by Guy Antibes
“And the answer?”
“No one had ever heard of a Scholar Peppini. You have to realize that King Leon isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. The prospect of a way to control sorcerers generated a lot of interest. When Princess Pira confronted Peppini with the facts, he wasn’t very pleased. I know. I was there standing behind her at a private dinner.”
“‘Don’t bother me, you little bug!’ he said and flitted his hand as if he were swatting away a fly. This made the king laugh, and he dismissed the princess before dinner was served.”
“Is that all?” Ricky said. “That’s not much of a story. It does show she’s not afraid to confront people.”
“Or seek out the truth. She was only eleven at the time. But Princess Pira wasn’t finished. The princess asked me to harvest some itchvine that she noticed growing at the back of one of the palace gardens. I hate to admit that I did as she requested. Do you know what itchvine is?”
“Do I ever!” Ricky said. “I thought I’d have scars the rest of my life when I brushed against some at my little plot in the forest.”
“Well, the princess donned gloves and made a poultice of the vines, all on her own. She made us mix the paste in the jars of salve the scholar left in his room. The next day, King Leon asked Peppini to show him the salve. The king put a little on his arm.”
“And that took care of the scholar!” Ricky said laughing.
“Later, when the king told Princess Pira of what happened, she had the temerity to tell the king that, of course, the salve works. She said something like: ‘What sorcerer or sorceress could perform when all they could think about was itchvine rashes?’ Princess Pira has made a hobby out of making people look like fools.”
“She wasn’t totally in the wrong, was she? The scholar might have sold the salve to the king.”
“For a high price,” Effie said. “She wasn’t wrong, but her approach was.”
Ricky laughed for a bit. “Tell me another.”
“Not today. It’s time we worked on survival skills. You already know how to use a switch, but do you know how to use a whip?”
“Like a carriage driver?”
Effie nodded. “Something similar, but more aggressive.”
She leaned over and opened a chest. Ricky thought snakes filled the box at first glance, but then he realized that ropes and whips filled the box.
“Those don’t have the whip stick or whatever you call the handle as long as my arm,” Ricky said.
Effie glared at Ricky. “Do you think you can walk around with a driver’s whip bound to your leg?”
“No,” Ricky replied.
“A person can do all kinds of things with a good whip.”
“Ropes, cords, I understand.”
“We will spend the rest of the year using these.”
“But my sword skills will get rusty, won’t they?” Ricky said.
“Not at all. We will spend one day a week sparring. Saganet’s leg is acting up, so I’ll be sparring with you, for now.”
“And using whips to defend myself won’t get me put back into the Home.”
Effie grinned. “That’s right.”
~~~
CHAPTER SEVEN
~
“I ’VE SHOWN YOU BEFORE; I CAN DO MORE THAN ILLUSIONS,” Ricky said. I’m better than that, he thought.
His sessions with Professor Calasay and Petrolo Garini were starting to get more tedious than fun. The two professors kept rejecting the approaches that Ricky wanted to take. They had just spent weeks going around in magical circles, teaching Ricky slight variations on spells that he already knew. Dari, in particular, made him practice and practice and practice.
Ricky did feel more powerful, however. Perhaps practicing sorcery made a sorcerer stronger. If he practiced with greater strength, perhaps the limited flying that he had done wouldn’t affect his mind as much.
“I haven’t demonstrated flying since our early sessions. I’d like to show you what I can do. Maybe Professor Crabacci can lend us his practice studio for a bit. It has a high enough ceiling, and this classroom doesn’t.”
Professor Calasay looked at Petrolo. Ricky didn’t like the exchange. He felt they were trying to throttle his advancement, but he knew the other sorcery classes were far behind what the pair of Professors had Ricky do. It made him angry, and he felt like he had lost precious time.
“We will. Arrange it with your guardian,” Petrolo said. “I know you are frustrated, but you are asking too much of us. Show us your flying, and then let’s sit down with Dean Doubli and see if we can come up with a different approach.”
“That sounds fair to me,” Ricky said. “What else can we work on today?”
Dari sighed. “I can hear the disappointment in your voice. You asked us about the use of sorcery that has been discouraged in Paranty for many years. I admit neither of us learned the kinds of things you want to work on.”
The professors admitted defeat, and Ricky’s building anger dissipated.
“Why don’t we work on more control?” Ricky said. “I’ll practice with the circle of light that I can project. It’s not like all this practice has hurt me.”
Ricky stood and sang to create a circle of light a pace in diameter. A green edge showed around the circumference. “I’ll move it.” He concentrated and used his will to push the light forward towards Dari and Petrolo. Before it reached them, he withdrew the disc and pulled it towards him. He’d never done such a thing before, and the spell began to drain his power, blinking out before it reached him.
He staggered and put his hand on the back of his chair. “I’ve never tried to do that before.”
Professor Calasay furrowed her brow. “An illusion shouldn’t be so taxing,” she said.
“Perhaps it is not an illusion.” Professor Garini put a hand to his chin and then placed a chair in the middle of the room. “Do it again, if you have the strength. Put the top of the chair in the disk’s path.”
Ricky sang again. He produced the same green-ringed disc of light and pushed it towards the chair. The disc pushed the chair until it fell over. The light winked out before Ricky had a chance to pull it back. The part of the chair that had touched the disk smoldered.
“No illusion,” Dari said. She hugged herself. “You might have burnt us if you hadn’t withdrawn the disk the first time. No wonder you’re drained. I’ve never seen a substantial effect like that.”
Ricky had to sit down. “Spells are dangerous,” he said. “I could have killed you,” he whispered.
“Perhaps you have too much power,” Petrolo said. “That wasn’t just light, but a spell filled with an elemental power.”
“It didn’t last very long,” Ricky said. He knew what his professors would say next.
“Not for now, but a sorcerer builds strength as they get older.”
“Don’t battle sorcerers do this kind of thing?” Ricky asked, although he didn’t remember reading about light disks. Sorcerers could cast flames and bolts of lightning for short distances, but he hadn’t read anything about doing it with the control he had.
“Not like that. We can perform some more experiments,” Petrolo said. “If you are interested. We can help you understand what you just did, but don’t expect either of us to duplicate it.”
“I still want to fly,” Ricky said.
“I can talk to Saganet,” Dari said. “We can perform some experiments with that, as well. We won’t be teaching you, though. We will be observers. Will that make you feel better about our sessions?”
Ricky always thought back to the girl that served Saganet and him at his first meal at the commissary. She had burned off most of her hair, and the healers had had to repair her face. “Yes. Today, I even surprised myself. I don’t think it is wise to try new things on my own.”
“I wish all students felt that way,” Professor Garini said. “Let’s start with flying. I don’t want to wait. Shall we walk over to the new fencing studio and see if it’s empty?”
&nbs
p; Luckily, the studio was idle. Ricky let the professors place sorcerous lights around the room.
“Are you ready?” Dari said.
Ricky nodded and sang the low note that he associated with flying. He felt the resonance bring power into his body; then he used his will to drift up towards the ceiling. This time he didn’t feel a power drain. He moved from corner to corner and descended in front of his sorcery tutors.
The exercises must have strengthened his power since he didn’t feel sad or lonely.
“Marvelous. Were you directing yourself the entire time?” Petrolo said.
“I said that I couldn’t fly fast.”
Dari looked at Petrolo. “He hasn’t learned compound spells, yet.”
“Does he have the strength?”
Ricky raised his hand. “I can hear you. Would it be more polite to include me in your discussion?”
“Do you feel depressed, melancholy?” Professor Calasay said.
“I’m sad to be regarded as an object of interest,” Ricky said, but then he laughed. “I’m really fine, so far. I’ll know tomorrow morning if the flying did anything. I could hardly lift from the ground at the Home before I’d feel the effects.”
“Good,” Petrolo said, rubbing his hands. “Now we have something to work with. I’ll do a little research in my rooms.”
Ricky stood with Dari at the entrance to the studio as Professor Garini hurried away.
“I need to go back to our classroom to get my books,” Ricky said.
Professor Calasay walked slowly with Ricky. The power used for flying and for the burning circle finally took its toll.
“I am a bit tired,” Ricky admitted.
“And well you should be. The fiery disk is probably illegal magic.”
“It’s no worse than what Siria Lonsi taught me at the Home.”
Dari snorted. “That was illegal. Only active battle sorcerers should be permitted to practice that choking spell.” She stopped in the middle of an empty quadrangle and took Ricky by the arm. “I’m only going along with you because I’m afraid you’ll work on these spells by yourself. I don’t want to witness your destruction. I’ve seen it before from much less talented sorcerers than you.”
“I wish I could say I’d be careful, but sometimes I don’t know what caution is. I thought the burning circle was an illusion as much as you did.” Ricky began walking again, letting Professor Calasay catch up.
“It is your will. You have to learn to understand what your will can create. Petrolo thinks of you as a scholarly project, but I look at you as a young friend. I’d like you to consider stopping, but that isn’t going to happen, is it?”
Ricky had to shake his head. “I don’t want to be reckless, but I know there is more to sorcery than showing off in front of people.”
“You don’t need to create an awful spell to get into trouble. Paranty isn’t a suitable place for what we are doing.”
“Mirano Bespa said I should go to Duteria.”
“Not at fifteen, Ricky. The sorcerers don’t even start to train until they are adults.”
“But sorcery isn’t forbidden.”
“They might want to experiment on you to see how much power you have. You need to be a bit older before you go, so you can fend off those who would use you. The Duterians have a different system of educating sorcerers than the University of Sealio.”
Ricky didn’t believe what Dari said. “You really know that is what they would do?”
“There are rumors. Just like the torture at the Juvenile Home. Those were rumors, too, and they were true.”
“Somewhat,” Ricky said. “The truth was more complex.”
Professor Calasay snorted. “It is always more complex, even in Paranty.”
~~~
CHAPTER EIGHT
~
L IFE SEEMED TO SLOW DOWN FOR RICKY. Rain fell for a string of days. The sorcery professors made Ricky move slowly and thoroughly experiment with burning circles and variants. He had to admit that he was developing a different kind of control.
Ricky had finished transcribing selected books, so he strolled to the warehouse for some new ones. The warehouse seemed deserted each time he arrived. He looked over the library and saw that Mara had been reorganizing the books again. She left a list of sorcery books, and where they were on the shelves. Ricky looked at the list and saw small dots by the books he had transcribed. There were so few.
He perused the list and saw a title that didn’t make much sense. Ricky found the book and tried to make out the title written in old Parantian. One of the words he didn’t know, but the other seemed to say merge. Mara had just written ‘Sorcery Together’ on the page.
He found one of the old dictionaries that Merry had brought, and from what he could interpret, the word was more like join. Could it be about power-linking? He scooped up the dictionary and the book. The slim volume would be his next project.
Ricky tapped his cane on the pavement with every fourth step, anxious to get back to the academy. He spied Gobble Bangatelli, his grand-uncle, cross the street in front of him. Their eyes connected.
“Ricky?” Gobble said taking Ricky’s arm. “My, you’ve grown into a young man.”
Ricky nodded, anxious to get away from the man who had kept him as a near-captive during his childhood.
“How are your studies going at the academy since you’ve obviously returned from the Juvenile Home earlier than I expected? In fact, I wondered if you would ever return. That place is dangerous.”
“It was. Excuse me, but I have a lot of catching up to do,” Ricky said, feeling very uncomfortable.
“Then why are you out on Tossa’s streets in the rain?”
Ricky looked around, wondering if he should just ignore Gobble. “Saganet asked me to purchase something for him. I had a little gap in my time. I have to get back to school.”
“I wouldn’t want to keep you from your duties.” Gobble narrowed his eyes, peering into Ricky’s face. “I am glad to see you are doing well, looking fit and fed. I’ll be sure to catch up with you before I leave.”
“You’re going somewhere?” Knowing where Gobble ended up might be useful information.
“My plans are not yet fixed. I’ll let you know when they are. Have a nice evening, grandson.”
“You, too,” Ricky said.
He nodded to his former guardian and quickly crossed the street, narrowly missing a horse hitched to a carriage. The chance encounter unnerved him. How would he ever shed his past? His experiences at the Juvenile Home had been bad enough and were barely receding in his thoughts when Gobble had bumped into him.
Ricky quickly walked to his room and threw his cloak to the floor. He placed his valise on the desk and lay down on the bed, closing his eyes. His heart beat faster than it should have. Why did Gobble upset him so much?
He finally collected his wits enough to head down to the commissary for dinner after hiding the dictionary and the ancient book. Mara sat down next to him.
“I looked for you, but I couldn’t find where you went,” she said. “I’m skipping my time at the library today.”
“That’s where I was. You’ve done a good job organizing everything.”
“It’s a good start,” Mara said, smiling shyly.
Jac Griama walked up with a tray. “Ricky, who is your friend?” Jac’s eyes were on Mara when he asked.
Ricky stood up. “Jac Griama, this is Mara Torris. I met her in Applia. She is a scholarship student.”
“I’m pleased to meet you,” Mara said, standing during the introduction. She only had enough room for a little bow between tables.
“You have an accent. Fisttian?” Jac asked.
“I haven’t been in Paranty for very long. Ricky helped me with my Parantian.”
“It is charming,” Jac said. “Mind if I join you two, or am I intruding?”
“No intrusion on my part,” Ricky said.
His conversation with Mara had obviously concluded as Jac pummeled her w
ith questions. Ricky smiled as she answered coyly, not giving away any secrets. With all their talking, Ricky finished his meal before the other two were half done.
“I’d better be going.”
“Broomball practice, tomorrow,” Jac said.
“I’ll see you then.”
Mara gave him a little wave, and he deposited his tray and returned to his room.
Ricky didn’t know what to think of Jac inserting himself between Mara and him at dinner. Ricky had never approached Mara like Jac just did. He wondered if he’d ever be able to flirt with a girl. Jac seemed to have had a lot of practice. It wasn’t as if Mara and he had a boy-girl relationship. They were friends who had needed to share to survive.
He dreaded an evening with thoughts of Gobble, Mara, and Jac running around in his head, so he ignored the little book that had been so enticing earlier in the day and went to bed early.
~
Waking up before dawn, Ricky sighed. His dreams were full of Mara, Jac, Gobble, and even Loria showed up to disturb his sleep. He pulled out the mysterious ‘joining’ volume and the dictionary and began to transcribe.
Ricky barely made it through the first few pages. No date showed in the book, but this had to be one of the older ones. Some words couldn’t even be found in the old dictionaries, making Ricky try to find similar words through context. The process was tedious and too frustrating for his state of mind. He dressed and drifted over to the commissary early.
The room was nearly empty, but a few of his broomball teammates sat at a table eating their breakfast. Jac called him over to join them.
“Mara is an interesting girl,” Jac said. “I wasn’t barging in on your conversation, was I? It didn’t seem so.”
Ricky shook his head and forced a smile. “We are working on a project together. She’s a good friend.”
“Marvelous,” Jac said, beaming. “Eat up and join us. We just started getting in some additional practice in the mornings before classes begin, now that we don’t have to share the gymnasium with Professor Crabacci.”