A Sorcerer Rises

by Guy Antibes

  “Why serious? I feel pretty good, just finishing my last final.”

  Saganet entered the gymnasium and juggled a covered tray while locking the door. “Don’t want any interruptions,” he said, as he continued to walk towards them.” He looked at Effie. “How much did you tell him?”

  She shook her head. “I was about to—”

  “And then I arrived.”

  Effie nodded.

  Saganet lifted the napkin from the tray to reveal pastries and three lidded tankards. “I don’t allow students any alcohol, but in your case, we will celebrate your first year.”

  “This is serious talk?”

  “We’ll get to that. First, a toast to Hendrico Valian for completing his first year under adverse conditions.”

  They each took off the lids and clinked the colorful ceramic tankards together before drinking. Ricky took a tentative sip.

  “So,” Saganet said, rubbing his hands, “I’ve wanted to have this conversation with you for months. Effie and I are members of a loosely-organized group.”

  “I know that. I also know that you are not happy with the King and Duke Noacci.”

  Saganet cleared his throat. “Right. We’ve had bits of this conversation before, haven’t we?”

  “Without any details,” Ricky said. “Are you revolutionaries?”

  Effie looked at Saganet. “I wouldn’t call us that,” she said. “We want to maintain the King as monarch, but we feel he is gaining much too much power, and that has ramifications both inside and outside Paranty.”

  “Do you have an army?” Ricky said.

  “No,” Saganet said. “Not exactly. We do have men and women who can apply physical methods of persuasion.”

  “Are they thugs?”

  “They are not!” Effie said, indignantly. “Our base is in the merchant and craftsman class.”

  “And a good slice of the military class,” Saganet said.

  “What about sorcerers?”

  “Ah, that is a more complicated answer. Nobles and the very affluent act as patrons for performance sorcerers. Our group isn’t anti-noble, but many performance sorcerers would not like anything upsetting their flow of patronage.”

  “A mix of power and money,” Ricky said. “Benno and I talked about shifting alliances in an unstable political situation. Paranty was in crisis just before the Council of Notables was established and it’s recently become more of a puppet organization now. Right?”

  Effie nodded.

  “So I have had to figure out where I am in all this. When I lived in Shantyboat Town, politics didn’t matter. No one cared about anyone on the other side of the river. I found I like a level playing field. Just as I spent hours grooming the practice grounds, that is sort of what my philosophy is. Let everyone have the same footing and what they do with their situation is up to them. I see the King wanting to have everyone spar with him on uneven ground, so he has the advantage.”

  “That mostly makes sense,” Effie said. She looked at Saganet. “He is still fourteen years old.”

  “But I haven’t spoken much about politics with him.” He turned to Ricky. “Those are your own ideas?”

  Ricky nodded. “So if your group thinks like I do, then I will help you. Thanks to the academy, I have a future.”

  “That is well said.” Effie grinned. “It is how we think. We will continue your training this summer, so that you can work with us this fall.”

  “I can’t do anything if I have to watch my back for Victor Taranta to attack me.”

  “We have plans to take care of that,” Saganet said. “Just concentrate on getting better and then on getting into better fighting shape.”

  “I can do that.”

  The two adults didn’t give Ricky any more information. He was a little disappointed that letting him in on their secrets hadn’t revealed more, but they didn’t tell much more than what he already knew, except there were plans to do something about the Tarantas. Ricky didn’t need to know any secrets other than that.

  They talked more specifically about what classes would be held during the summer.

  “Benno wants to do more training, and I think Loria needs to learn to defend herself if we are going to spend more time together,” Ricky said.

  ~~~

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  ~

  B etti spent more time in Sealio than expected, but she returned by the time Ricky had regained enough strength to sing and focus his will. Sick sorcerers, he learned, couldn’t generate as much power.

  Bettie breathlessly entered the conference room with her arms filled with rolls of paper, which she dumped on the table. She clapped her hands and giggled. “We are going to have so much fun!”

  Ricky nearly recoiled at her enthusiasm. He wanted to continue with his project, but it looked like others had taken control, including Loria, who looked as thrilled as Merry and Betti. He glanced at Professor Calasay, and she seemed to be as reserved as he.

  “We needed to combine our true project with the competition,” Professor Calasay said.

  “I agree. If we let the performance take all our time, we might lose ground,” Ricky said.

  “Pish!” Betti said. “That will not be a problem, will it, Merry?”

  Ricky saw the competition as a distraction from the start, but what could he do? He needed Merry’s cooperation, and looking at the expression on Loria’s face, her’s, too.

  “Why don’t we plan out our summer like we did the first phase of our project?” Ricky said. “Are there any objections to that?” He looked at the women and at Loria. At least none of them said there were.

  Professor Calasay nodded to Ricky. “I’ll be the scribe,” she said, pulling blank pages from her valise. “Let’s start by setting our end goals and the dates to achieve them.”

  Ricky sat back, pleased that the Professor gave him the support he felt the dual efforts needed.

  They finished with the plan before their two-hour session was up and agreed to start up again the next morning after Ricky and Loria’s summer classes were scheduled.

  ~

  Ricky looked across the practice grounds to the grassy strip at one end. Twenty-five girls from all class years clustered around Effie. To give them more scheduling flexibility, Saganet and Effie would work with him while the girls practiced.

  A face turned around to look at him from the crowd. Loria flashed him a smile and turned back to listen. He knew the first two or three weeks would be all about conditioning. Saganet stood in the background looking like he was analyzing the girls, but he was probably intent on learning their names. He told Ricky it was always a challenge with the classes he taught.

  They all got up and walked off the field. Loria sauntered over to him with Effie, and Saganet followed, walking more slowly.

  “Effie won’t have us wearing dresses to her class. Riding clothes are fine, but she suggested lower cut boots. She’ll give us a day to get those. At least we don’t have to buy our own weapons, yet.”

  “You will,” Ricky said. “It’s better having something of your own.”

  She looked at the table holding his cane and a knife. “You find it an advantage?”

  “I do, but it’s better to get something that fits with your style. You won’t know what that is for weeks.”

  Loria smiled. “I guess. Father's silly about the danger. He is anxious for this training because he thinks what we are doing may be dangerous.”

  Ricky was as well. “Our training for the festival?” he asked.

  “And other things.” She looked back at Effie. “I have to go. I think most of the girls will be buying new exercise outfits. I know I will. See you later.”

  Ricky’s gaze followed her off the field. He sighed. She didn’t seem to think she was in danger, but Ricky knew better. His stomach still gave him a tweak of pain from time to time, complaining about being invaded with a sharp steel blade. He didn’t know if the latest pulse was from the wound or from worrying about Loria’s appare
nt disregard for caution. At least she was attending Effie’s self-defense sessions.

  “Are you back to normal?” Effie said.

  “What’s normal?” He saw Saganet smiling behind her. “I’ll exercise until I get tired, or I’m in some kind of pain.

  She put her hands on her hips. “Then show us what kind of shape you are in. Five laps around the practice ground will work for a start.”

  The conditioning that Ricky lost surprised him as he went through all his exercises. He made it through, but it took much more determination than usual.

  “Now let’s use the steel switch in your cane. I’m interested to see what you can do with it.” Effie said. She rummaged around in a chest and pulled out a padded coat, gloves, and a steel mesh helmet. “There is no sense getting my eye poked out,” she said, grimly.

  Ricky winced at her remark but recalled that Victor could have killed him had he not stopped the attack. Ricky had turned to Saganet to ask him to get further away when Effie hit him on the shoulder with a wooden practice sword.

  The match was on. Ricky tossed the cane’s top on the table and pulled out the switch, keeping the wooden holder in his hand. He deflected a blow with the cane and began a series of quick strikes against Effie.

  She grabbed onto the switch, but Ricky pulled it straight back and quickly struck her hand again.

  “Ouch,” Effie said.

  His blow must have unexpectedly stung her through the gloves because in all their fighting she had never cried out before. Ricky pressed it to his advantage. He kept slapping the switch on that hand as he stopped more blows with his cane.

  In came a thrust to his midsection and the tender area of his wound exploded with complaint. He quickly backed up and dropped his weapons, holding up his hands before he doubled over.

  “I guess I’m not quite ready,” he said as he sat on the ground clutching his stomach.

  “I’m sorry for that thrust, I really am, but it appears that you are ready enough,” Effie said. She pulled off her glove to show two thin stripes of blood. “You hit me hard enough to break my skin. That was excellent. Your defensive work with the cane was surprisingly good. I imagine you let your mind react spontaneously to my sword?”

  “More or less,” Ricky said. “As you said, I really don’t think about it.”

  “The speed of your reaction to my sword with your cane is what undoubtedly saved your life when you fought the other boys. The switch won’t work on armor, but on a street thug, you would come out on top, if you are sufficiently ruthless. It’s not enough to make them hurt a little; you must learn how to make them hurt a lot. Thin gloves, like I wore, are different from thick ones.”

  Saganet helped Ricky to his feet. “Are you better?”

  Ricky nodded. “I think so. I thought since I felt fine, I was healed.” He looked at his hand, but the wound seemed to seep a little blood through the bandage that still covered the stitches.

  “We overdid it, today. Why don’t we have you continue to exercise, and we won’t do any sparring for another week or two.”

  Rick nodded. “Fine by me. I’ll go over to the infirmary for a fresh bandage.”

  “You did well today, despite your injury,” Effie said.

  Ricky gingerly walked off the field and was surprised by the encouraging words of Effie. She never had complimented him after sparring before. Was she sensitive to his condition, or did she mean it? If she didn’t, Ricky would make sure he earned genuine compliments.

  ~

  His stomach still hurt more than usual, but the Healer told him not to worry, as long as he didn’t overdo things like he had. Ricky didn’t reveal that Effie had pushed a wooden sword in his stomach.

  He walked back to the cottage and took a nap before meeting with the women. He awakened feeling much better. The academy’s summer courses consisted of remedial classes and a few advanced ones, so most students didn’t linger. Ricky’s grades came out surprisingly well, so he didn’t need any more instruction in any of his subjects, even Parantian.

  The administration building seemed empty now that most students had left. He walked into the conference room to find Betti laying out papers on the table. He looked at the scribbles.

  “Is this an art class?” he said, smiling.

  “In a sense. Performance sorcery is an art. The events are always scripted, and we use drawings to illustrate what will happen on the stage. An illustration can explain an effect much better than words on a page,” she said.

  Ricky tried to get a feel for what the drawings depicted. “Isn’t this a bit advanced for Loria and me? A sheet of light?” He pointed to a sketch. “Is this moving across the stage?”

  Betti pursed her lips in thought. “It might be a bit advanced, but Dari will know what you two are capable of better than I.

  Merry walked in, so Ricky stepped aside to let her examine Betti’s program. She obviously knew more about what the sketches revealed because she pointed to various pages and made positive comments.

  Soon Dari and Loria joined them. Loria looked as lost as Ricky had, trying to follow the flow of the sketches, but Professor Calasay understood it as well as Merry. Instead of giggling and complimenting Betti, Dari often frowned at some of the effects.

  “How long?” she asked.

  “Long?” Betti said, batting her eyelashes with some confusion.

  “This seems to be more like a program of twenty or thirty minutes.”

  “You’re right,” Merry said. “We have to cut it down to ten minutes or less, don’t we?”

  “We do?” Betti put a pout on her lips. She got up and stood over the pages and began snatching some of them up.

  “You need a longer transition there,” Merry said.

  The three women began to pull out some effects and switch others. As they talked, they put in some blank pages between others. Betti wrote a few notes on the blank pages and stood back.

  “I like it, now,” Professor Calasay said. “Better flow, and there are a couple of easier transitions to give them both a breather during their act.”

  Betti didn’t look discouraged from her work being savaged. She smiled. “It’s better than I envisioned.”

  With her hands on her hips, Merry nodded. “This is good enough for now. No routine comes out exactly as planned, so this is a more than an adequate outline to start. Good work, Betti.”

  The compliment put a blush on Betti’s face. “That means a lot coming from you.”

  The two women hugged, with Dari patting Betti on the shoulder. Ricky felt uncomfortable about all the positive feminine feelings bursting out in the room. He looked over at Loria, who sighed and smiled. She gave Ricky an encouraging nod.

  “We are in the best of hands,” she said.

  Ricky wasn’t so sure, but it looked like all three women knew what they were doing. The performance didn’t worry him, but diverting all their efforts from the project did. He looked around the room at the four women and decided he’d just keep his mouth shut, for now.

  ~

  Two weeks later, Saganet walked up to Ricky after he had just run fifteen laps of the practice field. “You seem like you’ve fully recovered.”

  Ricky nodded, out of breath, but smiling. “No twinges anymore.”

  “Good. Are you up for another session with Effie?”

  “Why not with you?” Ricky asked.

  Saganet looked a bit perplexed and then grinned. “Why not? I’ll put on the gear.”

  Ricky held the cane, fully assembled, as Saganet put the mesh helmet over his head.

  “Thick gloves,” his guardian said, holding up his hand and wiggling his fingers. He grabbed a staff.

  “Staff?”

  Saganet nodded. “If we have to deal with thugs, it will be knives, cudgels or staffs.”

  After taking a deep breath, Ricky took off the cane’s top, put it in his pocket, and whipped out the metal switch. He flicked it from side to side to get a feel for its flexibility and to exercise his wrist.
<
br />   Saganet came after him and brought the staff in a swinging horizontal arc on the switch side. Ricky didn’t know what to do about an attack where the cane couldn’t be used to deflect. He slid to his right and had to turn his body, but his twist wasn’t fast enough. The staff hit his arm, making him drop the cane.

  “Do you want to try it again?” Saganet said.

  “Same move?”

  Saganet nodded.

  They faced off again. Saganet made the identical move. Now that Ricky knew what didn’t work, he sped up his sidestep and held out the cane with a stiff arm, letting the staff push him farther to the right, which opened up Saganet’s side where Ricky would have liked to slap him, but all he could do was weakly poke at him.

  Ricky held up his hand. “I don’t have that figured out. I can deflect the staff, but I’m not in a position to strike.”

  “Yes, you are, just not where you struck. Not the body, but the neck, head, or the hands holding the staff. A touch isn’t enough. This isn’t a duel. You have to think about the areas where you can gain the most advantage. When you fought Victor, you instinctively hurt him. That’s how you have to think when you fight on the streets. Using that switch, body blows don’t count for much unless your assailant is only wearing a shirt.”

  “He’s right,” Effie said, walking up. “You go for skin where ever it shows.”

  Ricky remembered, vicious. They wanted him to be vicious, but he could only do that if he felt his life was in danger.

  “One more time?” Ricky said.

  “I’ll slow up a little.”

  Ricky let Saganet swing. He couldn’t notice any difference from before, but he duplicated letting the staff hit the cane and being pushed back. This time Ricky poked the switch into Saganet’s neck. The lesson clicked in his head.

  “That’s better,” Saganet said, taking off his helmet and rubbing a red mark at his neck. “That would have pierced the skin.”

  “As intended.”

  They finished out the day with Saganet and Effie doing simple staff combinations, letting Ricky figure out what moves worked best.

  “Cudgels tomorrow,” Effie said. “I think the repetition seems to be doing you some good.”