The Young Magician

collected within the tents, steaming out of all the simmering and bubbling pots as people cooked all manner of exotic meals. Leathers and bowls and endless assortments of decorative items were being touted all around, each one cheaper and more useful than the last. It was such a marvellous place that Samuel could stay lost there for hours on end every day and still find new things and corners to explore.

He was examining a collection of carved figurines, depicting monsters and heroes with swords held high in victory, when a voice sounded immediately beside him.

‘Excuse me, young man.’

Samuel turned and looked up at the curious figure beside him. It was a rather tall man, pale of skin and pointed of nose. Most striking of all were the spotlessly clean white robes he wore, for they were quite out of place in such a city. The magical aura around him proclaimed him to be a magician of some description, yet, in such white clothing, he was clearly not of the Order.

‘You are relatively new to the Order, I presume,’ the man asked with an arched eyebrow.

‘Why, yes,’ Samuel replied, quite unsure of this strange man.

‘Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am Balthazar, First of the Union of Modern Magicians.’

Samuel was still equally unsure. ‘I’m pleased to meet you,’ he said and offered the man his hand. It was not something that magicians often did, being aloof as they were, but Samuel thought manners were manners, after all. The man looked at Samuel’s hand quizzically and then shook it tightly with both of his own.

‘Ah,’ he began. ‘I thought I would welcome you to Cintar, young Master. It’s the first time I’ve seen you in the city. So tell me, are you enjoying your time with the Order of Magicians?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Samuel informed him, ‘but I’m not a Master. I’m only an apprentice.’

‘No matter, no matter,’ said the man, flapping one hand dismissively. ‘Titles are a thing of mere formality. In the Union of Modern Magicians, all men are equal!’ Samuel eyed the man squarely. He had the feeling he was about to be sold something. ‘Have you ever thought about joining another institution of magic?’

‘No,’ Samuel replied, now doubting the man’s intentions entirely. ‘Not really.’

‘Tell me. What is your name?’ He now had a beaming smile, baring teeth.

‘Samuel,’ he said. ‘But I’m not really interested in leaving the School of Magic.’

Balthazar smiled even more. ‘Fine! Fine! But take your time to think it over. Any time you are even interested in dropping in for a chat, you can find us just near the library on Dovetail Street.’

Balthazar then seemed to notice something over Samuel’s shoulder. ‘I will speak with you again some day,’ he said with some urgency and rushed away into the crowd with a flurry of white cloth.

‘Who was that?’ Eric asked as he and Goodfellow returned.

‘He said his name was Balthazar,’ Samuel explained. ‘He said he wants me to join the Union of Modern Magicians.’

Eric laughed. ‘They’re a bunch of lunatics, Samuel.’

‘Yes,’ Goodfellow agreed. ‘I’d stay well away from them, if I were you. Perhaps you should tell Master Glim.’

Samuel shrugged. ‘He seems harmless enough. A little quirky, perhaps. What have you there?’ Samuel asked, noticing the bundle in Eric’s arms.

‘It’s a delicacy from my home. I was surprised to find it here. There’s a merchant here from Reve who is actually a second cousin of mine.’

‘So what is it?’ Samuel asked, peering into the wrapping.

‘Pigs’ ears,’ Eric announced and Samuel stepped back. ‘They’re delicious. You soak them in oils and spice and then fry them up in a nice hot pan.’ He smacked his lips with his tongue.

‘That’s disgusting!’ Samuel proclaimed.

‘Don’t criticise it until you’ve tried it, Samuel.’

‘I’ve tried it, Samuel,’ Goodfellow informed him. ‘And you’re right. It’s disgusting. I’d rather chew off the soles of my shoes.’

Eric shook his head at them with disappointment and they made their way back to the school. ‘You two just don’t know what’s good for you!’ he declared with a cheeky grin.

Days always passed quickly in the School of Magic. Samuel lost all track of time and measured it instead by his spells and accomplishments. The seasons turned and days became cold, then warm and cold once again. Occasionally, he outgrew or outwore one set of clothes or shoes or another, but apart from that, his days were consumed by his complete passion for magic. Very little changed in the school; each day was defined by a typical routine that Samuel regarded as just perfect. Whenever he overheard his classmates complaining of the repetitiveness or boredom, he would quietly shake his head. He gained few friends by not agreeing, but he didn’t care.

Tulan Goodwin visited the school occasionally and he was always astounded by Samuel’s progress. He had been to the Burning Oak on occasion and passed on Master Kelvin’s best wishes to Samuel. Samuel learned how a new stablehand had been found at the inn. His name was Fennian, and Samuel chuckled when he heard this, for it was the quiet boy that had been working for Mr Joshua. It seemed Mr Joshua had managed to insert a new spy into the Burning Oak after all. Samuel had no idea how Mr Joshua benefited from knowing the goings-on of the Order, but he guessed the man must have some way to turn a profit from all the information he gathered in Stable Canthem.

As Samuel was chatting with Tulan, he began to notice something curious about the man’s magical aura and, as he nodded and followed along in idle conversation, he squinted his eyes and peered more closely at the fine shroud of weaves that curled around Tulan. They were particular to the man-unique, Samuel realised, but Tulan’s aura also had some similarities with other magicians with skills of divination. With a little practice, Samuel guessed he would be able to tell the capabilities of a magician just by looking at him. He could already tell the purpose of simple spells just by observing them and could even tell who the caster was if he knew them well enough. His sight was a great advantage to him in this way, as he only had to look at magic to know its properties. Others had to rely on the feeling of the spell and it took them much longer to do anything. At first, he had thought perhaps he would meet others in the School of Magic with the same curious ability as he, but so far, no one else seemed to be gifted with his magician’s sight. He kept the secret tightly to himself.

When Samuel was not practising or studying and had no chores to perform, he would lean against the balcony by his cot on the upper floor and watch the other apprentices practise their spells below. He would open himself to the source and let his magic fill him. It was a thrilling sensation and he would try to hold onto such feelings for as long as he could. Then he felt truly alive, as if every sense in his body was multiplied and excited. Best of all, it seemed that nobody was any the wiser and he felt satisfaction in the fact that he could manipulate such power right beneath all their noses.

Eventually, though, he would tire and have to separate himself from the source once more. Each time, he could channel a little more than before. Every day, he felt he was getting stronger and stronger. It only disappointed him that he could not hold his power indefinitely. There just seemed to be no way around the limitations of the body and it frustrated him no end, for he felt that there was more and more magic within him just waiting to be released. Somehow, he would find a way…

Occasionally, Master Glim would organise a few hours of sport for the boys, stating how, despite the fact that they were apprentice magicians, they were still just boys and needed to play boys’ games. They played football-it was a little different to the way they played kick-ball in Marlen. The school grounds were not so large that they could run without constraint, but they could always manage to have a decent game without breaking too many of the large, ornate vases that decorated many of the walkways or colliding with any of the passing old Masters. The Adept played little, but occasionally one or two would join the game and seemed to enjoy it as much as anyone when they did. It was a refreshing break from study, but Samuel had not played such games since he had left Stable Canthem and he quickly ran out of breath while the others were just getting started. Goodfellow, too, had little patience for games, not being very good at them, and spent most of the time strolling about, adjusting his spectacles and watching the others race past him.