Without Magic

by Tye Tivillus

  Chapter 10: Recovery

  The next morning Bo woke up at the usual pre-dawn hour. His back cramped up as soon as he tried to uncoil himself from his sleeping posture, and the teen bit his lip. After remembering where he was and the events of last night he slowly, and quietly struggled his way into a sitting position. Glancing over at the bed, he could see that Erasmus was still asleep. Surely it was very trusting of Erasmus to sleep when Bo could easily harm him, but then the collar should be enough to ensure that the slave was on his best behaviour. Bo's fingers flitted to the metal circlet, and he was struck by a realisation. His collar would use magic when it went off - that was how it worked, which meant that if he really was immune to magic that he would never be effected. The dark skinned teen slapped his palm to his forehead in irritation, realising that be like that.'Alexander had probably already figured this out from the start, when he allowed Bo to polish the weapons. The teen wondered what else the old man had known - clearly something that had gotten him killed and the armoury burned to ashes. Bo hoped that he hadn't unwittingly revealed himself to anyone else, although he didn't even know what the significance would be or why anyone would care about his condition.

  Feeling troubled, and hungry, he began a hunt for food. He found a platter of fruit that had been placed on the floor to make room for papers on the table. It hadn't been touched since. Happily, Bo sat down next to it and tucked into the many dainty items within. There were nuts of all shapes and sizes, along with round deep purple fruits that had a tangy, sweet flavour that Bo loved, and small red fruits that fit easily into his mouth. Those were sweeter still than the purple ones.

  'Do you ever stop eating?' groaned Erasmus. His bleary-eyed face peered irritably at Bo, half hidden by the table as the desert mage stooped to discover his charge once again stuffing their face. Bo glared at the mage, swallowing a mouthful of three different types of fruit that he had bitten into at once,

  'You weren't eating it! You put it on the floor,' he accused. Erasmus sighed and straightened, disappearing from view as another person entered the room.

  'Don't worry about it, Erasmus just doesn't like waking up early. I'm surprised he's conscious at this hour!' chuckled Arty, her rich honeyed tones intruding upon the scene unexpectedly.

  'I'm not conscious!' groaned Erasmus pitifully, 'Why are there so many people talking and walking and eating in my room at this godawful hour of the morning!?' he growled.

  'Oh go back to bed if you're going to be like that,' tutted a new voice. Erasmus sighed heavily and sulkily moved to the armchair, turning it away from the rest of the room, grumbling that they were all far too wakeful, far too early. A warm, sweet scent of something freshly cooked wafted in Bo's direction, and the teen's mouth (although it was still full of tangy fruit pulp) began to water at the thought of something more substantial. On being lured out he discovered that the red haired woman he had seen once before was holding a bowl of sludge for him. Unlike the sludge that he'd seen at the slave quarters, however, it looked tasty, with a lumpy texture and a white and gold colour; not at all like slugs in street muck. Cautiously Bo poked a finger into it before licking off a dollop of the food. It was hot and sweet, as expected, but other than that far blander than the fruit he'd been scarfing down all morning. 'It's good for you, called porridge. It usually tastes quite bland, but Arty said that you are immune to magic, so I spiced it up with sugar, milk, honey, and cinnamon rather than spells,' the woman smiled cheerily, and Bo found himself smiling back. Clearly this woman was also to be trusted.

  'This is Hayes. We're both warriors, so we usually get up with the sun, to practice and exercise. We thought you might be on a similar schedule, and thought perhaps you might want some breakfast, as Erasmus is often asleep until well after most people have started their work,' Arty explained. There was an irritated mumble from Erasmus' chair but nothing more.

  'I do exercises too, sometimes. What are your exercises like?' asked Bo curiously, accepting the warm ceramic bowl from Hayes' hands, hoping he could eat and exercise at the same time. Arty, however, insisted that he finish his breakfast and only then she would show him the morning exercises.

  The next two hours were spent in cheerful company. Hayes and Arty flowed through their movements as easily as water flows from a cup into a bowl. Bo tried to copy them but more often than not ended up overbalancing and causing great amusement to the two women warriors. Hayes insisted that Bo not do too much – while he had pain relief from the herbs she had put in his breakfast, it was bad for him to open up his wounds unnecessarily. Arty backed her up, so Bo was forced to sit out on the most strenuous looking callisthenics. They also went through a series of what they called 'dances' that they said were to practice a hand to hand combat technique. From what little Bo knew of techniques, he could see that they were much better warriors than even those who practised every day out in the square in front of the armoury. Remembering such things only left him feeling despondent however, so for the last half hour of the exercises, Bo went and looked out of the window at the area below, wishing that not quite so many things reminded him of Alexander and the tangle of mystery he had left behind him.

  After Arty and Hayes were finished, and had taken to towelling the sweat off themselves and combing out their hair, Erasmus invited them all to sit around his table. With a casual gesture the papers piled themselves neatly on one side. Bo scowled jealously – if he could do magic he'd never have to use a broom to sweep up again, he'd just flick his hand and everything would be done. Erasmus looked like he was still asleep. In his hand he held a steaming drink that smelled strongly. The mage seemed to notice Bo looking at it curiously.

  'It's bitter,' he said bluntly, and Bo pulled a face to convey his disgust. If he could help it he'd never consume anything bitter ever again. This at least brought a smirk to Erasmus' face. 'So tell us. What do you need help with so desperately that you would encroach upon the territory of your malevolent masters?' Bo looked at Arty who translated. Fidgeting, the dark skinned teen unfolded the story. It was hesitant, and there was much backtracking for points that he forgot to explain at the right time, but eventually he had everything out in the open – the disappearances, the mysterious gang in the night, and the fire at the armoury. By the end Bo was staring fixedly at the table, not game to meet the eyes of those around him in case he saw scorn, disapproval, or disbelief.

  Erasmus sat back in his chair, and Arty whistled between her teeth.

  'Sounds like something suspicious is going on around here. I guess we were right.' Bo looked up questioningly, catching glances that were passing between Erasmus, Hayes and Arty. None of them seemed to be talking outright. Feeling a little left out, the teen went back to looking at the table. After half a minute of silence Arty and Hayes stood. 'Well, you take care of him Erasmus. He's your stray so you get to keep him fed, watered and groomed.' Hayes handed over a small bundle. It was an undyed cloth wrapped around five paper triangles. The paper had been folded expertly to keep in some powder. Hayes claimed that they were pain killers, to be mixed with tea, and taken when needed, but only one at a time. She warned that they would also make Bo drowsy – an unfortunate side effect, but unavoidable due to the limited herbs she had access to. As soon as the women left the room, Erasmus gestured toward the bed.

  'I should change your bandages.'

  The process took a long time. The bandages had to be unwrapped, and removed from the wound (which looked much better today, Bo was told) before more gel was applied. Bo felt a little anxious about going near the bed, as he still saw it as something that did not belong to him, so for a long while he remained standing, until he finally got tired of it, and Erasmus began grumbling that applying the cream was too difficult at that angle. Lying on the bed like he was supposed to Bo felt how comfortable the mattress was, and felt like he could get used to such things, although it did little to sate his frustrations. He grumbled into the sheets about Erasmus taking forever to apply the gel, not happy with being treated l
ike a cripple. Halfway through there was a knock at the door.

  'You wait there.' murmured Erasmus, getting up and wiping his hands on a rag before answering, so as not to smear any of the gel on the door handle.

  'I gotcha breakfast mister, where do you want it?' Erasmus spluttered as the slave impetuously pushed past him. The voice was familiar to Bo who struggled to rise. Hurriedly Erasmus took the platter from Will who was looking from Bo then back to Erasmus with an accusatory expression. Erasmus frowned angrily at the unspoken implication, but said nothing. He placed the hot platter on his desk – over the top of several papers, in his haste to get it out of his hands. Finally Bo managed to sit up. He saw Erasmus trying to shepherd Will out and Will approaching determinedly, ducking under the lanky mage's grasp.

  'Thank you, but it's about time you left. Don't you have other rooms to deliver to?' Growled Erasmus, still unable to grasp the quicksilver slave.

  'I just came to make sure my mate Bo was alright. He still belongs to the castle you know, so we gotta make sure there's no permanent damage, like.' Bo suspected there was no such rule, but with Will it was impossible to tell if the teen was lying. Erasmus clearly didn't believe him, finally managing to grab the boy's shoulder.

  'Don't worry I'm treating him gently.' the lanky mage retorted. Bo's face grew long with horror as he could see the long list of misunderstandings piling up before him.

  'Wait, please that's my mate Will. Could I just talk to him for a bit? It'll be faster than trying to throw him out, I swear.' Erasmus' frown deepened in irritation but he released Will's shoulder. The pale eyed lad brushed himself off, sniffing disdainfully at Erasmus before walking to Bo's seat on the bed.

  'Huh, I see he thinks it's okay to manhandle slaves!' huffed Will, just loud enough for Erasmus to hear. In turn the lanky mage audibly ground his teeth in frustration, his fists clenched firmly by his sides. Ignoring Erasmus' obvious agitation, Will proceeded to ask if Bo was being treated well enough, and Bo spent some time explaining that Erasmus had been treating his wounds, and that was all. Will wasn't entirely convinced, but was placated enough to leave the two in peace. 'I will be back, I'm on serving duty,' he promised (or perhaps it was a threat) before leaving with a bow.

  Erasmus got back to his job and Bo remained sitting cross legged on the bed.

  'Well he's,' Erasmus struggled to find a diplomatic word that still sufficiently described his feelings, 'indomitable.' Bo didn't know what that meant exactly, and Erasmus quickly remembered to explain himself. 'Energetic, impossible to subdue,' he elaborated. Bo laughed – it was a good description of Will. Although the teen was feeling more at home now, small talk was still awkward.

  'Are there many people immune to magic?' Erasmus didn't take long to respond, he sounded quite enthusiastic.

  'I read a few history books, wait to answer your question – No. Many don't believe they- er you- I mean immunity to magic exists. There are rumours about a group of assassins that dates back hundreds and hundreds of years, where members are selected specifically because they are immune to magic, but of course if it is a group it is the most well hidden one in all of the world. I was interested and so I read about it for my history classes, but there are only fantastical claims, and sceptical reports on the lack of accuracy in those claims. There have also been a number of noted historical figures who have claimed to be immune to magic, but have been found to be lying when they were assassinated or more usually accidentally killed or injured by people testing their claims. The most interesting of these people would have to be the self proclaimed King of the desert, who was in fact a very clever magician...'

  Erasmus carried on talking for a very long time. Bo was happy to sit and listen as the voluble man continued in his dry, learned tones. Finally overcome by curiosity, the teen interrupted what had become a lecture on a breed of nocturnal lizard that was thought to be immune to magic, asking what Erasmus was doing outside of his own kingdom. This did quieten the man, who fell silent for a moment.

  'Well, I'm supposed to be here to talk about peace with your King, but he isn't that interested. Why I am here specifically? I was nominated because my teachers thought being sent out into the 'practical' world would be good for me. I think they are jealous because I have already added two notes to the tomes of magic, while most people never even add so much as a footnote.' Bo remained silent. 'As you can see I brought a lot of my studies with me,' added Erasmus, gesturing at his papers and cooling, untouched breakfast. As soon as he remembered his breakfast, the mage swore in a tongue Bo didn't recognise, before hurriedly removing the platter from his papers and taking it over to the bed. He ate some bits and pieces and handed the rest to Bo, who managed to eat most of the remainder. Seeing that the teen had not scoffed everything, Erasmus let out a snort, 'so you do eventually stop eating?' Bo frowned,

  'You wouldn't joke about eating if you had to eat the slave food.' he said reproachfully, 'Will said they spell it to taste nice, but to me it tastes worse than puke.' Erasmus sighed, moving to sit at his table.

  'I'm sorry, I was only joking around with you. It's good you have a healthy appetite!' Bo settled down, placated. He had nothing to keep him occupied, and with the pain numbed he was starting to get restless. Erasmus cleared his throat, and fidgeted slightly with his papers, although he had already rifled through them enough times now.

  'Uh Bo, could I ask you a favour?' Bo frowned, but Erasmus was giving him the pleading eyes that the teen had thought only Will knew how to use.

  'What is it?' he asked, sighing and hoping it wasn't to listen to another half hour of talking, as much as he enjoyed hearing the interesting tid bits of information that Erasmus came up with.

  'Well, I... can I study you?' Erasmus blurted out after some hesitation. Bo frowned, more than a little worried about what Erasmus meant. 'It's just that this is a once in a lifetime, no a once in a hundred lifetimes opportunity! No one has ever clearly documented a case of immunity to magic, so it's very interesting,' the mage continued, wide eyed with honest curiosity.

  'Well, How would you study me?' the teen asked cautiously, 'you wouldn't have to cut me open or anything, right?'

  'Of course not! I'd like to know more about your background- your family, and if you noticed anything strange before now. I would also like to try casting some magic on you and a few other, similar tests? I promise none of them will hurt, and I won't do anything you aren't comfortable with.' Erasmus was practically pleading.

  'I – I guess so.' acceded Bo. Erasmus grinned, and hurriedly grabbed up some papers and a pen.

  The rest of the day was spent talking. Bo and Erasmus retired to sit in front of the hearth with hot cups of what the mage called cocoa. Bo explained his life in The Gutter as best he could, describing the fact that hardly anyone knew how to spell or read very well, and that magic was something that could only be dreamed of. Erasmus wrote everything he was told in a shorthand so that he might make a better copy of it later. The teen described his mage friend and failed attempts at learning magic. He started with his earliest memory, as dictated by Erasmus, and worked all the way up to the untimely selling into slavery. Thankfully the mage didn't say anything untoward about this as Bo worried he might. Bo had worried that the comfortable conversation (and the supply of cocoa) might be cut short.

  In return Bo coaxed the lanky man into describing his own life. Erasmus didn't cover much of his younger life or family, focusing instead on his later childhood. He apparently lived in the largest centre of learning in the entire great desert. He had grown up among tomes, and magic, and had been able to read and write fluently since he was two years old. He was often considered something of a prodigy, especially considering his mastery of magic at the tender age of 18, only a year ago. Instead of pursuing a more glamorous role in council as a mage (he was one of the first men offered the role in 50 years), he had decided on a dry and dusty academic role that had him buried up to his eyeballs in books most days - at least that's how Bo interpreted w
hat he was told. His old rival, however, had gone for a council position, and despite the fact that she outranked Erasmus quite a lot, she was endlessly jealous of Erasmus' academic successes - at least that's how Erasmus told it. She'd arranged for Erasmus to be sent out and about on the peace talks, knowing that they could go on for well over half a year, which meant Erasmus was going to have a long hard time keeping up with his studies.

  Halfway through the conversation, however, Bo's back had started hurting, and after a painkiller, Erasmus' talking had sent him to sleep. When he woke up Will had already been by with lunch, and he and Erasmus resumed their discussion over the cold meats. Erasmus had a very hard time imagining someone who couldn't use magic. He tried to teach Bo the simplest of spells (to crumple a piece of paper into a ball), and although the boy did everything correctly to cast it, there was no reaction; the paper remained completely flat. The mage could do nothing but shake his head in disbelief, and fell into a contemplative silence. Late in the afternoon they were once again joined by Arty and Hayes who were full of jokes. They tried to show Bo how to juggle, and Erasmus had scoffed greatly when the boy proved clumsy and untrained. When given the juggling balls himself, Erasmus threw them about so skilfully that Bo suspected he was using magic. The lanky man even incorporated a few pieces of fruit, impressing Arty and Hayes with his so called 'hidden depths'. Later in the evening Will burst through the door bearing dinner, perhaps hoping to catch them by surprise. Arty suggested he could stay and eat, but Will declined the offer, only taking the time to make sure Bo was happy and safe before going back to his tasks.

  'So he's pretty protective of you, is he your partner?' asked Arty with only curiosity colouring her tone. Bo choked on a piece of meat before hurrying to correct her,

  'No of course not! No one...' Bo trailed off, thinking about the two desert men he'd seen, and wondering if he was being offensive to Erasmus. 'I mean uh, not to be rude or anything but it's not usual here to have two- of the same. You know? Besides Will likes women, lots of women.'

  'What if he didn't' grinned Arty cheekily. Bo blushed heavily, shaking his head at what would be a serious accusation in The Gutter. His sense of self preservation kicked in taking immediate control of his vocal cords.

  'Have you been drinking something? I wouldn't go out with another man!' the teen blurted, more forcefully than his earlier tactful approach. He missed Hayes' quick glance at Erasmus, who was pretending to read, instead of listening to the conversation. The two women joked and explained that in the great desert it was perfectly fine to partner up with whoever you liked, trying to ease the tension. Bo wasn't sure how he felt about that, thinking that it must be a strange place indeed. The teasing and joking continued late into the night until Erasmus huffily chased the women out of his room, claiming that Bo needed his bandages changed and that everyone needed sleep – especially if they were going to insist on waking him up so early again tomorrow. He quickly changed Bo's bandages, reapplying the gel and handing the boy a tea laced with painkillers.

  'You can sleep on the bed – I'll take the chair tonight. I have some reading to catch up on, and you will heal better if you are lying down properly and not all curled up.' Erasmus didn't take no for an answer, seating himself heavily in the chair and pulling open a thick book. He had a pen and paper by his side to take down notes, and an expression that suggested he was truly dead to the world. With a tired shrug, Bo sank into the warm and comfy bed, relishing the softness, and falling asleep swiftly.