The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  “If I told you that, you’d have to give me a secret. A small one to know and a big one for the actual words, which I don’t in fact know. I’d have to trade some secrets for it, you see.”

  “That is the stupidest way of—”

  Ceria rubbed at her head. This had to be a joke. She closed her eyes and came up with a flaw after two seconds of thought.

  “What if—and hear me out here—what if someone traded you for a secret, and then didn’t pay up? How would anyone prove you’d lost anything?”

  “Truth spells.”

  “Oh.”

  “If someone doesn’t make good on your favor, all you have to do is go around telling people they’re a lying backstabber. No one will trust them, and your problem’s solved.”

  “Something that can only work in a place where magic users are as common as dirt.”

  Pisces looked approving. Calvaron grinned as he nodded.

  “Of course, some people have more secrets to trade than others. Some people just use secrets when they have to—they trade gold for secrets, or get someone else to make all the trades for them. Like me.”

  “You?”

  “I’m a broker. I have a lot of secrets in my head, and even more that I don’t even know myself. Spelled parchment that erases itself when opened—that was popular a while ago. Messages in bottles, that sort of thing.”

  Ceria eyed Calvaron slightly askance.

  “And you trade secrets, is that it? If I have a juicy one, I can trade it to you for something else?”

  “Anything you want to know. I accept all kinds of minor secrets; if you’ve got gold or gems I’ll take that too, but I prefer secrets.”

  He grinned at both half-Elf and Human sitting at the table. After a second, the half-Elf rolled her eyes.

  “This place gets weirder by the second. Okay, remind me to never ask you for a favor.”

  “Aw, don’t be like that. Look, because we’re friends I’ll share a secret with you. On the house.”

  Both Ceria and Pisces eyed Calvaron dubiously, the former with considerably more suspicion than the latter. Calvaron laughed lightly again. He looked around and muttered something—Ceria saw his fingertips flash for a second—before he spoke to them in a quiet voice.

  “Here’s a free secret for you new students: most magic-based classes require at least ten levels in [Mage] to learn. A lot of them take at least twenty levels. That’s why most classes just teach the basics—they want you to have a high [Mage] level before you try to specialize.”

  “Is that really true?”

  Ceria wasn’t sure if she should be impressed or not. It was probably true, but was that really a secret worth trading?

  “This would be a small secret, wouldn’t it?”

  “Pretty small, unless you knew the exact requirements for a class. That would constitute a large secret.”

  “And you’re just giving this one away because we’re friends, huh?”

  “Just a sample. Now, if you want to know anything else, we can negotiate.”

  Pisces frowned.

  “That’s very mercenary of you.”

  “Hey, we’ve all got to eat. And if I can build up a bit of credit on the side—”

  “So you’re not going to tell us anything else unless we pay you.”

  “That’s right.”

  Ceria frowned.

  “That’s not fair. Tell us at least one more secret—an obvious one.”

  Calvaron raised his eyebrows, looking mildly exasperated.

  “I just gave you a secret for free.”

  “Yeah, a pretty useless one. We’ll get our classes no matter what happens—who cares about what’ll happen ten levels from now? Tell us something we can use in Wistram.”

  She frowned at the Centaur and he frowned back, but he did seem to consider her suggestion. He nudged his friend gently in the side of her armor.

  “I don’t know. Beatrice?”

  She shrugged.

  “Mushrooms.”

  With a put-upon sigh, Calvaron nodded.

  “Fine. Here’s another one, but this is the last secret. It’s about your books.”

  “Our books?”

  “You got new spellbooks on the first day, right? Come on, let’s see them.”

  Reluctantly, Ceria and Pisces pulled out their spellbooks. They had indeed been issued mostly-empty books for apprentice mages. The first few pages had been filled with notes and spells in another person’s hand, but the majority was blank. Calvaron chuckled as he showed the students the empty pages.

  “Thought so. Here’s something the academy does all the time. They take old books—the ones left behind by students—and give them to new students. You’ll never find anything beyond a Tier 2 spell in the spellbooks, because the older mages will sort through the lot to make sure they don’t give anything good to the new students.”

  “Huh. So there are better spellbooks out there?”

  Calvaron and Beatrice nodded.

  “Yup. You’ll be able to read them as you rise in, well, status. You can take out books from the libraries, but only experienced students know where the good books are hidden.”

  “And you would know where they’re kept, I presume?”

  The Centaur raised his hands.

  “Me? Perish the thought. If I could trade for that secret, I would. But the locations of the secret libraries and tomes are among the biggest secrets you can trade for.”

  “And that’s your big secret. Again, it sounds more like something you could’ve just told us to be friendly.”

  Ceria crossed her arms, annoyed and slightly disgusted. She saw Calvaron exchange an amused glance with Beatrice, and scowled fiercely.

  “All of your ‘secrets’ sound pretty useless to me, Calvaron.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  He avoided her gaze, an amused smile on his face as he snagged a slice of pork from her plate.

  “All knowledge is useful to someone else. And there are secrets and secrets. For instance, the fact that Miss Springwalker here is a half-Elf? Not really a secret. But the knowledge that Pisces here has a rapier and a silver bell? That’s important knowledge. Someone might ask where he came from, knowing that.”

  “How did you—?”

  “And that this morning, Pisces managed to impress even Rievan during class? And that he didn’t like Miss Ceria?”

  “Calvaron—”

  The Centaur cut Ceria off. He looked directly at her.

  “And of course, there’s your origins. The records are sealed of course, but anyone can look up old records. And half-Elves have long histories. In fact, if you looked back at certain Terandrian city arrest warrants, you could find a small bounty on a certain half-Elf kid for theft, property damage and—”

  Ceria slammed her hands on the table, cutting the Centaur off. He stared at her surprised. She was shaking, and Ceria saw Beatrice grab Calvaron’s side warningly. But she didn’t say or do anything that would start something else. Without a word, she stood up and walked away. Calvaron called out after her, but Ceria ignored him. She stalked off, leaving her unfinished meal behind.

  “Ceria? Ah! Ceria, please wait!”

  She heard the voice calling out after her as she stomped away. At first Ceria just walked faster, but the voice kept shouting her name. In the end, she grudgingly slowed to let Pisces catch up.

  “What?”

  The young man slowed and panted—theatrically, Ceria thought—as he caught up with her. He smiled nervously as she glared at him.

  “I ah, I just wanted to walk back with you.”

  “Did you?”

  “Well—”

  Ceira started walking again, and Pisces hesitated before matching her pace.

  “Calvaron is, uh, apologetic.”

  “Good for him.”

  She gritted her teeth. Pisces paused again before he adopted a placating tone.

  “They were trying to help us, or so I feel. I understand that they went
too far—”

  “I came here to learn magic, not to find out secrets about other people and trade favors and gossip like a pack of simpering [Noblewomen].”

  “As did I.”

  Pisces took two strides forwards, and looked at Ceria. She glared at him, emotions running hot.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I would just like to opine that, well, we are new to Wistram.”

  “So?”

  “So, rather than get too upset—why don’t you forget Calvaron’s transgression, and have a drink with me instead? It does no good to get too worked up right away, in my experience.”

  “Oh really? Well, how much experience have you had?”

  “None.”

  Pisces grinned at her widely, and Ceria’s face went slack before she laughed unwillingly. The anger drained out of her as quick as it had come, leaving her feeling more than a little silly.

  “Okay, okay. I should…rot, I should apologize to Calvaron. I didn’t mean to storm off like that. It’s just when he brought up my past—”

  The young man interrupted with surprising tact.

  “I shouldn’t worry about that. Calvaron feels he went too far. I think he’ll be the one apologizing when you two next meet. Until then, we should really have a drink.”

  “A drink? Here? But they don’t serve free beer.”

  If they did, Ceria would already have downed a few mugs to take the burden of the day away. But Pisces just gave her another smile.

  “They do not. But there are places where it is sold, quite cheaply too. All one has to do is trade for the secrets…”

  He waggled his eyebrows and Ceria snorted.

  “Don’t tell me you traded Calvaron for one of his secrets.”

  “Not as of such. I ah, may have told Calvaron that I would intercede on his behalf if he told us the best place in the isle to find alcohol, preferably for free. He informed me of a party that should be beginning tonight. Would you care to join me?”

  Ceria thought about it, and then smiled slightly wickedly.

  “You’re telling me you blackmailed Calvaron for free beer?”

  “He’s not as good at negotiating as he thinks he is, and I do believe he wants to be friends.”

  The two began to walk off in another direction. Ceria was smiling against her will and Pisces tried to tell jokes and speculated on what secrets might be worth trading for. She found herself answering back, wondering about the illusion and destruction magic classes, and before she knew it, they were talking again.

  Just like on the boat. And best of all, she hadn’t made a scene—well, not that big of a scene—and ruined a potential friendship with Calvaron and Beatrice. And thanks to Pisces, she was going to be drunk, or at least tipsy tonight.

  Pisces. Ceria glanced at him sideways as the mage tripped over his robes. He was coolheaded when she was not. And he had a quick tongue and a fast mind. He was also a talented [Mage]; in short, all the things that should have made him the competition for Ceria. But he was also friendly, and helpful. He seemed like a good…friend. A Human friend? Now, wasn’t that an odd thought.

  —-

  A week later, Ceria had gotten used to Wistram’s quirks and peculiarities. She had gotten over the system of secrets, resigned herself to at least one class with a teacher who didn’t like her, and surprisingly enjoyed and learned quite a lot from all her classes. True, she wasn’t exactly learning how to cause earthquakes, but there was a whole basis of magic she had never understood until now. Maybe this was why Wistram Mages were always considered better than other mages; they might not be higher level, but they knew how spells worked.

  The other thing that the half-Elf had learned after spending some time in Wistram was the architecture of the building. It really was simple, once you got over the varied passageways. There was a general, central area containing dormitories, classrooms, general storage—everything a new student needed. Central hallways branched out or spiraled upwards leading to these individual sections, but the higher levels and the lower recesses of Wistram were off-limits.

  There were actual magical barriers in some places, locked doors or Golems standing guard duty near stairwells in others. They were there to stop new students from going too high or too low, where more dangerous magical experiments still ran wild, and the most powerful of mages worked and lived. In short, that was where the real magic happened, but until she got to that point or even became a full student, Ceria was content just to find her way around.

  And it was a good thing she could get to places on time, because Pisces certainly couldn’t. The young man had to follow her to get to all their classes, and on a day like today where both of them were rushing, Ceria was just glad for his long legs.

  “Are you sure this is the right way!”

  “I’m positive! And if you’d bother to memorize the way to class, we wouldn’t be late!”

  Ceria snapped over her shoulder as she and Pisces ran down a corridor, running past a plodding Golem made of stone and amused older students who called out to them as they passed by. Pisces muttered as they rounded a corner and went straight down a seven-way intersection.

  “Why don’t they have signs?”

  “Because that would make it too easy. And being a [Mage] is hard work. Come on, we’re nearly there!”

  “Why are we going to class? We just finished Rievan’s lecture a half-hour ago!”

  “I don’t know! Cessic just told us to get to the classrooms.”

  “Cessic? You trusted him?”

  “Has he ever lied?”

  “Well—”

  Cessic was another one of the new students Ceria and Pisces had gotten to know. He was a Lizardman, and as such, he’d naturally gravitated towards Ceria when they’d been in class together. The Humans—the overwhelming majority of new students—tended to stick together, and Ceria still felt a lurch of anger when she saw Charles and his group strutting around their circle. But the non-Humans had their own cliques, and Ceria had sat next to Cessic more than once.

  “Here we are!”

  The two mages skidded to a halt and found a large group of students, both prospective and older ones—waiting outside of one of the classroom doors. Ceria blinked. This classroom she’d never been in, and she was fairly certain none of the teachers had used it before. She spotted a tall Lizardman with multicolored scales and edged over to him.

  “Cessic! Hey, Cessic! What’s going on?”

  Cessic turned his head and fanned his neck frills out slightly as he spotted Ceria and Pisces.

  “There you two are! You’re just in time—I think we’re about to get our first class in destruction magic!”

  “Really?”

  “You’re kidding!”

  The two mages stared at Cessic in disbelief. Although they’d taken quite a few classes, they still hadn’t managed to find the class that taught illusion magic (Pisces had suggested that such a class didn’t exist and it was a prank pulled on new students; Ceria had agreed), and as far as they’d known, the teacher in charge of teaching combat spells hadn’t shown up to any of her classes.

  “How do you know?”

  “Look around.”

  Cessic pointed to the other students.

  “Apparently, the Council—the leaders of all the mage factions in Wistram—chewed out the mage in charge of this class—told them to start teaching right away. I got the tip-off from Calvaron; he sold it to me cheap, since word spread so quick.”

  “Of course he did.”

  Ceria sighed, although she wasn’t actually that mad. She’d gotten used to Calvaron selling secrets, and she’d even bought two off him for small favors and secrets in return—one to find out where the bathrooms on her floor were, and another for a shortcut that saved her several minutes getting to the banquet hall each day. Apparently, a rather irate [Illusionist] had grown fed-up with waiting in line for the bathroom each day and enchanted her own private restroom, until word had spread of its existence.

&nbs
p; “Who’s the mage? Are you sure they’re coming?”

  “Fairly. I mean, if they didn’t offer the class they’d be punished, and I don’t think they’d want to risk—”

  Cessic cut off and the hubbub around Ceria died. She looked and saw the door to the classroom slowly opening. She held her breath, not sure whom to expect. What she saw was a tall, older woman—perhaps in her late thirties—stepping out of the room. It was actually hard to place this Human’s age, because although her hair was slightly greying, she had no wrinkles. Her face was smooth and flawless so Ceria supposed her hair was just naturally grey. What the woman did give off though was an aura of cold, both in mannerism and temperature.

  And Ceira recognized her, vaguely. She was the woman who’d cast [Ice Lance] on the first day at the Ghouls. She was…

  “My name is Illprhes. I specialize in ice magic, and I’m assigned to teach you all some spells to use in actual combat.”

  The woman spoke abruptly and without any hint of welcome. She raised her voice so the silent students could all hear her. Ceria exchanged a glance with Pisces. This sounded like the introduction the other teachers had given a week ago! And why were they all here? Was she going to teach all the students at once?

  Illphres’ eyes swept over the assembled students once. Then she spoke again.

  “However, I don’t want to be a teacher. I was forced to take this job by the Council, even though I have better things to do. So I’m going to give you a test. Pass it and I’ll teach you magic.”

  So saying, Illphres turned and pointed towards the open doorway.

  “[Ice Wall].”

  The students in the crowd stepped back as ice rose from the ground, forming out of the suddenly misty air and freezing into a thick, impenetrable wall that sealed off the entrance to the classroom. Ceria heard confused voices as she felt the temperature in the corridor drop so suddenly she shivered. People moved back in front of her, stepping away from the extreme cold.

  Illphres didn’t seem bothered by the chill. She was wearing light robes, and she touched the ice as if it were just stone. But she had confidence in her spell as well, because her next words were a challenge.

  “Melt the ice. Gain entry to the classroom and I will teach you. Do it yourselves, without an artifact or another mage to help you. That is all.”