Master Shen headed toward the tower and Damien followed a step behind and to his left as was proper for a new student. Halfway to the tower the sorcerer noticed him and laughed. “No need to hang back, Damien. You’ll find Sorcery a good deal less formal than The Citadel.”
“Yes, sir.” Damien quick-stepped until he reached the sorcerer’s side. “I’ve gotten so used to the rules of The Citadel it’ll take a while to learn new ones.”
A set of double doors made of some dark wood Damien didn’t recognize marked the entrance to the tower. Master Shen pushed them open and they swung inward without a sound and the two of them stepped through, the doors shut behind them.
The tower’s entry hall was smaller than the one at The Citadel. Polished black stone with silver veins running through it covered the floors, walls, and ceiling. It felt like standing in the night sky. Doors made of the same wood as the outer doors waited on each wall. Master Shen turned left and pushed a door open. Behind it, a hall covered in the same black stone led deeper into the tower.
“Down this hall are the administrative offices.” Master Shen led the way. “I sent a message to the headmaster so he should be expecting us.”
They passed several closed doors before stopping in front of one marked with a silver pentagram. On a bench opposite sat a boy Damien’s age, with sandy brown hair, a brown tunic, and tan pants. Brown eyes stared at Damien, unblinking.
He was about to ask the kid what his problem was when Master Shen pushed the door open. “Come on.”
Damien put the boy out of his mind and stepped into the headmaster’s office. A huge cherry desk dominated the room, covered with books, parchments, quills and ink. Behind it waited a tiny man with a pointed white beard, dressed in a black robe embroidered with stars. Two small, dark chairs waited in front of the desk and matching bookcases stuffed from top to bottom with leather-bound books lined the walls.
Damien bowed. “Sir, Damien St. Cloud reporting for instruction, sir.”
The little man hopped out of his chair and rushed around the desk. He couldn’t have been over four and a half feet tall. He grabbed Damien’s hand and pumped it enthusiastically. “No need for such formality, my boy. Have a seat.” His voice matched his stature: small and squeaky. “Excellent work finding him, Lon, thank you.”
“My pleasure, Thomas,” Master Shen said. “I’m heading back to The Citadel to resume their training.”
“Of course, of course.” The headmaster waved his hand towards the door.
Master Shen turned away from the desk. Damien said, “I don’t know how to thank you, sir, for telling me what I am.”
“As I said, it was my pleasure.” Master Shen favored him with his warm smile. “If you put in half the effort training in sorcery that you did at The Citadel, you have a bright future ahead of you. Good luck.”
Master Shen left the office and closed the door behind him. Damien swallowed, suddenly nervous. This place was different from home in every way and the only person he knew at all had just left.
“You seem a bit anxious. Sit down, please,” the headmaster said. He stepped back around his desk and Damien eased into one of the chairs. It seemed wrong, sitting in the master’s presence. He’d have taken five lashes back home if he’d dared sit in one of the masters’ offices.
“I suppose I am, sir. This is all so new, so different. I’ll do my best to settle in quickly.”
The headmaster waved an indifferent hand. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone has a first day and everyone’s nervous. Some settle in fast, others less so, but sooner or later everyone settles in. When Lon said he found you I was pleased to have a fourth member for the first-year class.”
Damien blinked. Perhaps he’d misheard. “Excuse me, sir, did you say my class is only four people?”
The headmaster nodded. “That’s about average. Last year we had five, the year before only two. We currently have twenty-three students in various stages of training.”
Damien had over thirty in his class alone at The Citadel. “Why so few, sir?”
The tiny sorcerer chuckled. “No need to add ‘sir’ every time you address me, son, Thomas is fine.”
Thomas? He’d never considered calling a master by his given name. Damien doubted he could force himself to do it. “Yes, sir.”
The headmaster shook his head. “We’ll work on it. As to your question, the reason we have so few students is that a sorcerer is born only rarely. In any given year only a handful of children with externally flowing soul force are born, and often fewer than half of them are powerful enough to serve as an effective sorcerer. The biggest first-year class we’ve ever had was six and that was over a hundred years ago.”
Damien had no idea so few sorcerers were born every year. He’d thought warlords were rare, but compared to sorcerers they were common. “How do you have classes with so few students?”
“We don’t have formal classes, not the sort you’re used to. Some students learn best with a study partner, others in small groups, and still others benefit from individual instruction. That’s what you’ll be receiving, at least for the foreseeable future.”
“I’ll be receiving individual instruction, sir?” Were they afraid he’d slow down the other students? He’d never been popular back home, but he liked having comrades to train with, even if, later on, he couldn’t fight at their level.
“That’s right. I fear you don’t realize just how tremendously powerful you are. Until you can control your power it’s very possible you
