Magician In Training (Power of Poses Book 1)

by Guy Antibes

  “Not this time,” Misson Dalistro said. “You haven’t finished your course of study yet.”

  Confusion filled Trak’s mind. “I’m being impressed again?”

  His tutor laughed. “Not at all. We are heading to Santasia, my home. Pestle is no longer safe for you.”

  “But what about my friends? They won’t be safe either!”

  “The innkeeper is safe enough. We have brought along Mistress Fidelia in much the same manner that we absconded with you.”

  “Why? I would have gone freely.”

  “The Dancing Studio mistress might not.”

  Trak thought hard. “What about Valanna Sleekbottle?”

  Misson patted Trak on his shoulder. “The king’s guard were on their way to take your tutor, Valanna and you to their dungeons. She has—“

  “Podor Feely took her.” Trak said it as a statement.

  “No, she has left Pestledown, but not with him. Someone else alerted the Pestledown guards about your magical abilities. We actually suspect it was Feely or Saddlebug who threw the net you barely evaded. Valanna had been alerted even before you.”

  “She knows—“

  “Nothing. She has nothing against Esmera, Cardswallow or the interesting Mr. Coffun Cricket. They have all been warned of the orders to capture you. We just anticipated them, and not by very much.”

  “But, who are you? You’re not just a tutor.” Trak still looked longingly at Pestledown. What if Misson was the one doing the lying? However, Neel had already vouched for him.

  “No. I am also an agent for the Santasian Council. We haven’t gotten to it in your studies, but Santasia threw out their king generations ago. We’ll go into the reasons why, later. Tonight, I want you to rest. I apologize for the way you were abducted, but we knew there would be too many people about and were lucky we didn’t have to enter into the inn’s grounds to find you.”

  Trak’s mind went in many directions as he tried to make sense of what just happened to him. “And Coffun?”

  “Mr. Cricket? He is sympathetic to our point of view.”

  Trak sat down on the hatch and put his head in his hands, not believing his predicament. He raised his head. “And just what is your point of view?”

  Misson laughed. “An excellent question. The Santasian Council sees the same strategy employed by Warishian agents in our country. The disease has not spread as far as we can tell and we have been able to weed out the worst offenders among the upper classes, but someone is stirring the commoners.”

  And Val was an offender? Trak had a hard time believing that. “That is justification for abducting me? If I was just warned, I could be on the road back to Greenbrook.” He shrugged his shoulders, but he knew what his tutor would say. He paused to let him say it.

  “Neel Cardswallow is presently on his way there to notify your father.”

  Trak’s mind was too weary to correct him. “Maybe I’ve shaken off the effects of the spell enough to get more sleep. I have much to think about.”

  “We won’t force you, Trak.” Misson said as Trak left him for his cabin, if he had the presence of mind to find it.

  ~

  The ship’s movement woke Trak. His cabin remained dark, but he now noticed slivers of light forcing their way through cracks in his door. He put his shoes and coat on and stepped into the corridor. Men noticed him this time and nodded their heads. He didn’t see an unfriendly face, unlike his last voyage with Captain Netherlight.

  “Here, eat some of this.” Trak turned towards the voice of Honor Fidelia. She sat at a table holding a bowl of mush with both hands. The various hanging things in the tiny dining compartment swung back and forth with the movement of the ship.

  “Did they spell you unconscious, too?”

  She shook her head. “At least when they came for me, I was in my studio. It didn’t take much for me to be convinced. Not after that Sleekbottle girl vanished with all of her possessions. Misson told me she had told him she had withdrawn from his course to help me in my shop. Not so.”

  “I don’t believe it, either.”

  Honor put her hand on Trak’s shoulder, the softest thing he’d ever seen her do. “I’m sorry. I know you had a spot in your heart for her. She lied to Misson because she hasn’t been at my shop other than for our lessons for a few weeks.”

  Trak’s heart fell. Liar. He had been well and truly taken in by her beauty. “Does Misson know if any of her story was true?”

  “You’ll have to ask him. All I know for a fact is that we barely got out of Pestledown.”

  Trak refused to accept Val’s duplicity. “How can you be sure Misson isn’t the one who has created a hoax?”

  “Because I’ve known Master Dalistro for many years. I came to Santasia years ago and met him. I trust him with my life, although he acted as if I didn’t last night.”

  “It appears he holds both of our lives in his hands.” Trak said as a sailor tossed a bowl of mush in front of him. He fumbled with it and spilled a bit on the worn-looking table.

  “Better his hands than Podor Feely’s,” Honor said and put her proffered bowl back in front of her.

  Trak ate his mush and staggered up the ladders to the top deck. He didn’t spot Master Dalistro, but found a spot where he could wedge himself while the ship tossed to and fro. He looked out to sea. They had to be into the deepest part of the ocean. Land was nowhere in sight and the ocean looked deep blue to match the mostly clear sky.

  He looked up at the billowing sails. The rough seas were stirred up by the wind. Trak wished he knew how long they would be traveling to Santasia. He had never learned much in the way of distances. He stared at the boiling sea and listened to the calls of the sailors and the mates or officers spout off instructions in a language he did not understand.

  Misson had always spoken with a bit of an accent. Perhaps his education would now include lessons in a foreign language, something that Trak never would have dreamed of learning a few months ago.

  “Are you feeling better?” his tutor said from behind him.

  Trak turned away from the sight of the sea and shrugged. “Not really, now that my father and my closest adult friend could be in hiding. My magic teacher tells me she trusts you and I hate being forced to do the same.” He didn’t mention how betrayed he felt.

  Dalistro smiled amiably, an amiability Trak didn’t share at the current point in time. “You are not forced to trust me. Perhaps that trust will be earned at a later date. Are you still willing to learn?”

  “What else am I to do? There are no stables or garden to tend that I can see. I have no other talents.”

  The tutor shook his forefinger at Trak. “Not so, Honor is here. She can continue to teach you. If you can stand me, I’d like to continue to provide you with history.”

  “Twisted to the Santasian point of view?” Trak looked back toward the sea and then glared at his tutor. But Dalistro knew that Trak had magic. He didn’t see any way out of his predicament.

  Dalistro narrowed his eyes. “Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll teach you the history the Warishians want you to learn and my version. You can decide which one makes the most sense.”

  Trak couldn’t dispute the fairness implied in Dalistro’s offer, but he knew bias would creep in. He’d heard different versions of the same story told during long nights inside The Blunted Sword. He still didn’t understand how Honor could trust him. Perhaps he needed another talk with her and lessons would afford him the opportunity to see if Honor’s own views were clouded with some strange Santasian spell.

  ~

  “I don’t know where you acquired such superb balance,” Honor said, observing a set of fifteen poses that she made Trak perform.

  “Practice, I guess.” He shrugged. “As I said, Neel taught me military forms and I guess I became obsessed with doing them absolutely right.”

  “What poses you know are done as well as any magician who has practiced for years. I didn’t know your mother very well and saw her practice po
ses only once or twice. She definitely didn’t have your precision, but she did have exceptional power.”

  “I don’t know what good any of this will do me in Santasia,” Trak said, breaking form and sitting down. Her exercises left him exhausted. She hadn’t taught him a single word of power on their entire voyage to protect the ship from the inadvertent effects of his magic.

  “Enough of your truculence and negative thinking. I once thought no one could out dour me, but you have succeeded. When was the last time you even smiled?”

  Trak knew. He grinned when he stepped into the alleyway, ready to practice his forms just before his abduction. “My sword!” He had forgotten completely about Neel’s birthday gift. “Did they bring it?”

  Honor shook her head. “I don’t know. Ask Misson.”

  If he had Neel’s sword at his side, he would feel more in control of his destiny. He’d seek out the tutor as soon as this session ended,

  “After I’ve mastered all of these poses, then what?”

  “There are many pose variations, but where I learned, the goal was to learn sixty-seven basic poses. You need to learn those and more, but tomorrow we will start with the theory behind the poses. I generally start with that, but I never trusted Miss Sleekbottle and you just weren’t ready for the thinking part. But don’t think that we’ve wasted time. Your pose work has progressed nicely as I’ve told you.”

  Trak mumbled his thanks. “Are we done?”

  She nodded. “You may go and ask about your sword, I don’t need magic to tell me what’s on your mind. Perhaps that might add a little light to your life, eh?”

  He felt his attitude brighten. “I’ll go now.” He nodded to Honor and left her in the large cabin that she alone used.

  Misson Dalistro spoke with the Captain in Santasian on the steering deck. Trak needed permission to climb up and the Captain nodded to him as he waited at the bottom of the ladder.

  “What brings you up here Master Magicker?” the captain said. He had the much stronger accent than the crew had.

  “I wish to ask Master Dalistro if my sword was retrieved when I was taken.”

  Valuator grinned. “It was and I’m glad you’ve finally asked. It’s in my cabin and I’ll bring it to our next session, which will be in…” he looked at the sun in the sky, “…two hours. Do you want to spend some time up here and see how Captain Glasanda navigates the ship?”

  Trak’s anger seemed to defuse just a bit and he relented. “I will.”

  “Then if you will excuse me, Captain, I will prepare for my session with Master Bluntwithe by taking a nap.” He passed Trak and clapped him on the shoulder and climbed down the stairs. He didn’t like his tutor showing so much good humor. He felt like the man had achieved some victory at his expense.

  “Now, what do you know about sailing?” Captain Glasanda said, rubbing his hands. It seemed that the captain also seemed like he might enjoy lecturing Trak as well.

  ~

  Dalistro handed the sword to Trak. “It is a good serviceable blade. This was made in Santasia by the best of our craftsmen for an expert swordsman. You might not have noticed, but the balance is superb and the steel is exquisite to a practiced eye.”

  “And you have a practiced eye? You have a wide range of expertise, Master Dalistro.” Trak looked sideways at his tutor.

  “Indeed, I do. Perhaps you would like to practice with me. We have another two weeks on board ship and it might spice up our time together, not using this sword, however. Using naked blades on a rolling ship is not the best way to train and stay unblooded.”

  The term unblooded didn’t seem to be something that a tutor would think to say. However, Neel had never returned to practice with him and now that he had his sword back, Trak found himself anxious to see how well his forms served him against Dalistro, who had never seen him practice before.

  After an hour of Warish’s version of Pestle history, Dalistro took him topside, pulling two practice swords from a barrel in a compartment that Trak had never seen before. He noticed weapons of all kinds hanging from the walls.

  “Coats off,” his tutor said. He tested both of the wooden swords and gave one to Trak. “This has the best balance.”

  Trak didn’t quite know the protocol the Santasian’s followed. He brought his sword up to his forehead and swept it down in an arc. Dalistro did something similar but in the opposite direction and left it at his forehead and gave him a little bow. Trak shrugged and assumed the first defensive posture that Neel taught him. He’d only show Dalistro the basic forms.

  “You have excellent form for one so young. Cardswallow has taught you well, but I would suspect that you have practiced much more.”

  Trak nodded. “I have.”

  Dalistro thrust his sword at Trak’s stomach. Trak immediately recognized the thrust from the position of Dalistro’s feet and used a circular motion to throw the thrust away. The tutor began a series of maneuvers, but they seemed to be in a pattern that Trak recognized as a different set of forms. Dalistro’s pace was rather slow and Trak easily countered every movement that Dalistro showed him.

  This kind of dance of sword forms had been the kind of thing that Neel had practiced with him many times. Trak could go on until his arm tired. But then Dalistro sped up his forms. Trak found himself batting away Dalistro’s advances. He felt his forms breaking down as Dalistro’s strokes and counter strokes became incredibly fast.

  During one of Trak’s defensive forms, Dalistro struck with unexpected strength. Trak’s practice sword spun across the deck and bounced into the sea. He held up both hands, signally defeat to his tutor.

  Dalistro grinned. “You made me sweat. Good for you, most of your forms were defensive until you lost your composure and began flailing your sword about.”

  Trak felt dejected. How could he be so soundly defeated? He had expected more of himself. “I’m sorry I was such a poor opponent.”

  “I’d say he did well enough against one of the best swordsmen in Santasia,” Captain Glasanda said, looking down from his steering deck. “What say you, Misson?”

  His tutor nodded. “If you don’t mind, Glasanda, this is just the start of Trak’s instruction. Don’t fill his head with praise. I just gave enough. Now go mind your boat,” He said and made a dismissive motion with his hand. Both of the older men laughed.

  Trak thought they must know each other very well. Dalistro didn’t even call Captain Glasanda by his title.

  “And now, Trak, we will go over our little exercise and I will show you where you went wrong.”

  “I did just fine until you sped up,” Trak said, not knowing if that was an excuse for his poor showing or not.

  Dalistro nodded, but gave Trak the grimmest look he had ever observed his tutor make. “Speed is what you need to anticipate. Real swordsmen do not fight for long. Whoever has the most speed will try to win as soon as he can. When I began to press, you lost all composure and that spelled doom for you. That shows that you have practiced the forms, but for exercise, not for speed, and not when you are in peril. In a real duel, your blood would be staining the Captain’s spotless deck.”

  Trak had never thought of swordplay quite in that way. He had always dreamed of long sword fights going up and down palace steps or fighting between trees in a thick forest. Dalistro’s comment threw icy cold water on that notion. This man had something worthwhile to teach him, even if he did instruct him in biased histories. There was nothing biased about the drubbing he had just had.

  “I would like to learn how to keep that from happening, Master Dalistro. Is the captain right about your swordsmanship?”

  “His is one point of view,” Dalistro said enigmatically. “You know that I am better than you and can teach you how to better protect yourself, even though your forms were impeccable until pressed.”

  Trak bowed at his waist. “I am more than willing to learn.” Wouldn’t Neel be surprised if he returned to Pestledown able to best him with a blade? Magic seemed, just then, somethin
g less honorable than swordplay.

  ~

  After a history session each day, Trak and Dalistro worked on the deck. But his tutor disappointed him by insisting that their actual work with swords only last for a quarter hour. The rest of the time, he had Trak climbing into the rigging, swabbing the decks and lifting boxes from one end of the ship to the other.

  When Trak finally complained, Dalistro said, “You crumbled at my feet because you lost your strength as much as your composure. Even at my advanced age, I am stronger and fitter than you, Master Bluntwithe.” Trak knew Dalistro was younger than Neel, so he also knew the man played with him. So be it. Trak recognized Misson was building up his muscles. “When we reach Santasia, we will spend even more time building your stamina. For the present, work aboard the heaving ship will only improve your balance.”

  Trak grumbled a bit, but as he worked with the sailors, he returned to creating patterns of work, something that he had neglected while he lived in Pestledown. He made every repeated act into a form. He swabbed the decks again, remembering the form he developed on his ill-fated voyage to Pestledown. Trak paced himself as he used the winch, but always with an eye to prepare to go faster. Everything had a pattern and ended up as a pose. He built up strength for Honor’s exercises and worked to build his body. Perhaps Esmera wouldn’t think him so soft now.

  Towards the end of their voyage, Dalistro permitted him to spar again. The results were the same, but Trak knew that he had lasted longer before his composure crumbled along with his strength.

  His magic lessons were a different story. Trak’s pose notes were still hidden in Esmera’s flat above the stables. Now he recognized the wisdom of hiding his portfolio. No one would find it unless they pulled the stable apart. Honor insisted that he repeat all of the poses and record them a new portfolio. She still wouldn’t let him learn the words of power.

  “I won’t have you practicing magic on board ship. Remember your first attempt?”

  Trak nodded, having gotten the message, yet again.