from the company I sometimes keep out of necessity. I have a little project that would keep you busy for a while and I’m sure you would enjoy it. In exchange, I will teach you such secrets of magic that these fools will never know.’
‘I’m sorry, but I’m still not interested. I don’t care for whatever it is you think I want. I’m happy with the Order, despite its shortcomings.’
The man stepped forward to the balcony and leaned over to observe the floor below. ‘Why do you insist on frustrating me, Samuel?’ he asked. ‘I could make your life very uncomfortable. I’m showing you far more tolerance than I should, out of pure respect for your potential. If you decide you would rather be my enemy, you will surely regret it.’
Samuel slipped out from his bed and stood, feeling his bare feet on the smooth, timber floor. The man turned slowly to face him, keeping his back against the handrail.
‘I don’t enjoy your tone,’ Samuel told him. ‘I do not doubt you have great power, but you cannot change the way I feel. I do not want your help. I have become what I am through my own efforts, not from the tiresome lectures of these bores. They are useful for the most trivial of matters-I know that-but while they still pose some use to me, I will stay. I understand what you are telling me and, frankly, I do not care. I will make my own fate.’
Samuel could see a smile appear on the man’s face in the dim light.
‘So you have developed some spine. I am pleased. However, I must let you know that you have little choice. Many dark things are moving in the world, Samuel, things that your Order of Magicians knows nothing about. The Order is a nursery for children and a plaything of the Empire. They will use you to meet their own ends until you are of no further use-and then they will throw you away like an unwanted rag. All magicians of real consequence join the Circle, for we are the only power that can keep this world from harm. Their bickering, their politicking and even their wars are of no consequence compared to the responsibilities we soon must face.’ The man then sighed. ‘Very well, there is still some time. Remain here for now if you insist, but it will only make your schooling more difficult later. I will return for you in due course.’
As before, he vanished, but this time Samuel was prepared. He had learned much of concealment spells since their last meeting, both in his classes and through his own experimentation. He could see the man’s aura as he stepped carefully down the stairs, using a second spell to muffle his steps. Samuel prepared a spell of his own and flung it out onto the stairway. The concealed magician reappeared as he stepped onto the last stair. He paused, but did not look back.
‘Very good, young Samuel! You will make me proud!’
With that, he stepped down onto the floor and went out through the door, closing it softly behind. The spell that hovered all through the dormitory flickered from existence and, at once, Eric Pot began snoring-loudly.
Samuel stood at the top of the stairway for several minutes, pondering on what he should do; then he returned to his bed, extinguished his lights and tried to go back to sleep. This man was obviously powerful, but Samuel did not trust him. If anything at all the man had said was true, time would surely tell.
The week dragged on as speculation as to the next principal continued. Grand Master Anthem had not returned, and most were sure that, under the circumstances, he most likely would not. Most hoped for Master Glim to fill the position, but Master Glim was adamant that he would not take it even if offered and he would say precious little else about the matter. It came as a dreadful surprise to all when word spread that Master Dividian would become principal, with Master Sanctus filling his old position as Keeper of Records.
‘I can’t believe it!’ Samuel exclaimed. ‘They must be mad! Dividian is an idiot.’
‘Well, it’s true,’ said Goodfellow, ‘so we had better start getting used to it.’
‘It’s Lord Jarrod,’ Samuel stated. ‘I bet he is responsible. I mean, why would anyone appoint such a fool as principal?’
‘I don’t know why you two won’t give the old goat a chance. Dividian is no one’s favourite, but he’s not as bad as some of the others.’
Samuel only returned a glowering stare to his friend.
‘Perhaps they’re friends,’ Goodfellow offered. ‘That kind of thing goes on all the time.’
‘I doubt it,’ Samuel said. ‘Who could be friends with him? It’s more likely that Dividian is being rewarded for something. I’d bet my best boots that Dividian has been helping Lord Jarrod, gathering evidence against the Grand Master and poisoning the Magicians’ Council against him. In return, Dividian gets to run the School of Magic.’
‘It’s possible,’ Goodfellow agreed, ‘but there’s not much we can do about it.’
‘I think you two are reading too much from this,’ Eric said. ‘He’s probably only trying to make the best of a difficult situation. Who else could run the school in such a pinch?’
The other two continued to ignore him.
‘What about the Archmage?’ Samuel asked. ‘Doesn’t he even care what happens to the Order?’
‘He’s seldom seen, so I hear,’ Goodfellow responded. ‘He stays in his room and seems to take little interest in the Order these days.’
Samuel shook his head with disgust. No one seemed to like what was happening, but it seemed they had little choice.
Several new Masters appeared at the school in the following days-Master Jacobs, Master Nottingsworth and Master Frayold. They were humourless and impatient men, brought in at the request of Master Dividian.
Many of their old teachers were sent out to scour the Empire for new apprentices. Even some of the old Masters, formerly spending their days in the library or sitting about the school grounds in debate, were sent into the city and neighbouring towns to look for acceptable new students. Workman appeared with tools and materials and they began building many new dormitories.
Master Glim and old Master Sanctus were the only two of their old teachers to remain and they continued to instruct the students about the Old Tongue. All other theory classes were replaced by the three new teachers. Master Sanctus droned on in his usual way, rarely looking up from his notes as the Adept scribbled and whispered before him-he barely seemed to notice that anything unusual was happening in the school at all.
Master Dividian would periodically summon some of the Adept individually. He had called Goodfellow once or twice and Eric Pot on numerous occasions, but Samuel was disappointed that his name had not been requested even once.
‘What do you do together?’ Samuel asked of his friends on one occasion.
Goodfellow shrugged. ‘Not much, he asks to see a few spells and then gives some feedback.’
‘I told you to give him a chance,’ Eric stated and Samuel had to throw his friend a look of sheer disbelief. ‘I’ve been getting the odd bit of advice from him since I first started here and, when he’s in a good mood, he’s very different to the Dividian we are used to. He gave me some new ideas and I have a great new spell I think you will both be impressed by-when it’s finished, of course. Some of his suggestions are quite ingenious.’
‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ Goodfellow replied. ‘He did offer me a few ideas, but nothing I hadn’t already thought about.’
Samuel left the conversation at that. He certainly had no love for Master Dividian, but he could not help but feel a little disappointed that almost everyone in the dormitory had been called up by the old man, except him.
Master Glim had become quiet and spoke little of recent matters, even to Samuel. He only stated that it was better for everyone if he did not disturb the waters any further. Samuel and his friends continued to study and learn, but, without Grand Master Anthem, it was as if the heart of the School of Magic had somehow been torn right out.
It was a murky and godless day when Samuel found himself striding through the city streets towards the central markets. It was soon to be Master Kelvin’s birthday and Samuel had a mind to send him a selection of spices from the western isles, so that Cook could make him some of his favourite dishes. The Spice Islands were far. Hardy, ocean-going vessels that could make the trip in short time were rare, so it caused quite a commotion whenever a shipment arrived, with everyone clambering for their share. Fortunately, Samuel would not have to queue up with the common folk and could have his pick of any shipment.
The streets were remarkably empty, for there was a constant threat of rain and the wind was icy sharp and howling mad, tugging at Samuel’s dark cloak like an obstinate beggar. A few dark-skinned merchants sat idly beside
