The Magician’s Apprentice

worthy of palace courtiers.

Holding on to the wagon for support, Tessia reached out with her other foot, seeking firmer ground. Fortunately she found it a mere step away. With one leg now on a solid base, she pulled her foot from the mud.

And it slid out of her dainty boot, leaving the mud free to slowly slump and cave in over the top. Malia sighed.

“See what I mean?” she said sadly. “Probably ruined them. Should I dig it out?”

Tessia looked up at Malia and felt a stab of guilt. The poor girl would have quite a job cleaning mud off clothes and shoes tonight. Then she looked at the shrinking hole. Muddy shoes shouldn’t put anyone off helping others. Still, there was no need to make Malia’s life any harder than necessary.

Ignoring the lingering headache from Dakon’s lessons, Tessia focused her mind on the ground and exerted her will. Mud now flowed away from the hole. As the edge of the leather appeared she concentrated on building a magical force down and around the shoe, cupping it and drawing it up. It came free with a sucking sound. She grabbed it and felt liquid sloshing around inside, tipped it upside down to let the water out, then slipped it back on her foot. Malia made a wordless protest.

Tessia looked up and shrugged. “If I walk around without a shoe I’m going to get my stockings just as dirty.”

Malia wrinkled her nose in reply.

Turning away, Tessia headed towards the bridge. A large horse stood tethered nearby, broken harness still hanging from flanks and neck. Jayan and Dakon were standing on one side of the bridge, hands on hips and, from the looks on their faces, arguing. She caught a few words as she approached.

“—me do it.”

“No, it’s too easy to break a rib or—”

As she rounded the remains of the bridge she saw what they were discussing. A man was clinging to one of the broken support columns, midstream. He wore the typical leather vest of a metal worker. I can’t believe they’re arguing about this. He could fall in at any moment.

“How long has he been there?” she asked, moving quickly to Dakon’s side. “He looks tired.”

Jayan’s mouth closed with an audible snap and he looked away. Dakon glanced at her, than back at the stranded metal worker. His eyes narrowed.

The man’s eyes flew open as he began to move away from the column. He gave a shout and clawed at the beam; then, as he was drawn too far away to reach it, scrabbled at the air. Then he belatedly realised he was moving upward, not falling downward, and he went limp. It was a strange sight, this sodden, stunned man floating slowly through the air towards the bank of the stream.

When his feet met the ground his legs folded and he collapsed. Tessia moved to his side. He didn’t appear to have any wounds. His gaze was unfixed and he was breathing rapidly. She felt for his pulse and counted. His skin was cold. He needed warmth and dry clothing.

Looking up, she found a ring of people standing around her, their expressions full of curiosity and puzzlement. Dakon stood within the ring, watching her with an unreadable expression.

“He’s dazed,” she told him. “He needs drying out and warming up. Is there anyone here who knows him? A relative? Friend?”

“Boy was with him,” a man in the crowd said, stepping forward. “Washed up downriver. Drowned.”

A son? Or apprentice? She grimaced and looked down at the man, whose distant expression hadn’t changed. Perhaps he hadn’t heard. She hoped so. That was the last piece of information he needed right now.

“I’d take him home to his wife.” The speaker glanced at the bridge. “I’m headed that way, but . . .” He waved at the broken bridge.

Home is on the other side, she guessed.

“I’ll deal with that,” Dakon said. “Stay here.” As he walked away the small crowd parted to let him through. Jayan hurried after. The pair approached the trees that grew on one side of the road, part of a forest maintained by the local lord, and disappeared in the undergrowth.

Tessia looked at the man who had spoken, then glanced down at the prone metal worker.

“You know him?”

The man shrugged. “I’ve bought wares from him. He lives in Little Smoketown, a way down past the stream.”

“Serves him right,” someone in the crowd said. “Took too much weight over the bridge.”

“Didn’t wait, either. Travellers aren’t supposed to cross more than one cart at a time,” someone else argued. “Lord Gilar said so.”

“How’re we supposed to know that?” another said. “If your lord knew the bridge might break, he should’ve fixed it.”

“Have to now,” the first speaker said quietly.

“Won’t,” said a short, stocky man who had come up to peer at the metal worker. “Too miserly. He’ll make us use the southern bridge.”

Groans came from several onlookers, and a few muttered curses. The crowd had crept forward, drawn by curiosity and the conversation.

“This road is the most direct route for Lord Dakon to take to the city,” Tessia told them. “If Lord Gilar is resistant to local voices, maybe my master’s need for a safe bridge will persuade him.”

The crowd fell silent and she guessed they were wondering whether she would repeat what they’d said to Lord Dakon. Expressions became wary. She could not help wondering if people living on Dakon’s land spoke as resentfully of him. Would he leave a dangerous bridge in place? But Lord Gilar had left instructions to prevent the bridge’s fall, and perhaps he was in the process of dealing with the problem. Perhaps he was waiting for materials or skilled workmen to arrive, or for safer weather to be working in.

A distant thud drew everyone’s attention to the forest. She felt it in the ground, through her soggy boots. People turned to stare expectantly. Small trees quivered as something disturbed them, each one closer to the road. Finally the undergrowth parted and a huge log slid forward onto the mud.

It was as thick as a man was tall, and longer than three wagons and their horses standing end to end. The bright pale fresh wood where branches had been cut away stood out from the darker, wet bark. Dakon and Jayan stepped out of the forest. They paused in discussion for a moment, then Dakon moved closer to the trunk. He stared at it intently.

A crack split the air, and the log fell into two halves, split down its length.

Tessia heard gasps from all around. Possibly from her own mouth as well. Well, that was impressive, she thought.

All watched as magician and apprentice slid the log halves forward, curved side down like the hulls of boats. They pushed them across the bloated stream to settle beside each other, making a flat platform with a small gap between. Dirt around the end of the logs swelled outward, allowing the new bridge to sink into the ground and raising the road surface to meet the flat top of the logs.

Jayan crossed the new bridge and balanced on the other end as he repeated the embedding process on the other side.

One day I’ll be able to do that, Tessia thought. Clearly they used their power to shift the log, but what sort of magic did they use to split it? Or cut it down in the first place? The ends of the trunk hadn’t been split or burned. Clearly, she had a lot to learn. Suddenly the knowledge that she would one day be able to use magic in such impressive and useful ways was exciting and appealing. It’s not all about fighting after all.

Jayan returned to Dakon’s side, then the pair turned to look at her. Dakon nodded towards the wagon meaningfully. She realised he intended to cross the new bridge first, to demonstrate that it was safe. People had begun to head for their carts, and soon a queue would form before either end of the bridge.

She looked down at the metal worker. With magic she could dry him out and warm him up, but in the state he was in it would only terrify him further. She looked up at the man who had volunteered to return him to his home.

“Have you got any blankets?”

The volunteer met her gaze, and nodded. “I had better get my cart.” Then he grimaced and looked at the river. “And I suppose I’d better fetch the boy, too,” he added.