glimpses of water through the cracks between the wide timbers. He followed the carriers around a great stack of boxes that were being loaded onto one ship, then a pile of what looked like well-wrapped carpets waiting beside another. Men were everywhere: hurrying up and down planks with loads on their shoulders, lounging on deck playing tiles, or striding about shouting orders.
Over the noise, Dannyl noted the subtler sounds of the Marina: the constant creak of boards and ropes, and the splash of water against hull and pier. He noticed small details: the decoration on masts and sails, the names painted carefully on hull and cabin, the water pouring from a hole in a ship’s side. He frowned at that last detail. Water was supposed to remain on the
Upon reaching the sixth ship, the carriers clomped up a narrow gangplank. Looking up, Dannyl saw a pair of men watching him from the ship. He started up the plank cautiously, then with more confidence when he found it sturdy enough despite the flexing of the wood. As he stepped onto the deck the two men greeted him with bows.
They looked remarkably alike. Their brown skin and small stature were typical Vindo characteristics. They both wore tough, colorless clothing. One, however, stood a little straighter than the other, and it was he who spoke.
“Welcome to the
“Thank you, captain. I am Lord Dannyl.”
The captain gestured to the chests, which were resting on the deck a few strides away, the carriers standing nearby. “No room for boxes in your room, my lord. We stow them below. You want anything, you ask my brother, Jano.”
Dannyl nodded. “Very well. There is one item I will collect before they take them away.”
The captain nodded once. “Jano show your room. We leaving soon.”
As the captain walked away, Dannyl touched the lid of the smaller chest. The lock snapped open. He removed a leather bag filled with necessities for the journey. Closing the lid again, he looked up at the carriers.
“This is all I’ll need - I hope.”
They bent and carried the trunks away. Turning, Dannyl looked at Jano expectantly. The man nodded and gestured for Dannyl to follow.
Passing through a narrow door, they descended a short stairway into a wide room. The ceiling was so low even Jano needed to stoop to duck under the beams. Roughly woven sheets were slung between hooks on the ceiling. These, he guessed, were the hanging beds he had heard about in stories and travellers’ accounts.
Jano led him into a narrow corridor and, after a few steps, opened a door. Dannyl stared at the tiny room in dismay. A low bed as wide as his shoulders filled the entire interior. A small cupboard had been built into one end, and good quality reber-wool blankets lay neatly folded at the other.
“Small, yai?”
Dannyl looked across at Jano to find the man grinning. He smiled wryly, knowing his dismay must have been obvious.
“Yes,” Dannyl agreed. “Small.”
“Captain has room twice as big. When we own big boat, we get big room, too, yai?”
Dannyl nodded. “Sounds fair.” He dropped his bag on the bed, then turned around so that he could sit down, his legs extending into the corridor. “It’s all I need.”
Jano tapped the opposite door. “My room. We keep each other company, yai? You sing?”
Before Dannyl could think of an answer a bell rang out somewhere above, and Jano looked up. “Must go. We leaving now.” He turned, then paused. “You stay here. Not get in way.” Without waiting for a reply, he hurried off.
Dannyl looked around the tiny room that would be his space for the next two weeks, and chuckled. Now he understood why so many magicians hated travelling by sea.
Stopping in the doorway of the classroom, Sonea felt her heart sink.
She had left Rothen’s rooms early, hoping to get to the classroom ahead of the other novices so that she’d have time to gain some control over her fluttering stomach before meeting them. But several seats were already occupied. As she hesitated, faces turned toward her, and her stomach shrank into a tight knot. She quickly looked away to the magician who sat at the front of the classroom.
He was younger than she had expected, probably only in his twenties. An angular nose gave his face a disdainful expression. As she bowed, he looked up, his eyes fixing on her face, travelling to her new boots, then rising back up to her face again. Satisfied, he looked down at a sheet of paper and made a small tick against the list written there.
“Choose a seat, Sonea,” he said dismissively.
The room contained twelve perfectly aligned tables and chairs. Six novices, all perched on the edge of their seats, watched her consider the arrangement.
Don’t sit too far from the other novices, she told herself. You don’t want them thinking you’re unfriendly - or scared of them. A few empty seats remained in the center of the room, but she didn’t like the idea of sitting in the middle, either. A chair against the far wall was vacant, flanked by three novices in the next row. That would do.
She was conscious of eyes following her as she moved to the chair. As she sat down she forced herself to look up at them.
At once the novices found something else to interest them. Sonea sighed with relief. She had been expecting more sneers. Perhaps only the boy she had encountered yesterday - Regin - was going to be openly unfriendly.
One by one the rest of the novices arrived at the door of the classroom, bowed to the teacher and took a seat. The shy Kyralian girl hastily took the first chair she came to. Another almost forgot to bow to the magician, then stumbled over to the seat in front of Sonea. He didn’t see her until he had reached the chair, and he stared at her in dismay before reluctantly sitting down.
The last novice to arrive was the unfriendly boy, Regin. He scanned the room with narrowed eyes before deliberately placing himself in the center of the group.
A distant gong sounded, and the magician rose from his chair. Several novices, including herself, jumped visibly at the movement. Before their teacher could speak, however, a familiar face appeared in the doorway.
“Are they all here, Lord Elben?”
“Yes, Director Jerrik,” the teacher replied.
The University Director hooked his thumbs in the brown sash about his waist and regarded the class.
“Welcome,” he said, his voice more stern than welcoming, “and congratulations. I offer this congratulation not because each of you has had the good fortune of being born with the rare and much envied ability to use magic. I offer it because each of you has been accepted into the university of the Magicians’ Guild. Some of you have come from countries far from here, and will not return to your homes for many years. Some of you may decide to stay here for most of your life. You are all, however, stuck here for the next five years.
“Why? To become a magician. What is a magician, then?” He smiled grimly. “There are many attributes that make up a magician. Some you already have, some you will develop, some you will learn. Some are more important than others.”
He stopped and swept his eyes over the class.
“What is the most important attribute of a magician?”
In the corner of her eye Sonea saw several of the novices straighten in their seats. Jerrik moved around the desk and strolled to her side of the room. He stared down at the boy in front of her.
“Vallon?”
Sonea saw the boy’s back hunch as if he wanted to slide under his table.
“H-how well he does something, my lord.” The boy’s weak voice was only just audible. “How much he has practiced.”
“No.” Jerrik turned on his heel and stalked to the other side of the class. He fixed one of the eager boys with his cold stare.
“Gennyl?”
“Strength, my lord,” the boy answered.
