Harper discovered the old west stair on a Thursday and immediately decided the Academy had been hiding useful information from her. The normal route from West Residence to the indoor practice hall took eight minutes if the corridors were clear. The west stair took five.

"Three minutes," Harper said, standing beneath the narrow stone arch. "Do you understand what this means over an entire year?"

Ava read the brass sign beside the door. WEST CLIFF STAIR SUPERVISED STUDENT ACCESS

"It means we're using the normal route."

"That is not what it means."

The stair curved down the outside of the Academy, open to the air but enclosed by a high iron rail. Older students were already using it. Harper pointed. "Students."

"Older students."

"Still students."

"Supervised students," Ava said, tapping the sign.

Jasper checked the time. "We're going to be late." Harper looked at him. "Tie-breaker." He had known Harper and Ava for less than a month and already disliked being tie-breaker.

"Normal stairs."

Harper made a betrayed noise. Before they could leave, Professor Ward appeared around the corner carrying a stack of wooden practice boards.

"Practice hall?"

"Yes," Ava said.

"Take the west stair. I'm going down."

Harper's expression became unbearable.

"Supervised," she said softly.

Ava ignored her. The stair was, Jasper had to admit, much better. It wound along the cliff with the ocean spread below them, and every landing offered a different view of the lower Academy. Wind rushed upward carrying salt and the faint engine noise of boats in the working harbour. At one landing, Ward stopped to speak with another teacher and told the three to wait. They did, for approximately six seconds. Harper noticed a viewing recess three steps below. It remained inside the rail and was clearly part of the same landing, which was enough for her.

"Harper," Ava said.

"I'm still here."

She moved into the recess. Jasper followed far enough to see over the inner wall. Below them lay the lower docks, cut deep into the cliff behind a breakwater. Staff were unloading crates from a narrow workboat. A red-roofed access building connected the harbour to the restricted corridor they had seen during orientation.

"That's where the red-line door goes," Harper said.

"Yes," Ava called from the legal portion of the landing.

"We should go there one day."

"When we're allowed."

Harper turned to reply. Her heel landed on a patch of loose grit. The slip was tiny. She was nowhere near the cliff edge and the rail stood between her and open air, but her balance went sideways toward the stone steps. Jasper moved before thinking. He caught her sleeve while Harper grabbed the rail with her other hand. For a second neither of them moved. Then Harper straightened.

"I'm fine."

"You nearly went down the stairs."

"That is not the same as falling off the cliff."

"Nobody said cliff."

Ava came down two steps, her face pale despite the lecture already forming. "You turned on loose grit."

"Thank you, accident report."

Ward looked back. "Everything all right?"

"Yes," the three said together.

Jasper let go of Harper's sleeve. Far below, a wave struck the breakwater. The pressure touched his chest so briefly he could almost have mistaken it for the shock of the slip. Almost. He looked down. Nothing unusual happened. Harper followed his gaze. "Was that the thing?" Jasper hesitated. "Maybe." Ava's expression sharpened. Ward finished his conversation and led them on. Harper walked more carefully for the rest of the stair, though she would later deny any change in speed.

At the practice hall, they learned basic shielding. The lesson used soft beanbags rather than anything remotely dangerous, which Harper considered cowardice and Professor Ward considered evidence of professional competence. Jasper's first shield did nothing. Harper's beanbag hit him in the shoulder.

"Sorry," she said while smiling.

"You're smiling."

"Nervous reaction."

"You are still smiling."

On Jasper's fifth attempt, a thin pressure formed in front of his palm. The incoming beanbag changed direction enough to miss his arm. Ward nodded. "There. Don't make it bigger yet. Make that piece reliable." Jasper tried again. The next beanbag bounced sideways. This kind of magic he liked. Cause, effect, practice. No ancient attention beneath the sea and no Headmaster choosing his words too carefully. After class, Harper took the normal staircase back without complaint. Jasper noticed and said nothing. That evening she placed a small pebble on Bag Bed. Ava looked at it. "What's that?"

"West stair."

"You stole part of the staircase?"

"It attacked me first."

Jasper laughed. The pebble stayed. The west stair became a permanent point of argument. Harper insisted supervised access was proof the route should eventually be open to younger students. Ava insisted supervised access was proof the current rules were working exactly as intended. Jasper mostly cared that the stair had the best view of the harbour.

On their next legal trip down with Professor Ward, Harper stopped at the same recess where she had slipped. She did not mention the previous incident. Instead she crouched to inspect the grit around the landing.

"They cleaned it."

Ava looked. "Obviously."

"No, properly. There is a rough strip now."

Ward heard them. "Maintenance added grip after your report." Harper stood slightly straighter. "My report?"

"Your accident report."

For once she had no joke ready. That small change mattered. Tidefall did not simply tell students to be careful and leave the environment unchanged. Somebody had looked at the cause, decided the stone could be improved and done it.

Later in shielding practice, Jasper began understanding why Ward insisted on reliability before size. A small shield that worked every time could be placed where it mattered. A large one that failed under stress was decoration. Harper, naturally, wanted a large reliable one immediately.

"You have discovered the entire curriculum," Ward told her.

The door itself was open. Beyond it, stone steps descended along the outer wall, protected by a high iron railing. Sunlight flashed through gaps in the architecture. The sea was visible below. Several older students were using it. The practice hall laughed. Bag Bed was beginning to look less like storage and more like evidence.