The Eighth Born: Book 1 of the Pankaran Chronicles

by C. Night

  She held his eye for a long moment, then abruptly returned to her paperwork. “And so, without further ado, we your review committee have your offers of tutelage. We will present them to you now, and you have until eleven o’clock tomorrow morning to decide upon the path of your apprenticeship, where you will report here again to give us your answer. The Academy will help you with your travel preparations to get to your place of apprenticeship, and then you will leave us. Your offers are as follows:

  “Master Cane in Bryburton, level of wizard, offers you tutelage in the subject of Healing. Mistress Eufonza in the Academy of Ikha, level witch, Astronomy and Astrology.” Rhyen did not know Cane, but had studied under Eufonza for the past several years. She had a voice like a bullfrog and always smelled strongly of cats. Additionally, she had a rather irritable habit of tossing books at students who answered questions incorrectly, losing papers, and upending bottles of ink over the heads of unwary students. Rhyen privately thought that Eufonza would be the last person he would willing choose to apprentice with.

  “Master Frey in Laynda, magician, Healing, specifically in the arena of apothecary. Master Londen in Corna, wizard, Politics. Master Tressa in Corna, wizard, Libraries and Ancient Scrolls.” Boon continued. Rhyen did not know any of these masters. He had never been to Corna, although he’d always wanted to go and possessed a love for books. So far Master Tressa seemed like his best bet.

  “Master Tulin in the Academy of Ikha, wizard, Sciences, specifically potions and alchemy,” droned Madame Boon. “Madame Wing in Far Fletchly, witch, Veterinary and Studies of Magical Beasts. And finally, Master Zaronis in Vanko, wizard, Swordsmanship and the Art of War.”

  She looked down at Rhyen again. “These are the offers of apprenticeship that you have received. You have, as I stated earlier, until tomorrow at eleven o’clock to evaluate your options, and then we your review committee will require your decision. Afterwards, you will join your committee for your graduation luncheon, and then the Academy will assist you with your travel preparations. You may take your list of offers on your way out. That will be all.”

  Madame Boon turned to the professor at her left and engaged him in conversation at once. The other teachers began to stand up, stretching and chatting. Rhyen was a little taken aback. It was a rather abrupt ending, after all. Feeling a little foolish, he stood up and walked up the steps to Boon. She ignored him and continued talking to Master Rey, professor of Commerce. After a moment Rhyen cleared his throat. She pushed his list toward him without looking up from her conversation. Feeling unimportant and insignificant, Rhyen slowly took his list and made his way to the entry hall.

  Once outside into the warm summer air, Rhyen glanced down at the paper clutched in his hand. Overall, there was a feeling of let down. He had expected something far grander for his 18th Naming ceremony than the short, slightly accusing lecture that left him with a rather long list and a few hours to choose the course of his destiny.

  But how was he to choose? Rhyen desperately wished that the committee had given him at least some direction for his particular affinity. Most wielders had an affinity for a certain Elemental type. For example, a wielder with an affinity for Air might be able to easily float things, hold their breath for abnormal amounts of time, never lose their hats to a wayward wind, or, if very powerful, fly like a bird. Magic wielders with an Air affinity might find work in anything related to the sky or the wind and might find an apprenticeship with, say, Mistress Euphonza in astronomy and astrology compelling. But without any guess at all of his affinity, Rhyen was at a loss. Again he wondered if the best way to pick was to simply close his eyes and jab a quill at the page, apprenticing with whomever it landed on.

  Stop, Rhyen told himself sternly. Look at this from a researching perspective. You can at least narrow it down. But it was as though the offers were written in Troll, for all that he understood them. His eyes frantically slid across the letters, but his blank mind took in nothing. So he just stood there in the cobbled courtyard, trees rustling in the wind, the clatter of dishes from the not too distant dining hall clanging in his ears, holding his paper toward the moonlight to look at his offers.

  And that was where Cazing found him as he came out of the Hall. Something in Rhyen’s bewildered stance must have touched Cazing, because he kindly walked over and put a comforting hand on his pupil’s shoulder.

  “See? That wasn’t so bad, Rhyen. You were worrying over nothing,” he said, patting his shoulder.

  “How am I supposed to do this, Master? I-I don’t know what to do…I thought they would tell me my affinity, and without knowing that, how can I choose?” Rhyen said quietly without looking up. Although on the edge of eighteen, his voice sounded small and scared, like it did when he had first arrived at the Academy eight years ago.

  “The same way you make all life decisions, I suppose,” said Cazing loftily, rummaging in his pocket for his pipe. “Go with the one that you think is the right choice.”

  That made Rhyen laugh. “But which one is right?” Cazing said nothing, and Rhyen was afraid he had thought the question rhetorical. So he asked, “Seriously, Master, what would you do?”

  Cazing didn’t respond, but concentrated on his endeavor of lighting his pipe. He must go through barrels of tobacco every year, Rhyen thought a little admiringly. How was he so healthy all the time?

  At last, through a mouthful of smoke, Cazing replied. “I’d choose wisely.”

  Rhyen resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was very fond of Cazing, who was certainly his favorite teacher, but he was undoubtedly cryptic at times, and always frustratingly unruffled. Rhyen folded his paper and stowed it in his robes.

  “Thanks. That’s really helpful advice,” Rhyen said slightly sarcastically.

  “It is, isn’t it?” Cazing tapped his chin with his pipe. “I surprise even myself sometimes. Now, since you are leaving tomorrow, and I can’t help but take most of the credit for your education, I suggest that we go celebrate.” He turned to Rhyen and grinned. “You like wine, I’m guessing?”

  “Yeah!” said Rhyen enthusiastically, forgetting his annoyance at once. He had only had wine on very rare occasions, as it wasn’t served in the Academy’s dining hall and had to be smuggled in by older, more daring students.

  “Good. Then we’ll go to my office and have a nightcap. Might help you make up your mind. This way!”

  Chapter 2

  Cazing veered left across the cobbled courtyard as Rhyen tagged along after him. The moonlight threw the tall brick and stone buildings into sharp relief against the shadows of the trees lining the avenue. There was moisture in the air, and a rumbling of thunder away in the distance. The cool droplets clung to Rhyen as he walked, chilling him despite the warm air.

  He had never been to Cazing’s office. In fact, he didn’t know of any other student who had been there either. Rhyen was very curious to see what Cazing’s personal quarters were like. It was hard to imagine him living outside the classroom, probably because it was hard to even imagine Cazing in the classroom in the first place.

  Together, they walked through an alley that routed them behind the circular Astronomy building with its open roof for star gazing, and up a back set of stairs to the very top of the teacher’s quarters. When they reached the top of the stairs, Cazing busied himself with the handle of the door on the left, and in half a second Rhyen heard the lock click. Cazing opened the door and indicated that Rhyen should enter.

  As soon as his foot crossed the threshold, the lamps and lanterns in the room burst into light, and a crackling fire began burning at the far end of the room. Rhyen paused. Cazing ran into him as he entered. “What?” The master asked, edging around him. Rhyen was glancing suspiciously at the fireplace.

  “How did the lamps and fire light, sir?” Rhyen said, pointing toward them. Cazing carelessly glanced at the fireplace before tossing his formal cords on the coat rack.

  “
Must’ve left them burning,” he said casually. “Have a seat.”

  Rhyen looked at him. Hadn’t the apartment been dark a second earlier?

  “You can sit here,” said Cazing, turning the desk chair towards the small table in front of the fire.

  “Thanks,” mumbled Rhyen, sitting down. He glanced curiously around Cazing’s office.

  There was an unmade bed shoved in the far right corner, with a mountain of books piled beside it. A mirror was hung crookedly on the wall over a low table that was mounded with clothes. In the left corner there was another table with drawers built into the underside, with dishes stacked in an orderly manner. Rhyen could see a few loaves of bread, a wheel of cheese, and a bowl of apples on the table. Pots and pans hung from the ceiling, as well as herbs and a few sausage links, and there was a cushioned chair placed cozily in front of the fire. Next to the chair stood a smaller table, where a kettle was waiting. A giant desk stood against the final wall, littered with scraps of paper, smoking pipes, maps, tobaccos, quills, and bottles of ink. The papers rustled slightly in a breeze coming from the small window crammed in the corner over the desk that was partially opened to accommodate what looked like a small drain pipe pushed through the bottom of it. Below the pipe was a bucket, and hanging from a nail on the wall was a towel.

  Rhyen relaxed as he inspected the room. It was more or less what he had imagined Cazing’s living quarters to be, had he ever taken the time to imagine them at all. As he settled into his chair, he realized that his seat felt lumpy. Frowning, he reached a hand underneath his buttocks and extracted an empty inkbottle and a handful of cracker crumbs. He glanced at Cazing, who was fussing at the large table with the food and dishes in the corner opposite of where Rhyen sat. Rhyen gently placed the inkbottle behind him on the desk and tossed the crumbs into the fire.

  “Can I do anything?” Rhyen asked.

  “Fill the kettle,” Cazing ordered gruffly. Rhyen pushed back his chair and stood, grabbing the kettle and making for the door.

  “Spigot.”

  Rhyen looked at Cazing, confused. “Sorry?”

  “Use the spigot.”

  Rhyen looked at the drainpipe sticking through the window. On closer inspection he saw that there was a small cap on the end. Curiously he took it off, and the resulting gush of water surprised him and soaked his front. Hastily he thrust the kettle under the stream, and within seconds it was filled. Rhyen replaced the cap and turned back to the table. Before he sat down he hung the kettle from a hook directly over the fire.

  In the time it took for Rhyen to fill the kettle, Cazing had thrown an impressive spread on the small table. There was a thick, moist chocolate cake, slices of aromatic bread, bright chunks of yellow cheese, spicy sausages, crisp apples, and two glasses of wine so large they were almost vats. Cazing was working on filling his plate and, after a second, Rhyen did so as well.

  There was silence as they both worked through their mountains of food. While he ate, Rhyen marveled at the spigot. How wonderful it would be to have a water pipe in one’s room, not having to run down the stairs whenever water was needed. Cazing must have a huge tank on the roof that he fills occasionally, Rhyen mused, and the pipe runs from it down to the spigot in his window. He voiced this thought to his teacher.

  “That sounds plausible,” Cazing said, nodding over his sausage.

  “Well, isn’t that how it works?” asked Rhyen through a mouthful of bread.

  “It certainly could work that way, yes,” agreed Cazing. The kettle began to whine. Cazing gathered a handful of his robes and lifted the kettle from its hook. “Tea?”

  Rhyen swallowed the last of his wine. “Yes, thank you. This wine was delicious, though.”

  “I’d offer you more of that but we seem to have finished the bottle!” Cazing reached behind him and snatched two mugs off the table. He threw a pinch of leaves into each mug and filled them with the boiling water. He pushed a cup to Rhyen and settled back in his chair, his own mug cradled between his hands.

  A comfortable silence stretched between them. After awhile, Rhyen spoke. “Master Cazing, which apprenticeship do you think I should choose?”

  Cazing looked sternly at Rhyen over the rim of his cup. He raised an eyebrow. “I’ve already answered that, Rhyen. Choose the right one.”

  “Yes, but how do I know which one is right? They didn’t tell me my affinity! How can I know which field to go into if I don’t know my affinity?”

  “Well, first of all, you need to clear that thought from your mind. Not every magic wielder has an affinity. It’s true that most do have a specialty of some sort, you know, Elemental such as Earth or Fire, and therefore they find they can do magic easiest in that field, but not everyone has it. So forget about that, and focus on picking the right choice for you!” said Cazing rather harshly.

  Rhyen was taken aback. He had hoped that Cazing would help him decide when he invited him to dinner, but it seemed that all he would do is repeat his advice from earlier. Rhyen frowned a tad sulkily. He thought the advice had originally been given as a joke.

  But Rhyen was still a little hopeful that Cazing would at least tell him what he would do if in that situation, so he sat a little longer, sipping his tea slowly. “This is really good tea,” he said finally when his cup was drained.

  “I think so too. A friend of mine from Corna gave it to me.”

  Rhyen sat up. “Corna? Have you been there?”

  Cazing chuckled. “Of course! Many, many times.”

  “I’ve never been,” said Rhyen enviously. “Does the air really smell salty?”

  Cazing laughed. “If you’re on the nice side of the city! It smells fishy, down by the docks.”

  The capital of Conden, Corna was a port city, so massive that it would take several days to walk it from one edge to the other. Ikha was a big city, as far as cities go, but even including the Academy, it’s population and size were equal to only a fraction of Corna. Rhyen was from a small town as far from Corna as possible, on the east side of Conden. He had always longed to visit Corna, and, since becoming a student, had wanted specifically to see the Great Library, which was bigger than the whole campus of the Academy.

  “I have a few offers in Corna,” mused Rhyen thoughtfully. “Maybe I should choose one of them just so I can live there?”

  “I’d visit Corna first,” said Cazing, grinning.

  “How did you pick your apprenticeship, sir? And what was it?” Rhyen surprised himself by asking. He didn’t usually blurt out questions like this, but he was feeling very free at the moment.

  Cazing scratched his chin. “You know, I don’t remember. It was too long ago.”

  Rhyen scoffed. Too long ago? Cazing barely looked forty! But, Rhyen supposed, it had been a rather prying question. He shook his head, looking at what remained of the crushed tea leaves in his empty mug. Which to choose?

  “You know,” Cazing said, watching Rhyen closely out of the corner of his eyes, “you don’t have to choose one of those apprenticeships, if you don’t want to.”

  Rhyen blinked. “What? But I have to give the committee my decision tomorrow at eleven…”

  “True. But if you don’t think any of those are suitable apprenticeships for you, you can suggest your own.”

  “Suggest my own?” Rhyen crinkled his brow in thought. “You you mean I could just ask someone to be my master and give me an apprenticeship?” he inquired doubtfully.

  “You could. It is allowed.” Cazing said. His face was perfectly blank, yet Rhyen sensed that his teacher was trying to tell him something. Whatever it was, Rhyen had the sinking sensation that he’d missed the hint.

  “Just food for thought, Rhyen. In case you don’t like any of your offers.” Cazing said dismissively. He took of sip of tea, letting the moment pass.

  Rhyen stared at his empty cup again, thinking. Suddenly motivated to review his list and
make a decision, he set his cup on the table. Before he could say anything, Cazing stood.

  “Well, Rhyen, I’ve been glad to teach you all these years. Best of luck to you.” He stuck out his hand, and Rhyen got to his feet and grasped it. “You’ll make the right choice. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir. Thanks for dinner, it was really good,” said Rhyen, honest and genuinely pleased with the meal. He was still a little disappointed with the lack of assistance, but brushed the feeling aside as he grinned at his teacher. It’s not everyone who get’s to eat with Cazing. I should turn eighteen every day. “Way better than the dining hall food!”

  Cazing snorted. “That’s why I eat it.”

  Cazing waved him away, and Rhyen stepped out onto the staircase, closing the door behind him. He started down the stairs, trying to recall all of the offers. He was a little lightheaded from the wine. One healing, one swordsmanship, one science, no two healing, he thought distractedly as he weaved his way down the stairs. Rhyen hadn’t realized the effect of the wine until he stood up, and now, as he maneuvered the steps, he was feeling a little uneasy on his legs.

  There was a bench just across the walkway beyond last stair step. Rhyen clumsily made his was over to it and gratefully collapsed on its cold iron surface. He was definitely feeling nauseas now. Oh, gods, how much did I drink? Rhyen moaned and tilted his head back, pulling in shallow gulps of the now cool night air. The humidity was stifling through the chill, and Rhyen was quite sure he was going to be sick.

  He lost track of the time as he sat there, fighting wave after wave of nausea. Eventually the world stopped spinning, and the bench stopped rocking. Rhyen was afraid to move, and so pulled his list out of his pocket, intending to study it right there on the bench with his feet planted firmly on the ground. His hands shook slightly as he unfolded the scrap of paper, but his head was getting progressively clearer.