Light in the Darkness

by CJ Brightley

  “They should be eating the midday meal,” Sivan told her. “We’re lucky we arrived in time to join them. The Wizards’ Guild employs some of the best cooks in Elathir. I expect you’re hungry.”

  Larine wasn’t. Her stomach was a twisted knot of anxiety. But she nodded and trailed after the messenger up the steps and through the towering double doors under the giant round mosaic of the Mother’s cupped hands.

  The main Hall they entered was quiet and deserted. Larine tipped her head back to stare at the ceiling at least thirty feet overhead. A row of windows just under the rafters admitted light and air. Sivan led her around an area where many screens divided the space into dozens of small rooms, to a wide door in the left-hand wall.

  Noise burst out when he pushed it open. Hundreds of people were seated around tables, eating and talking. Animals of every description were among them, in people’s laps, on their shoulders, under the tables, in clusters along the walls, adding their various noises to the din. Larine clung to Sivan’s heels as he made his way between long tables lined with benches to a cluster of round tables at the front. She was certain every eye in the room turned to fix on her. A hush more intimidating than the previous roar fell over the crowd.

  A grandfatherly man rose from one of the round tables. He had narrow shoulders and a thick shock of white hair. A grey wolf climbed to its feet and stationed itself at his side, fixing its sharp yellow eyes on Larine. The man held out his hands. “Greetings, Sivan. I see you’ve brought the last of our scattered apprentices into the fold. Larine Hunterkin, isn’t it? I’m Guildmaster Idan, and this is my familiar, Oak. Welcome to the Wizards’ Guild.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Larine said, her voice not much louder than a whisper. She let the Guildmaster grasp her hands. His fingers were dry and papery. As soon as she could without seeming rude, Larine pulled away.

  He smiled at her and gestured to one of the long tables. “The rest of the new apprentices are over there. You can eat before we make any more introductions. We’ll need to pair you with a master before tomorrow night, but there’s no rush.”

  It seemed a terrible rush to Larine. A day and a half to choose the person who would be her guide and teacher and mentor for the next fourteen years? The person she’d take orders from and work beside while she was an apprentice, and report to after she became a journeyman? Her whole life would be shaped by the decision.

  Assuming she had any say in the matter. Maybe they’d assign her someone without regard for her wishes. She’d almost rather they did. At least then it wouldn’t be her fault if she ended up with someone awful.

  Sivan accepted the Guildmaster’s invitation to join him at the round table. Larine swallowed and walked toward the table Idan had indicated. Her steps faltered as she neared it. Those seated on the long benches were close to her age. They stared at her and whispered to each other as she approached.

  A girl with short brown hair wearing a vivid blue tunic scooted to one side and gestured to the bench beside her. “Have a seat. There’s plenty left. Try the green beans, they’ve got bacon in them.”

  Larine climbed over the bench and sat down, dropping her pack at her feet. She folded her coat, but before she could set it down the girl reached to stroke it. “So soft. It’s rabbit, isn’t it?”

  Larine nodded. “My mother’s a hunter. She saved her best furs to make it.”

  “There were a few days last winter I wished I had something like that. When we get those cold grey drizzles, I can’t get warm no matter how many layers I put on. Although I guess it’s not much compared to Gemgeda. Do you really get snow every winter?”

  “You don’t?” Larine couldn’t imagine a winter without a thick blanket of white cloaking everything in its muffling folds.

  “Not usually. Sometimes a few flurries. We got one good snowfall when I was nine. We spent the whole day playing in it, throwing it at each other, piling it up in hills and walls, making pictures with our footprints. It tasted wonderful, like wind and sky. But it melted the next morning.”

  Larine swallowed hard and ducked her head. Would she ever taste snow again? She’d known the south was warmer, but she’d never realized they went whole years without any snow at all.

  The girl gave the fur coat a final pat, and Larine set it on top of her pack. Someone passed her a plate, and for a few minutes she stayed busy accepting bowls and platters and taking servings. After that she kept her mouth full so she couldn’t be expected to talk. The food was as good as Master Sivan had promised, with lots of bold flavors and rich sauces, but Larine would have preferred the simple fare she was used to.

  The girl introduced the others around the table. Most of them were from Elathir or the surrounding towns. Apprentices from farther away usually went to one of the other Mother’s Halls, in Korisan or Jevtaro or Thedan. Larine did her best to remember their names, but they slipped out of her mind almost as soon as she heard them. She’d known the names of everyone in Gemgeda for as long as she could remember. The only time you had to learn another was when a new baby was born.

  Finally, the girl thumped her own chest. “And I’m Dabiel Dyerkin. My parents run a dye shop on the west side of Elathir.”

  “That’s why your tunic is such a bright color,” Larine blurted before she thought.

  Dabiel grimaced with what Larine hoped was good humor. “Mother sent for the best indigo from Ziat, and Father put the cloth through six baths before he was satisfied. It was supposed to be for my apprenticing to the Dyers’ Guild.”

  Larine glanced around. The others had quit paying attention to her and gone back to their food. She lowered her voice. “Are you disappointed you won’t get to do what you planned?”

  “Dear Mother, no! I’ve wanted to be a wizard my whole life. I mean, I would have liked dyeing well enough, I guess, but for years I’ve spent every spare minute at the Hall, watching the wizards work, helping as much as they let me. I tried not to get my hopes up. The Mother only chooses a handful every year. But I was nearly sick the whole time Master Idan was off at the chapel waiting to talk to the Mother. It was the longest three days of my life.” She ducked her head. “He told me himself, as soon as he got back to the Hall. That’s when he asked me to be his apprentice.”

  Larine blinked. Dabiel’s eyes were distant, her face lit by a soft, wondering glow. “Does that mean you’ll be Guildmaster someday?”

  Dabiel shrugged. “It means he thinks I have potential. But he’s had plenty of other apprentices. They’re all masters now. One of them runs the Mother’s Hall in Thedan, and another leads the council meetings when Master Idan can’t. It doesn’t matter, though. I want to serve the Mother however she needs me. Even if all I do is cure colds and catch shoplifters for the rest of my life, I’ll be happy.”

  The same words might have been false modesty from someone else, but Larine could tell Dabiel meant them. She looked away. “I wish I was that sure this is where I belong.”

  Dabiel’s brow wrinkled. “Don’t you want to be a wizard? I mean, you came all the way from Gemgeda.”

  Larine couldn’t speak for a moment, her throat was so tight. She swallowed hard. “It all happened so fast. I hardly had time to think about it. Master Sivan arrived with the message, and two days later I was on the ship.” Her eyes blurred. She shut them so Dabiel wouldn’t see her tears. “I miss it already. My home, my family. I’m honored the Mother chose me, but I wish she hadn’t.” The shameful words she hadn’t dared speak to anyone else poured out. “I don’t know why she did. I’m not special. I’m not smart, or wise, or compassionate, at least no more than anyone else. Wizards visit Gemgeda sometimes, and they’ve never looked at me twice. I would have thought they sent the message to the wrong person, except my name was on it, and my parents’ names, and where to find me. I wanted to say no, but everyone was so excited, I couldn’t bear to disappoint them. Now I’m afraid that in a few weeks everyone is going to realize there’s been a big mistake and I was never supposed to be here. Only then it will
be too late.”

  Warm hands enclosed hers. Dabiel’s voice was strong and certain. “The Mother wouldn’t have chosen you if you didn’t have a wizard’s heart. I think you’ll make a wonderful wizard. But if you don’t want to, it’s never too late to say no. Free will is sacred to the Mother. No matter how much she wants you as a wizard, it’s always your choice. Now, next month, next year. Even after you bond to a familiar, if you change your mind, all you have to do is say so and they’ll break your bond.”

  Larine’s breath caught. She opened her eyes and stared at Dabiel. “Really?”

  “Really. It’s in the Law. You can ask Master Idan or any of the other masters if you don’t believe me. They’ll tell you the same thing.”

  “I believe you.” The crushing weight in Larine’s chest eased, letting her breathe easily for the first time since she’d read the message. “They wouldn’t be angry at me for making them go to all the time and trouble of bringing me here for nothing?”

  Dabiel started to shake her head, then tilted it, grimacing. “Maybe a little. But it wouldn’t matter. They have to follow the Law.”

  Joyful images flashed through Larine’s mind. The Guildmaster listening with grave concern as she earnestly explained her misgivings. His sad, gentle smile of benediction as he released her from all obligations to the Wizards’ Guild. The big trading ship speeding north before a brisk wind, her in the prow, watching the roofs of Gemgeda come into sight over the horizon. Her family welcoming her with open arms and pleased exclamations, happy she’d chosen not to desert them after all. A long, peaceful life lived there, where her heart was. She’d never be foolish enough to leave it again.

  Her imagination faltered, though, when she tried to imagine what work she’d pursue. Neither of her parents’ crafts appealed strongly to her. She’d find something she liked well enough, she supposed. It wouldn’t matter what, as long as she was home.

  She gave Dabiel a tremulous smile. “Thank you for telling me.” She took a bite of the green beans, which really were delicious. “I feel much better now.”

  Dabiel nodded. She turned back to her own plate, but kept giving Larine quick glances between bites. When Larine paused to pour herself a second serving of apple cider, Dabiel spoke, choosing her words carefully, but with intent passion in her voice. “Will you let me show you around the Hall this afternoon and introduce you to some of the masters? You should have a real idea of what being a wizard is like before you decide you don’t want to join us. Don’t get me wrong; I’ll respect whatever decision you make and support you against anyone who doesn’t. I just think you should know the whole truth before you make it.”

  The knowledge that she was free to go home was wonderfully liberating. Larine would enjoy seeing the wizards at work. It would give her something to tell everyone at home. They’d listen to her descriptions with excited awe. And she’d enjoy spending time with Dabiel and getting to know her better. Larine was almost sorry she wasn’t staying. There was something about the other girl that made her think the two of them might have become good friends.

  “Master Tasha, this is Larine. Larine, Master Tasha is married to Master Idan. That’s her familiar, Honk.”

  The handsome gray and black goose gave Larine a haughty look down its bill and turned back to the man sitting on the cot. He eyed the two girls with much the same expression. Dabiel went on. “Do you mind if we stay and watch?”

  The wizard, a sharp-eyed woman with silver-streaked black hair, turned to her patient. “If Master Aronil agrees.”

  The man shook his head. “Absolutely not.” He scowled. “Considering the nature of my difficulty.”

  Master Tasha gave the girls a shrug and smile. “Sorry. Come back later and we’ll see.”

  Dabiel scowled but didn’t protest. She dragged Larine out of the cubicle and down the aisle between screens. “It’s not like we won’t be learning about men and women both, once we’re wizards. But you have to respect the patient’s wishes. Maybe Master Brolin will be working with someone more reasonable.”

  Larine tagged behind her. “It’s all right. I don’t want to be a bother to anyone.”

  “The Mother chose you. You’re not a bother. You have the right to see the Mother’s power at work before you join the guild.” Dabiel stepped into the room. “Master—Oh, hello, Hanion.”

  A tall, dark-haired boy glanced up from where he was talking quietly with a woman and examining the child in her lap. Larine’s breath caught. She’d never seen anyone so handsome. She cowered behind Dabiel. The boy said, “Master Brolin will be back in a minute. Do you need to talk to him, or can I help?”

  “I just wanted to show Larine the Mother’s power at work. Do you think he’ll let us watch?”

  “Probably.” He turned to the woman. “Would that be all right with you? These are some of the new apprentices who’re going to be joining the guild tomorrow.”

  “I don’t mind.” The woman stroked the child’s head. The baby whimpered. “As long as it doesn’t delay things. She’s in a lot of pain.”

  “Master Brolin and Drila will take care of her as soon as he gets back from the privy. A couple of spectators won’t slow them down at all.” He crouched and made a face at the little girl, who blinked at him and broke into a wan smile.

  A man bustled into the room, a large spotted sheep with a heavy coat of wool trotting at his heels. “What have we here?”

  Hanion quickly explained. Master Brolin nodded. “Of course they can watch.” He turned to the patient. “Any guesses what we’re dealing with, apprentice?”

  “I suspect an ear infection,” Hanion told him. “She has a fever, her mother says her nose has been running for a few days, and she keeps pulling on her earlobe.”

  “I expect you’re right.” Master Brolin took a seat on a stool by the cot and the sheep crowded close to his side. “After tomorrow, you’ll be able to see for yourself.”

  “Yes, sir.” Hanion’s tone was respectful, but laced with longing.

  Brolin grinned at him and rested one hand on the sheep’s back. He hovered the other over the child. A glowing golden beam fell from his fingers and surrounded the girl’s head. Larine stared at it. The light shimmered like sunlight on water. The girl blinked and fell quiet.

  After a moment Brolin looked up. “Your diagnosis was correct,” he told Hanion. To the woman, he said, “This will only take a few minutes.” His eyes went unfocused and he breathed slowly and deeply.

  Hanion stepped back to stand beside Larine. “Beautiful, isn’t it? This is the first time you’ve seen it?”

  Larine bobbed her head, unable to force words past her tight throat. She tried to slow her rapid breathing, with little success.

  “Excited?” Dabiel asked him.

  He swallowed and looked away. “Very.”

  “Hanion’s about to start his fourth year,” Dabiel explained to Larine. “He’s bonding tomorrow.”

  Larine turned to him, momentarily startled out of her shyness. “To a familiar?”

  Dabiel rolled her eyes, but Hanion nodded gravely. “A colt named Thunder. A herder brought him to the Hall a few weeks ago. I wasn’t sure at first, but he kept seeking me out every time I went to the unbonded familiars’ quarters. Master Brolin says it was obvious from the first time he saw us together.”

  His eyes shone with quiet wonder. Larine couldn’t tear her gaze away.

  Dabiel snorted, but Larine could hear the envy in her voice. “Three years from now, that will be us.” She poked Larine. “What sort of animal do you want the Mother to send you? I think the birds are best. A hawk or a falcon would be perfect.”

  “Nothing fancy. A cat or a dog would be fine.” Larine shrugged. “If I stay.”

  Dabiel started to say something, but cut herself off. Hanion frowned. “Why wouldn’t you?”

  Larine shrank beneath his earnest regard. “I’m not sure I want to join the guild.”

  “Why not?” He gestured to Brolin, who was sitting back, a pleas
ed look on his face. The golden light faded from around the girl’s head, and she giggled. “Being a wizard is the best job in the world. We get to help people in so many ways. This is nothing. You should see what the Mother’s power can do with a really serious illness or injury. I’ve seen people who would have died within minutes get up and walk away, perfectly healthy. And last month Master Brolin helped the Watch find a man who’d attacked three different women without getting caught. And one time—” He broke off with a grin that melted Larine’s insides. “Sorry. I got carried away.”

  “Don’t stop,” Dabiel urged him. “I think you’re persuading her.” She put an arm around Larine’s shoulders. “She’s homesick, is all. She needs to make a few friends here so she won’t miss her friends back home so much.”

  “We’ll all be your friends.” Hanion put a hand on Larine’s arm. She froze, acutely conscious of its warmth. “The Wizards’ Guild is like a family. It’s natural for you to be sad about leaving what you know, but what you find here will be just as good, if you give it a chance.”

  Larine stared at him, rapt. When he said it, she could believe it. Maybe staying in Elathir and becoming a wizard wouldn’t be so bad after all. Not if she could be near him, look at him, talk to him…

  Hanion gave an awkward laugh and pulled his hand back. “Anyway, think about it.”

  “I will.” Larine dropped her eyes, her face going hot.

  Dabiel grabbed her hand. “Thank you for letting us watch, Master Brolin. Would you like us to escort your patient out and tell them you’re ready for another?”

  “I’d appreciate that.” He gestured for the woman to follow them out.