The Grey Tower

Liaran scowled at the textbook laying open in front of her and the mess she'd made of the parchment piece that lay beside it. If she'd been alone, the Accepted might have crumpled the useless thing and thrown it across the room, but unfortunately, she was not alone. She sat at a desk in the middle of the library, surrounded by others who were studying and the watchful eyes of the Browns. Whatever made me think this mathematics class was a good idea? She'd been competent enough with the basic things she'd learned as a novice, but what was taught to Accepted might as well have been written in the Old Tongue as far as Liaran was concerned. She wasn't certain how long she'd been attempting the assignment, but all she had to show for her time so far was a page full of crossed out wrong answers and a pounding headache.

She dropped her head into her hands and shoved a couple of stray black ringlets behind her ears, trying to decide what to do about her problem. In other classes, Liaran would have consulted the teacher, but the Accepted did not think that the ancient White sister who taught this particular class was going to be of much assistance. Other Accepted in the class had already dared to ask questions and been snapped at to read the book. She had learned from talking to classmates that most of them were as confused as she was, so asking them wouldn't do much good either. The Accepted picked her head up for a moment, looking to see if any of the librarians were nearby to ask, but she didn't see a single one. Liaran laid her head back down, wishing it would stop throbbing so she could at least pretend she was doing productive work. At the moment, she thought she might more easily learn to fly than learn anything from this class.