The Magician’s Apprentice

of its effectiveness in teaching battle strategy. Once independence had been regained, the game resurfaced, though after three hundred years of secret practice the rules had to be re-established, as so many different variations had evolved. Most magicians took the opportunity to play against new opponents whenever they could, because a player eventually learned the habits and mannerisms of those he or she regularly played against.

Malia and Jayan swapped seats in the wagon so Dakon and his apprentice were sitting opposite each other. They selected their pieces – a magician each and a number of “sources” decided by the roll of three dice. Another dice throw decided the strength of the magician. Jayan looked at Tessia and held out a waxed tablet and scribe.

“Score for us?”

She sighed and took the items. “Why is it that so many of your games are about war and fighting?”

“Conflict challenges us to extend ourselves – to stretch the limits of our skills and power,” Dakon replied.

“Being able to defend our people and our country is part of our responsibility as magicians,” Jayan told her. “To neglect to learn to fight is... well, it makes us the useless, glorified parasites that some say we are.”

Dakon blinked and stared at Jayan, wanting to ask where the apprentice had heard such things said, but he did not want to be distracted from answering Tessia’s question so he turned back to her.

“What we learn from these games we can apply elsewhere. The control you need for the disc and knife game might come in handy if you are occupied with something that takes more than two hands, and you do not have an assistant – or an assistant with the appropriate skill for the task.”

As he’d expected, a familiar expression of comprehension came to her face, then an almost secretive thoughtfulness. He knew she was thinking how such a skill could be used in healing. That same expression had crossed her face when their discussions had touched on healing and magic too many times now for him to not recognise it.

Would she ever lose her interest – perhaps obsession – with healing? Was there any harm in it? He hoped the answer to both questions was no. While her apprenticeship might have benefited if she had been as captivated by magic for its own sake, she was absorbing his lessons and gaining skills at an acceptable rate. More than acceptable, he was pleased to see. For an apprentice forced to learn while travelling, and sharing her master’s time and attention with another, she was learning with impressive speed.

What was most startling was how she learned. She saw everything in reference to her physical self. He had been telling himself that this was because she had already learned to think from the perspective of a healer, but he had a nagging feeling that there was more to it than that. When shown how to use magic in a certain way, she grasped the concept immediately and understood all the variations, almost as instinctively as a newborn enka knows how to walk and then run and then jump.

He had no doubt that one day she would surpass him not just in strength, but in ability. It was going to be interesting to watch.

But when it came to battle training she showed a strong reluctance. Perhaps it was natural that someone so focused on mending was repelled by actions designed for harming. She needed to see the value of defensive skills. It was better to prevent an injury in the first place, than to have to treat it.

Turning back to the game, he gave his pieces their own tiny protective shields and suspended them. Jayan followed suit. Various items were positioned between them to act as obstacles, and they took it in turns to block the other’s view by holding up a travel rug while they arranged their pieces. Then the rug was lowered and the game began.

At the end of the first round they had both used up most of their source pieces’ value. Dakon took a risk and elevated one of his sources to a magician. This meant he had lost a source, but had two positions from which to attack. The start of a new round re-energised the sources, as it represented a night’s rest.

“Why do your magicians have so many sources?” Tessia asked. “Kyralian magicians don’t have that many apprentices.”

“We don’t,” Dakon agreed. “But in war people can volunteer to be sources.”

“Do you ever play with one or both sides arranged as if they are Sachakan magicians?”

“Yes.”

“How is that different? Do you have to take the sources out of the game once they are used?”

“Not necessarily, though when playing ‘Sachakan’ you’re allowed to kill sources and give your magician extra points. Sachakan magicians are not as inclined to kill their sources as they are rumoured to be. Sources are more valuable in an extended battle if they are alive to be useful again the next day.”

“But not in a short battle.”

“Or in a desperate situation,” Dakon added.

“Why don’t you represent non-magicians in the game? Ordinary people – or fighters.”

“Ordinary weapons aren’t much good against magicians,” Jayan pointed out.

“Not unless the enemy is exhausted,” she said. “If weapons are always ineffective, why do ordinary people make and learn to use them?”

“Ordinary people are a potential source of power during battle,” Dakon told her. “They’re best kept well out of the reach of the enemy. Non-magicians who use ordinary weapons are usually guards, and their purpose is mainly to protect or control ordinary people. It’s been many hundreds of years since Kyralia had soldiers as part of its defence. Not since the times when magicians were few and expensive to hire. Hey!”

Taking advantage of Dakon’s distraction, Jayan had struck one of the lord’s magicians. Dakon didn’t manage to strengthen its shield in time, and the piece glowed and began to melt. Sighing, and ignoring Jayan’s triumphant grin, he drew it out of the game, carefully reshaped it while it was still hot, and held it to one side to cool before he put it in the box.

“Lord Dakon.”

Tanner had spoken. Dakon looked up. The driver jerked his head in the direction of something further down the road. As Dakon looked beyond the man and took in the scene they were approaching, his stomach sank. Jayan turned and glanced behind, then looked back at Dakon. Without saying a word, they returned the pieces to the box, discarded the “obstacles” and, as the wagon slowed to a stop, climbed out.

Once the wagon was still, Tessia stood up to get a better view of the scene before it. A stream or small river, bloated from the rain, crossed their path. The water’s flow was fast, swirling around the broken wooden supports of a bridge and the remains of the carts that must have been crossing it when the bridge gave way.

On both sides of the stream people milled about, suggesting that the bridge had failed some time ago and plenty of travellers had arrived since to find their way blocked. Most were locals, Tessia guessed. All were staring at Dakon and Jayan, no doubt taking note of their expensive clothing. Several carts were lined up along the road – most on the opposite bank – piled high with goods of various kinds. There was even a small herd of reber, their woolly coats dripping and their bellies dark with mud.

Suddenly she felt a soft but insistent tapping on her shoulders and head. As cold moisture penetrated her dress she hastily created a shield to shelter herself, Tanner and Malia from the rain. Dakon and Jayan were striding towards the fallen bridge, taking their own shields with them.

Should she follow? There was nothing she could do that they weren’t more capable of handling. But it was possible someone had been hurt. Taking care to make sure Malia was still sheltered by a shield, Tessia began to climb out of the wagon.

“Oh, Apprentice Tessia, should you be leaving the wagon?” Malia asked anxiously. “What if someone tries to take something?”

Tessia paused, looked around and smiled. “What? While you and Tanner are on board? They wouldn’t dare.”

It wasn’t easy climbing off a wagon wearing a dress – at least with any kind of dignity. The hem caught on a protruding piece of wood, and she paused to tug it free.

“But it’s a mess,” Malia said anxiously.

“All the more reason to have a look,” Tessia replied, stretching a leg towards the ground. It didn’t quite reach, but she was close enough. She let herself drop.

And felt her foot sink deep into mud.

Looking down, she lifted her skirt enough to see that she had sunk well past the top of the dainty boots Malia had dug up from some store of feminine clothes in the Residence – possibly Dakon’s mother’s. They had been a compromise. Tessia had wanted sturdy boots for the journey, while Malia had wanted her to wear delicate shoes