by AC Cobble
It was a pleasant walk to the Sanctuary. All of the streets in the City were broad and well maintained. As you got closer to the seat of power, fountains, statuary, and open parks became more common. The south end of the City was where most of the commerce took place and also where most of the bridges to shore landed. The north end near the Sanctuary was where the government buildings were, a college of the sword, the wealthier citizens, and something called a university—although Ben was a little vague on what that was.
When he drew near the Sanctuary, he found himself on a verdant green, tree-lined boulevard that led directly to imposing copper gates. The gates were the only break in the high walls that opened to the city streets and were polished to a brilliant shine. On his first trips around the area he noticed the walls appeared to be a seamless grey stone that crossed the entire width of the island. Their construction was a mystery to him. He suspected it was a small wonder, though, compared to what the mages inside were capable of.
Despite their height, it was clear these walls were more for privacy than protection. No army on the continent of Alcott would be willing to challenge the power concentrated behind them.
Since it was Newday, the copper gates stood open for visitors. Two huge smiling faces representing an ancient woman and a young one were embossed on the gates. Below them, a small handful of guards stood and directed the few visitors where to go. They were armed and armored. While they were alert, they did not appear to be concerned with who came and went.
“Reason for your visit?” one blond-haired man called out when Ben drew close.
“I’m here to see Ame… I’m here to see two Initiates. They’re expecting me.” Rhys had instructed him on what to say and Ben had memorized it like it was a secret passcode. He winced as he fumbled, but the guards took it in stride.
“They’ll be at the Initiates Garden then,” the blond man replied. “Straight ahead to the breezeway then follow it to the right. About five hundred paces and you’ll see the hedgerows surrounding the garden. Ask anyone you see there for the Initiates by name and they can point you to them. Direct to the garden, of course.”
“Of course! Thanks,” replied Ben.
The guard nodded and turned his attention back to the streets beyond the gate. A second guard kept his gaze on Ben as he started toward the breezeway, not in an unfriendly way, just watchful. These men may not be expecting trouble, but they weren’t shirking their responsibilities either.
The inside of the grounds surprised Ben, though, he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. Along the outer wall were ungroomed trees, tall grass, and wild flowers as far as he could see. Compared to the planned and manicured nature of the rest of the City, it seemed odd. The amount of unused space was also shocking to someone who’d spent the last three months in the City where they built towers thirty stories into the air because they’d long ago run out of land.
The way to the breezeway was a straight pebble-strewn path about ten paces wide. Compared to the wild flora around him, it was meticulously kept weed free and clean.
Interesting, thought Ben, as he made his way into the famous home and training grounds of Alcott’s mages. Unlike the bold, striking entrance to Argren’s keep in Whitehall, the Sanctuary was almost aggressively unassuming. The mages were making a statement to their visitors. They wanted to show they had no need and no desire to impress.
It was powerful. Where King Argren put towering gates and walls, plush carpets, glittering gold fixtures, tapestries, crystal bowls, trumpets, and liveried staff to greet and fawn over arrivals, the mages had pebble walkways, untrimmed grass, and wild flowers.
The breezeway was merely a junction in paths he found. Beyond it, he could see the path led into more open spaces and three or four story white stucco buildings further along. The breezeway had a large open arch where the path came through. Then it went off to the right and left to connect to more of the white buildings a thousand paces from where he was standing. Anyone entering the Sanctuary had a bit of walking to do before they found their destination.
Another guard was meandering around the arch in the breezeway, but he merely nodded a greeting when he saw Ben turn to the right. A few other men were walking ahead of Ben. They and the guards were the only other people he’d seen since he entered.
A gentle wind stirred the long grasses around him and rustled the leaves of the scattered trees while he walked. He had to admit it was a very peaceful place. He found himself lulled into forgetting that this place existed to train mages. Mages like Lady Towaal who called lightning out of thin air to burn a score of attacking demons.
He shook himself and regained focus when he saw the other men duck out of sight behind a low green wall. It was the hedgerow the guard had mentioned and so far the only sign of human cultivation.
A thin, wire gate stood open in the hedge wall. The pebble path narrowed and continued into a large garden. Here, there were blooming flowers, fruit trees, and small fountains. The kind of things he would have thought to see. A large bird with a rainbow hue of tail feathers walked by and he saw Meghan and Amelie sitting on a bench near the entrance to the garden.
“Hi,” he said.
“Ben!” Both girls sprang up from the bench and rushed over to give him hugs. A confusing barrage of questions started about how he was, was his apartment clean, was that really his handwriting in the letters, did he need money, was he okay?
“Hold on,” he interrupted. “I haven’t heard anything about you two! I came to ask how you were doing. With all of your free days cancelled, I didn’t know if you needed my help.”
The two girls looked at each other but they didn’t laugh in his face like he was suddenly worried they would.
“We’re tired, but fine,” said Meghan.
Ben rolled his eyes. “That’s what Rhys always says.”
“It’s true,” added Amelie sheepishly. “The studies are very taxing and it takes a lot out of you to focus on something for so long. It’s not easy to learn what we need to learn. But we’re not hurt or anything like that, if that’s what you were worried about.”
“I don’t know what I was worried about I guess,” he admitted. “I just knew it couldn’t be good if you didn’t get your free days. Can you tell me about it?”
“Let’s walk,” said Meghan. “This is the Initiate’s Garden. That building over there,” she gestured to a long three story white building, “is the Initiate’s Hall. It’s where we all stay, take our meals and have the little free time that we do. We can’t take you in, of course.”
“Of course,” he responded.
He looked over the building and eyed the garden. There were several clumps of young women in plain but well-made dresses escorting either young men or older couples around the garden. Initiates with their boyfriends, brothers, or parents, he guessed. Curiously, there were no male initiates he could pick out.
As the girls led him deeper into the garden, he asked, “Is everyone studying here a, ah, a girl?”
Amelie smiled and Meghan responded, “Thinking about joining, Ben?”
“No. I just didn’t see any guys,” he remarked.
“That’s because you are right. There aren’t any male trainees,” explained Amelie.
Trying hard to hide a broad grin, Meghan added, “Males have a more difficult time learning control, which isn’t a surprise to any woman who’s had to deal with men. Some years ago, the Veil decided this place wouldn’t train men. You saw what Lady Towaal is capable of. It was determined to be too dangerous to have men wielding that kind of power on the island.”
“So, there aren’t any male mages?” queried Ben. He’d never really thought about it. It was always ambiguous in the stories.
Meghan shrugged. “There aren’t any here. Men lack control, but they do have the capacity to learn magic.”
“Where would they learn though?” questioned Amelie. “I can’t think there are many men who are able to learn it on their own. Our instructors shared that it is
possible to learn on your own but unlikely one would achieve any notable ability. It can be rather dangerous. Without proper guidance that is,” she added quickly with a sidelong glance at Ben.
“Dangerous how? What can happen?” He knew they were in good hands, but all of this discussion on danger made him nervous for the girls.
“It’s not really something the Sanctuary likes to share outside the walls, so we can’t talk about it much. Don’t worry though, we are fine and they take it slow. We’re not rushed into anything we’re not ready for. It’s just, intense. We can’t talk about the training in detail, but we can show you the gardens. They really are lovely, and unlike anything else in the Sanctuary.”
Ben had to admit she was right, the gardens were lovely. They had an astounding variety of plants and flowers and all of them seemed to be in full bloom. Each one had been placed with precision to accent the flora around it. Bright blues with loud oranges, vibrant greens, and buttery yellows. Each arrangement felt right. There were also a variety of fruit trees scattered around producing apples, pears, and orange-, green-, and yellow-skinned fruit the girls called citrus. They said it made an excellent juice and plucked and peeled one of the orange ones for Ben to try. The fruit came apart in segments and was very tender. When he took a bite, sweet liquid filled his mouth. He thought about snatching a couple more to take back with him.
“What are these called?” he asked around a mouthful of the fruit.
“Oranges,” replied Meghan.
He looked at the bright orange skin. “Okay.” He looked at Meghan to see if she was teasing him, but she looked back with no trace of the expected mirth. He frowned down at the fruit, swallowed, then continued the conversation, “Tell me about your training, or at least what you can. What are you spending all of that time doing?”
“It’s a lot on theory so far,” answered Meghan. “The theory of how different forces in the world act. Physical, social, political…”
“There is a lot of political theory. A lot,” affirmed Amelie with a crisp nod.
Meghan grinned. “Amelie doesn’t always agree with what our teachers have to say. That’s been part of the struggle and why we haven’t had as much free time as planned. Every time she disagrees with Mistress Eldred, we get another reading assignment or essay to complete. At first, there were a lot of disagreements.”
“You’ve started coming around to her point of view?” Ben asked Amelie.
“Let’s just say I’ve seen the futility of debate. The Sanctuary has some very strong opinions on certain subjects, and one way or the other, they expect you to fall in line. It’s better if I just go along with it, for now.”
“I for one am delighted,” chirped Meghan. “Every extra reading assignment that Amelie got, I got too. It’s part of the Sanctuary’s teaching method. Don’t get me wrong. Lord Velson’s musings on the benefits of the categorical denial of rights to the peasant class and the tradeoff with the effort to enforce breeding standards in that class is fascinating. But after a while, a girl is ready for a break.”
“Wait,” said a confused Ben. “The categorical denial of rights, breeding standards? What does that mean?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” answered Meghan. “They have us read opposing viewpoints then argue the merits. Not every position can be the most sensible one.”
“It’s really quite droll,” said Amelie. “The Sanctuary feels it’s important for Initiates to understand the political climate before continuing their studies in the art. There’s a certain responsibility that goes along with becoming a mage, and on that subject at least, I agree whole heartedly.”
“Yes,” concurred Meghan. “It wouldn’t do having people running around slinging lightning bolts with no understanding of the consequences.”
15
Conflicting Interests
Ben’s feet kicked up little puffs of dust as he circled around the stone-rimmed fountain. His sword was held steady in front of his face and his breathing was even. Shirtless in the hot, still summer air, he could feel beads of sweat work their way slowly down his back. The heat was stifling and seemed to have sucked the energy out of the city. The normal sounds of life that would have floated their way to the empty courtyard were absent. The only sound was the low scuff of bare feet on dusty stone.
Outwardly, he appeared solely focused on his movement and the other man across the dry fountain from him, but in his head, he was constantly calculating and recalculating odds. What were his chances if he darted to the right? How about if he went left? Moments before, he’d tried stepping back toward the narrow alleyway that was the only entrance to the courtyard to give himself an advantage, but his opponent grinned, moved toward a tight corner, and signaled he was willing to wait.
In a snap, his decision was made. He scanned the rim of the fountain with his periphery vision. He was looking for a flat spot in the rough mortar. He would step there, then launch himself straight over the fountain. He hoped to surprise his opponent and gain precious time before he could react. So far, they’d been dancing around the edges of the fountain with minimal engagement.
Just as Ben tensed to make his move over the fountain, Rhys shouted, “Come on! I’m sweating to death out here just to see you two walk in circles. Forget the wager. The first round is on me if we leave right now.”
Saala dropped out of his fighting stance and smirked. “If you’re satisfied Master Ashwood, I am as well.”
“Sure,” replied Ben. “If Rhys is buying then we both win.”
To make things interesting and get motivated in the oppressive sticky heat of late summer, they’d started wagering that Saala would buy a round for every time Ben landed a strike. If Ben couldn’t land one, he’d buy all of Saala’s ale that evening. About half of the time recently, Saala ended up buying a round or two. It’d been a week since Ben had been unable to score at least one strike on him. One strike during the course of one or two bells practice didn’t seem like much, but it was a big improvement from what he could do a few short months before.
“Finally,” grunted Rhys. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more bored by a sword fight. It’s too hot for this strategic nonsense. You stick them with the pointy end. What else do you want to know?”
“Some fighting is speed and flash. Some is strategy,” voiced Saala. “Knowing when to attack is just as important as how to attack, although I’m sure Ben and I both would benefit from your extensive experience. Maybe tomorrow you could participate instead of just watching and complaining?”
“Yeah,” encouraged Ben. “Why don’t you join us? For a man who makes a living with his blades, shouldn’t you practice some?”
Rhys grunted again. “I only start it when I mean to stop it. You two hope to gain an edge by practice. I keep my edge because there is no holding back. Besides, I’ve done my share of practice over the years. I’ve been doing this for a very, very long time.”
“How long could you have been doing this?” challenged Ben. “You aren’t much more than ten or fifteen years older than me.”
“Longer than you would think possible,” retorted Rhys before sharing a long, direct look with Saala.
“Interesting,” said the blademaster.
Ben felt like he’d missed part of the conversation. He was interrupted from further questions though when they got to the entrance of the Flying Swan Inn and were nearly trampled by two massive, grim-faced and block-shaped men who pushed their way out the door.
An angry-looking Mathias was standing near the entry when they got in. “Who were those men?” inquired Ben. It was clear Mathias been upset by them.
“Trouble,” grunted the barkeep. “More for you than me, though.”
“Trouble for me? What do you mean?” asked Ben.
“Let’s sit down.” Mathias motioned to an empty table near the back of the room away from the afternoon crowd. “Claudia, a pitcher of Ben’s lager please.”
Saala and Rhys had both gone into alert mode when their friend Ma
thias mentioned trouble, but the threat had obviously passed for now.
“Those were Gulli’s men,” explained Mathias when they sat down.
“Gulli?” asked Ben. He looked to Saala and Rhys but Saala was as confused looking as he was. Rhys, though, looked concerned. Unusual for him.
“I suppose it’s really Lord Gulli,” continued Mathias, “although he doesn’t act like any lord I’ve heard of. He runs a lot of businesses in the City. Everything from gambling dens and brothels to a team of masons and a linen factory. Most importantly for you, though, he has the largest brewery in the City and supplies ale to over half the taverns on this island. You must be getting a lot of interest in your brew for his boys to start making house calls.”
“Business has been good,” replied Ben cautiously. “We sell to you and a few other taverns now, but it’s not like we’re any threat to an operation like that. I’m only doing about forty kegs a week.”
“You’re selling to more places,” broke in Rhys. “I thought you were going to keep it small?”
Ben frowned. “Renfro really pushed to expand. He’s been so unhappy here that I thought it’d give him something to keep occupied.”
“Well, it must have been enough,” added Mathias. “Gulli’s goons were asking about you and whether I’d consider switching to another supplier—that being Gulli of course. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got enough friends that I’m not intimidated by his thugs, but some of the other tavern owners might be. More importantly, you better watch your back. I’ve heard stories about Gulli before and he plays dirty. Competitors have had their stores trashed and there are rumors people have turned up badly injured or missing. He’s tight somehow with senior members of the Sanctuary, so even though there are a lot of rumors, the City Watch hasn’t stepped in. He thinks he’s outside of the law and he’s very, very dangerous.”