The Magician’s Apprentice

“A tolerant man. A man who does not mind gossip and breaking tradition. Where is she going to find such a one?”

Tessia’s father was silent a long time.

“I’m tired. I need to sleep,” he said eventually.

“We both do. I was up most of the night worrying about you two. Especially with Tessia being in the same house as that Sachakan brute.”

“We were in no danger. Lord Dakon is a good man.”

The few words that followed were muffled. Tessia waited until the pair had not spoken for some time, then carefully crept back to her bed.

Last night I proved my worth to him, she thought smugly. He can’t ask me to stop assisting him now. He knows no foolish village boy would have had the nerve or knowledge to deal with that slave’s injuries.

But I did.

CHAPTER 3

At the soft tap on the door, Apprentice Jayan smiled. He turned and sent out a small surge and twist of magic to the handle. With a click the door swung inward. Beyond the doorway, a young woman bowed as best she could, laden as she was with a large tray.

“Greetings, Apprentice Jayan,” she chimed as she entered the room. Carrying her burden over to him, she set it on one ample hip and began transferring bowls, plates and cups onto the desk.

“Greetings to you, Malia,” he replied. “You’re looking particularly cheerful today.”

“I am,” she said. “The lord’s guest is leaving today.”

He straightened. “He is? Are you sure?”

“Quite sure. I guess he can’t cope without a slave tending to his every need.” She sent him a sidelong, thoughtful look. “I wonder, could you get by without me?”

Jayan ignored her question and the obvious hook for a compliment. “Why hasn’t he got a slave? What happened to the slave he arrived with?”

Malia’s eyes rounded. “Of course. You wouldn’t know. And you wouldn’t have heard anything, hidden here in the back of the Residence. Takado beat his slave almost to death yesterday afternoon. Healer Veran worked on him the full night.” Despite her matter-of-fact tone, her quick gestures betrayed her uneasiness. He guessed all the servants would be unnerved by the Sachakan’s behaviour. They knew that, to him, there was little difference between them and a slave.

But Malia’s smile had quickly returned, and it was a sly one. She knew what the Sachakan’s departure would mean for him. He looked at her expectantly.

“And?”

The smile widened. “And what?”

“Did he live or die?”

“Oh.” She frowned, then shrugged. “I assume he’s still alive, or we’d have heard something.”

Jayan stood up and moved to the window. He wanted to seek Dakon and discover more, but his master had ordered him to remain in his room while the Sachakan was staying in the Residence. Looking out of the window, down at the closed stable doors and empty yard, he chewed his lip.

If I can’t find out myself, Malia will be more than willing to get information for me.

Trouble was, she always wanted a little more than thanks in return for her favours. While she was pretty enough, Dakon had long ago warned him that young female house servants had a habit of taking a fancy to young male apprentice magicians – or their influence and fortunes – and he was not to take advantage of them, or allow himself to be taken advantage of by them. While Jayan knew his master was forgiving of the occasional mistake or misbehaviour, he had also learned over the last four years that the magician had subtle and unpleasant ways to punish unacceptable conduct. He did not believe Dakon would resort to the ultimate punishment for such misconduct – send an apprentice back to his family with his education unfinished and without the knowledge of higher magic that marked him as an independent magician – but he didn’t fancy Malia enough to test that belief. Or any young woman of Mandryn, for that matter.

The trick with Malia was never to actually ask for anything. Only express a wish to know something. If she provided information he’d asked for, she considered he owed her something in return.

“I wonder when the Sachakan will leave,” he murmured.

“Oh, probably not till dusk,” Malia said lightly. “

Dusk? Why would he travel at night?”

She smiled and slipped the tray under her arm. “I don’t know, but I like the thought of you stuck here, all by yourself, for another whole day. After all, you don’t want to risk he’ll take a fancy to you, and take you home with him in place of his slave, do you? Enjoy your day.”

Chuckling, she left the room, pulling the door closed behind her. Jayan stared at the back of the door, not sure if she’d seen through his ploy or was merely seizing an opportunity to tease him.

Then he sighed, returned to his desk and began his morning meal.

At first Jayan hadn’t minded Dakon’s decision that he must stay in his room for the duration of the Sachakan’s visit. He had plenty of books to read and study, and didn’t mind being alone. He wasn’t worried that Takado would attempt to kidnap him, as Malia had suggested, since Sachakans didn’t make slaves of anyone who had access to their magical abilities. They preferred slaves with powerful latent talent, who could not use magic yet would provide their master with plenty of magical strength to absorb.

No, if any conflict arose between Takado and Dakon it was more likely the Sachakan would try to kill Jayan. Part of an apprentice’s role was to provide his master with a source of extra magical strength, just as a slave did, except that apprentices gained magical knowledge in return. And were free men, or women.

Conflict between Takado and Dakon was unlikely, though. It would have diplomatic repercussions in Sachaka and Kyralia that neither magician would want to face. Still, it was possible Takado might stir up some minor trouble, knowing he was little over a day’s journey from his homeland, only to make a point about Sachakan superiority and power.

Like beating his own slave to death?

I guess he has made his point already. He’s shown us he still has power over other human lives, and he’s done so without breaking any Kyralian laws.

That thought made Jayan feel oddly relieved. Now that the Sachakan had made his point he would leave – was leaving – and soon Jayan would be out of danger. He could leave the room. And the Residence, if he wished. Life would return to normal.

Jayan felt his mood lighten. He had never thought he would get sick of his own company or of reading. It turned out he could reach a point where he began to long for sunlight and fresh air. He’d passed that point a few days ago, and since then he’d been restless.

Only so much of magic could be learned from reading. To gain any skill took practice. It had been weeks since he’d had a lesson from Lord Dakon. Each day that passed was a lesson delayed. Each delayed lesson meant it would be longer before the day Lord Dakon taught him higher magic and Jayan became a magician in his own right.

Then Jayan would enjoy the respect and power due him as a higher magician, and begin to earn his own fortune. He, like his older brother, Lord Velan, would have a title, though “Magician” would never surpass “Lord” in importance. Nothing was more respected in Kyralia than ownership of land, even if all it encompassed was one of the city’s grand old houses.

But ownership of a ley was rated more highly than ownership of a house, which was ironic since magicians who lived in the country were considered backward-thinking and out of touch. If Jayan stayed on good terms with his master, and Dakon did not marry and sire an heir, there was a chance the lord would nominate him as his successor. It was not unheard of for a magician to favour a former apprentice in this way.

It was not just the thought of surpassing his brother in land ownership that appealed to Jayan, though. The idea of retiring to Mandryn some day was also very attractive. He had found he liked this quiet existence, far from