by Guy Antibes
“Perform?”
Saganet narrowed his eyes and peered at Ricky, who stuffed another large forkful of food into his mouth. “You haven’t heard of Performance Sorcery?”
Ricky shook his head. “There are sorcerers in markets that collect coins after they do tricks.”
“I suppose those in Shantyboat Town don’t have much coin to go to a theater.”
After gulping down his food, Ricky said, “Nor the finery to wear to one. Some of my, uh, acquaintances look for the well-dressed to pick their pockets.”
“You never picked pockets?”
Ricky shook his head. “No. Gobble had me take things that he could sell. Most of what I took was from Tossa’s markets where there were lots of people to use as cover.”
“Quickly, high-level sorcerers display their talents in a theater setting. Their performances are incomparable to a busker sorcerer in a market. They can make a lot of money. Merry used to produce such performances before she came to the academy. You can get better details from her.”
“How did you meet Mistress Doubli?”
“Ah, she is my late wife’s younger sister. I’ve known Merry for years. If my wife were alive, she’d be the Dean.”
“So you have your position and your cottage because of your influence?”
Saganet’s lips curled on one end. “You are a smart little fellow. You’ll get a lot smarter before you leave Doubli Academy.”
“It won’t take much,” Ricky said. He felt a bit intimidated by all the buildings and all the students learning from the professors. “I suppose we can stop sharing secrets, now.”
“I’d like you to share your secrets with me anytime you feel like it, Ricky. I didn’t think it when I first met you, but I imagine we are going to be good for each other.”
Ricky didn’t understand how he would be good for Saganet, but even if he was a sorcerer, he really did want to learn how to wield a sword. For now, he was content to relish the best meal he had ever eaten in his life.
~
After the fainting incident, Ricky didn’t attempt to sing or hum. A few days later, he bent over to pick up an errant piece of paper when someone pushed his rear, making him fall face forward in the dirt.
“Hey, scum,” a boy’s voice said behind him.
Ricky quickly got to his feet, fists clenched, ready for a fight. He’d been in plenty before. He turned around to see a youth half-a-head taller than Ricky with a younger-seeming voice.
The messenger glanced at Ricky and then looked away. “The Dean wants to see you. I’m to escort you to her office.”
“Why did you push me?”
“Why not?” the youth said. “You are a servant, and servants are supposed to put up with the caprice of their betters.”
Ricky didn’t know what ‘caprice’ meant, but he rose and dusted off. He grabbed his gardening tools and took off towards the garden shed.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to put these away and wash my hands and face before I see Mistress Doubli.”
“Dean Doubli to you, boy.”
Ricky ignored the bully as he continued on his way.
“I’ve given you the message. Tell the Dean that I did.”
Ricky turned around. “Do you trust a mere servant to inform her?”
The other boy grunted unpleasantly, but he followed Ricky. The two of them walked out of the quadrangles to Jock’s shed where Ricky removed his apron, gloves, and put his weeding tool in a bucket full of garden implements. After washing in a water basin, he headed to the Administration Building.
The messenger trailed behind until Ricky opened the door to the building. The boy pushed Ricky aside and rushed ahead of him up the back stairs to the second floor. Ricky watched him disappear up the stairs. He’d take his time. He had no idea what the Dean had summoned him for.
“Where is he, Victor?” Marissa’s lady secretary said.
“Here I am,” Ricky said, just entering the Dean’s foyer. “Did Mistress Doubli want me?”
The secretary nodded. “You may go,” she said, dismissing the messenger.
Victor looked crestfallen. “I can’t report that the servant is here to the Dean?”
At that moment the door opened. “Is Ricky here?”
Victor’s eyes widened. “Ricky?” His eyes turned to Ricky.
“Yes,” Ricky said. “I’m here, Dean Doubli.”
“Please come in.” Mistress Doubli said. “You are?” she said to the messenger.
“Victor Taranta, first year, Dean.”
“Thank you. Please return to the reception desk downstairs. I believe you have another hour or so to serve?”
Ricky looked at the clock on the foyer wall. Victor’s time ended at noon.
Mistress Doubli looked at the clock, following Ricky’s example. “Tea and cookies, for the boy and me.” She ushered Ricky into her office.
Ricky looked back at Victor through the closing doors. He didn’t like the ugly expression on the messenger’s face.
After sitting down on overstuffed chairs by Mistress Doubli’s fireplace, she leaned over towards Ricky. “I was at a Count’s estate for a few days. I came back and asked Saggy how you were doing, and he told me your story.”
“My story?” Ricky said, feigning surprise.
She grinned at Ricky. “You are a sly one. You know what I mean. Fainting after spelling weeds out of the soil. I didn’t know you could do such things.”
“Neither did I,” Ricky said. “I didn’t spell weeds. I made the soil loose, so I didn’t have to dig the roots out.”
“Still more than you should have. You have to be careful. Creating energy without understanding what you are doing has dire consequences.”
“Mine weren’t so dire, Dean,” Ricky said. “I only fainted.”
“I won’t have you putting yourself at risk. I’ve decided to have you start Beginning Sorcery next week. The first few months do not involve spells, but learning about power and its limitations. You may know a few things about sorcery, but I don’t want another report of your passing out doing something you’ve never done before.”
“I thought I had to work for some time before I earn a scholarship.”
Marissa gave Ricky a sly look. “Did I say you didn’t? You’ll be working a bit less, but going to more classes. I sent a list to Saganet, who will arrange your late entry. The school has been in session for a month, and you’ve some catching up to do.”
“Won’t Jock miss my work?”
Mistress Doubli shook her head. “You’ve been weeding. We generally give that duty to miscreants like that boy who brought you here. Don’t worry about the academy. Worry about yourself. Is that acceptable?”
“I have experience at looking out for myself, if I may say so, Dean.”
She leaned over and took Ricky’s hand. “You have. You have, poor dear.” She glanced at the clock over her mantle. “You can still get some gardening time in before lunch. I think Saggy is cooking the midday meal himself.”
Ricky nodded. Saganet wasn’t the best cook, he had found out. His best meal remained his first dinner at the commissary.
~
On his way from Jock’s shed, Ricky wondered what he’d have to put up with for his lunch. Perhaps he should have left a bit earlier and offered to cook. It was nearly time for him to take over some of the cooking, but Ricky’s culinary ability barely exceeded his guardian’s.
He strolled into the cottage and immediately his nose told him about something delicious.
“Saganet, I’m back,” Ricky called. “Whatever you’ve made it smells great.”
“Thank you,” a female voice said. Ricky walked into the kitchen to see a youngish woman with dark curly hair wearing one of Saganet’s aprons.
“Who are you?”
“I am my father’s daughter, and who are you?”
“I’m Ricky.”
“Hendrico Valian is your proper name.”
“It is,” Ricky s
aid. “Ah. You must be Mina Doria, Saganet’s daughter.”
“I am, and soon to be one of your teachers. Father asked me to join you for lunch to talk about the start of your education.”
“What do you teach?”
“Parantian. You are mostly illiterate, so we have to change that as soon as possible.”
“What are you cooking?”
“An Applian lamb dish that Father likes. It may be a bit spicy for you, but I didn’t make it quite so pungent this time.”
“How often do you cook for Saganet?”
“Rarely. We don’t like people to be reminded that we are father and daughter. We aren’t really very close since Mother died, but he suggested that we go over your schedule while eating. He seems to think eating is the avenue to peaceful meetings. I’m not sure that’s always the case.”
Ricky would agree with that. Gobble had ruined plenty of meals for him. His grandfather generally ended mealtime arguments by throwing their food out one of the windows. Ricky didn’t think he’d have to worry about that with Professor Doria.
“You look young for a professor.”
“I graduated from the University of Sealio with honors three years ago. It helps to get a position when the Dean is your aunt.”
“That’s right,” Ricky admitted. He should have thought of that. All the pieces were there, and he had failed to pick them up. “Where is Saganet?”
“He’ll be here in a minute. Father went to the commissary to get some of that lemonade they serve there.”
Ricky would have been happy with clear fresh water. The novelty of having drinkable water that you could pump in your own kitchen hadn’t yet worn off.
“I’ll be in my room,” Ricky said. He was a little uncomfortable around the woman who would be teaching him to read and write. Ricky didn’t like revealing a weakness, and illiteracy was a big one at the Doubli Academy.
Ricky never thought he was a nervous kind of person, but he sat down on his bed and found himself a bit short of breath. He took some deep breaths to gather some calmness. He stared at the empty desk in his room. He might actually have books to read and writing materials sitting there shortly. The prospect seemed foreign to him. Perhaps the Juvenile Home in Applia might be more appealing than facing the prospect of having to learn his letters with so many people looking on.
He stood up as straight as he could and lifted up on his tiptoes taking another deep breath and as he exhaled he lowered himself. He did that a few times until he heard the door open and Saganet greeting his daughter.
Ricky bit his lower lip and entered the cottage’s living room.
“I assume you have already met Mina.”
Ricky nodded to his guardian.
“Good. I brought some lemonade. I don’t know if you’ve had any or not before.”
“I have, in the market.”
“This will be better, I’m sure.”
Mina smiled at him. Her expression revealed that she knew how he felt. Ricky didn’t feel pity from his future instructor, but encouragement. He’d rarely seen that look in his life.
“Sit,” she said. “Lunch is done.”
Ricky smelled fresh bread.
“I also snatched some rolls that just came out of the oven,” Saganet said, “along with some butter. You should like our lunch. Mina is a better cook than I am.”
“I should be,” she said, reproving her father by flashing her eyes.
They ate their meal. Ricky liked it better than what he had eaten at the commissary. The rolls, the little loaves of bread, were so fresh and hot that they melted the butter.
“You must like Mina’s cooking,” Saganet said.
Ricky nodded his head.
“Good. Now we can get down to business,” Ricky’s guardian said. “Feel free to stuff yourself a bit more as we talk.”
Ricky had the same thought.
“Father says you are smart enough to handle some extra tutoring.”
“Probably,” Ricky said. Anything to cut down the time it took to read the books that were sure to fill his desk. He felt a new sense of pressure put on him by his new acquaintances. The changes were fast and coming faster.
“I’ll want you to come to my class mid-afternoon,” Mina said. “You’ll be starting your classes on the first day of the week after Restday. How much do you know?”
“I can write my name, but I don’t know all the letters.”
“I’ll give you a simple primer. Father can show you the letters and the names and sounds. I want those memorized by Firstday when we meet. In class, just listen to what I say and try not to be bored. You won’t know much.”
“How can I be in a class with people who can read?”
“You won’t. There are other illiterates at the academy. Most of them have shown sorcery potential like you, and a few are soldiers’ sons who have shown promise at arms.”
“How many?”
“Fourteen students. Three girls and eleven boys.”
“So I’m not alone?” Ricky said.
“No, but you can’t stay in that class for long. Students who can’t learn their letters quickly enough are sent home.”
Ricky mulled over what Mina said. No wonder they ate before they talked. Ricky had lost his appetite. “I don’t have a home.”
“Don’t worry,” Saganet said. “Between Mina and me, you’ll succeed.”
He didn’t dwell on potential failure. It was just another possibility.
“We can get started tonight?” For all his fears, Ricky knew the best way to overcome them was to forge ahead. When Gobble asked him to steal something, Ricky learned that being tentative made it much harder. His current tasks probably were no different.
“You don’t have to,” Saganet said.
“Sooner the better.” Ricky snatched the last roll and put a dollop of butter on the inside after he broke it in two. “I’ll finish this last one, after all.”
~~~
Chapter Six
~
T he old robe scratched Ricky’s neck as he followed the map that Saganet had scrawled to find all the classes. He sat in the back since he audited. Saganet told him that a few students audited each class, and the professors ignored them once they found out. That suited Ricky until he could function like a real student.
The morning classes consisted of history and arithmetic. Ricky just listened to Professor Denata from Garantine, one of the Hessilian city-states to the south of Paranty, drone on about Paranty’s pre-council days. Arithmetic was more interesting since Ricky found he knew more of his numbers than he thought.
Other students carried books, but Ricky just brought an old worn notebook that Saganet had found and a pencil that, at this point, only served its purpose for doodling, as Saganet said. The first few pages were filled with doodles. Saganet admitted that those were his.
Ricky worked for a couple of hours, eating day-old bread and butter for lunch. Even stale, Ricky enjoyed the butter, something he never had in Shantyboat Town. He was the first one to show up for Professor Dari Calasay’s sorcery class. The tall, thin woman frowned at the note Saganet had written on a page in the notebook.
“Hendrico Valian, eh? Any relation to Adapo Valian, the prominent performance sorcerer?”
Ricky had never heard the name before and shook his head. “I’ve only got my grandfather, Gobble Bangatelli.”
The few students that had already drifted in giggled at the name.
“Mistress Doubli says you have potential, but potential won’t get you very far in my class. I demand discipline so you may practice sorcery with control. We don’t even test students until after the second month, so if you have a favorite tune, don’t hum or sing in class. There will be time enough to show off your immature power later,” Professor Calasay said. “Sit in the back and be silent, but don’t think I’ll be any less strict with an audit student.”
“Don’t worry about me, Professor Calasay.”
“I won’t.”
Profe
ssor Calasay looked down at papers on her desk. Ricky knew the woman had dismissed him.
The class filled up. Ricky sat at the very back on the side farthest from the lectern. He thought Sorcery would be interesting, but he suspected Professor Calasay would do her best to make the course tough.
Ricky noticed Victor, the messenger, saunter into class with three other boys just after the Professor rang the starting bell.
“Victor Taranta. Wasn’t your stint as a messenger enough of a warning?”
“My father said he sent you a note about that.”
Professor Calasay lifted her thin eyebrows and gazed at Victor with hooded eyes. “I read his note. Evidently, you didn’t read it. He told me to treat you like any other student.”
Victor loosened the fancy starched collar that poked out of the top of his robe. “He did?”
“I wish,” Professor Calasay said. “Just watch yourself. I can only take outside interference so far, young Taranta.”
Victor presented a smug smile to the rest of the class before he sat down. Ricky’s first impression of Victor hadn’t changed a bit, but his view of Professor Calasay improved by her comment ‘I wish.' Ricky guessed that she was strict, but perhaps her behavior hid an engaging personality.
“This is our first real class for the course after the mess with the schedules last week. For those of you who were here, this will be an excellent review.”
Professor Calasay lectured for the next hour about sorcery. Her views didn’t differ significantly from Mistress Doubli’s and Saganet’s description of magic and sorcery, but Ricky did learn about the four levels of sorcery: Hum, Chant, Sing, and Shout.
Ricky now knew why Mistress Doubli had been impressed by Ricky’s trick. Few sorcerers could master repeatable spells using Shout. Ricky knew he could. He had hummed his way into oblivion when softening the ground for his weeding. The class answered a few questions, but there had to be more to magic than what she described.
Some students asked stupid questions, but eventually, Professor Calasay reiterated the warnings of Ricky’s mentors.
“The reason we teach fundamental principles in the first year is that juvenile voices are unsuited to sorcery, especially boys before and during the period when their voices change. Most of you gentlemen haven’t had to deal with that, yet, but you will. Sorcery requires the precision of matching your internal resonance with the imposition of will. Intoning the wrong kind of resonance usually results in nothing happening, but in some cases, unintended consequences may occur. Such consequences include death. One of our students died last year from those unintended consequences. We will go over what causes those in our next session. Class dismissed.”