Taming Fire

by Aaron Pogue

  I took another slow breath. There were opportunities here. They wouldn't come easily, but when had anything come easily? If I could survive this place, I would have magic to show for it. The king's cold dungeons offered no such benefits.

  So I rose and reached for my door. But I stopped, a grim smile tugging at my lips. Then I went back for Othin's sword, sheathed it, and hung it from my belt. It was a long walk from my room to my appointed class in the Halls of Learning, and I drew looks from everyone I passed. I heard them talking, but I did not slow, did not look to left or right. I went to meet Archus with a weapon at my side.

  In the end, I was late. I missed my turn, took a wrong staircase, and had to try three classrooms already full of students before I found my way to the right corridor. That meant Archus would be waiting already. It meant he would sneer and call me down for my tardiness. Fear and anger and irritation boiled in my stomach, but I forced them down. I took strength from the weight of the belt on my hip. I wanted to hesitate when I got to the door, to turn away, to draw it out. I didn't. I grabbed the handle and ripped the door open and stormed into the room.

  And looked down on the startled face of Antinus. The young man who had once been appointed my tutor was sprawled across a chair on the floor below, flipping impatiently through the stiff leather pages of an ancient book. He met my eyes. Then I watched his gaze fall to my tattered shirt. Then to the immeasurably expensive sword on my hip. Then back to my eyes again. He raised one eyebrow. "In my studied opinion," he said, words slow and even, "you have come prepared for entirely the wrong kind of training."

  I felt a flush burn in my cheeks, but it could not compete with the sudden rush of relief and excitement. I started down the steps. "Where is Archus?"

  "Ah," he said. He nodded once. "Of course. Archus is not here. And I will not excuse an absence to be spent on so frivolous a thing as tracking him down and murdering him."

  I ducked my head, offering meek acceptance. "Very well. I'll save that for my free time."

  He laughed, and it was a sound warm and rich. He gestured me on down to a chair opposite him, and when I was seated he considered me for a moment. "In all earnestness, Daven, you must not go about dressed like that. I'm to be your tutor. Archus is suffering administrative reprimand for his part in your altercation. Leave it at that."

  I looked away. "I cannot leave it at that."

  "You can," Antinus said. "Or you will be cast out. And that would stain my honor." He put a bite into the words, and I ground my teeth.

  "I understand," I said.

  "Be sure you do," Antinus said. "I did not want you for my student, but you were assigned to me. And when it comes down to the truth, I believe you deserve your opportunity here. Many do not. I will do my best to see that you get your opportunity, and a part of that is restraining you against your wilder notions."

  I nodded my head, trying again for meek. It did not come so easily this time, because there was less joking in it. I took a deep breath. "I'll do my best."

  "I expect it of you," Antinus said. Then he leaned back, releasing me from his gaze, and laced his fingers together behind his head. "Now, let us speak of magic."

  We sat for four hours, on the floor of the empty lecture hall, and we talked. He spent more time asking questions of me, as he had at our first meeting, but then he moved into explanations of his own. There was little new—much of what he said that first day overlapped things Claighan or Archus had said—but he was building a foundation. He took time to teach me the language, the terms we would use to discuss the complex and strange practices of a working wizard.

  We broke for lunch. He led me through the maze of halls, and I was more careful to learn the path this time. We talked more as we walked, and he showed me the way to the kitchens. He took a plate and then cast a glance at me. "I'll see you back in class in an hour. Don't dawdle. If you hurry, you can drop the belt in your room, grab a bite, and even visit the commissary in that time. If you hurry."

  I nodded and took my own plate to my room instead of following Antinus to the Gardens or seeking out Themmichus in the Arena. An hour later I found my way back to the room, dressed in a plain gray shirt that was nonetheless finer than anything I'd ever worn as a shepherd. Once again Antinus was waiting. He nodded at my shirt, at the missing sword, and then waved me on down.

  I expected more discussion, or perhaps lecture, but instead he led me through an exercise meant to help me visualize my surroundings. I quickly recognized it for what it was.

  "Oh," I said with a little laugh. "This is unnecessary. Archus told me of the need, but I am already able—"

  "You're not," Antinus said. "If you were able, Archus would not have won."

  I shook my head. "I don't mean I'm a wizard, but these tricks to help the mind's eye see—"

  "Hush," Antinus said. It was not cruel, but it was final. He nodded. "You see the world as it appears to be. That you can do so strongly is not an asset. You must see the world as it is. Now begin again. Close your eyes."

  And that is how we spent the afternoon. He led me through a dozen exercises meant to help me relax, to prepare the mind and body for the practice of magic. They felt familiar, half-seen reflections of the exercises I knew so well from my sword work, but there was a subtle difference in tone and texture. I grumbled at first, irritated at his insistence, but I did as he said.

  For another four hours I did little more than breathe and relax and imagine, but by the end I felt as tired as though I'd spent a full day in the fields. And by the end I was ready to admit I knew nothing. My head throbbed, and I felt a failure.

  When a bell tolled suppertime, he nodded once and climbed to his feet. Then he surprised me. He stepped up and extended a hand to me. "Well done, Daven."

  I tilted my head, confused. "Really?"

  "Really," he said. "Quite remarkable. You have much to learn. But, too, you have learned much. I shall make a wizard of you yet. Be here tomorrow. On time."

  I ducked my head in a nod, and he left the room.

  The next two days of my education passed much as my first had. I spent them alone in a lecture hall with Antinus, and he tried to lay a foundation. Antinus was clever, careful, and almost kind. He did not reach out to me, he did not invite me to eat with him or commiserate over my mistreatment. But he did not speak down to me, either. He did not go slow unless I needed it. He expected me to excel, and I seemed to meet his expectations.

  The fourth day saw me seated in the back of a lecture hall taught by a doddering old Master named Leotus. Leotus laughed, sharp and sneering, when he first saw me step into the room, but otherwise he paid me no attention. For my part I sat in a back corner and tried to understand what he had to say. When we broke for lunch I slipped out quickly. I shared a quiet meal with Themmichus against the wall of the Halls of Learning, and he told me not to worry about it. Leotus never made any sense to anyone.

  I entered the class for my afternoon lecture and found Seriphenes staring up at me. I expected another derisive laugh like I'd gotten from Leotus, or perhaps some outburst, but the Master merely raised an eyebrow, then beckoned me down to the front of the class.

  I felt the eyes of a dozen students turn to me and fought a shiver of fear. I swallowed a lump in my throat and wondered what the professor would say or do. He just waited, tall and dark and terrible. I stepped up to him, and it seemed inevitable that he would put me on display—humiliate me in front of the class.

  Instead he moved his head close to my ear and spoke softly. "I have spoken with your tutor, Daven, and you are not prepared for the topics of this class. I will evaluate your progress in three weeks' time. Until then, you are dismissed."

  He straightened, and his eyes turned back toward the class. Dismissed. He had done it as politely as he could, but still I felt the sharp sting of injured pride. I turned and started back up the stairs toward the door, and I felt all those eyes on me again. Seriphenes raised his voice behind me, launching into a lecture, and it was as though I
were not there at all. I closed my eyes and pressed on up and out of the room. When I reached the hall, I had to struggle to catch a breath.

  It was foolish. I closed my eyes and worked through one of the exercises Antinus had taught me, but I fumbled it three times before I switched to one from my fencing book. That served me better. I regained my control and slipped away down the hall. I went to my room and spent four hours working forms with my sword.

  That was good honest work. By the time the bell rang dinner I was dripping with sweat, arms and legs and chest all weary, and my heart felt good. Themmichus and I shared stories over smoked turkey and crusty rolls and I went to bed feeling satisfied.

  On my fifth day I met a spare and absent-minded Master named Bennethis in his study for private lessons. He asked me four questions, patted me on the head, and sent me away. I spent the afternoon running laps around the Arena.

  And then the cycle started again. Three days in training with Antinus, a day of lecture with Masters Alteres and Bennethis, and then a day of rest that I dedicated to hard work. But this time I answered my door when Themm came knocking at lunch time. His sister had sent a bottle of fine wine to celebrate his apprenticeship and he wanted me to share it. I offered to grab a couple plates of food for us, and he told me where to meet him in the Arena.

  I was just coming back from the kitchens and into the painfully-bright courtyard when I heard the sounds of an argument. I rounded the corner to find Themmichus backed against a wall. Four older boys were gathered around him, and they wore sneers and jeers that I recognized all too well. Themm's eyes were wide and his chest moved in and out with short, sharp breaths.

  I didn't know the boys taunting him. I didn't really know anyone but Antinus and Themm. But I recognized some of them by reputation. The tallest was a Souward, dark and handsome and unimaginably wealthy. Beside him was the heavyset son of a powerful northern lord, and another who I recognized as a close friend of Archus's. The last had blond hair, bright eyes, and a distant claim to the FirstKing's throne.

  They all had powerful names, and as I watched them looming over my only friend I felt a rage begin to burn in my heart. I'd heard whispers, I'd seen Themmichus hide his eyes when he walked with me in the halls, but I'd never seen anyone challenge him directly. I tried to keep my cool as I moved closer, but I heard Themm's voice break.

  "Daven's not the problem here," he said. He drew himself up to his full height, still head and shoulders smaller than anyone he was facing. "You guys are the problem."

  They laughed in sneering contempt and the northerner jostled Themmichus's shoulder roughly. "You must be kidding, Themmy! A shepherd, really? Is that how far your father's name has fallen?"

  Themm's eyes flashed fury and I saw his fists ball. The brute noticed, too, and shifted his stance, but before either of them could make a move I stepped up next to Themm's shoulder. I met each of the others in the eyes. "What's going on, Themmichus?"

  I felt him shift beside me, suddenly showing his nervousness. "Just talking with my friends," he said. "You could...you could come back in a few minutes."

  I shook my head slowly and held the northerner's eyes. "No need for that," I said. I still had two plates piled with food, and I set them carefully on the smooth top of the stone Themm and I usually used for a table. I rubbed my hands together and turned back to the bullies.

  "Master Seriphenes says I'm not supposed to be starting fights," I said. I gave the words more menace than I really felt. These weren't the simpering fops I'd taken Archus for. Even without magic two of these guys together probably could have taken me. I wasn't about to let them push Themmichus around without at least standing by his side, though. I met their eyes again and showed my teeth in a little snarl.

  Themm tugged at my sleeve. "Daven, don't."

  I shook my head. "Get out of here," I said to the northerner. "He's a good kid. Leave him alone."

  Themmichus sighed beside me, frustrated, and he nodded to them. "Yes. Just...just leave me alone. Daven's my friend, and that's not changing."

  I felt a little touch of warmth at that, but I held the icy glare. One by one the lordlings dropped their gazes. They shrugged and made condescending noises, but they backed away and left. When the last of them was out of earshot, I turned back to Themmichus.

  "Are you..." I started, but I saw his chin come up, and I figured his pride had suffered enough. "You held yourself well," I said instead. "Thank you."

  He looked up into my eyes for a moment, then he shook his head. "You're trouble. You know that?"

  My mouth quirked toward a smile and I rolled one shoulder. "I do the best I can." I nodded toward our plates. "Venison and greens today. Should go well with your red."

  He held my eyes for a moment, and he looked as though he meant to say more. He looked almost chastising. But then he shook it away, and forced a little laugh. "Anything would go well with this red," he said. "Have a seat."

  The next several weeks passed like that. I spent most of my days locked in a classroom. The best of those days were the ones I spent with Antinus, learning the basic methods of self-control, of concentration, and of imagination. After a week I began to understand how I could make something change, and after two I thought I could at least try to open the door, but Antinus said it was against the rules. First-year students only did that sort of training with the Masters' supervision. Instead he told me to relax and imagine the door and see what I could see.

  Themmichus told me that one day I would go through these exercises with a thought, and instead of simply relaxing I would find myself staring at a whole new world. Everyone spoke of "the world as it was," the world of energies and powers and realities that Claighan had mentioned to me a long time ago. The true world.

  It seemed impossible, but every day in the Academy I saw the proof of it. I walked among men who could reshape reality with wish and word. I could barely imagine it, but the more time I spent among them the more I longed to prove that I could do the things they did. I had little need for magic, but I hated being bested by these spoiled children, and so I kept on trying day after day. Within my gray and pale world, where time slipped like wind between my fingers, the thought of achieving that true world compelled me.

  And somehow Antinus saw that in me and always knew what to say to keep me going. Themmichus, too, teased me with displays of power and quiet, confident assurances that it would come for me. So day and night melted into a single desire, coaxed and fanned to life beneath the quiet gaze and gentle words of my teacher.

  Every week I had one day to myself, and I always spent some of it studying, some of it chatting with Themmichus. I practiced my sword, too, if only in the privacy of my room. And every week I went to check on Claighan. It became a ritual, because every week the Kind Father turned me away. The old wizard was alive, but he was not well. He took no visitors, and the Kind Father said he could not even speak. I always checked, though, and daydreamed of the time he would recover and take me on as his own apprentice. Then, at last, I would learn the secrets he had meant me to know.

  The rest of my days were not so pleasant. Every student of any rank spent two days per week in classroom study with the Masters, and though I was left out of Seriphenes's class, I had some hope for the others. I watched my classmates' first fumbling attempts, but as days and weeks rolled by I watched them slowly find successes. Sparks instead of summoned flame, coughs and rattles instead of violent motion, but at least they moved things. It was Leotus who used the closed door as an example—walking through the lecture with precisely the same words Archus had used—and it took most of an afternoon in my third week, but by the end of the day every one of my classmates could open and close the door with a spoken word.

  Everyone but me. I couldn't budge it. I couldn't summon sparks. I certainly couldn't light a candle, or project a thought, or catch a moth, or hang an image in the empty air. I watched my peers bend the world to their will, and no matter how hard I studied, how many questions I asked of Antinus
or Themmichus, I couldn't do a thing.

  At first I held some hope that my private lessons with the Masters might correct that. But after Bennethis dismissed me, I had to wait a week before meeting with Leotus who only took me into his classroom and repeated his lecture word for word, asking me to open the door. He started over, explaining everything, but there was no part I didn't understand. I knew the theory behind it. I knew the exercises. I knew what I was supposed to do, but I had no more luck opening the door for him than I had beneath Archus's taunting.

  At noon the bell rang for lunch, and he gave a sigh of relief. "You tried hard, Daven. Well done. You're dismissed."

  I didn't budge. "It's not enough," I said. "Why can't I work magic?"

  He was already halfway to the door. He turned back to me, and I caught him rolling his eyes. "Sometimes it takes time," he said.

  I shook my head. "I've watched a dozen spoiled nobles learn in a matter of weeks," I said. "I know how long it takes. Everyone but me can open that door."

  Leotus threw his hands up. "Then perhaps you're not cut out for magic. Is that what you want to hear? It's the truth. We've all known it since you arrived." He took a calming breath and then gave a shrug. "But we have our roles to play in this charade. You have done well enough for today. You are dismissed."

  I frowned. "But after lunch—"

  "Play with your sword, boy. Or bang your head against a wall. I don't care."

  Master Alteres was not so cruel, but he was no more successful. And then another week later Chancellor Lhorus spent a full day quizzing me on the things Antinus had taught me. We covered more than a month's worth of theory, and by the time we were done he was shaking his head, baffled. "I cannot say," he said.

  I shrugged. "Leotus says I might not be cut out for magic."

  The Chancellor shook his head sharply. "No. Magic does not work like that. Everyone can be taught. I have taught near enough a thousand students, and I have seen as many different strengths and weaknesses. But magic can be taught. It is self-control, concentration—"