The snow came heavily on the rooftops of the Epperson Boys Institute, creating another soft layer to tiles that were heavy already. The building had been created for insulation. It made for a home and school that was cool in the summer, warm in the winter and damp all year round. One of the lesser known perks of the thick walls and well-sealed windows was that there had never been an innocent passerby who had heard screaming when walking past. As it were, they'd be unable to hear the lessons that were handed to the students. For the residents of Knife's Edge, ignorance was bliss. For me, ignorance would never be a reason I'd fail an exam.
Professor Quinley liked to give pop quizzes. You were given a weapon and half an hour to learn how it worked. Then you killed someone with it. I'm sure there are less crude ways to put it, but that's basically how it worked. Practical examinations, they were called, and every teacher had their fair share in store for the students. Perhaps because they could be the most challenging, I liked old Quinley's the best. Or perhaps it was just because he was my favorite of the professors.
He'd once been a big game hunter in foreign lands. Other professors draped their walls with tapestries and murals. Here, we were surrounded by the mounted heads of boars and dragons, strange creatures caught in water and in air. A gryphon, was suspended from the ceiling as if it would come to life and attack us at any moment.
A rare breeze blew into the room as the door creaked open and a shaking young student ran in the room, hastily dropping a pile of scrolls on the table. The way he looked at us with fear in his eyes and then retreated as if he expected to be punished was a little suspicious. My guess was that he'd looked at the scrolls. They'd been sealed, and curiosity killed the cat. With all likelihood, I'd never see him again. More than a few turns of phrases held truth within these walls.
Our exam scrolls were passed out. Mine had a hastily drawn sketch of a fair-haired woman. The name sounded strange to me, Petrushka Minevski. She was a woman who was older than I was, and within Knife's Edge. The exam came with a small map of her inn, where the estimated room she would be in was, a further description, and the most important piece of information regarding my grade: 'death by crossbow.'
Looking up, I grinned as I saw amongst the collection of school weaponry sitting on the spacious front desk was a simple oak crossbow and a rolled packet chock full of bolts. The hunt had begun.
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