by Guy Antibes
Pol noticed a rumbling in his stomach. “What about food?”
“Rule #4.” The young man tapped his finger on a sheet of paper that Pol hadn’t gotten to yet. “Food and personal hygiene. Even though we dress like waifs, the monks want us healthy.”
“What’s the food like?” Pol thought that question would be something that Nater might lead with.
“We’re all nobles, so it isn’t bad. We can’t eat until the monks are served, and there’s room in the dining hall. So it’s not hot, but we can eat all of what’s left.”
Pol ostensibly looked at his map to find the dining hall, although he had the locations memorized.
“There,” the boy pointed to an unmarked building. The monks certainly didn’t make the first impression a priority. “There are shifts for us.”
Pol nodded when he noticed the eating shifts. He thought they were for helping out in the kitchen.
“So what do I do?”
“First day? Once you get your hair shaved, you can walk around the monastery, but carry that map with you. Familiarize yourself with where things are. You’ll definitely be on the lists tomorrow.” The acolyte looked up and down at the papers and found what he was looking for. “Gotta run. Welcome to Tesna.”
Pol smiled. Finally, he had met a friendly person. He walked out of the assignment room and headed out the front door.
“There’s the new guy,” the acolyte he had just met yelled. Pol stood there while he was mercilessly pelted with eggs.
~~~
CHAPTER SIX
~
POL HAD TO USE THE MAP TO FIND the washing building before he could go to the tonsorium, the place where they shaved heads. He threw his robe in with others that he was given to wash. Acolyte robes were interchangeable, so Pol put on one already dry and walked over to the tonsorium. He had to wait in a long line to get his turn.
“A newbie, eh?” an older servant said. He had to be a servant since he wore hair down to his shoulders. Evidently they used outside help to keep the monk’s heads shaved.
“I am that. I arrived midday,” Pol said.
“Make sure you visit me once a week or so. If your hair becomes visible from across a room, it’s time to make it smooth again.”
Pol kept a straight face. How could he possibly see his hair from across a room? “Can’t the monks use magic to shave their heads?”
“The better monks do, but it takes a monk a number of years to progress in the use of order to do it. You can wait. I like this job, so don’t learn too soon!” the man said, smiling.
“Okay,” Pol said. “Do your job.”
The man slathered on foam that he worked up in a mug and coated Pol’s head. At least he was very experienced. Before he knew it, Pol walked out of the tonsorium. His head was much colder, as he walked through the outside air.
So much for his day to roam the monastery. It wouldn’t surprise him that his schedule was full of menial assignments. With the exception of classes, Deftnis was actually set up much the same. He shook his head, wondering what Nater might have done when covered with broken eggs.
When he made it back to the dining hall, someone had poured salt into his water cup at the evening meal. He was ready to slide into bed, but found that another acolyte had stolen the covers and pillows from all of the beds.
Hazing was a punishable offense at Deftnis, but he tried to take his current indignities in stride.
Pol woke that night to someone pounding on his door.
“Services. Get up and don’t dawdle.”
After rubbing sleep out of his eyes and spelling a tiny magic light, Pol donned his robe and joined the flow of acolytes out of the building into a large meeting hall. Once inside, it looked more like a church of some kind. The acolytes took the back rows, and Pol blinked away the sleep that threatened. He noticed that others had succumbed to slumber. He looked ahead to see robed monks scamper to take seats closer to the front.
An older monk in a white velvet robe trimmed in ermine and gold bands around the sleeves approached the lectern. He raised his hands and the clatter ceased.
“The time is nearly upon us,” the monk began. “The great god Tesna’s work is in its final stages, and you are all enlisted in the task to rebuild the world.”
Pol furrowed his brow. What was all the nonsense? Rebuild the world? A god named Tesna? He had never run across such a religion in the text that he had studied a bit more that a year ago. It was supposed to have been comprehensive, but the author missed this. With all the monks Tesna had, Pol was surprised this hadn’t gotten out.
The man in white raised his hands again, and Pol sensed a pressure in his head. He immediately raised a shield against the truth spell that Val had taught him on the way from Boxall around his head, but the pressure remained. He could see all those around him closing their eyes, so he did the same.
“You are part of a great undertaking where Tesna and his servants will rule the world. You are to tell no one of our plans to conquer the land. You are to be diligent in your pursuit of magic, and if you are an acolyte, you are to be diligent in your service to others in the monastery. You will always speak the truth to a monk and do whatever he tells you.
“Monks, carry out your duties with energy and with an eye singled to the glory of Tesna. Our great and awful purpose is to spread his grace throughout the world. Be kind to your friends and merciless to your enemies. You will internalize my words, and act on them silently and willingly.”
The monk clapped his hands, and after a moment of silence, the congregation clapped in response. The rest of the service consisted of another monk spouting off on the inward attribute of Tesna, the Three-Sighted God. Pol noticed the other acolytes beginning to yawn, which made him do the same thing.
With the service complete, the acolytes filed out first and drifted more than anything else towards their barracks with the lure of more sleep.
Pol lay back in his bed, a pair of rolled up pants for a pillow. He used his cloak for a blanket when he finally became chilled in the middle of the night. Luckily, being in the basement meant some protection from the chilly night.
Now he knew why he hadn’t learned very much about the Tesnan religion in the book of religion. Other religions worshipped a three-sighted god. Not all of them looked in the same directions. What the man said about diligence wouldn’t change Pol’s behavior, since he intended to abide by the rules wherever he could.
Coming out of his room in the morning, he stumbled over the room’s bedding. He didn’t have much time, so he threw the bedclothes on the table and closed the door.
His fellow acolytes, uniformly younger than those at Deftnis, weren’t particularly unfriendly, but made good-natured jokes about their pranks. Pol found it easy enough to laugh along with them, not something that Nater would have done, but Pol didn’t want to antagonize his peers.
After an early breakfast, acolytes crowded into the tiny assignment room, searching for their assignments. Pol noticed that Nater’s name now appeared in a few of the duty postings. He memorized his work for the next few days and found that he had only two classes to attend.
Another sheet had him scheduled for a meeting. He had to hurry to visit Monk Harian. Pol had to push his way out of the room and then made his way to Baster Hall. Pol had no idea who Baster was, but he entered into the stone building, not much warmer than the cool morning outside.
A monk stopped Pol. “Who are you to see?”
“Monk Harian.”
The monk pointed up one of two stairways that rose from the lobby. “The left one. His name is on a door midway down the corridor.”
Pol bowed. He had no idea how to act in the presence of monks and soon knocked on Monk Harian’s door.
“Come.”
Pol used his locator spell to identify two individuals inside. He pulled on his robe to straighten it out and entered.
“Nater Grainell?”
Pol nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Harian pursed his
lips. “Yes, monk.”
Pol nodded again, and now that he was corrected, he gave him the correct honorific. “Yes, monk.”
“That’s better. This is Monk Castall who will be your mentor for the next year. Castall has an office on the top floor of the barracks. You are here to be welcomed to our community.”
Pol nodded. “Thank you, monk, sir.” He added the ‘sir’ to exhibit nervousness, but he really was a bit nervous. Castall wore a blue velvet robe with a silver stitched symbol. Hadrian outranked him with a dark emerald green robe, since his symbol was gold colored.
Harian reddened a bit. “What do you think of Tesna?”
“It’s quite different from home and something unexpected,” Pol said, rubbing his bald head. “I’m not used to being a servant.”
Harian relaxed and smiled. “We are all the servants of Tesna. What did you think of the service last night?”
“It’s all new to me. I wasn’t aware that Tesna was a god.”
“Don’t you believe in Tesna?” Harian asked.
“I believe that I need to work hard for Tesna, but I don’t know Him well enough.”
Castall nodded. “That is a very good answer, Nater. Monk Harian would like to test you for magic, now.”
Pol just gave the monk a curt bow with his head.
Out came a grid. It looked like they were going to make him move pennies. He could do that. Lord Grainell said Nater could move a penny two spaces, so he would do the same.
“Move this coin from here to here.” Harian placed a large coin on the grid, much larger than a penny. He wanted Pol to move it four spaces.
Pol looked at the grid and recalled how Paki looked when he was tested at Deftnis. He squinted his eyes to show his concentration, and moved the large coin a space and a half. Pol could have done all kinds of things to the coin, but Val warned him against showing his magic.
“Better than I expected,” Harian said, looking up at Castall, who nodded.
“Can I sit?” Pol asked.
Harian pointed to a chair against the wall.
“Don’t be worried about our instruction. You won’t be overly taxed. Most acolytes are not into their full magic when they arrive.”
“I understand.”
“You do?” Castall raised his eyebrows.
“I do. I had a Shinkyan for a tutor. He did magic tricks for my father and shared a few things with me. I know a few spells, and that was one of them.” Pol nodded to the board. “He urged patience, but I’d like my learning experience to be accelerated. I want to move as fast as my abilities let me.” Pol knew Nater would say something similar.
“It is not something we encourage at Tesna. Magic is all about controlling order. You identify the order of things and then change it, re-ordering we call it. You are too young to understand that.”
Pol nodded, although he understood exactly what Harian had said.
“Welcome to Tesna. You will grow into a monk within these walls. Patience, for you will be called upon to do great things sooner than later.”
What did that mean? Pol thought.
“Castall will walk you back to your barracks and will be your guide from here on out.”
Pol looked at the other monk who gently turned Pol around and pushed him towards the door.
On the way back Castall said, “Do you have any questions?”
“I have lots of them.” Pol kicked a tiny rock along the paved courtyard. “How do I address monks? Do I just call you monk or Monk Castall?”
Castall laughed. “Monk Castall will always work. You bow, just like you did to Monk Harian. We don’t have a special salute within the monastery.”
“Do I resign myself to working hard as a servant? Do I get any time off?”
“If you look at the roster for Sevenday, there are fewer duties and no classes are held. When you are between assignments, you can do what you wish.”
Pol nodded. “Is there a library?”
Castall patted Pol on the shoulder. “Getting a jump on your magic education?” Pol didn’t see any guile in the man’s smile.
“I don’t think it would hurt.”
Pol noticed a pause in their banter, but then Castall shrugged. “The library is open to anyone with a proper pass. I warn you, the subjects will be beyond your comprehension.”
“My Shinkyan tutor, Karo Nagoya, taught me a few concepts. I’d like to see if I can learn a bit on my own.”
“Shinkyans.” Castall said. “They think they own the world. That will change soon enough. You’ll be getting a Shinkyan roommate in the next week or two. You will notice no other Shinkyans among us, but since we knew you had one for a tutor, we thought it would be best to put the new acolyte with you. There are some within these walls who do not like Shinkyans, for a number of reasons.”
Pol didn’t have any idea why that would be the case. He knew that Shinkyans had a closed society, but that only made them more interesting. “Why do they think they are superior?”
“The Baccusol Empire stops at their borders. They successfully fought off Hazett’s ancestors and forced a treaty.”
“I know about Shinkyan horses. Karo told me about them.”
Castall nodded his head. “He might not have told you that their most powerful magicians can actually command them with their minds.”
“He said something to that effect. Is that why they aren’t allowed in the Empire?”
That question got another nod from Castall. “It is. Shinkyans are a reclusive race. They are a matriarchal society. Did your Shinkyan friend tell you that?” He stopped Pol before they entered the Barracks. “I want you to report anything interesting you learn about the Shinkyan, and I would like a report of what you picked up from your Shinkyan tutor.”
“Will I learn magic any sooner?” Pol gave Castall a Nater-like grin and giggled.
“Perhaps. I’ll write out a library pass that won’t expire. How would that be?”
Pol rubbed his hands and felt like an idiot doing so, but anything for the Empire. “I can’t wait.” He cringed inside as he giggled some more.
He didn’t say anything more and followed Castall up to the third floor of the barracks to a small office. Castall scribbled out a pass on a pink slip of paper and slid it across to Pol, who sat on the other side of his desk. Pol folded it in two.
“There you go, Nater. Now don’t forget, I’d like a weekly report slipped under my door.”
Pol bowed with the pass clutched to him like a valuable bauble. “You can rely on me.” Pol nearly gagged while he said it. He hurried out the door and rushed down to his room.
He clutched at his robe at chest level and sighed. How could Val stand doing this kind of thing? Pol had to take a deep breath before he unfolded the pass. He smiled at getting access to the library. The pass made his dissembling nearly worth it. He hoped that some research could help him understand the Tesnans better and give clues about what the monks intended.
~~~
CHAPTER SEVEN
~
POL WONDERED HOW A CLASSROOM COULD BE SO COLD and so stuffy at the same time. The Tesnans somehow managed that. He sat with twelve other acolytes. They all looked older than he, but not that much older.
A monk walked in wearing wood-framed spectacles. Pol hadn’t seen too many of the devices. The man looked over the tops of them more than he looked through them, and then Pol realized that the monk used them for reading.
“We have a new student. Acolyte Nater, would you stand?”
Pol stood and then sat down, feeling conspicuous.
The monk looked at him. “You will have to catch up. The rest of the acolytes began their studies on Summer’s Day.”
From what Monk Harian inferred, the instruction couldn’t have gotten very far.
“Do you know anything about order?” He motioned for Pol to stand.
Pol heard murmuring in the classroom. The others might think Pol didn’t know anything. He would change their opinion of him.
“My t
utor was a Shinkyan magician. He told me of patterns, but that was his term for order. To do magic, you need to feel order. When you can, you can change it, re-order is the term you use?” Pol looked at the instructor who nodded. “The re-ordering is the actual operation for any spell. The better one can perceive order, the more magic he can do. People have different abilities in how well they can perceive order and how strongly they can re-order.”
The monk clapped his hands together. “Very good. Can you perceive order?”
“I can a little bit. I can move a penny on a grid.”
“Good, good,” the monk said. “You will fit in well with the class. You may sit. Be observant, for you will learn much in the coming year.”
When the class ended, Pol’s greatest challenge would be to look and act interested. Malden Gastoria, Pol’s first magic tutor and his stepfather’s Court Magician, had taught him much more in his first session at Borstall Castle.
His second class was as much about Tesna’s religion as anything else. The interesting part about Tesna was that it wasn’t portrayed as a cult in the religion book that he read, but Pol got the impression that it must have recently evolved into one. The instructor talked about Tesna’s impending worldwide growth.
Other than his two courses, Pol spent the rest of his time washing the monks’ clothes (velvet robes had to be gently washed) and scrubbing floors.
After nearly a week of drudgery, Pol finally had time to slip across to the library on Sevenday. Few monks and no acolytes walked among the stacks of scrolls and books. He presented his pass to the librarian, or at least the monk who sat at the desk guarding the books.
“An acolyte in search of further light?”
Pol nodded. “I want to learn more about the history of Tesna.”
The monk narrowed his eyes. “And something about magic?” He shook his finger at Pol. “You aren’t the first and won’t be the last. Let me tell you, acolytes never understand much of what they read. So go inside. Feel free to give it a try, despite what every monk will tell you, including me.”
What kind of lame acolytes lived at Tesna? It seemed that no one had much respect for magical knowledge picked up before arriving at the monastery entrance. Harian didn’t think Pol was capable of determining how to identify and tweak patterns, and neither did this man. He squashed his indignance when he realized the wisdom that Val had pounded into him. Feigning ignorance gave him cover.