Seasons of War (Skulduggery Pleasant, Book 13) by Derek Landy

Author:Derek Landy [Landy, Derek]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780008386238
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2020-04-01T16:00:00+00:00

As was not uncommon, the topic of conversation in English class veered away from the subject at hand, and into a lively debate about life in Roarhaven.

“You don’t agree, Axelia, that Roarhaven should be a city for sorcerers only?” Mr Dactyl asked as he lounged behind his desk with his feet up.

“I don’t think it was thought through,” Axelia said.

“Expand on that,” said Dactyl.

“Roarhaven’s great,” she said. “I love living here. I love going to school here. It was the same back in my old town in Iceland. We get to be ourselves and not worry about whether the mortals can see us using magic. But I think it’s counterproductive because it separates us from the rest of the world. We have small towns of sorcerers all over the world, and now we have our own city, and this is where we go out and about, and where we do our shopping, and where we see movies and whatever else we want to do. My parents have moved here, too, so I haven’t left Roarhaven in three months.”

Dactyl shrugged. “So?”

“So we’re supposed to be mingling with mortals,” Axelia said. “Living beside them, buying our groceries in their stores, going to concerts and sitting in parks and doing whatever else people do. I’ve never really lived alongside them, and I can tell you, from my own experience … that is a mistake.”

Dactyl grunted. “Anyone agree with that?”

Omen found himself nodding along with most everyone else. This was an error. Omen never nodded. It caught Dactyl’s eye.

“Mr Darkly,” he said. “Anything to contribute?”

Omen blushed. Everyone was looking at him. “Um.”

Dactyl raised an eyebrow. “Ooh, good point. Anything else to contribute?”

There were a few laughs. Omen smiled along with them. “Well, I mean … I suppose we’re, sort of, in danger of losing touch. If we keep separating ourselves like this, then, you know, we’ll forget how to act normal. It’s risky.”

“It is risky,” Dactyl responded. “But answer me this: is it risky enough that you’d be prepared to give up Roarhaven?”

Omen didn’t have an answer. No one else seemed to, either.

Dactyl took his feet off the desk and sat forward. “These are important points you’re making,” he said. “And it’s something that is being discussed elsewhere, believe me. As mages, we have to strike a balance, don’t we? We need our own space to be free, to be ourselves, absolutely we do – but we can’t afford to confine ourselves to that space. If mages only live, only exist, in magical cities like Roarhaven, what are we going to be like in fifty years, in a hundred years? How alien will the mortals appear to us then? And that, ladies and gentlemen, is your homework for this weekend. A short story, imagining what life would be like now, if sorcerers had retreated from the mortal world a hundred years ago. Minimum, fifteen hundred words. Maximum, three thousand. That means nobody goes above three thousand words, no matter how into the story they’re getting, or how much they’re channelling their favourite author.

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