He had to form the imitation of spirit use – the oily, evil feel to cover his magic. He had to produce a magical shield, which he found easy enough, but draining. Then he had to form a pattern that conveyed a particular look and feel in the delves of those watching that his shield was indeed a spirit. Seven wizards of the tenth ward delved and judged him. He had passed, barely. A few of the wizards frowned but gave their assent.
“Melaki, my friend,” said Domo.
“I'm not buying your drink today.”
“I should hope not. I pissed out a glowing blue stream last night.”
He laughed. His magic light was in the cup, not the drink. His friend was teasing him.
“Is there something different about your robe?” Domo waved his cup in the air.
“No, it's still black.”
Erilyn swished by, placing down his mead and snatching Domo's cup from his hand.
“She knows me,” he said.
Melaki grunted.
“You look tired.”
“Your powers of observation are amazing.”
Domo wagged a finger. “You can not fool me.”
“More testing. And more tomorrow. I can not wait to fall headfirst into bed after this drink.”
“Oh,” he said. His voice took on a tone as of someone talking about the stink of a dungheap. “More of that, eh?”
“Yes, more. They assume I'll be able to pass all the rest of the wards in the next four days.”
“You do not agree?”
“I do not know if I want to.”
Domo looked at him as if his face was glowing with blue magical light. “Are you witless?”
He could not tell Domo – no, not even Domo – that he feared progressing only to be found out. The frowns today had worried him. What if tomorrow they delved deeper, or more thoroughly, or whatever? He had no experience in delving his own magic, it was not something one could do. What did they see? Did they perceive his patterns imitating spirit use as real? Something new? A different flavor of spirit? They had frowned. Why the frowns?
Did they think he was using a more powerful personal spirit and were jealous? Did they assume he knew more of the spirit magic and was withholding knowledge from them? But what he knew of the Rukha and the wizards spoke of supreme arrogance. They would believe they knew all there was to know about magic and spirits.
If they had suspected him of faking spirit usage, he would have been executed already by now.
So why the frowns? What did they see in their delving?
“No, I am not witless. That is precisely my problem.”
Domo shook his head. “I do not understand you.”
“I do not understand myself , either.”
Later that night, he fell face-first onto his bed in his new rooms. Two plain rooms, dark brown walls and black floor tiling felt much more comfortable than his single white initiate's room. The first room was a study, such as Rashilla's. All wizards of the fifth ward and above had similar rooms.
But he would not be decorating it or furnishing it. He left in seven days.
He fell into a deep sleep and dreamed of being chased.
CHAPTER 3
Melaki wanted to hide. If he could find a hole, he could hide for the day and escape on the morrow on their ship to the Northlands.
Today was his day of testing for the tenth ward. He did not want to risk it. Not only would he be delved, of that he was not very concerned, but he would be expected to summon and contain a demon.
That will not be happening.
He refused to even imagine doing so as he could not just summon up a demon using his own magic, no matter how masked, without being tainted by the experience. Some things he just refused to do. Demon-magic was evil; he felt it. He would not compromise.
The wizards of the tenth ward had other ideas. Amazed at his progress, though it had not been without difficulty, they demanded he complete the tenth ward as such potential could not be wasted in their eyes. They would see him through it until he wore the full robes of the most prestigious class of wizards on the planet.
I do not want it. Not if it involves summoning demons.
A peremptory knock on his door was followed by the entry of Abisin and Headmistress Renta. The slight swirl of their slender robes was as demanding as the knock.
What was she doing here? She has no more control over me.
“I did not give you permission--” he said.
“We will enter as we will and see you to the testing for the tenth ward,” Abisin bit off.
“I will not.”
“I told you he was a failure,” Renta said. Her sneer crawled up her cheek and most definitely reached her eyes.
“I thought you were here to help me, Renta.” A look of annoyance wavered across the Elet's features.
Melaki walked into his front room. It was still bare, except for a few knapsacks of gear for tomorrow. “I have the say--”
“Nonsense,” Abisin said. He glared at Renta before continuing. “Your ability to complete the tenth ward is not even a matter of debate--”
“I do not want to complete the tenth ward and I have the right--”
“See?” hissed Renta. “He should have been executed.”
“Headmistress, contain yourself--” Annoyance flared more firmly on the Elet's face.
“No, Abisin, look at him. He lacks the strength. He has no inner will. He should never have been--”
Elet Abisin grabbed her by the shoulder and arm and escorted her from the room.
Melaki heaved a sigh of relief.
He looked at his gear. Could he slip out? Early? Stay at the inn? Stay with Domo? He did not have much coin left after buying supplies kept well-packed in his third leather pack. Inside were quills, ink, two sheaves of parchment, and two leather bindings. Included was enough cheap parchment for notes and ideas.
He began picking up his packs.
Another knock on the door, but this time softer.
He said nothing. He finished shouldering his bags and opened the door.
Rashilla was there, stunning in her black robes and silver hair. Her face was neutral. “I understand you do not want to be tested, but--”
“I not only do not want to, I refuse.”
“Why?” She entered the room by force of intensity.
He retreated a few steps.
Would a lie work with her? Certainly not the truth. The partial truth?
“Why?” she said again. She shut the door behind her as if to indicate their conversation would remain private.
Would it?
He sighed. “I have no interest in demons.”
She tilted her head ever so slightly.
“I have been here almost three years,” he said. “I have passed all nine of the first wards in just seven days. No one before has done it--”
“Indeed. No one has. But your passing has not been without difficulty. The eighth ward--”
“And anything to do with healing, yes, I know. So allow me to refuse--”
“Unconscionable,” she said. “You have it within you to be among the ranks of the most powerful wizards--”
“Rashilla. I do not seek glory or honor or power. I seek escape.”
“Escape? Explain.” She still used her air of command as if teaching a pupil a new ward.
“I was an initiate for too long. I ache to be away. To be done.”
“Your testing for the tenth will not take--”
“But I do not wish it.”
She fell silent.
“Sometimes people are different. Even wizards.”
“But--”
“Let me go. There will be other initiates who can do what I do and better.” His vision of the coming destruction of the Altanlean Empire went unmentioned. Had Abisin related the details of his involvement in Melaki's fifth ward testing?
She folded her arms. “We do not leave things such as this undone. All of us involved in the testing know you can pass the tenth--”
“But I do not desire it.”
“You do not make sense.”
“Perhaps that is why I should not be tested.”
“Your will is strong.”
Tell that to the Headmistress and I'll slip away during the argument that follows.
She shook her head. “I thought to persuade you--”
“Your desire to see me succeed is a sentiment and gesture I will not forget.” He stepped forward and gave her a one-arm hug. She smelled good and her frame was soft and frail in his arms.
She stiffened in shock.
He ignored it and stepped back. “I will not return.”
He moved around her and she watched him go.
Fear followed him.
With every step he took, he expected the Rukha and wizard's area to erupt in action calling for his seizure.
“Are you going for testing?” Agak said.
He looked back at the wizard of the third ward. “No, I am not.”
An eyebrow twitched on the wizard's face and a small quirk of one side of his mouth said he was pleased Melaki would not attain the final and most coveted rank in less time it took Agak to reach the first ward.
Melaki was sure he was the object of jeers and scorn. He had heard some of them. Some claimed he was the worst wizard ever, for having taken almost three years to attain the first ward and failing six times. All passed within a year and a half and none ever failed more than twice. Some claimed he could be positioned among the most powerful. Some laughed at his difficulties with healing – considered the easiest of wards. Some thought he was too strong. Others too weak. He wanted no more of it.
He growled at Agak's leer.
The sudden intensity of Melaki's frustration wiped the look from the lower wizard's face in an instant. Agak gulped.
But Melaki was not itching for a fight, he was itching for escape. He turned and stalked off.
Agak called to him. “I will be informing the headmistress of your refusal--”
Melaki turned his head, still walking. “Silence, dog.”
Agak could inform the headmistress all he wanted; Melaki did not care.
“There you are,” Talin said.
He had about collided with the tenth ward wizard again, as he had just a week before when wearing initiate's robes.
“Yes, here I am.”
“The boat leaves tomorrow morning--”
“I am aware. I am leaving here, though.”
“Not testing for the tenth ward?” His voice was curious.
“No. I refuse. It is my choice.”
Talin nodded, appearing happier.
Swine. You just do not want competition. Pathetic.
“Well, then. I shall see you onboard tomorrow.” The smile was satisfied and arrogant.
At least he will not give me trouble.
But the fear hounded him all the way out the gates. Initiates jeered him. Wizards in the lower wards scorned him. Those of the tenth ward queried him and met his refusal with confusion.
Being outside the gate of the Rukha gave him some relief. Some. He would likely not feel relief until he was on the boat to the Northlands.
* * *
Melaki boarded the sleek runner in the darkness of night just before the brightening of morning. He held aloft a blue ball of light and walked across the plank.
The ship was typical of Altanlean passage. It could hold a dozen passengers with horses and cargo. Its tall, triangular sail speared up into the sky fifteen paces to its tip.
Other passengers were boarding, too.
The tough sailor at the plank nodded at the names, recalling from memory. No one who was not on the First Charter tried to get on.
He was shown to his bunk. It certainly could not be called a room. But on a boat, space was at a premium. The door to his room was about as wide as his shoulders and the room itself only twice as wide as the door. The bunk was so slim that his arm would dangle off if he laid flat. A stool and a small shelf for writing were the only other furnishings. Above his bunk was a shelf. He stored his packs up there.
Talin leaned in. “I will be harnessing weather first. You can watch.” He said it as if Melaki still needed instruction.
He grunted. Although he did not want to give Talin the satisfaction of his presence on the deck, he did not want to stay cooped into this room the whole voyage.
The upper deck was a slow bustle of preparation. The crew knew their tasks and performed them with little direction.
“Two up,” said the captain. His voice was quiet, but carried in the brightening mist of morning. He was a blocky man, squat and bearded. His head was shaved bald.
A smaller sail was raised and Melaki felt Talin begin to work weather magic.
The crew busied themselves coiling the mooring ropes. Everything was accomplished with almost no noise.
The boat began to move and the captain spun the wheel.
Looking out to the dock, he spied three figures watching the departure. Watching him. Elet Abisin was there, arms folded, frowning. Frustration radiated from him. Wizard of the tenth rank Rashilla was there, head tilted, standing still. Curiosity radiated from her. Headmistress Renta was there, pacing back and forth, wearing a scowl. Irritation radiated from her.
He slowly shook his head so that all three could see it – his message to each.
Rashilla lowered her head and turned to leave. Her figure moved into the mist and out of sight.
The other two stayed until the boat was far enough out that they could no longer see each other.
Had Rashilla come to watch his departure due to the same frustration as Abisin? Had she come because she had suspicions about his magic? Had she come because his hug had awakened something in her she ignored?
He never saw any of them again.
* * *
Melaki twisted off his bunk.
The knock came again.
“Yes. Yes.” he opened the small door.
A crewmember was there. He spoke quietly. “Master Talin asks you to relieve him.”
He rubbed his face. “Very well.” He lowered the wick on the lamp to almost nothing and left his room. He passed the center table of crew off their shift. They were dicing and drinking from small mugs.
Looks like fun. “Maybe I will join you later.”
Those at the table had been talking quietly. The sounds of their cups settling back to the table were making more noise than their voices. But all noise died. Eyes looked back and forth and then regarded him and his robes.
He shook his head and left them behind.
Climbing the steps to the upper deck, the bright refraction from the waters above told him it was late in the day. Had Talin worked magic for this long? He still felt the oily workings around him.
They ceased. The strong wind died down to a steady wind.
“Make your magic.”
“Speed the ship along?”
“Of course,” Talin said. His sneer was not hatred but arrogance.
How was I supposed to know? I've never been a wizard on a ship before. He frowned.
“Are you having problems?” Talin leaned in. His eyebrow rose on his forehead.
“No.” He formed the oily pattern in his mind first.
Talin straightened, satisfied, but waiting. “Be quick. We have a reputation to uphold.
He glanced at the captain. The man was watching him, also waiting.
Melaki sighed and did something different. He remembered the weather draining him fast. If he was expected to help the ship for as long as Talin did, he doubted he would be able to do it. He doubted he could even perform weather for half of what Talin did. He formed a different pattern in his mind, summoning.
“What are you doing? Bring wind.” Talin said.
He ignored the other wizard. He drew his hands in, helping shape the pattern, strengthening it. Slowly, he walked past the captain.
Both were looking at him with shock. A wizard casting seldom ever moved.
Walking was difficult, but
not distracting. Stopping at the aft rail, he drew in his arms as if he was drawing in a rope. He muttered beneath his breath, not in incantation as they suspected, but in the focusing of his pattern. He felt it then.
“Melaki, I do not know what you are doing, but on ships we bring wind, or strengthen it.” Talin was annoyed.
The captain stayed silent behind him.
A whale breached close astern and blew. Then there was a gentle bump. And then another. The ship began gaining speed.
“By the gods.” The captain gripped the wheel and shook his head. “Pushed by a whale.”
Talin's face went from annoyed, to shocked, to thoughtful.
Melaki turned towards them. “I can maintain this longer.”
The wizard nodded at the explanation and appeared satisfied. “The captain will tell you when to stop.”
“Aye,” said the man.
Melaki maintained the charm easily for the next several hours. He released the oily pattern shortly after Talin disappeared belowdecks. It was risky to do so, but he breathed easier not having to concentrate on two patterns and there really was little reason for anyone to delve his magic unless one was testing or learning.
“You can stop now, wizard,” the captain said.
He released the pattern and the ship began to slow. The whale went swimming off back the way it had come.
The captain called out in that quiet voice. “One and two down. Anchor out. Nightwatch.”
The ship floated on serene waters, moving gently.
Belowdecks he was handed a bowl of stew. It looked edible. He sat next to Talin and spooned some. Finding it quite spicy, he spooned until it was gone.
And that is when the vision hit him.
He groaned, dreading the onset.
“Something wrong with your stew?” a sailor said.
Melaki placed the bowl down carefully and leaned over it, hunching his shoulders.
The Melaki Chronicle Page 5