by Guy Antibes
“What does that strategy do when you rely on it alone during a match?”
Sakwill and Coram looked at Vactor for the answer.
“It saps your strength, and if a swordsman loses his strength, what happens?”
“He loses,” Pol said. He knew that much from that morning’s experience. He looked at the two acolytes and felt sorry that they hadn’t accepted him as an instructor. It was obvious they hadn’t learned to sip magic when they fought. Pol would save his question about using magic for a later time.
Vactor began an informal lecture on creating fire. “There is a difference between creating fire and creating light. Can any of you guess what it is?”
Pol thought back to Val’s magic light and the fire that Malden had created at his mother’s pyre. “Light is smaller and more controlled. I guess you make the pattern go into a sort of tight, chaotic spin. Fire is more expansive. It can’t be as controlled, or it won’t spread. There must be different kinds of fire, since I’ve seen at least two colors produced.”
“What about either of you?”
Sakwill sat back with his arms folded. “I’ll go with what Pol said. I haven’t been able to create a light, but fire is easy.”
Coram nodded.
“Fire is easy, why?” Vactor looked at Coram.
Coram cleared his throat. To Pol than meant a delaying tactic while the acolyte searched for an answer.
“It’s easier to tweak, especially if you are tweaking something that burns easily.”
Pol thought back to his fire-making experience with Kell. “The tweak must be similar to rubbing wood together to get the friction to make something hot.”
“That’s right. Fire is exciting the tweak. Light is creating friction from the air.”
Pol couldn’t fathom how air would create friction.
“Ah, Pol is confused,” Sakwill said.
The acolyte irked Pol, so he concentrated on the problem. “I got it. When the wind blows it moves things, so air does have friction.”
Vactor nodded. “Close, it has force and mass, although we never think if it that way. What would the tweak do?”
“Compress it so it makes light?” Pol said. He looked over at Sakwill and Coram who looked as perplexed as Pol just was.
“Right. Most First Levels can create fire, although it taxes them. Second Levels definitely can. Light is generally thought of as a Fourth Level spell, but a third of Level Threes can create something that will light their way. Shall we give it a try? Don’t you boys want to get your red cord?”
Vactor placed a large ceramic plate on the table and put a wad of used paper on the center.
“Go ahead, Sakwill.”
Sakwill furrowed his brow, and the paper began to smoke, but didn’t burst into flame.
After Vactor brushed the embers into a metal container next to their table, he had Coram do the same.
Coram didn’t need to furrow his brow, and with a squint, the paper burst into flames.
“Very good. Surprisingly good, Coram. Now Pol.”
Pol wiped damp palms on his robe. He had never tried this tweak and wasn’t quite sure how to visualize it. He eventually settled on visualizing the paper turned to ash.
“Are you ready?”
Pol nodded. “I’ve never tried this before, so you better stand back.”
Vactor walked to the side, but Sakwill and Coram didn’t move an inch.
Pol closed his eyes to visualize the tweak and poured his energy into it.
The next thing he knew, Pol opened his eyes, on the floor by his chair.
“Too much,” he said. He looked over at Sakwill and Coram. Their hair was singed and their faces were blackened. The robes they wore were darker above table height.
“Too much is right.”
Pol slowly crawled back to his chair. His strength was just about gone. So much for being in better shape, he thought. He looked at all the white ash scattered on the tabletop.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Vactor gave Pol half a smile. “That was a flash, not a fire. Did you visualize ashes?”
Pol nodded. “Is it wrong to do that?”
“It is, unless you mean to. Thinking of ash creates a flash. It is not an unnoticeable effect, as you can see. Do you want to try it again?”
Pol took a deep breath. “I only have a little bit of energy left.”
“Try it again, but this time visualize a tiny flame, maybe something the size of a candlelight.”
Vactor blew off the plate and returned it to the table. He crumpled up another piece of paper and put it on the plate. “Here.”
Pol looked at the ball of paper and thought of a candlelight wavering in the darkness. That had to be easier. He opened his eyes and tweaked the flame. He fell into darkness again, for just a moment. He was able to extend his hand and keep from slipping off the chair.
A small flame burned on the paper, and Pol watched it spread naturally to engulf the ball.
Vactor put out the fire with a thought.
“I think that’s enough fire spells,” Vactor said. “I want you all to think about the demonstration today. What did you learn, Pol?”
“Control. A lack of it is the most dangerous thing about magic.” Pol knew he’d have to practice every tweak before he performed it, if at all possible. “There are some tweaks that affect no one, like enhancing one’s hearing, but when you apply magic to something physical, you have to have control.”
Vactor clapped slowly. “All three of you must remember what Pol just said. At the upper levels, some of what differentiates a blue from a gray, or a gray from a black is control. I think we’ve learned enough for today. I want you all to practice controlling fire. Create different sized flames for your ball. Your dormitory master should be able to provide you with used paper. We will talk about our results when we meet again on Oneday.”
Pol didn’t know if he wanted to practice fire, but he would have to demonstrate control. He would make very tiny fires. Pol didn’t think he had the strength for a magic light and would consult the magic book that Malden had given him. Maybe it would talk about conserving personal energy.
~~~
Chapter Eight
~
“WHERE IS IT?” PAKI ASKED, tearing out items from his locker.
Pol struggled to open his eyes. The waking bell hadn’t rung yet, and his friend looked frantic. “What?”
“My Lions, they are gone.”
“Lions?” one of the acolytes said. “You keep lions?”
“South Salvan Lions. They are tiny cubes of gold. Paki has two of them,” Pol said. He went through the clothes and bags on Paki’s bed. “Is it the thief, again? I thought that person stopped his stealing.”
“They were in this leather pouch with the rest of my money,” Paki said, holding out an empty bag. “I haven’t played with them since I’ve been in Deftnis. They wouldn’t have fallen out.”
Gorm shouldered his way to the growing crowd of youth around Paki’s bed. “What’s all this?” The wake-up bell rang just as Gorm arrived.
“Someone stole two South Salvan Lions,” Paki said.
“You had two Lions?” Gorm said. Pol could hear the doubt in Gorm’s voice.
“One was his father’s, and I gave him the second,” Pol said.
“Report this to Jonness right after breakfast.” Gorm shooed the other boys off and told them to get ready for the day.
Pol helped Paki go though all his things again, but the Lions had disappeared. “Did you lock your things up?” Pol asked. He looked at the lock on his own door. Vactor had taught his three Thirds how to immobilize a lock’s mechanism, and Pol already had learned how to use magic to unlock. That bit of magic didn’t affect Pol’s strength very much.
Paki put his hand to his mouth. “I didn’t.”
Pol looked away. “That’s the first thing Jonness will ask.”
“It’s not that I put a sign on my wardrobe, ‘take me’.”
Pol
put his hand on Paki’s shoulder. “I’ll help you put this back and go with you to tell Master Jonness.”
Paki nodded. Pol didn’t say another word after he saw his friend’s eyes well up a bit. Pol made sure his wardrobe was locked.
After a dismal breakfast, Paki and Pol went early to their Seeker class. Jonness sat at the desk up front shuffling through the written tests they had taken the day before.
“What brings you here so early?” Jonness said. His amiable expression faded when he looked at Paki’s face. “What happened?”
“Another theft,” Paki said. “My money was taken. I had two South Salvan Lions.”
Jonness winced. “Did you lock up—”
“No,” Paki said, interrupting Master Jonness.
“That will make it harder to find someone. You don’t know when you were burgled?”
Paki looked at the far wall. “I haven’t opened up my bag since the time Pol retrieved me from Billious’s tavern.”
“It’s been a couple of months, sir,” Pol said.
Jonness shook his head. “I’m sorry, boy. The trail could be weeks old. If the lock was found open this morning, we could have done something.”
Paki shook his head and moaned.
“Don’t worry about the money,” Pol said, “I have enough to give you, even another two Lions.”
Paki nodded, but Pol could tell his friend felt pretty numb at the theft.
“If you need anyone to help Seek out the thief, I’ll volunteer,” Pol said.
“We still need another solid lead before we can do that, Pol. I’ll let you know when the thief strikes again.”
Jonness had the boys sweep the practice yard outside the Seeker classroom while they waited for the other acolytes to arrive.
“This feels like punishment,” Paki said.
“I think it’s more like doing something to give you time to get over the theft. From what I can tell, Master Jonness has no active leads. I’ll give you some of my money. Malden made sure I had a fat purse before I left Borstall. I don’t need it any more than you do. We can share.”
Paki smiled weakly, but without any emotion that Pol could detect. He didn’t say another word until the acolytes began to gather.
Paki and Pol went inside and sat in the back. Jonness handed out the tests. Paki had scored well, but, as usual, Pol scored highest in the class. Kell and the three acolytes he now ran around with sneered at him. Pol tried to ignore Kell at the best of times, but the monks liked putting the two of them together for practices.
Jonness raised his hands to silence the chattering acolytes. “I have two announcements. First, Pakkingail Horstel is the latest victim of the monastery thief. I’d like to remind you all to keep your valuables locked securely in your wardrobes and check to make sure such things are secure regularly. Second, we will spend tomorrow morning in Deftnis Port on a field trip. I will give you clues, and I want you to find certain articles hidden around the village.”
The acolytes cheered. Most of them had not been out of the monastery and the grounds since they arrived, except for the riding on the isle opposite the port.
After class, Pol hurried to his locker and unlocked the door to inspect his things. Nothing had been stolen. He felt very relieved and made sure that he spelled the lock shut before he left for lunch and then knife practice.
During his practice, the Abbot walked in with Malden Gastoria.
“Malden!” Pol ran and clasped the magician’s hand with both of his. “It’s so good to see you! How is Mistress Farthia?”
“She sends you her warmest regards,” Malden said with a smile. “And how have you been?”
“Better,” Pol said. “I’ve received treatments, and they’ve strengthened me. I’m not normal, but I’m not as weak.”
“Vactor has let me know how you’ve fared.” Malden looked at the makeshift targets Pol had set up for his knife throwing. “Valiso would be happy to see this.”
Pol could feel his face heat with a blush. “It’s something I can do while others learn things I picked up from Mistress Farthia.”
“Akonai Haleaku told me about his class. Did you enjoy it?”
Pol nodded. “I was tempted to write you about the South Salvan pattern. It finally clicked for me. Did you know of King Astor’s actions when I was at Borstall?”
Malden shook his head. “They were possibilities. The pea shooter, of course, but some of the truth came out after you left.” Malden looked at the Abbot. “I’ll catch up with you later after I’ve spent some time with Pol, if you don’t mind.”
The Abbot smiled. “Take your time. I have plenty to do in my office.” He waved as he left them.
“Landon took possession of Listya right after his marriage to Bythia. I’m afraid Listyans will not like their new rulers. Bythia…” Malden shook his head.
“She’s not a nice person, right?” Pol said. “Everything tells me she’s like her father, not Queen Ida.”
“In that regard, our patterns match. No one is happy in Borstall. If you thought they would be gleefully dancing after you left, it didn’t happen. Everyone now realizes that any one of the other siblings would do anything to improve their chances at King Colvin’s throne. The castle has become a dark place, filled with distrust. I never realized how much light your mother brought.” He sighed. “So I see they rated you a Third. Tell me what you’ve learned.”
Pol thought for a moment. “I can produce fire, but magic light is beyond my power. I can collect the energy, but not enough to maintain it. My strength is much better, but that only means it takes longer before I faint.”
“You have most of the knowledge of a Purple, but there are a number of spells a Purple should be able to handle that you can’t. Your anticipation magic was already at a Purple level with little room for improvement.”
Malden asked more questions, and Pol happily reported his progress.
“You got my message about Demeron?”
Malden looked confused. “Who?”
“My Shinkyan stallion.”
The magician laughed. “Oh, the devil horse. How did you finally make contact?”
“Akonai actually conveyed my message. I didn’t know if he would,” Pol said. “Demeron and I went riding in the little plain on the south side of the island, and our instructor wanted us to use a bit of magic to steer our horses with it. I guess I connected with him when I did that. He’s a nice, uh, thing to talk to. We can communicate when we are over fifty yards apart.”
“Demeron?” Malden said. Pol nodded. “Demeron would have been wasted as Landon’s horse. Both Val and I knew that you were suited to him. It takes a very powerful magician to link.”
“We’ve done that, and it doesn’t drain my energy. I asked him if he was bored, but he enjoys listening to the stable boys chatter. It has affected his vocabulary, though,” Pol said, grinning.
“I can imagine. I wish I could stay longer, but I have other messages to deliver, and then I’ll be returning to Yastan. Ranno has me jumping.”
“So you’re working for Ranno, too?”
“For now,” Malden said. “I have something for you.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a large amulet. “This is the symbol for Deftnis. It’s fallen into disuse these days, but as you can see, the outer circle is surrounded by a braid. That stands for patterns of healing. The sword and flame are for arms and magic. You know how to handle both, and someday you’ll learn about healing. Probably in another year or two.”
Pol accepted the amulet from Malden. “I have a little one on my keys. This is too large to wear around like a necklace.”
That brought a smile to Malden’s face. “Any monk who achieves Master Level gets one of these when they leave Deftnis. It proves to other monks where you came from. This was mine, and I’m giving it to you in advance. Some monks mount it to a belt buckle; others put it on the end of their cord or hanging on the scabbard of their sword at formal occasions. Where you put it doesn’t matter.”
&nb
sp; “But I’m not a master,” Pol said.
“You are to me,” Malden said. “I’ve never had a student pick up magic and patterns as fast as you. Have you ever heard of an acolyte creating a spell or devising a new pattern here?”
Pol had to shake his head.
“That’s what masters do. I wouldn’t flaunt it, but I’ve had your name magically etched on the back if someone disputes that it’s yours.”
After reversing the amulet, Pol saw his adopted name, Pol Cissert, shining in rainbow colors. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Thank you will do, as always. Keep it safe,” Malden said. “I’ve got to get going. My carriage is waiting in Mancus to take me to my next stop. I sort of like being Ranno’s messenger boy.” He gave Pol a genuine smile. “The Emperor remembers you, as do the rest of us. Make us all proud.”
He gave Pol a quick hug and left Pol alone with his knives and his new piece of jewelry, or whatever it was. The amulet shone with a silvery yellow, a gold alloy of some kind. It didn’t have the mystery of the one he wore around his neck, and it was two or three times the size. It wouldn’t do to flaunt it, but he’d have to ask the Abbot if Malden gave him the symbol of Deftnis with his approval.
Pol wrapped the amulet up with a handkerchief and put it in the little bag of knives he had brought from Borstall. He smiled, feeling good that his friends still remembered him. He had to discount what Malden said about the Emperor. Hazett had other things to worry about other than a sick boy far to the south of Yastan.
After practice, Pol took a wandering route to the stables to check on Demeron. This time he noticed the Deftnis symbol discreetly carved in at least four places. Pol had ignored such decorations after seeing a few during his first few days at Deftnis. Seeing them show up in unusual places, Pol now had something fun to do. He’d count how many devices he could find.
~~~
Chapter Nine
~
SIXTEEN ACOLYTES MOUNTED UP FOR THE RIDE down to Deftnis Port. Everyone seemed excited. More than a few talked about sneaking into a tavern for a drink, although ale was served at all meals in the monastery.