Companion chooses who passes." Heads turned. The barefoot one knelt. The soup-pot woman lined up behind him. They believed it because they needed to. Bramblewick wrote each name on the back of a business card. Twelve cards. Twelve students. By sundown he had a roster, a tent, and no building — because the seller arrived, saw the line, saw the figurine, and walked away without a word. The sign still stood. The school, somehow, had started. The property never would.