Taming Fire

by Aaron Pogue

  He reached for me, placed his right hand on my shoulder, and surprised me by hauling me close enough to whisper, "You are safe here, Daven. Be silent and go unseen as much as you may." His voice grew quieter as the young man called Archus stepped near, and Claighan said in a failing whisper, "Not everyone here is a friend, but none should be an enemy."

  His grip relaxed, then, and we fell apart. I watched, panting through my own pain, while Archus helped Claighan struggle to his feet. The young man sneered whenever the wizard showed his pain, and I felt an animal fury burn inside me at that. Claighan's words held my tongue, though. With groans and grimaces Claighan finally attained his feet, and leaning on Archus's shoulder he made his way toward a large, low building that stood some twenty paces away across the courtyard.

  After all Claighan's warnings I expected unkind words from the cruel-eyed Seriphenes, but he only sniffed down at me and strode off in the same direction Claighan had gone.

  Instead, it was the man who had called Seriphenes down earlier who spoke to me, while the others trailed off toward the buildings. The one who stayed had bushy white eyebrows and a beard to match, eyes as gray as a summer storm and a pair of impossibly delicate spectacles balanced on his nose. He looked me up and down, considering. "So," he said, "at last we meet Claighan's little experiment."

  "Daven," I said, trying to keep my tone polite. "Of Terrailles."

  "Carrickson," he corrected. "We know precisely who you are. And word of your actions on the Isle has reached us as well." My heart sank. I would be a prisoner here instead of in the City. He shook his head, disappointed, and I felt it echoed in my heart. "We will keep you here in safety until Claighan is recovered and your case can be fairly made. Until then, you are to behave as our guest. You may attend classes—"

  I brightened, astonished. "Really?"

  He frowned at the interruption, but nodded. "Claighan made it well known that he intended you to be his apprentice. By our laws, that choice is wholly his. No matter the rumors we have heard, you shall have the education his authority grants you... until the council can convince him otherwise."

  I bowed my head, doing my very best impression of meek. "Yes, my lord."

  The other nodded once and picked back up where he'd left off. "You may attend classes, but only as a mute observer. You will not make any disturbance, you will not make any trouble on our grounds, or you will be handed over to the Royal Guard immediately. As easily as you were brought here you could be deposited in the dungeons of the royal palace. Bear that in mind, boy." He started to turn away, then stopped and added, "This Academy will be no haven for criminals. Unless Claighan can make a good case, you should not expect much kindness here."

  I shivered at that, and nodded, but he was not done with me. He dropped a heavy hand on my shoulder—heavy enough to make me wince at the shock of pain in my injured leg—and caught my eyes. "Did Claighan warn you about Seriphenes, boy? Or perhaps Leotus? You know he has enemies here?"

  I nodded, mute, and he nodded back. "I'm not one of them. They have their little schemes, their power plays, but I am the Chancellor. I have no loyalties to their games. It is my sole duty to protect this school. And right now, you are a threat to it. Do you understand?"

  I nodded, but he wasn't satisfied with that. I fought to catch a breath, shook my head against new waves of pain, then groaned through clenched teeth. "I have no desire but to learn, Chancellor."

  He frowned at me, as though I might be mocking him, then spun me around to face the towering doors. I gasped in pain, but he ignored it.

  "It is said those doors only open one way," he said. "You will not be welcome here—I can guarantee you that—and those doors are designed to keep intruders out, not to keep freeloaders in. Leave when you want, and you will not be missed."

  He stood for a moment waiting, expectant, as though I might push through the doors that very instant, but I did not budge. It took all my pride to keep myself upright, but I did not budge.

  When he saw I wouldn't go, he shrugged behind me and dropped his hand from my shoulder. "Well enough, boy. It's your choice. Just don't wait too long. Once judgment is passed, running won't be an option." Again he paused, again I stood firm. Again he shrugged, then turned briskly and began walking across the courtyard, not looking back. "Very well. Follow me, then, and I'll find you a room."

  A single building bordered the great courtyard, made of two immense halls stretching north and south, with a third connecting them near the middle. Two tall, wide doors in the middle of this crossing hall made the building's main entrance, but the dark wizard strode quickly toward a small oak door set in the end of the east wing. He pulled the door open harshly, muttering something to himself as he did, then stooped to fit through the small doorway. Hopping awkwardly on one leg, clenching my teeth at the pain in the other, I followed him into a dark, narrow hall lined on both sides with plain wooden doors. The Chancellor stopped at the very first one on the right and pushed it open, stuck his head in to look around, then stepped back.

  "Fine. This shall be your room as long as you stay with us. Number one east wing, in case you get lost. Enjoy your visit." With that he turned and stalked off down the hall like an angry cat on the prowl. Far down the hall I saw a cluster of boys standing near a doorway, but they rapidly dispersed as the old wizard approached them. I watched, a little afraid, until he was lost in the far shadows before I entered my room. I closed the door firmly behind me.

  A thin mattress hung halfway off a simple wooden bed, its legs scored by the teeth of mice or rats over the years. A desk stood in one corner, and a plain armoire beside the door. Other than that the room was empty. I collapsed onto the edge of the bed and rested my head in my hands. The blood on my arm was dried and dusty, but the scratch throbbed a little. The wound on my leg was worse, but somehow didn't hurt nearly as much. I brushed my hair out of my face, wiped the sweat from my eyes, and looked around the room again. I started rolling up the leg of my pants to examine that injury, but the motion brought a new lance of pain and a wash of fresh blood down my ankle.

  I ached; the sweat and dust caking me made me feel nasty, but something much larger was pressing at my mind, and I was avoiding it as much as I could. Claighan was gone. I was alone. I sat with elbows on knees, staring at the cold stone floor. I was alone and hated already. I thought of the old wizard's cruel voice, of the cold eyes of the other Masters. I thought of the boy Archus, on Seriphenes's heels, who had stared at even Claighan with such contempt. This place was no haven; it was no home. I began to run my eyes along the stone blocks of the walls, the tiles of the floor, tracing the little paths between that always led back to each other.

  I was alone.

  I cried. Tears mixed with blood and sweat, and hopelessness burned in my soul. My hands fell together in my lap, my eyes fixed on them, and I wept without a sound and wondered what I was to do.

  My door creaked, and the sound threw me to my feet, heart pounding. I screamed at the flash of pain that drove up from my calf and stabbed hard into my hip. I fell back down to my bed and had to blink away tears and blackness before I could see.

  When I did, I found a boy standing in my doorway. He peeked around the edge of my travel pack, holding it with both arms and not quite tall enough to look over the top of it. He had a thick mop of brown hair, big blue eyes now opened wide in astonishment, and a round nose. He dropped my pack to the floor with a whumph, and I saw his mouth twisted into a great O in his surprise. I nearly smiled at the sight, in spite of everything.

  He was a scrawny little boy, and he looked terrified by my howl. I forced myself to take several short, sharp breaths while I pushed the pain away and then focused in on him.

  Then I nodded toward my bag on the floor. "Are you the butler?"

  His eyes went even wider. Then he took a step back, and his eyebrows pinched together in anger. And then he laughed. It was almost a giggle, high and sharp, and it took his breath away. Then he fixed his eyes on me. "The butler? I'm t
he Chancellor's apprentice!"

  I sighed and hung my head. "I'm deeply sorry," I said. "I had no idea."

  "Keep your sorries," he said.

  He came to stand over me, though I was nearly eye-level with him even sitting on my bed. He looked me over and said, "How much of it is true?"

  I closed my eyes and shook my head. "None of it, or close enough."

  "They say you killed a king's Guardsman on the Souport road just to win an argument with Claighan. They say you bested one of the king's elite guards and won his sword in fair combat." His eyes shone with boyish enthusiasm, and he took a step closer. "They say you fought half an army in Gath-upon-Brennes and laid nine men low."

  I shook my head. "Barely half that," I said. "Although I suppose the rest of it is true."

  He barked a laugh, a grin splitting his face. "Oh, they are not going to like you here."

  I frowned. "Everyone keeps telling me that."

  He shrugged. "They're right. You'll just have to show them all you're true gold. Excellence covers a multitude of sins."

  "You're asking a bit much. I'll be lucky if I ever walk again."

  I said it in jest, but his eyes shot wide again in horror, and his head whipped left and right in a terrified panic. I had to stifle a laugh, but he sank down on his knees next to the bed and looked at my bloodied leg in horror.

  "I'm so sorry, Daven! I let my curiosity get the better of me. I'm supposed to bring you to the Kind Father. Can you stand?"

  I wanted to laugh at the terror in his eyes, but the pain washed over me in waves with his words, and I clenched my jaw to keep from screaming at him again. Fighting tears, I slid to the edge of my bed and pushed myself upright. I'd hoped to catch my balance on my good leg as I had done coming in here, but the sudden rise made me dizzy, and I nearly fell to the stone floor.

  The boy caught me. When my weight fell on him he grunted sharply, but he held me upright and wrapped an arm around my waist to steady me. "It's kind of a long walk, but I'll help you. Let me know when you need to rest."

  In good health I could have made the walk in four or five minutes, but hobbling as I was it took me nearly fifteen, and every agonizing hop of the way sent fire searing through my body. While we were still in sight of my room the boy began to breathe heavily. When we finally stopped in front of a carved oak door in a larger hall, I was glad to be able to take my weight off him. I leaned against the doorframe, and he huffed a great sigh of relief. He sagged against the wall, too, but leaned forward to knock on the door while I caught my breath.

  The door opened to reveal an elderly man draped in yards of thick, embroidered robes until he seemed a mound of red and violet cloth. A violet ribbon around his temples and a gold sun medallion hanging around his neck named him a Beneficent Priest, but he looked with no kindness on the boy before him.

  "Themmichus! Haven's name, I always expect to see you before my door, but I am never pleased to find you there! What have you done this time?" Only the hint of a smile belied the harsh words. The boy must not have seen it, because he seemed cowed to fear. He didn't speak a word but pointed mutely down to my leg. The old priest turned, surprised to find me standing so close, and as his gaze reached my bloodied calf his mouth fell open. Concern washed away jest and mock anger, and with a soft-breathed prayer he caught me up in surprisingly strong arms and bore me back into his office.

  I heard Themmichus call something from the doorway, felt the priest respond above, around me, but the words were fast fading into nonsense. If the journey from my room to this office had strained me, the priest's lifting me broke my last tenuous hold on consciousness. I realized this man would care for me, by oath and by law, if anyone in the world might. I sighed behind closed eyes at the thought, and then I let the pain drown me and fell back to a blistered peace.

  * * *

  I woke in absolute darkness to the sound of a feeble cry. I blinked, hoping my eyes would adjust to the dim light, but there was none. I searched my memory and eventually remembered my trip to the Kind Father's offices. I remembered a bed like a high table and gentle hands on my injured leg, murmured prayers and the smell of blood and fire. I shivered at the shard of memory.

  Then I heard a noise, not ten paces away, but muffled by a door or wall. It was a furtive sound, a careful one, but it held the sharp brutality of violence. I frowned in the darkness and, without thinking, rolled off the bed to land at a crouch on the floor. There was no pain, no weariness even, and for the first time I realized this must be a dream.

  And then I heard the sound again, and once again a pathetic little moan. Curiosity dragged me across the room, and caution made me quiet. I moved by touch and distant memory and found my way to the door. I turned the knob with all the care in the world, and it didn't make a sound. I eased the door open a crack, and then I saw a light.

  It was faint but unflickering. A dull green glow, entirely unnatural, and it came from an open doorway on the other side of the Kind Father's main office—another room like mine. I saw the shadow of a man stretched grotesque against the wall and ceiling, the sharp line of a beard stabbing down from his chin, the great draping sleeve of a robe hanging off powerful arms. I saw one of those arms rise up in shadow, then slash down in what looked like a backhand, and I heard another desperate groan. And I heard what sounded like a chuckle.

  And then I thought of Claighan. I remembered him, broken and bleeding on the ground beside me. I thought of him helpless in the bed, of the cruel-eyed Seriphenes or the sneering student Archus lashing out at him, and I felt a great fury build in me. I was strong now. I was whole. I could defend him against this cruelty. I balled my fists, tensed my legs, ready to hurl myself across the gap and into the room.

  An outer door opened and I barely stopped myself short of gasping in surprise. I fell back on my heels and sank low to the ground, heart pounding, desperate to remain hidden. I recognized the form silhouetted out in the hall. It was Seriphenes, tall and terrible, and he lingered on the threshold for the barest heartbeat before his eyes narrowed on the eerie green glow from the other room and he stomped in. He pulled the outer door closed behind him with more restraint than I suspect he wished, but he did not make a sound.

  He crossed the office in three long strides, and darted into the other room. I heard a growl like an angry dog's begin low in his throat, and I could see him clearly in the eldritch glow. His eyes narrowed to slits.

  "Lareth," he snapped. My blood ran cold.

  Lareth, the rebel wizard. The traitor who had turned the king against us. He was the same who had been striking a helpless Claighan. I felt my teeth grinding together so hard it hurt, and I forced myself to relax lest the sound of it gave me away.

  The other wizard answered with a voice like summer honey, smooth and sweet and languorous. "My dear Master Seriphenes," he said. "What brings you here?"

  "I thought I sensed the shape of a traveling," Seriphenes answered, his voice cold. "Of a pathway stabbing off hundreds of miles to the south of here. I thought perhaps I recognized the workmanship—"

  "Nonsense," Lareth said, and I could imagine him waving a hand dismissively. "I have learned new tricks. My workings are undetectable."

  Seriphenes growled again. "You always were stupid. There is no such thing."

  "There is," Lareth said. "I'm sure it was simple intuition that brought you here. Or, perhaps, a desire to see justice done."

  Seriphenes frowned. "Justice is doing well enough on its own. There is no reason for us to stain our hands with it. And there is certainly no reason for you to be here—"

  "What, am I unwelcome at my teacher's table?"

  "As long as you are in open rebellion against the king," Seriphenes hissed, "it would be wise for you to keep away."

  Lareth took a step closer. "I have been too long without news," Lareth said. "I began to feel abandoned."

  "You stupid child," Seriphenes said. "This king is not a forgiving one. If he suspected anyone in these walls so much as spoke to you, he
would bring the whole of his army against the Academy."

  "Let him try," Lareth said lazily. "I have seen just what his army is worth. I've slain a thousand men by my own hand, with just the least portion of the things you taught me."

  Seriphenes looked around. His eyes passed right over me, but he could not have seen me. "You would be wise to keep such words to yourself, even when speaking to me. I do not condone your actions."

  "And yet my actions are set to prosper you greatly." Lareth chuckled, dark and low. "Astonishing that the king's wrath turned against the one who suggested he send someone to speak with the rebels, and the old fool never gave a thought to the failings of the man who trained the traitor up."

  "King Timmon doesn't trouble himself to know the details of our apprenticeship process." Seriphenes's lip curled in distaste. "Admittedly, he does not trouble himself to know that much at all."

  Lareth laughed, delighted, and clapped Seriphenes on the shoulder. "There's the mentor I know and love." His shadow turned away, washing across the ceiling. "Come, try your hand at the doddering old fool. If we don't abuse him a little, the Kind Father just might bring him back after all."

  Seriphenes's lips curled in amusement, but he shook his head. "I've always admired your zeal, Lareth, but I suspect you might nearly be a dangerous maniac."

  "I am practical," Lareth answered, and some of the honey left his voice. "I don't truly enjoy this sport, any more than I do killing king's Guardsmen. But it is so much easier to do under the persona of a madman."

  Seriphenes cocked his head, curious. "Fascinating," he said. Then he shook his head. "That conversation must wait for another time. I have told you, Lareth, you must stay away from the school until you are ready to end this foolishness with the rebel army. So long as you are openly in defiance of the crown, you must wait for me to contact you as I may."