sword. Yet the wizard remained serious.
“My abilities have grown considerably in the months since we last met in Falador. With these runes in my hand, I could snare you to the spot and bind your limbs.” He gestured dramatically. “You’d be defenceless! As for fire strike, that would be child’s play. It is one of the very first spells we wizards learn.”
“Truly, I remember when you first cast that one, Castimir. It was a day after the talent scout had identified your magical potential and gave you a few runes to practise with. You tried to kill that rat, and ended up setting fire to Rommik’s crafting store! No wonder he disliked you, even
It was Castimir’s turn to laugh.
“My uncle had tried to apprentice me as a crafter under Rommik’s guidance. What a mistake that was. I attempted to mould a ring and ended up breaking everything. He scowled at me for years afterwards!”
“Well, I hope you make a better wizard than crafter, Castimir. Your luck can only take you so far!”
Despite his words, it had always seemed to Theodore that Castimir had been the brighter of the two of them, and to have risen so quickly in the ranks of the wizards in the legendary tower only served to prove his point. It was a great accomplishment.
His face must have reflected his thoughts, for his friend spoke up.
“Let’s get something to eat, Theo,” he said, calling the squire by his childhood nickname, “and I’ll answer all your questions as we dine.”
The table was laden generously with food.
Theodore had heard tales of how the druids would only eat meat if it was specially prepared. The animal had to have been killed in a fashion that was respectful of its nature. Now several meat dishes sat between the two friends. Brightly coloured fruits, some of which he had never seen before, were piled in wooden bowls, their red and orange skins stirring the squire’s appetite.
“That one is chicken.” Castimir pointed with his fork to the dish that sizzled in front of them, his manners abandoned in the company of his friend. He seemed entirely intent on enjoying himself.
Theodore helped himself to the delicacy, careful to avoid filling his plate excessively. He noted Castimir’s wilful abandon, however, and a moment’s fleeting jealousy flashed through his mind when he considered his old friend’s new station in life.
Castimir was destined for great things, and even the shock of bright red hair that once had been such a cause of merriment now seemed to distinguish him from other men. It had darkened as he had aged but still stood out. And its owner moved with a confident assurance that he had lacked only a year before-especially in the company of Theodore, against whom he had always been physically weaker.
“I am nearing the end of my year’s travels.” Castimir said, recounting his wanderings. “I crossed over the mountain a few weeks after leaving you in Falador. The snows were not so bad, and I went with a party of travellers. If I had crossed alone, however, I doubt very much I would have survived. The wolves up there are huge, and always ravenous.”
He paused to poke his knife in the direction of White Wolf Mountain, using the moment to swallow a tender morsel.
“And Kandarin! When you get over the summit, round the highest pass, you see a land drenched in golden sunlight, and the ocean as vast as you can imagine.” He paused, and his eyes peered at something far away. “It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, Theo, amid the freezing snows and the howls of the white wolves!”
Theodore said nothing, though his envy grew unbidden. He had heard stories of Kandarin that lay beyond the mountain. Many knights had travelled there, and he had listened to their accounts with eagerness, dreaming of one day walking there himself.
“It has strange beasts as well. My mule died shortly after we descended the mountain. A wolf injured him near the end of our journey, and the poor creature did not survive. Thus, I was forced to purchase a replacement from a fur trader who had journeyed south all the way from Rellekka, the city of the Fremennik peoples who live on the northern edge of the world.”
Castimir looked at Theodore with an amused glint in his eyes, hastily swallowing another piece of chicken.
“It is a yak, Theodore!” he said, his enthusiasm youthful again. “A yak! He’s a stubborn creature, but he is a perfect substitute for my poor mule, and he is better suited to carrying my belongings with a purpose-built leather harness. I shall introduce you to him. I think he is far more useful when travelling in cold climates than a mule-he’s sure-footed and his shaggy hair is warm, if ever you need to shelter from the cold.” Then he looked wistfully at the rapidly diminishing food, as if debating what to eat next.
Theodore found himself turning sullen, yearning for the adventures his friend had already experienced. Before he could speak, the young wizard continued.
“I honestly think I might be the first person to bring a yak into Asgarnia. I thought I could sell him as a curiosity to one of these natural philosophers, but then they would probably cut him up to see how he works, and I couldn’t accept that!”
Then Castimir paused, studying his companion’s expression. He bit greedily into a rose-tinted apple and changed the subject.
“So how are things in Falador?” he inquired. “You look well-but then you never looked amiss!” His grin failed to turn Theodore’s humour.
“I have been with the knights since I was nine, Castimir,” the squire replied. “I have seen my parents only once in that time, when I graduated to the position of a squire after the long years as a peon. I still have another two years before I become a knight.”
Castimir gave him an encouraging look.
“It will pass quickly, Theo,” he said, certainty in his voice. “Of course, you must have doubts. What knight would you be if you did not?”
“A true one, Castimir! One who would not question my life’s direction.”
But the young wizard was undeterred.
“You don’t doubt your choices, Theo, you doubt your own ability,” he said. “Your parents weren’t rich, and many squires come from exclusive backgrounds. To them, having a spare mount or lance is something they take for granted. That is why you feel left out-you cannot afford the same entertainments as the other squires when they head into Falador for a night off.”
“I do not take nights off, Castimir.”
“And the others do?” A pained look appeared on his face, and Theodore stared down at the table.
“Sometimes,” he replied. “Not often.”
“Your hard work will be rewarded, Theo-I can promise that. Stick at it long enough and keep in the game, and you will be there at the end, ready to reap the rewards.”
At that, they allowed the subject to drop, and both friends refilled their plates, Castimir unafraid of excess, and Theodore refusing to let the food go to waste.
SIX
“I want you to meet someone, Theo.”
The young squire’s mood had lifted since their meal. After they had refilled their plates, Castimir had gone over memories of their childhood, many of which Theodore had forgotten. They had brought the smile back to his face, and as they left the room he had gripped his old friend’s hand, in gratitude for making him remember what he had forgotten in the pursuit of duty.
Castimir spoke as they made their way toward the wizard’s lodging.
“This man has been in Taverley for several weeks, after returning from Catherby. He is eccentric-and possibly mad, I haven’t decided yet-but he is certainly worth meeting. I call him the alchemist because he has all sorts of strange theories about the world.”
“Nothing too blasphemous, I hope?” Theodore said smiling, seeing if Castimir would rise to the bait-for he
