The old man next pushed his palms together tightly and then, drawing them slowly apart, revealed that his hands were full of the same soft blue light. His hands shook as if the drawing was some great effort and required all his strength. His face was illuminated by the light and Samuel could see the exertion in the old man’s expression. Then the old man relaxed and his hands clapped sharply together, as if pulled together by a sudden evacuating force. The glow between them vanished, the floating lights disappeared and all the candles winked out at once. A grey silhouette then stood up and slowly left the room. If not for the white-hot aura around him, Samuel would not have seen the old man leave at all.
Samuel scampered from the roof and leapt into his bed, jittery with excitement, but somehow he could not keep the overpowering tide of sleep from taking him into its depths. He could not tell if he was having dreams or nightmares, for the images in his head were both fascinating and terrible. He dreamt of magic and monsters, of storms and oceans, of things from the skies and the deep. All throughout his dreams, he could hear a voice calling for someone over and over again, but the words were just on the verge of his recognition—and incomprehensible. A resounding thought burned into his mind and kept coming back to him through wake and slumber. There is magic!
When the dreams had finally quelled and subsided, he slept soundly and deeply for the rest of the night, as if worked to exhaustion from a month’s labour.
The next day, all the men of the inn were again strolling through the gardens, as always dressed in their usual black. Whether it was black shirt and trousers, black tunic, black cape, black cloak or long black robes, they forever seemed to be draped in the same monotonous garb.
The three new arrivals and Mr Kelvin were the only ones noticeably absent from the gardens. There had never been so many people strolling around at one time and they each walked with brisk excitement.
Samuel decided to talk to Mr Geoffries and Mr Sloan, but upon detecting his approach, they ceased their conversation and smiled politely. They were perfectly pleasant to him and asked him how he was but, sensing he was unwanted, Samuel wandered off again. As soon as he was beyond earshot, they launched back into their energetic discussion.
It was the same with the other men, until Samuel gave up and pulled himself into the low bough of his favourite climbing tree to sulk. He sat there, back against the trunk with his legs along the branch, until he spied the frantic form of Kans, whizzing from the inn towards the stable.
Samuel dropped down lightly from the branch and sped after the annoying man.
‘Oh, there you are, boy,’ Kans gasped, as Samuel entered the stables behind him. ‘I have no time to hunt after you. Ready the Grand Master’s wagon at once. He will be leaving shortly. And hurry up about it, won’t you?’
Kans then scooted past Samuel back towards the inn, all a fluster.
Grand Master? Samuel thought as he brought the two horses to the wagon outside. They were perfectly helpful animals and Samuel had no trouble readying the vehicle in a short space of time. When he was done, he climbed atop of it, released the braking lever and shook the reins up and down. The horses lurched forwards, pulling the wagon across the grass to where he stopped them with a steady pull of the reins just before the main entrance. He reapplied the brake, tethered the reins and dropped down beside the wagon, stroking the nearest animal’s sun-warmed coat as he waited. It whinnied and stamped at the ground with a hoof in expectation of some exercise.
After a timely spell, as Samuel began to feel the heat of the sun himself, the doors opened and Kans came rushing out, followed by an ever-patient Mr Kelvin, still in discussion with the aged visitor and his two companions. The men of the inn noticed the old man’s imminent departure and began to gather from across the gardens.
‘Is everything ready? Double-checked?’ Kans asked and began looking over Samuel’s work before even waiting for an answer, shaking anything that appeared remotely loose.
‘Well, this is goodbye,’ Mr Kelvin said to his guests as they reached the wagon. The two younger men each carried a number of bags, which they began to pile in the back of the wagon; their clothes and luggage, by the looks of it.
‘It has been good to see you again, young Peter,’ came the old man’s smooth voice. There was not a croak or waver to be heard. His words came out like warm honey, slow and deep. With surprising spryness, he lifted one leg to the step and hopped up into the seat. ‘I hope to be back before winter so we can continue our game. Be sure not to disturb the pieces,’ he said with a cheeky grin and a wave of one finger.’
Mr Kelvin laughed. ‘I’ll try. Have a good journey, Janus.’
The two younger men, still well aged by any measure, had finished with the bags and come to sit on either side of the old man.
The one closest to Samuel gathered up the reins. ‘Farewell,’ he called.
The small assembly of men all gave their farewells as the wagon groaned and pulled away. As the vehicle passed, Samuel spied the old man’s eyes flashing towards him from beneath a set of grey, woolly eyebrows—just for an instant. His eyes seemed so deep and blue and clear and knowing, and they locked onto Samuel like an eagle spotting its darting prey, watching him intently. Then, the moment had passed and the old man was again gazing forward, being jostled in his seat as he went. The horses’ shoes clip-clopped upon the stone path and the wagon exited through the main gates, held open by a low-bowing Kans. How he had managed to get over there so fast, Samuel did not know.
Mr Kelvin sighed and turned back into the inn, as did most of the others. A few returned to the gardens, although the sense of excitement had at once diminished. Before entering through the door to the inn, Mr Kelvin stopped and turned.
‘Samuel,’ he called.
Samuel was startled from his daydreaming. ‘Yes, Mr Kelvin?’
‘Don’t forget your lesson tonight. I’ll see you shortly after dinner.’
‘Thank you, Mr Kelvin,’ Samuel replied happily.
‘And don’t forget to scrub out the floors,’ Mr Kelvin added, before turning into the inn and pulling the door closed behind him.
Samuel’s mouth dropped. He had thought that with all the commotion, Mr Kelvin had forgotten about Samuel’s least favourite chore. He dragged his feet back to the stable and into the rear-most stall. He sighed wearily and reached up to get the largest scrubbing brush and bucket that hung there.
Over the nights that followed, Samuel practised everything he could remember the old man doing. Many of the movements still seemed improper and half-forgotten, so Samuel tried sitting cross-legged and breathing hard. Every minute or so, he would open one eye to see if the lights were there yet, but they never were. Each night, Samuel would try harder to recall the exact movements the old man had done, as all the sitting and breathing quickly grew stale. After a few nights, he thought he could remember about thirteen steps that he was sure were the same. A few in the middle and at the end still evaded his memory, but he was sure they were somewhere at the back of his mind and he would soon be able to figure out what they were...roughly.
When in the markets next, he even bought several cheap wax candles and set them in his room to practise with, but no amount of gesturing or jumping up and down would light them without the added help of a tinderbox. He would often pretend to himself that he had lit the candles with some magic, jumping up and lighting them quickly, before sneaking back to his place with feigned amazement at what he had done. It was quite fun the first few times, but served only to remind him of his failure.
Mr Kelvin first regarded Samuel’s candle-lined room questioningly, but for only a moment. He then sat beside Samuel and began the lesson without as much as a word about them. The night after, he carried a lantern with him and hung it from a vacant hook on the wall.
‘You only have to tell me if your room is too dull, Samuel. We don’t want you ruining your eyes,’ he told him and raised a curious eyebrow as Samuel chuckled.
After many weeks of vigilant pr
actice, Samuel had his first incredible breakthrough. As he sat and breathed slowly with his palms tightly together, he forgot completely about making anything happen, and instead relaxed and enjoyed the soothing sensation that had somehow washed over him as he sat listening to his own soft breath and feeling the rise and fall of his chest. After some time, a line of goosebumps crept over his body, beginning at his wrists and running up his arms, over his chest and down to his ankles. The prickling sensation became almost too much to bear and Samuel burned to leap up and rub his limbs vigorously to reduce it.
Instead, and with considerable restraint, Samuel carefully peeked through one eye and was amazed to see a faint blue glow seeping from between his pressed fingers. It oozed out like some sort of shining water, dripping away in all directions before disappearing into nowhere. Samuel slowly brought his palms apart and for just a moment, there was a warm, glowing light nestled between his hands, before it flickered and vanished from existence with a tiny, soundless pop. Samuel yelled with excitement and jumped on his bed, hopping from one foot to another and giggling with glee. After a short period of jubilation, he calmed himself down and dropped back into the sitting position, his heart beating madly. He told himself to quieten down and concentrate and began again with the breathing exercises, but no matter how hard he tried long into the night, he could not repeat the feat.
He could summon no such light the next night, or the next, but Samuel could not bring himself to stop trying. The thought of the amazing light spurred him on with excitement. The very next night after that, Samuel again felt his body tingling and a familiar sensation filled his mind. His hands glowed intensely, so that his fingers showed red at their edges. Within his palms, the light existed, shining with a steady strength. Samuel realised that the secret was to keep this frame of mind and not let excitement or other distractions get in the way. He drew his palms apart some distance and the light remained there, forming itself into a spherical shape. He kept the tiny ball floating between his palms for a few minutes, until, with some alarm, he realised it was growing smaller. He tried and tried to make it grow back, but the more he tried, the more it died, until it flickered once, then again and finally vanished altogether for the rest of the evening.
The next morning, Samuel decided it was time to tell Mr Joshua of the astounding recent events, and so set out to find an excuse to go into town. He stepped into the kitchen, where Cook began eyeing him suspiciously as she cut up a bucket of greens, not saying a word.
‘Cook?’ Samuel asked.
‘What do you want?’ she asked. ‘Stop wriggling over my bench. I’ve nothing to give you until lunch.’
‘Oh, I don’t want anything. I was wondering if you had enough flour.’
Samuel edged around the kitchen, sliding open jars and peering into pots.
‘I’ve plenty of flour, thank you, Samuel,’ the sturdy woman replied. ‘Now keep your fingers out of my jars.’
‘How about peanuts? Or corn—or dried apricots? Are you sure there’s nothing I can get you from town?’
‘That’s it, is it?’ she said, sliding sliced carrots into a bowl with the back of her hand. ‘Needing an excuse, are you? Very well. I could use a bag of salt, now I think of it. Perhaps you could be so kind as to fetch some for me?’
‘I’d be happy to!’ Samuel said with delight.
‘Here’s some money,’ she said, handing him a few coins. ‘But don’t take too long or we’ll both be in for it when Mr Kelvin has to saddle his own horse.’
Samuel went to race out the door, when something caught his mind and he halted.
‘Cook?’ he asked and she looked up again. ‘Do you ever notice a light around people?’
‘No,’ she said bluntly. ‘Don’t be absurd.’
‘Don’t you ever see them glowing and shining?’
‘Only when they’re fairies—now get out and stop with your dreaming and leave me be. And don’t be up to any mischief in the town! Go do whatever it is you want to be doing, and I don’t want to hear anything about it or your fairies.’
Samuel laughed and left through the small kitchen door, running around the side of the inn. He pulled open one of the sturdy gates and then closed it behind him. The main road was filled with a good many people, carts and animals, all making their way along the busy highway into Stable Canthem. Samuel made sure the money was deep inside a pocket, for he knew the town had many a pick-pocket, and hurried after the throng of people.
‘You there! Boy!’ a voice called as Samuel trotted along.
Samuel stopped and waited for the puffing man. Perhaps it was one of Mr Joshua’s men.
‘Boy, you are the stableboy in that guest house, is that correct?’ the man asked as he pointed back towards the tall walls of the Burning Oak.
Samuel nodded.
‘How would you like to earn a half-crown?’ the man asked.
Samuel quickly decided this was not one of Mr Joshua’s men—he was far too cheap. ‘No, thank you, Sir,’ Samuel answered, and began to continue on his way.
‘Wait one moment. Perhaps…stop!’ cried the man, as Samuel turned and fled into the town past curious onlookers.
Samuel glanced over his shoulder, but the man was not following, only shaking his head and turning away. He may have been one of Mr Joshua’s men, but Samuel could not be told off just for being careful. He would also be in awful trouble if Mr Kelvin found him talking to anyone about the inn.
Samuel decided he would first like to see Jessicah and so he ran to the Three Toads Inn. He had to wait outside for some time until she came out to beat a rug on the banister. Samuel raced over to her, well-wary of her father.
‘Jessicah!’
‘Samuel,’ she cried with excitement. ‘How are you?’ And she placed a kiss on his cheek.
‘Very well. Let’s go!’
Jessicah looked over her shoulder for any sign of her parents, and then dropped her beater and skipped away with Samuel. They made for the river and sat on the grassy bank by an old willow, and sunned themselves and talked of each other’s events. Samuel noticed for the first time how different she was looking lately. She seemed to be filling out in all sorts of places—almost like a real girl.
Jessicah hung onto his every word as he told of the strange, robed men and the mysterious, magical things they did. She laughed when he claimed to be able to do the same magic and when she asked him to demonstrate, his head sagged, for he knew he could not.
‘But they dance around like this!’ he called, leaping to his feet and whirling around and throwing his hands about.
Jessicah giggled and giggled as Samuel frolicked before her by the waterside. It was only the sounds of talking that stopped him for, coming over the bank, was a group of local boys and at their head was a much larger, uglier boy whom Samuel had not seen in quite some time, but knew far too well. They all looked much older, uglier and meaner than before, but they still had the look of bullies. They splashed across the shallow river up to their knees and climbed the bank, making straight for Samuel and Jessicah with evil grins. Samuel was not about to turn into a coward and so he stood his ground with Jessicah beside him, clutching his arm tightly.
‘What are you doing?’ the big boy asked impolitely. The last time they had met, Samuel had been beaten badly, but much time had passed since then. Samuel was not about to let his pride take a beating again.
‘Talking,’ Samuel answered bluntly. ‘What do you want?’
‘Looked like you were dancing to me. I haven’t seen you for a long time, but I never forget a face. I do remember telling you that if I ever saw you again, I’d piss all over you. Did you forget it?’ the bully asked, dragging his nose across his sleeve. The boys were all grubby from playing in the dirt and one had dried blood under his nose. They were all eagerly awaiting some entertainment.
Samuel said nothing, but Jessicah was tugging desperately at the side of his shirt. ‘Samuel, let’s go,’ she was whispering to him.
‘You’re lucky
I just pissed,’ said the bully with a grin. One of his companions did appear damp and off-spirited. ‘But I think I’m gonna have to beat you up in front of your girlfriend, anyway, just to teach you a lesson, so you had better run!’
The bully jumped forwards and threw his arms up, as if to frighten them, but Samuel stepped forward and smashed his fist up into the bully’s undefended nose. The collision of nose and knuckles jarred Samuel’s fist, surprising him, but the pain that contorted the big boy’s face was obviously far greater. The bully staggered back, clutching at his face and yelling in pain.
Samuel pushed Jessicah back. ‘Run home,’ he told her, and she did, turning and hurrying away, leaving Samuel facing a line of angry young boys.
‘Now we’re gonna have to kill you,’ the bully snorted, still holding his nose. ‘No one hits me!’ Blood ran through his fingers. He tried to sound menacing, but sounded more as if he had a bad cold.
The boys began scooping up river stones and moved to encircle Samuel. Samuel stood his ground and waited for their first move, for he knew he could not outrun them all. He watched closely as one boy drew his arm slowly back and then the missile came hurtling forth. Samuel stepped neatly to the side, but an awful pain bit him in the back of the head. He spun around in time to catch another stone with his face and was blinded by the pain. The boys all started laughing.
The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy) Page 11