"Thank you, Master Bedwen," the Major said.
Great. Now he'll be coming, exactly for breakfast time, every day.
A bell rang.
"It seems it's breakfast time," grandpa said. "Dana, you can stop. Call your beau."
"Detective Taylor is also here?" the Major asked.
"Yes," I replied. "I invited him here," unlike some uninvited guests who burst in, was left unsaid.
"Well then," the Major said, with a condescending smile that made me want to punch him in his smug face. "Call the man. I should meet him now. I'll be seeing quite a lot of him, now."
I gave him a look that made it clear I wished to see him as little as possible and went towards the bedroom. Jack must have awoken. I hope he's washed up and dressed because he needs to be at his best when meeting Major Craen. Nothing less would do.
The two masters, one dark, one light, were left in the training hall. The Major walked around the room, admiring the magical artifacts.
"Wow," he said. "This hall is magnificent. I can see how it must have looked, back in the day. It must have cost you a fortune to fix it. But the Bedwens weren't the most illustrious Inquisition family for nothing."
"It needed more work," the light master acknowledged. "But my personal fortune was sufficient. I didn't get any of the Bedwen money. It was all confiscated during the Reformation."
"Of course," the Major said, with a hint of irony. "Like all the great families. Everybody lost their family fortune then. Illicit gains, and all that. But it's remarkable how quickly the Bedwen name resurfaced from the ashes."
The two men shared a look. One knew, the other was confident the knowledge couldn't be proven.
"Like a lot of great names," Master Bedwen said, "ours was earned by our ancestors for their magical talents and intelligence. It's only logical that I inherited those traits, even if the money wasn't."
"Of course," the Major smiled. "I will not discuss the origin of this hall's repair money anymore. But, since you've fixed it for training, it seems only logical that I should also use it with our common apprentice."
"She doesn't need a martinet," Master Bedwen said. "Miss Bedwen requires a more thoughtful approach. I can manage without you."
"Nonsense," the Major replied. "Miss Bedwen is not a delicate flower. She's a dark mage. She'll be trained like the rest of them; with discipline, and a lot of practice."
"Don't ask me then why your approach doesn't work," Master Bedwen said. "I know my apprentice. She won't respect a drill sergeant. But if you want to do that, go ahead. I can't stop you, anyway. Although we must split the time, so she gets an equal amount of hours."
"Of course," the Major said, taking a notebook out of the breast pocket of his jacket. "We'll have to work around Miss Bedwen's class schedule, which I wrote down. So, as you see here, on Mondays..."
Jack was awake and almost dressed when I entered the bedroom.
"What was that about?" he asked about the commotion downstairs.
"Nothing," I replied. "Just Major Craen bursting in."
"And what is he doing here this early?" Jack asked.
I shrugged.
"I don't know. Maybe he wanted to wake us all as a power play? Anyway, make sure you look your best. We're going to have breakfast with him now."
Jack raised his eyebrows.
"Grandpa invited him," I said. "I think it was unwise, but it would have been rude not to. Which I think was what the Major was aiming for."
"Let's go then," Jack said, buttoning up his shirt. "Before they cause an even bigger commotion."
And we went downstairs but didn't find them there, so we headed towards the dining hall.
The dining hall was huge, as it was originally made to feed big groups of students, not a single family. But at least that meant that we had enough space at the dining table for the five of us not to bump our elbows. I sat between Jack and Billie, while Grandpa and the Major stayed on the other side of the table.
Breakfast was the usual attempt by Bettie to feed me vegetables by hiding them among the bacon and eggs. I don't get fooled so easily.
"Good morning, Master Craen," I said. "Allow me to introduce Detective Jack Taylor, my boyfriend. Master Bedwen must have also introduced you to Billie, his son. Billie, this is Master Craen, my new teacher."
"And what is he going to teach you?" Billie asked.
"Magic," I replied.
"Cool! You know magic now! Can I watch?" Billie asked.
I looked at the Major.
"I don't see why not," he said. "As long as he stays outside the perimeter."
Jack, who'd been interrupted by Billie, extended his hand for a handshake.
"How do you do," he said. "I think we'll be seeing each other."
The Major, who no doubt noticed the 'how do you do' instead of the more informal 'glad to meet you', smiled and also extended his hand.
"Glad to meet you finally, Detective," he said, with a faint threat in his voice. "I've heard a lot about your talents. Especially when it comes to the Bureau of Magic."
Jack smiled, and I could see that the handshake lasted a bit too long. They were probably trying to squeeze each others' hand. Men. Why can't they just punch each other and get over with it?
We sat back and ate. The Major eagerly dug in, ravished. Don't they feed him or something? I looked at grandpa. This was his fault, for being so polite. Now the Major will come every day.
"So, Major," I continued the conversation. "Will you move to Ashford?"
"Yes," the Major said, adding sugar to his tea. I love sweet things but the amount of sugar he was adding was staggering. It looks like it will be supersaturated tea. "Now that I have an apprentice here, I'll ask for a permanent assignment in Ashford. Don't worry, Miss Bedwen, I'll be able to teach you."
Apprentices (and Masters), are almost like family. So the government makes exceptions for masters with apprentices, similar to those for workers with spouses.
"And is your family going to be alright with that?" I asked, continuing with the probing.
I'm sure grandpa knows everything there is to know about the Major, from his civil status to his tastes in underwear, but he didn't share any of that with me. I had to resort to asking questions.
"My parents are dead," the Major replied. "So nobody can complain."
So he's not married. Strange for a man of his age. They usually like to marry and have kids, mostly to have somebody to boss over.
"Have you found a house yet?" I asked. "I must tell you, the housing situation in Ashford is horrendous. As soon as I gave up my dorm room, somebody moved there. The queue there is long. Private housing will cost you an arm and a leg."
"I haven't," the Major replied. "I've been staying at the Lion Inn for the moment."
Too busy trying to pin a crime on me to find decent housing, was he?
"Would you like to stay here, Major?" grandpa then asked. "Until you find a new house."
I looked at grandpa, wondering what he was doing. The Major would never find a new house.
You never invite a dark mage to stay with you, unless you're willing to live with him forever. They respect private property if it's outside their control, but once they start using something, they take ownership. Which is why the best strategy is to keep them away.
Grandpa made a gesture to me, which I interpreted as 'not now, we'll talk later'. I gave him a nod and a stare, 'this is going to be a serious conversation'.
By the look of bliss on the Major's face as he devoured his plate, including the veggies, I could see he was sick of the cooking at the Lion Inn. No wonder; they include way too little meat.
We would never get rid of him.
42
The conversation with Grandpa would have to happen at another moment because the Major started training me right after breakfast.
"I've got Sundays mornings," he told me, showing me something that looked like my schedule, but with every spare moment occupied by magic practice. "So let's not wast
e any of my time. You'll do all those control exercises with Master Bedwen in the afternoon. With me, you will practice."
And practice we did. He insisted I threw small fireballs towards him, one after the other, as quickly as possible. He yelled at me whenever I made one that was too big.
"Never use too much force, or you won't be able to last long in battle," he instructed me, between yelling.
At least he didn't swear; I guess he still had compulsions about swearing at a girl. I'm sure it won't last too long.
Billie, who sat together with grandpa on some chairs outside the perimeter, quickly got bored. I could see why; other than throwing fireballs at the Major, who neutralized them before they were even three yards from him, I was doing nothing else.
It seems like, between grandpa and the Major, they intend to bore me to death. I was used to Alchemy, with its complexity, skill, and dexterity. Magic seemed to be about drill, drill, and more drill. They rarely explained any theory to me. I had learned a lot more about the theory of magic at university.
I only got a brief respite for lunch; Jack went out with his friends, so I ate with the Major, grandpa, and Billie, but at least I could enjoy a bit of peace and quiet.
The afternoon was grandpa's time, according to the schedule the Major had shown me. I demanded they let me copy it (to make sure they don't go over it in attempts to spend more time with me than the other). After I copied it from his notebook, the Major left to bring his stuff from the hotel. Grandpa and I were alone in the training room; Billie was back to playing with the nanny.
"Why did you invite him?" I asked. "He will stay here now. It will be impossible to get rid of him for as long as I am here."
"I want to keep an eye on him," grandpa said. "I think he's planning something."
"Gramps," I was getting frustrated. "'Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer' doesn't mean you should live with them."
"Major Craen is not the enemy," grandpa then said, firmly. "He's your Master, and you should not think of him as your enemy. It won't be good for your education if you do."
"But you said yourself he's planning something," I protested.
"Sure he is," grandpa replied. "But that doesn't mean he will harm you. A master who loses an apprentice becomes an outcast and loser forever. Whatever Major Craen is planning to do, it won't harm you, at least the way he sees it."
"So you are saying he'll do something for my own good," I said, "which I won't like."
"Exactly. We need to be careful with him. Now, what are you doing? This is training time. Go back to concentrating on your magic."
"But I have little magic left, after the class with the Major," I complained. "It's barely a drop."
"That's good. You need to learn to manipulate fine magic channels, too. Focus on your hands; you need to move that drop through the small channels in your hands. They need to be developed, too."
I stared at my hands, trying to feel the magical channels in them. As they were dry of magic, they were even fainter than usual.
"I don't see any fine magic channels," I said. "Only the major ones."
"That's because your vision is not developed enough yet," grandpa said. "And because your channels are not strong enough. They need to have magic flowing through them, branch and develop, to strengthen. Once that's done, your body will learn to pump concentrated magic instead of scattering it."
I stared at my hands, trying to move the bit of magical energy I had left through them. It was like trying to squeeze the last bit out of a pot of cream; it all got stuck to the walls and wouldn't move.
"It's not working," I complained, after half an hour or so of staring at my hands. "If I had more energy..."
"You wouldn't be able to look at the finer channels," grandpa said. "Because the stronger channels would shine so brightly, you wouldn't see them. You'll need a lot of practice and experience before you can start seeing the finer types of magic. So get back to work."
I sat there, trying to see something. Grandpa kept pestering me whenever he noticed my attention slipping away. How did he notice it?
"Don't try to fool me, young lady," grandpa then said, as I was thinking about that instead of concentrating. "I can see what you're doing from your aura. Concentrate."
Great. Now I don't even have the freedom to think whatever I want during class. At least at university, as long as you kept your eyes open, they let you be free in your mind.
The Major got his apartment in an attached building close to ours. His apartment was as big as mine; I saw the living room when I took his luggage upstairs. No gentleman, the Major. But for him, I was an apprentice. Apprentices were, for a long time, something between personal slaves and servants, except for the teaching part. Times had changed, but I guess some things don't, because the Major gave me his suitcases as soon as he saw me, instructing me to bring them. There were footmen in the house (try to manage a house so big without some men for the heavy work), but he thought it was my place to do it.
I carried them. It's not like they were too heavy; the Major didn't bring any books, and the amount of clothing he had also seemed limited.
"Great place," the Major told grandpa, who was showing the way to the guest. "I can see why you bought this building despite the ghosts."
"That's because ghosts don't exist," grandpa said.
"That's what you think after the Inquisition got rid of all the necromancers who could talk to them," the Major replied.
"Do you believe ghosts exist, Major?" grandpa asked, sarcastically.
"Of course," he replied. "But they can't do anything to a dark battle mage. Ghosts can only affect weaklings," he said, nodding towards me, "like her."
He was talking about me in the third person, right in front of me. I placed his suitcases on the floor with a thud.
"I'm sure Master Craen will teach me his great magical self-defense skills against ghosts," I said, also in third person. "Since he's so knowledgeable about them. But let's leave it for tomorrow evening; I should get back to the exercises Master Bedwen assigned me."
And I left, with my hands in fists. Grandpa came a couple of minutes later, as I was sitting in the training hall, staring at my hands. My magic had recovered a bit during the afternoon, so I had more to play with. It was still dreadfully boring, though.
Living with my masters made my life busy, but boring. In the mornings, I trained with grandpa before breakfast (I don't think you could get Major Craen out of bed early for anything other than an explosion); after breakfast, I went to class, sometimes going to a restaurant with Jack during lunchtime, on the days when he and I had more time. By the time I finished classes, I went back home, where I spent a couple of hours with the Major. After exhausting my magic, he left me to train with grandpa. Grandpa alternated the exercises with the magical channels with the vision exercises, the ones he showed me before my Initiation. The Major kept drilling me in fireballs, playing with the size, and insisting I control it perfectly.
Magic was a lot more boring than I thought.
The classes were a respite; the complexity, the math, the accuracy and precision of it, especially in contrast with the drills that were learning magic, meant I experienced almost transcendental moments. When I started tearing up at a lab assignment, after measuring the pH of a buffer (none of that 'feel stuff' or 'try to see'; exact measurements with precise equipment), at the beauty of it, Joe, who was my lab partner, patted my shoulder.
"There, there," he said, giving me a handkerchief. "I know the coursework has been too much, and this class is a bit boring, but it's not that bad. You're done with your extra coursework."
I rejected his handkerchief and took out mine, loudly blowing my nose.
"It's not that," I said. "It's just that I love alchemy so much. It's so great."
"Really?" Joe said, skeptically. I could see the reason; we'd just spent more than an hour counting the drops falling into the buffer before the indicator changed its color to pink. But even this was much more
interesting than magic. At least my mind could wander, wondering on other things, while I was doing it.
"Really," I said, calm again. "Turns out, I hate magic. But now I have not just one, but two masters, and I have to learn to use magic, or I'll get blocked."
"Two masters? I've never heard of such a thing," Joe said.
"I got a second, dark master. The tribunal determined that I needed a teacher of my polarity," I explained.
"Well, there's nothing you can do about it," Joe said, "so don't cry. You'll manage; you always manage."
"That's for sure. I do," I replied, checking our notes. We had done all the lab work necessary for this practical; we just had to write the report. Which meant I would write it, since Joe was always more bother than help in these things.
"I think we're done here," I said. "I'll be going to the library now. Need to read the literature for the lab report."
"You know," he said. "I think what you need is a drink. Come to the pub after your training is done, have a drink. It will be good for you."
It had been ages since I'd gone for a drink. It sounded like a good idea.
"Sure," I said. "I'll go after dinner. See you at the usual place, then."
"Sounds good," Joe nodded, and we started to clean up.
That's when the grad student in charge of the lab practical came by.
"Oh, I see you guys are done. Dana, the Dean asked to see you," he said.
I looked at the half-cleaned lab bench.
"Go; I'll finish cleaning," Joe said.
"Thanks. See you tonight, then," I said, took my bag and notes, and went to the dean's office.
I hadn't seen the Dean of Alchemy much, although I'd heard he defended me against those who didn't like having magical people in non-magical departments. People always assume that magicals only want to study magic. That's not true, but the good pay and the sunk costs necessary to become a mage mean people frequently don't bother pursuing their dreams. And to those people, I was a reminder of their failure.
The Apprentice's Path: The Alchemist #1 Page 31