The Congruent Apprentice (The Congruent Mage Series Book 1)

by Dave Schroeder

  Eynon’s brain was spinning. “How do you use congruencies to fly?” he asked.

  Damon laughed.

  “You’ll have plenty of time to learn the nuances of wizardry, now that you’ve grasped what’s at the core of the art,” said Damon. “I’ll answer that question and the five hundred more I know you’ll have—later. Now it’s time to practice.”

  “What do I need to practice?” asked Eynon.

  Damon looked him up and down. He removed a tiny silver token the size of a royal mark coin from his belt pouch. A small blue gem not even as large as the nail on his little finger was in its center.

  “Use this,” said Damon. “Apprentices practice with tokens until they find their true magestone. It will be hard, since you’re not as attuned to the token as you would be to an artifact you made yourself, but give it a try. Walk over to the fireplace and see if you can strike a spark.”

  “I’m reluctant to practice fire magic in a library,” said Eynon. “I don’t think the Master would be happy with either of us if the contents of this room burned to ash.”

  Eynon scanned the bookshelves and smiled nervously. He still planned to read every volume and didn’t want an accident on his part to interfere.

  “Don’t worry,” said Damon. “I’ll deal with the Master if it comes to that—and I can snuff out a fire in an instant if you lose control.”

  “Very well,” said Eynon.

  He took the small circular token and carried it to the fireplace. Then he looked through the tiny gem in the center of its disk and focused his thoughts and will. The tiny magestone in the token twinkled.

  The gem against his skin did more of the work, however. It seemed that it knew what to do with very little guidance from Eynon. He was glad he’d kept his jacket on to hide any telltale glow.

  A beam of sparkling energy shot from the tiny gem and seconds later there was a fire roaring in the fireplace.

  “Well done, my lad, well done,” said Damon, clapping. “You’re a natural at wizardry.”

  “Thank you,” said Eynon. He knew it was the large magestone under his shirt that had provided most of the power for the demonstration.

  “You seem to have a knack for fire,” said Damon. “Let’s see how you manage with lightning.”

  “Inside?” asked Eynon. “In the library?”

  “I’m not insisting you call down a thunderbolt,” answered Damon. “I want to see if you can summon a spark to your fingertips.”

  “Like when I rub my feet on my grandmother’s braided rug in the winter and shock my sister?”

  “Exactly like that,” said Damon. “It requires control over the lightning’s flow. You want high pressure, but low power to get a good spark without damaging the area around you.”

  “Couldn’t we do this outside?” asked Eynon. “I wouldn’t want to damage any books.”

  “Preserving your future reading material should provide plenty of incentive to get it right,” said Damon. “Let me show you what I want you to do.”

  The older man rubbed his palms together, then extended the finger of his right hand. He nodded to Eynon to touch the offered digit.

  With a snap and a bright pulse, a miniature bolt of lightning crossed the short distance from Damon’s finger to Eynon’s. Eynon jumped, then rubbed the place where the lightning had landed.

  “That was a lot stronger than the sparks I got scuffing about at my grandmother’s.”

  “I’m sure it was,” said Damon. “It’s very easy to use too much power the first time you try to direct lightning, so why don’t you aim for my goblet instead of my finger. Remember—you want pressure, not power.”

  “If you say so,” said Eynon.

  He rubbed his palms together the same way Damon had illustrated, then picked up the token in one hand. He extended his other hand and visualized pushing sparks from his fingertips. Once again the gem against his skin seemed to know what was needed.

  Clang! Five arcs of lightning jumped from the ends of his fingers to Damon’s goblet with enough power to make the metal ring. The damp circle of cider at the goblet’s base sizzled. Moments later, the library smelled like apple pie and the sky after a summer thunderstorm.

  Damon popped up like a startled flying frog, knocking his chair over in the process. Chee had effectively levitated to the top of a nearby bookcase. The raconette stared down at the pair of humans warily. All his fur was standing on end, puffing him up to twice his normal size.

  Eynon was stunned. He sat, frozen, staring at his outstretched hand.

  “Too much power?” he asked uncertainly.

  “A bit,” said Damon as he set his chair upright and remained standing. “Maybe we should save future work with lightning until we’re outside.”

  “That’s a good idea,” said Eynon.

  He stood up as well. It wouldn’t be polite to remain seated. Eynon put the token on the table and clasped his hands in front of him, wondering if Damon’s lack of judgment as a teacher had anything to do with his long apprenticeship.

  “One last lesson before I send you off to cook our dinner,” said Damon. The older man looked ready to stop and rest soon, but he pushed on.

  Eynon’s nerves were jangling. He would have been glad to stop as well, even though he was eager to learn more. Then he realized what was likely coming next and felt re-energized.

  “Will you be providing me with sound instruction?” Eynon asked.

  Damon raised one eye, then a corner of his mouth turned up.

  “That’s correct,” said the older man. “I see you’re a step ahead of me. At least you’re not likely to damage anything more than your ears—and mine—with sound.”

  “Let’s hope,” said Eynon. “Do you want me to shape something offensive or defensive?”

  “Defensive might be best for our hearing, lad,” said Damon. “I want you to build a simple sonic shield.”

  Eynon was intrigued.

  “Where do I start?” he asked.

  “Hold your token between your thumb and index finger and sweep your arm around in a big arc,” said Damon. He made a motion for Eynon to copy. “Then imagine a thick circle in that space and pour sound that means something to you into the circle. I use geese honking.”

  “I’ll try,” said Eynon.

  He centered his mind and thought about his sister, Braith, singing while she practiced archery. There were times when Eynon thought she charmed her arrows into the targets with her voice.

  He picked up the token with its tiny magestone, but could feel a resonant link from the large blue magestone against his skin connecting to the small one between his fingers. When he moved his arm, it inscribed a great round shield-shape in the air. With help from both magestones, he poured his memories of his sister’s songs into the shield and felt it solidify, invisible, in front of him. Eynon was thrilled to be working a new sort of magic.

  He was about to ask Damon to throw something at him, to see if the shield held, when the magestone against his skin twitched. The hot oval felt much warmer and suddenly the invisible shield launched itself toward Damon, knocking the older man over before returning to place in front of Eynon.

  Chee chittered a loud chi-chi-chi-CHEE from his safe vantage point on top of a bookcase.

  Eynon dropped the token onto the tabletop, which dispelled the shield. He hurried over to check on Damon.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to do that. The shield seemed to have a mind of its own.”

  He helped the older man up, brushed him off, and guided him to a chair.

  “Pay it no mind, lad,” said Damon. “I’m no worse for wear, though if I had smacked my head on the floor it might have knocked some sense into me. I let my guard down.”

  “You shouldn’t have had to be on gu
ard against me,” said Eynon.

  “When a new apprentice is first learning magic, his teacher should always be on guard.”

  “If you say so,” said Eynon.

  Damon looked at him closely, like a farmer deciding which horse to buy.

  “Tell me,” said Damon. “How long were you in the Blue Spiral Tower? Days? Weeks?”

  “More like minutes, or maybe an hour. It wasn’t long.”

  “That means it couldn’t be any sort of residual influence from her magics,” Damon mused.

  “Sir?” said Eynon. He could barely hear what the older man had said, let alone make sense of it.

  “Never mind,” said Damon. “It’s not important. I think we’ve both had enough lessons for one day.”

  “Yes, Damon,” said Eynon. “I’m so sorry if I hurt you.”

  “I’m fine,” said the older man, smiling. “My pride and my backside will both recover quickly.”

  “That’s good,” said Eynon, smiling back. “I’ll make something especially good for supper—if I can find the necessary ingredients.”

  “I’d like that,” said Damon, “and so would Nûd, I expect, though I doubt he’d say so. Tell him to let you borrow from the Master’s private larder if need be.”

  “I will, Damon, thank you. I hope that won’t get you into trouble.”

  “No, the Master will be so entertained by your skill and my folly that I’m sure he’ll be in a good mood.”

  “May it be so,” said Eynon.

  “Time for you to go down to the kitchen, lad,” Damon directed. “And after that, you’ll can head to bed. You’ll need a good night’s sleep.”

  Eynon nodded.

  “Good advice,” he said.

  “It’s better than you think,” said Damon. “You’re much farther along than I anticipated. You’ll want to be well-rested before setting out to find your own magestone in the morning.”

  Chapter 16

  “Communications spells don’t ensure comprehension.”

  — Ealdamon’s Epigrams

  “That was tasty, lad,” said Damon. The older man sighed with contentment.

  “Thank you,” Eynon replied as he stood up from the table.

  “Where did you learn to cook so well?”

  Eynon looked over his shoulder as he carried an empty platter to the sink.

  “My parents knew their way around a kitchen—I must have picked it up from them.”

  Damon nodded and smiled.

  “And from my grandparents—and my aunts and uncles—and several cousins.”

  Now Nûd was smiling.

  “And Glynneth—she’s our neighbor one cottage down. Her sweet cakes are amazing.”

  “Before you extend credit to every man and woman in the Coombe,” said Damon, “know that Nûd and I appreciate their instruction and your aptitude. From what I’ve seen, you’re as quick to learn wizardry as cooking.”

  The corners of the older man’s mouth continued to turn up and laugh lines creased his forehead.

  “I hope that proves to be the case,” said Eynon, nearly laughing himself once he realized how he’d been going on.

  Eynon had worked hard making dinner. He’d fried thin slices of elk steaks with onions and made flatbread with more of the oat flour from breakfast. A crock of pickled cabbage with spicy red peppers Nûd had unearthed from the recesses of the Master’s larder had complemented the meal. Its strong flavor counteracted any sulphur smell in the air. To Eynon’s surprise, his nose wasn’t noticing the odor of rotten eggs nearly as much as it had when he’d first arrived.

  “Don’t worry about the rest of the dishes,” said Nûd after Eynon had returned to the table. “I’ll clean up. You need to get your rest.”

  The young giant glanced at Damon.

  “Very true,” said the older man. “It’s quite a hike to the best places to hunt for magestones. It makes me tired just thinking about it, so I’m heading to my rooms.”

  Damon stood, wrapped his robes around his torso and leaned on his walking stick.

  “Meet me here at dawn,” he said. “Nûd can show you where we keep the traveling rations and outfit you for the trip. I’ll draw a map for you before I go to bed.”

  “Can you tell me what I’m looking for?” asked Eynon.

  “I thought I was clear about that,” said Damon. “You’re looking for magestones. Wait, no. You’re looking for your magestone.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Eynon. He was feeling both puzzled and resigned.

  Must all wizards—in training or otherwise—be so intentionally obtuse?

  “Don’t stay up late,” said Damon as he left the kitchen.

  Chee sent him on his way with an energetic, if repetitive chorus of chee-chee-chee-CHEE. Eynon stroked the raconette’s fur.

  “Thanks for collecting the dishes,” he said to Nûd. “Please wait a few minutes before you wash them. I want to try something.”

  “Should I be worried?” asked Nûd cheerfully.

  “I hope not,” said Eynon. “I want to see if I can improve the quality of the water in the kitchen. The sulphur smell isn’t bothering my nose so much now, but the sulphur taste still is. I think I can taste iron in the water, too.”

  “Iron and who knows what else,” Nûd agreed. “I’ll put a pot of water over the fire to heat and you can try whatever you’ve got planned.”

  “Good idea,” said Eynon, “but if what I have in mind works, we won’t need it.”

  Nûd built up a fire and filled his largest pot with water, watching Eynon as he did.

  Eynon staked out an empty table against the wall on the far side of the kitchen, near a small sink used for prepping vegetables. Next to the sink, on top of four sturdy hardwood legs, was a polished granite-slab counter about three feet square. A hand water pump was embedded in the slab with its spigot hanging over the sink’s rectangular soapstone basin. Nûd stopped pretending to organize pots and dishes. He stared as Eynon experimented with a combination of sonic shield and fire magic.

  First, Eynon pumped a gallon or so of sulphur-tainted water from the hand pump into a basin he constructed from a lens of solidified sound. It floated in the air above the sink. Then he added heat until the liquid boiled. Once steam began to form, Eynon shaped the upper part of the lens to direct the hot water to a second, slightly lower floating lens he contrived to remove heat from, so the steam would condense and eventually drip out into the soapstone sink.

  Oops, he thought. I’ve got to put a stopper in the drain. He steadied his mind to keep his wizardry working and found a disk of wood on the back edge of the polished granite slab. It was whittled to fit the hole in the bottom of the sink and Eynon wedged it in place. A thin sturdy chain with a hook on one end was connected to the disk to make it easy to remove. Eynon placed the hook over the edge of the sink.

  “That’s fascinating,” Nûd noted.

  Eynon had to think about it to realize Nûd meant his magical constructs, not the stopper and chain.

  “How does it taste?” Nûd asked.

  “I have no idea,” said Eynon. “I simply had an idea and wanted to see if it would work.”

  Nûd stepped away and came back with a pewter mug. He used it to capture some of the clean water dripping down into the sink.

  “It’s good,” Nûd said, after he’d swallowed a third of the mug’s contents. “Have some.”

  Eynon took the mug and drank, though he reserved most of his concentration to hold his spells in place.

  “Can you pump more water into the first lens?” asked Eynon.

  “Certainly.”

  Nûd raised and lowered the handle half a dozen times until the first lens was full again. Chee hopped down from Eynon’s shoulder and took over pumping, keeping the water
level even. He seemed to think pumping was as much fun as eating Applegarth apples.

  “Clever beast,” said Nûd. “And you’re pretty clever, too. Is this something Damon taught you today? It seems quite advanced.”

  “Damon taught me how to work with heat and sound. The rest was my idea,” Eynon answered.

  “You have good ideas,” said Nûd. “You’ll have to ask Damon if there’s any way to keep your system going so we’ll always have clean water.”

  “That’s an excellent thought. Maybe tomorrow,” Eynon equivocated.

  He didn’t want to tell Damon what he was doing in case the older man would forbid it.

  Chee kept pumping and Eynon’s spells kept boiling and cooling water until the soapstone sink was full.

  “I think I’ll bring all the dirty dishes over to this sink, instead of the main one,” said Nûd.

  “Let’s keep the clean water for cooking,” Eynon suggested. “I’ll replicate my spells where the dishes are.”

  “I’ll cover this sink so it doesn’t get dirty,” said Nûd.

  He located a huge wooden cutting board and placed it over the sink. Chee looked disappointed to stop pumping.

  “You can pump over there,” said Eynon, pointing to the main sink.

  The little raconette scampered across the tops of preparation tables and found the indicated pump.

  “Do you think you could handle four lenses?” asked Nûd.

  “I think so. Why?” asked Eynon.

  “The water from the pump comes out a foot or more above the edge of the main sink,” said Nûd. “You capture and heat it in one lens and cool it in a second one.”

  “Right,” said Eynon.