The Magician’s Apprentice

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.”