The Magician’s Apprentice Read online

  He kept talking, his voice gentle and unhurried.

  “Now I’m going to put my hand over yours. This will enable my mind to communicate with yours with less effort.”

  She felt fingers gently press on top of hers. They were neither hot nor cold, the touch neither too firm nor too light. It was a little odd and personal having the ley’s magician touching her hand like this. For a moment a memory of a Sachakan face leering over her flashed through her mind. She pushed it aside, annoyed. This is nothing like that. Lord Dakon is nothing like Takado.

  Then she remembered her suspicion that her mother wanted her to marry Lord Dakon. She couldn’t imagine he would ever consider her as a potential wife. Surely he’d rather marry someone more important than a commoner like herself. She was nowhere near pretty enough to make up for her low status, either. No matter what her mother thought, she was not going to try to seduce the magician. For a start, she had no idea how. But more important, she didn’t even know if she—

  “Think about what you can see,” Dakon instructed, his voice calm. “Nothing, am I right? Just darkness behind your eyes. Imagine you are standing in a place with no walls or floor or ceiling. It may be dark, but it is comfortable. You are standing within it.”

  She felt something then. A sensation that was not physical. A feeling of personality...of Lord Dakon’s personality. It seemed to emanate reassurance and encouragement. And certainly not romantic interest. She was surprised at the relief she felt. She didn’t need such distractions when she was trying to learn something this important.

  “I am standing behind you. Turn round.”

  Whether she had turned round, or the dark place in her imagination had revolved, she couldn’t tell. Lord Dakon was there, a few paces away. Yet he wasn’t completely distinct. Only where she looked did he come into focus completely: his face, his feet, his hands. His smile.

  – Good, Tessia.

  She understood that he had spoken into her mind. Could she do the same in return?

  – Lord Dakon?

  – Yes. You are doing well.

  – Oh. Good. What next?

  – Can you see what I’m carrying? It is a box.

  His arms lifted, and she saw that there was something in his hands. As he said box it immediately resolved into a small night-wood container with gold corners and latch.

  – Yes.

  – This contains my magic. If I want to use it, I open the box. All other times I keep it closed. You, too, have a box. Look down at your hands and let the box take shape.

  Looking down, she realised she could see her hands. Holding them palm up, she thought box.

  A slim, flat box appeared. It was old and plain, and a little dusty. It looked just like the one that held her mother’s necklace.

  – Open it, Dakon bade her.

  She undid the latch and lifted the lid. Inside was the necklace, glittering softly in the dim light. For some reason this filled her with disappointment. She looked up at him, confused.

  – My mother’s necklace is my magic?

  The magician frowned.

  – I doubt it, he said slowly. More likely this box was recent in your thoughts. Put it behind you. Let’s try this again.

  She did as he said, laying the box down on the invisible ground behind her. Straightening, she looked down at her hands again.

  – Try to imagine a box worthy of magic. Your magic.

  Magic was special. It was power and influence. And wealth. It was grand. A large box formed. The whole box was gold, glittering brightly. Its sides were thick and it was very heavy. She looked up at Dakon. He looked amused.

  – Better. I don’t think either of us will mistake that for anything but a box of magic, he said. Now open it.

  A thrill of expectation and trepidation ran through her as she unlatched the lid. What would she find inside? Power? Uncontrolled power, most likely. As the lid hinged up a dazzling white light assailed her eyes.

  It was too bright. She felt a force pour out, knocking the box from her hands. A crashing noise shocked her back into an awareness of her real surroundings and she opened her eyes. She blinked as she searched the room for the source of the disturbance. Then she saw the broken glass shards covering a nearby table.

  “Oh.”

  Lord Dakon stirred, opened his eyes and turned to look at the broken... whatever it had been.

  “Sorry,” she said.

  He frowned. “I think maybe we should conduct these lessons somewhere less... vulnerable.”

  “I’m very sorry,” she repeated.

  “Don’t apologise,” he told her firmly. “I should have realised there was a possibility of stray magic being loosed. I guess I did, but didn’t take it seriously enough. I’ve never taught a natural before. Why don’t we—?”

  A knock came at the door. His eyes moved to the doorway. Following his gaze, Tessia saw Keron peering through the opening.

  “Lord Dakon,” the servant said. “Lord Narvelan of Loran ley has arrived.”

  Dakon’s eyebrows rose in surprise, then he stood up. He turned to Tessia. “That will do for today. Practise entering that mental state when you can, and visualising the box, but do not open it.”

  She smiled. “Not a chance of that.”

  “The books on that table by the door are for you to read.” He pointed. “Let me know if anything doesn’t make sense.”

  She nodded.

  Turning away, he strode out of the library. Noting his haste, she could not help feeling an intense curiosity stirring. Was it a habit of the Lord Narvelan to come visiting Lord Dakon without warning? She had rarely seen the magician of the neigh-bouring ley, and then only at a distance. It was said, in the village, that he was a handsome man. Maybe he would be at dinner tonight.

  I suspect that if I keep my eyes and ears open, I may learn more here than how to use magic. I might learn a lot more about the world of magicians and of wealthy and influential people.

  Which was something she had half expected anyway. She just hadn’t expected to do so straight away.

  Dakon envied the man pacing the library his youth. Having received Dakon’s message that Takado had left late the day before, Lord Narvelan had ridden through the night to Mandryn, yet he was still alert and restless. But then, politics always energised the magician. If Dakon hadn’t known better, he might have dismissed Narvelan’s interest in the Sachakan as that of a bored young man living in the relatively unexciting countryside. But he did know better.

  Three years before, Dakon had been amused and surprised to find himself being “recruited” by his neighbour. Narvelan and several other country ley owners, and a few sympathetic city lords, had agreed to meet a few times a year to discuss issues that affected country leys. It had begun as an informal arrangement, meant as much to strengthen relations between magicians living in their isolated leys as to reach any binding agreement. They called themselves the Circle of Friends.

  As it was informal, and not entirely secret, King Errik had learned of it within a few months. Narvelan had been among the members who had travelled to the city to reassure the king that their intentions did not conflict with the interests of the crown. Dakon didn’t know what had been said or agreed to. Sometimes Narvelan referred jokingly to the group as the king’s favourite country gossips.

  But their group and its purpose had evolved into something else when news and rumours began to reach them suggesting that young Sachakan magicians wanted to reconquer Kyralia. Dakon hadn’t shared their worries until he had received an order from the king, some weeks back, to seek from Ashaki Takado his purpose for visiting Kyralia if he should pass through Mandryn. Narvelan had received a similar command.

  The young magician had ridden all night for nothing, unfortunately. Dakon had no information to relay, as he’d indicated in his message.

  “I know, I know,” Narvelan said when Dakon reminded him of this. “I want to hear all about him anyway. Has the slave survived?”

  “Yes... and not a
slave any longer,” Dakon pointed out. “Takado acknowledged that I must free Hanara once he left the country.”

  “Did you read his mind?”

  “No. It would hardly be a convincing introduction to freedom.” The younger magician turned away from the window and frowned at Dakon. “Surely you don’t trust him?”

  Dakon shrugged. “As much as any man I don’t know.”

  “He is more than that. More than just a stranger. He is Sachakan and an ex-slave. Loyalty is bred into him, if not loyalty for his master then for his country.”

  “I’m not going to lock him up or read his mind unless there is a strong reason to.”

  Narvelan pursed his lips, then nodded. “I guess not. But if I were you I’d keep a close eye on him, for fear of him harming himself as much as others. It can’t be an easy adjustment, changing from a source slave to a free man.”

  “I won’t be forcing him out of my house before he’s ready,” Dakon assured him. “But it would not be appropriate to keep him here as a guest for ever. I’ll find employment for him somewhere I can keep an eye on him.”

  The other magician nodded. “Do you think Takado had a reason other than curiosity for visiting Kyralia?”

  “I can’t say.” Dakon grimaced. “I don’t know if it was something in his manner that betrayed him, or merely the slyness of his nature giving me the wrong impression, but it’s hard not to suspect he had ill intentions. Will we receive confirmation when he has left the country?”

  “I don’t know.” Narvelan frowned, then shook his head. “The king should have a few guards at the pass, keeping watch on who comes and goes.”

  “If it’s any consolation, I doubt Takado will want to spend a day more than necessary without a slave to serve him.” Dakon chuckled, then made his expression sober. “He did attempt some mischief before he left, however. Tried to force himself on a woman, but was interrupted before he could do anything more than frighten her.”

  Narvelan’s expression darkened. “Was that why he left?”

  Dakon shook his head. “No, it happened after he decided to leave. I think he wanted to remind us that the Sachakans once had such power over us – as if beating his slave near to death hadn’t already.”

  “I don’t know why we have to allow any of them into the country,” Narvelan muttered. Then he sighed and sat down. “No, I do understand why. Diplomacy and good relations, trade and all that. I just wish we didn’t have to. Especially not when...” He looked at Dakon, his young face suddenly creased with the lines of an older man. “I suppose I should get on with telling you the gossip.”

  Dakon smiled crookedly. “Please do.”

  Narvelan put his elbows on the arms of the chair and pressed his fingertips together. “Where to start? Lord Ruskel’s story, I think. Ruskel had heard several reports of strangers being seen in the southern end of the mountains. Usually small groups of young men. He investigated and found a group of three Sachakan magicians and their slaves camping within our border. They claimed to have become lost in the mountains.”

  Dakon couldn’t help feeling a chill run down his spine. Stumbling alone upon three Sachakan magicians would not be pleasant for any Kyralian magician, if they had mischief in mind.

  “They apologised and returned the way they came,” Narvelan continued. “Lord Ruskel called on a few neighbours for support and followed a few days later. He found a path that at first was natural and probably used by hunters, but as they moved deeper into the mountains it was clear some magical effort had gone into extending the path. As obvious as cutting a shelf into a sheer cliff face, and moving immense boulders into place to form a bridge.”

  “So, a path for non-magicians. Or magicians who don’t want to use up too much of their power,” Dakon said.

  “Yes. Hunters and their families also approached Lord Ruskel and his companions, telling them of men who had hunted for decades in the mountains disappearing, on days of fine weather.”

  “Have the Sachakans been seen since?”

  “No, and there have been no more reports of missing people either. Perhaps the young drumbloods have been put off.” Narvelan smiled grimly. “Which brings me to the next subject: what’s going on in Sachaka. Our friend over there managed to contact us again.”

  Dakon smiled. He had no idea whether this “friend” was Kyralian or Sachakan, but Narvelan had vouched for the honesty of the man – or woman – and the quality of their information.

  “Our friend says there is a split forming between the younger and older Sachakan magicians. There are too many young magicians without land, relying on the sibling their father chose as heir to support them. The number of landless magicians has been slowly growing for years, but only now have they begun to unite and cause trouble. Emperor Vochira doesn’t seem able to do much about them.

  “There are reports of landless magicians tormenting and killing slaves that don’t belong to them. This in itself isn’t remarkable, so they must be causing a lot of economic damage for their actions to be protested against. Some have turned to thievery, occasionally daring to attack and rob other magicians. Others have even raided the homes of landed magicians, attacking their families and killing slaves.

  “The worst offenders have been banished and declared ‘ichani’ – outlaws. A few were hunted down and killed, but not enough to make a difference because the emperor needs assistance to overcome the offenders, and too few of the older magicians can risk losing alliances with the families the offenders are related to.” Narvelan sighed and shook his head. “There is some satisfaction in knowing the Sachakans have as much trouble getting magicians to unite with and support each other as we do.”

  Dakon chuckled, knowing that the young man referred to the habit of some magicians to hoard magical knowledge to themselves. Like Lord Jilden, who had discovered a way to harden stone with magic, but refused to share the knowledge with anyone else. He claimed it was only useful for his small sculptures – which were exquisite and fragile – and that like most artisans he had a right to keep his methods secret. King Errik could not risk ordering Lord Jilden to reveal his secret, because most magicians would not support it. Though they wanted the knowledge, their freedom to do as they wished, so long as it did no harm to the country, was more valuable to them. The king could only force Lord Jilden to divulge his secret if he could prove withholding it was harmful.

  “Our Sachakan friend says that the younger magicians talk of the past,” Narvelan added. “They glorify the days when the Sachakan empire spread from coast to coast, bringing in wealth from other lands. They feel the empire is declining and believe they could revive it by reconquering the lost territories.”

  Dakon frowned. “That doesn’t sound promising.”

  Narvelan smiled. “Ah, but the older magicians call the young ones fools and dreamers. They recall that the empire relinquished Elyne and Kyralia because the two countries were no longer bringing in the wealth they once had. Which is what happens, when you rob a land,” Narvelan added darkly. “They also say that Kyralia would cost too much to conquer now, and isn’t worth the trouble.”

  “But the young magicians want land,” Dakon guessed. “The lack of it drives them to see Kyralia as a greater prize than it is. They tell themselves they aren’t going to rob and run, but stay and rule.”

  The younger magician’s gaze became thoughtful. “I fear you may be right. The question is, will the older magicians convince and control their younger opponents, or will they let them invade Kyralia?”

  “It always seems easier to do nothing, when the harm is done elsewhere,” Dakon said. “They know their young ones will either learn a lesson and limp home – or die and stop being a problem – or prove successful. The worst that could happen is a bit of a diplomatic hiccup in history.”

  “Are the youngsters right?” Narvelan asked, though more to himself than to Dakon. “Are we as weak as they think we are? Would we win or lose such a war?”

  Dakon considered. “The king’s wa
r masters would know better than we do.” He looked at the young man. “But your friends are already trying to find out for themselves, aren’t they?”

  Narvelan grinned. “Trying to. There is one more question to be answered, though. One as important as those two. “

  “Yes?”

  “Would we unite against them?”

  “Of course. We managed it a few centuries ago, in order to force the emperor to grant us independence.”

  “But how long would it take? What would it take? How much land could the Sachakans overrun before the city magicians decided it was time to act? One ley? Two or three?”

  “Only if the Sachakans moved quickly.”

  Narvelan shook his head. “You don’t know the city magicians as I do. They fear confrontation far more than they care for some remote leys at the edge of the country.” He looked towards the window and frowned. “We are close to the main pass – you closer than me. Even if you are right, our land and people will still be the first to go.”

  Dakon felt his skin chill, as if he had been sitting outside and a cloud had just blocked the sunlight. He could not argue against what Narvelan said. He could only hope that the Sachakans never managed to convince themselves Kyralia was worth invading, or that their attempts to organise and form alliances failed.

  And if my hopes are in vain, that I can evacuate the villages of Aylen ley in time, and get my people to safety. Surely Narvelan is wrong about the city magicians. Beside, such decisions are not theirs to make.

  “The king would not allow the city magicians to delay,” he said, feeling his mood lighten a fraction. “He won’t want to lose one handful of his land to Sachaka, let alone a few leys.”

  Narvelan looked at him and nodded. “I hope you are right. I think... and our circle of friends believe... that we can better our chances. That the king is more likely to act promptly if he has met and reassured us he will. He should know the people most in danger if such a crisis should occur. People like you. It’s much harder to let people die if you’ve met and liked them, and promised to help them.”