B00B15Z1P2 EBOK (7 page)

“So what happened?” asked Sura, as Bailar drank down the last cup of tea.

“Between us—with a little help from Cohodas, no doubt—we invoked the Principle of Closure and ended Storm Cloud’s spell. I stayed on a few more days, waiting for the road to dry out. But I grew uncomfortable under the adulation of Enzid and the folk he stirred, and feared retaliation by the former powers, so I bought passage with a north-going merchant. I have taken the river to Queensport ever since.” Bailar shook his head. “Do you understand now why I’m so leery of weather magic, Mik? It is Chaos magic, not Water magic. There are laws and principles that govern it like everything else, but there are too many of them for a mere human to understand, let alone control.”

Mik nodded. “So this Storm Cloud thought he could work weather magic?”

“Indeed. He was infamous at the Conclave. He believed that the inner mind—what folk call instinct—could grasp the principles of Chaos magic. Of course, no matter what weather he tried to call forth, it was always rain that answered him. With vigor. And in this case, the local deity magnified his usual results into a mighty curse. This too is a hazard of Chaos magic—the happenstance that a Power uses to bring down a curse is quite often its result.”

“Father,” said Sura, “why have you never told me this story before?”

Bailar smiled. “The last time we passed this way, you were daughter and attendant. Now you—and Mik—are apprentices, bonded after a fashion.” The youths blushed. “Mik, you speak truer than you know, when you say there are other kinds of magic. It has been long observed that many sorcerers are the children of farmers. I myself am one. The ability to grow crops, often when all conditions are contrary, may well be a kind of magic. There are soothsayers, like our friend Aborsa—and enchanters, of course. But remember, most enchanters are not like Ahm Kereb. Witches are concerned with Nature and some of the edges of Chaos magic.

“Emotions are a sort of Chaos magic as well. That is why spells to manipulate emotions can go wrong in so many ways. And… and love, of course. So I tell you this story to warn you of several things.”

Mik gave a nervous laugh. “I think I understand.”

“Not completely. The Conclave is concerned about our dwindling numbers. As first-year apprentices, nothing should be said to you this year. But as you grow older and your skills develop, there will be… pressures. The atmosphere at the Gathering is a reflection of those pressures.” Bailar looked through the walls, all the way to Queensport, thinking about a letter he had already received.

“Pressures?”

“As I said, nothing you need worry about this year.” Bailar paused. “Listen.”

“I don’t hear anything,” said Sura.

“The rain has stopped. On its own, of course.” The mentor smiled. “I think I’ve reminisced enough for one evening. You are dismissed for the day. Go enjoy what’s left of it. We have three more days, perhaps four, before we reach Queensport.”

Shafts of sunlight found their way through the overcast, splotching the rice fields across the river. Mik and Sura sat comfortably close together on Mik’s cloak, backs against the cabin wall. They shared a supper platter that Sura had made for them, and watched spots of sunlight blaze and fade on the farther shore.

“It’s so quiet,” said Sura.

“The crew got shore leave in Mosvil.” Mik grinned. “Most of the other passengers are in town too. I guess they’ll find something to do.”

“I’m glad Father didn’t take up Enzid on that offer.” Enzid had sent word, offering a suite for Bailar and his apprentices on very favorable terms, but Bailar politely declined. “It was nice, being off this barge for a while, but now? Everyone else is gone and we have it to ourselves.”

“I know what you mean.” Mik looked at Sura. “It doesn’t matter where I am. As long as I’m with you. I—I—” Sura was giving him that look, the one that stopped his thoughts in their tracks.
 

“What?”

Mik looked down. “I wonder what the mentor meant by pressures. At the Conclave, I mean.”

“Uh-huh. I’m sure he’ll tell us when we need to know.”

He shrugged and put his arms around her. “You’re right. There’s not much to look at out there, now. Maybe we should work on our… Chaos magic.”

Sura laughed and returned the embrace. The barge grew quiet in the deepening twilight.

Chapter 4 - At the Conclave

Mik stood on the
Wide Lady
’s pointed prow, gawking at the endless procession of buildings, docks, and landings. The polemen, who would have normally cursed him as an obstacle, gave him a nod and plenty of space. Mik had helped to foil a raid along the way, and had stood watches with them. He was one of them.

“You can hear about something, but sometimes you have to see it to understand.” The voice behind him spoke softly but with a touch of humor.

“Yes, sir,” said Mik, turning to look at his mentor, Bailar the Blue. “Even Exidy seemed big, when I first saw it. But this…” He waved at Queensport, sprawling on both sides of the Wide River. “It’s hard to take in.”

Bailar caught the railing and held on. “Queensport is a great city, perhaps the greatest of our time. But it is a shadow of Camac That Was or even Old Koyr, from before the Age of Heroes.”

“Have you ever seen them?”

“No, but I have spoken with travelers. Camac is now a sprawling ruin, inhabited mostly by those who still quarry the great stonework left by the original inhabitants. Koyr was partly rebuilt by those who rule from the acropolis above the city.” Bailar shook his head. “Now there is a proud and prickly people. Ak’koyr was the chief city during the Age of Heroes, and they haven’t forgotten. You’ll meet some of them at the Conclave.”

“Easterners too?”

Bailar chuckled. “Quite likely. But have no fear, they will not be rogue enchanters like Ahm Kereb. Or if they are, they will take pains to hide it. All put aside their differences at the Gathering, for the good of all.”

Mik nodded and looked around. “Where’s Sura?”

“She’s making ready for us to debark. Oh, don’t worry. She has always done it, and she knew you would have to see Queensport.” Bailar paused, watching the city glide by for a moment. “The first year she traveled with me, she did this too. The barge captain said she made a fine figurehead.”

“Beg pardon,” said a poleman. “The cap’n says we’re nearin’ the canal and ya need to rejoin the other passengers. If ya please.”

“Yes,” said Bailar. “It would not do to interfere. Let’s go see if Sura left anything for you to pack.”

The barge captain stalked up and down the length of his vessel, shouting orders and curses at his crew in his Low Speech argot. Under his direction, the barge slowed, the stern canting port-side, drifting downriver at an angle close to the west bank. “Now! Heave to, boys! Ram it home!” Twenty polemen to port, ten to starboard, strained at their poles; the
Wide Lady
changed course, slipping through an open gate and into the canal.

“Job well done!” the captain barked; behind them, the gate swung closed and they drifted down the canal. “Now straight ya turn her, and for home we make! Rest ya can, when tied we are!”

“Thanks for taking care of all this,” said Mik, sitting with Sura atop their small pile of luggage.

She laughed. “It’s not that much. Besides, it’s your turn when we get back home!”

“Fair enough!”

Sura watched Mik watching the city for a while. “You think this is something,” she said, “wait until you’re in the middle of it. Where we’re going is… well, you’ll see.” She grinned and stood. “We’ll be busy, but we’ll have a little free time.”

“Good.” Mik sounded distant, distracted by all the sights. “What happens when we get off this barge?”

“Father will hire a cart to take us and our baggage to the Conclave. It’s at the Great Keep, along the seacoast.”

“Huh. Why couldn’t we just take another boat, then?”

“The coast is rocky, and the keep has no docks,” said Bailar. “It was positioned for defense, not trade. As Sura said, you’ll see.”

Mik had little time to wonder about the keep at first, trying to see everything, a sweaty hand gripping Sura’s in the hired wagon. Bailar rode up front with the driver, leaving the apprentices to keep each other company with the baggage in back. Sura watched Mik, stifling laughter at his grunted exclamations and jerky movements, as he tried to take in each new wonder. The air was muggy and hot, but Mik barely noticed.

After many starts and stops, they turned onto the Royal Highway. Through Queensport, the road was a grand boulevard, lined with stately buildings and gnarled old trees. Their wagon joined a throng of other traffic, often slowing to a stop. Drivers shouted greetings, friendly and otherwise, at each other during the stops. Pedestrians walked between the stopped vehicles, leaving Mik wondering if walking would be faster. This one stretch of road had more horses than his aunt had cattle; Mik was amazed that there were this many horses in the world. In Lacota, or even Exidy, a horse was a sign of wealth. Many folk used oxen or donkeys to pull their carts, but some shouldered their own burdens.

The keep that housed the Conclave loomed in the distance, growing larger as they approached. The city and its traffic thinned out and kept its distance from the keep, leaving them to cross a great clearing in the last mile. Towers leapt into the sky, above walls that seemed nearly as high as the river bank below their home. Now Mik had eyes only for the keep; he turned kneeling in the luggage to watch it rise before them.

Sura giggled at Mik’s gaping regard. For her, this had been a part of her life, every High Summer, as long as she could remember. For the daughter of a sorcerer, many things that were normal to her were wondrous or frightening to folk.
What if I’d grown up among folk?
she thought, then tried to see the keep through Mik’s eyes.

“It’s a marvel,” she said.

He looked at her, wide-eyed. “And we’ll be living in it for two weeks. What will it be like?”

“I’m not sure. I was an attendant before. We played together, and helped in the kitchen.” She laughed. “All the cooks wanted me to help them!”

Bailar turned. “In my youth, it was a fine thing to be an apprentice at the Gathering. There was work to do, of course, but there were also games, pranks, and rivalries. And lasting friendships. It is much the same now. There are other things, but as first-year apprentices you won’t have to worry about those.”

Mik looked at Sura. “If someone told me a year ago that I’d be ‘prenticed to a sorcerer, and all this—and you… sometimes, I wonder if it’s all a dream. Ow! What was that for?” He rubbed his arm where Sura pinched him.

“You’re still here, so you’re not dreaming. Right?”

Mik did not answer. He was gaping at the massive portal, looking up and around as they passed through the thick wall.

• • •

“Bailar the Blue, of Exidy. Two apprentices: Sura sam Bailar, Mik sim Mikhile—Mik Dragonrider.”

The scribe looked up. “Two? Fortune has smiled upon you, Bailar.” He looked at the nervous apprentices. “Both first-year?”

“Yes, both. Sura was my attendant all these years. But now she is my apprentice.”

“This is the—ah. Come forward, apprentices.” The scribe straightened as Bailar ushered his charges forward. “Apprentices: you are charged this day to comport yourselves in such a manner, that you may be a credit to both your mentor and the Conclave. Make a serious study of all that is put to you during this time, and you shall leave this place as better sorcerers. Will you do this?”

“We will,” they both said.

“Even as apprentices, you are now members of the Conclave of Sorcerers. As such, you are charged to put the greater good before both self and nation. You wear the sash of your mentor, until such time as you are tested and earn your own sash. Enter this place, knowing that even now you have a welcome and a home here at any time.” He offered a fist, and Mik and Sura each bumped it in acknowledgement.

Mik and Sura were separated, as expected, and taken to the dormitories they would share with the other apprentices. Sura stepped into the girls’ room, and was swept up in a gleeful embrace.

“Sura! I got your letter last summer, I’m sorry I didn’t write back, but I got so busy when Father apprenticed me to Tonima! It’s so wonderful, we won’t have to spend all that time in the kitchen this year! We’ll have our studies together…”

“Isa! Hello!” Sura disengaged herself and looked at the chattering girl who had always been her best friend at the Gatherings. Isa hailed from Ugar, one of a loose alliance of city-states along the coast, east of Queensport. To be honest, Sura had been too busy herself to wonder why Isa had never written back. “It’s good to see you too! The year’s been good to you.” That was true; Isa’s childhood softness had ripened into a more mature kind. She wore the brown sash of Earth magic.

“So how’s your apprenticeship?” Isa asked her. “Anything exciting?”

“Oh, Isa, you would not believe…” She gave her friend a lopsided smile. “Father got a second apprentice over the winter, and he’s… well, we…”

Isa squealed. “Oh, you
must
introduce him to me! So… are you two—” She squeezed her thumb and forefinger together, and Sura blushed. “I
knew
it! You’ve got so pretty since last year, of course the boys would notice you. I won’t try to steal him, I promise!”

“Two apprentices? Must be nice,” said one of the older girls from her bed; several others voiced agreement. “And he’s your boyfriend too?” The others gathered around Sura and Isa. “Tell us all about it. Sounds like the most exciting thing we’ve heard so far.”

Mik looked around the boys’ room. The arrangement reminded him of the bunkhouse at his aunt’s ranch outside Lacota—except that all the beds were on the floor, and a bunkhouse did not feature ornate stonework and mosaics. Other boys, most older than Mik, from all points of the compass, chatted near the large window or stowed their baggage in drawers under their beds. Most were Western, like Mik: ruddy complexion, dark hair that often waved or curled. But there were many Northerners, tall and blonde, and even a few from the East and South. He shrugged and dropped his pack on a bed near the window.