Magician (6 page)

A wave of murmuring swept through the
assembled Craftmasters. A few voices could be heard saying it wasn’t
proper for a magician to participate in the Choosing. The Duke
silenced them with a sweep of his gaze, his face stern. No
Craftmaster would challenge the Duke of Crydee, the third-ranking
noble in the Kingdom, over the standing of one boy. Slowly all eyes
returned to regard the boy.

The Duke said, “As Kulgan is a
recognized master of his craft, it is his right to choose. Pug,
orphan of the keep, will you take service?” Pug stood rigid. He
had imagined himself leading the King’s army into battle as a
Knight-Lieutenant, or discovering someday he was the lost son of
nobility. In his boyish imaginings he had sailed ships, hunted great
monsters, and saved the nation. In quieter moments of reflection he
had wondered if he would spend his life building ships, making
pottery, or learning the trader’s skill, and speculated on how
well he would do in each of those crafts. But the one thing he never
thought of, the one dream that had never captured his fantasies, was
that of becoming a magician.

He snapped out of his shocked state,
aware the Duke patiently awaited his response. He looked at the faces
of those before him. Father Tully gave him one of his rare smiles, as
did Prince Arutha. Prince Lyam nodded a slight yes, and Kulgan
regarded him intently. There were signs of worry upon the magician’s
face, and suddenly Pug decided. It might not be an entirely proper
calling, but any craft was better than none. He stepped forward and
caught his own heel with his other foot, and landed face down in the
dust. Picking himself up, he half scrambled, half ran to the
magician’s side. The misstep broke the tension, and the Duke’s
booming laughter filled the courtyard. Flushing with embarrassment,
Pug stood behind Kulgan. He looked around the broad girth of his new
master and found the Duke watching, his expression tempered by a kind
nod at the blushing Pug. The Duke turned back to those who stood
waiting for the Choosing to end.

“I declare that each boy present
is now the charge of his master, to obey him in all matters within
the laws of the Kingdom, and each shall be judged a true and proper
man of Crydee. Let the apprentices attend their masters. Until the
feasting, I bid you all good day.” He turned and presented his
left arm to his daughter. She placed her hand lightly upon it and
they passed into the keep between the ranks of the courtiers, who
drew aside. The two Princes followed, and the others of the court.
Pug saw Tomas leave in the direction of the guard barracks, behind
Master Fannon.

He turned his attention back to Kulgan,
who was standing lost in thought. After a moment the magician said,
“I trust neither of us has made a mistake this day.”

“Sir?” Pug asked, not
understanding the magician’s meaning. Kulgan waved one hand
absently, causing his pale yellow robe to move like waves rippling
over the sea. “It is no matter, boy. What’s done is done.
Let us make the best of things.”

He placed his hand on the boy’s
shoulder. “Come, let us retire to the tower where I reside.
There is a small room below my own that should do for you. I had
intended it for some project or another, but have never managed to
find the time to prepare it.”

Pug stood in awe. “A room of my
own?” Such a thing for an apprentice was unheard of. Most
apprentices slept in the workrooms of their master, or protected
herds, or the like. Only when an apprentice became a journeyman was
it usual for him to take private quarters.

Kulgan arched one bushy eyebrow. “Of
course. Can’t have you underfoot all the time. I would never
get anything done. Besides, magic requires solitude for
contemplation. You will need to be untroubled as much as or perhaps
more than I will.” He took out his long, thin pipe from a fold
of his robe and started to stuff it full of tabac from a pouch that
had also come from within the robe.

“Let’s not bother with too
much discussion of duties and such, boy. For in truth, I am not
prepared for you. But in short order I will have things well in hand.
Until then we can use the time by becoming acquainted with one
another. Agreed?” Pug was startled. He had little notion of
what a magician was about, in spite of the night spent with Kulgan
weeks ago, but he readily knew what Craftmasters were like, and none
would have thought to inquire whether or not an apprentice agreed
with his plans. Not knowing what to say, Pug just nodded.

“Good, then,” said Kulgan,
“let us be off to the tower to find you some new clothes, and
then we will spend the balance of the day feasting. Later there will
be ample time to learn how to be master and apprentice.” With a
smile for the boy, the stout magician turned Pug around and led him
away.

The late afternoon was clear and
bright, with a gentle breeze from the sea cooling the summer heat.
Throughout the keep of Castle Crydee, and the town below,
preparations for the Festival of Banapis were in progress.

Banapis was the oldest known holiday,
its origins lost in antiquity. It was held each Midsummer’s
Day, a day belonging to neither the past nor the coming year.
Banapis, known by other names in other nations, was celebrated over
the entire world of Midkemia according to legend. It was believed by
some that the festival was borrowed from the elves and dwarves, for
the long-lived races were said to have celebrated the feast of
Midsummer as far back as the memory of both races could recall. Most
authorities disputed this allegation, citing no reason other than the
unlikelihood of humans borrowing anything from the elven or dwarven
folk. It was rumored that even the denizens of the Northlands, the
goblin tribes and the clans of the Brotherhood of the Dark Path,
celebrated Banapis, though no one had ever reported seeing such a
celebration.

The courtyard was busy. Huge tables had
been erected to hold the myriad varieties of foods that had been in
preparation for over a week. Giant barrels of dwarven ale, imported
from Stone Mountain, had been hauled out of the cellars and were
resting on protesting, overburdened wood frames. The workmen, alarmed
at the fragile appearance of the barrel ricks, were quickly emptying
some of the contents. Megar came out of the kitchen and angrily
shooed them away. “Leave off, there will be none left for the
evening meal at this rate! Back to the kitchen, dolts! There is much
work to be done yet.”

The workers went off, grumbling, and
Megar filled a tankard to ensure the ale was at proper temperature.
After he drained it dry and satisfied himself that all was as it
should be, he returned to the kitchen.

There was no formal beginning to the
feast. Traditionally, people and food, wine and ale, all accumulated
until they reached a certain density, then all at once the
festivities would be in full swing.

Pug ran from the kitchen. His room in
the northmost tower, the magician’s tower as it had become
known, provided him with a shortcut through the kitchen, which he
used rather than the main doors of the keep. He beamed as he sped
across the courtyard in his new tunic and trousers. He had never worn
such finery and was in a hurry to show his friend Tomas.

He found Tomas leaving the soldiers’
commons, nearly as much in a hurry as Pug. When the two met, they
both spoke at once.

“Look at the new tunic—”
said Pug.

“Look at my soldier’s
tabard—” said Tomas.

Both stopped and broke into laughter.

Tomas regained his composure first.
“Those are very fine clothes, Pug,” he said, fingering
the expensive material of Pug’s red tunic. “And the color
suits you.”

Pug returned the compliment, for Tomas
did cut a striking figure in his brown-and-gold tabard. It was of
little consequence that he wore his regular homespun tunic and
trouser underneath. He would not receive a soldier’s uniform
until Master Fannon was satisfied with his worthiness as a
man-at-arms.

The two friends wandered from one
heavily laden table to another. Pug’s mouth watered from the
rich fragrances in the air. They came to a table heaped with meat
pies, steam rising from their hot crusts, pungent cheeses, and hot
bread. At the table a young kitchen boy was stationed with a
shoo-fly. His job was to keep pests from the food, whether of the
insect variety or the chronically hungry apprentice variety. Like
most other situations involving boys, the relationship between this
guardian of the feast and the older apprentices was closely bound by
tradition. It was considered ill-mannered and in poor taste merely to
threaten or bully the smaller boy into parting with food before the
start of the feast. But it was considered fair to use guile, stealth,
or speed in gaining a prize from the table.

Pug and Tomas observed with interest as
the boy, named Jon, delivered a wicked whack to the hand of one young
apprentice seeking to snag a large pie. With a nod of his head, Tomas
sent Pug to the far side of the table. Pug ambled across Jon’s
field of vision, and the boy watched him carefully. Pug moved
abruptly, a feint toward the table, and Jon leaned in his direction.
Then suddenly Tomas snatched a puff-pastry from the table and was
gone before the shoo-fly lash began to descend. As they ran from the
table, Pug and Tomas could hear the distressed cries of the boy whose
table they had plundered.

Tomas gave Pug half the pie when they
were safely away, and the smaller apprentice laughed. “You’re
the quickest hand in the castle, I bet.”

“Or young Jon was slow of eye for
keeping it on you.”

They shared a laugh. Pug popped his
half of the pie into his mouth. It was delicately seasoned, and the
contrast between the salty pork filling and the sweet puff-pastry
crust was delicious.

The sound of pipes and drums came from
the side courtyard as the Duke’s musicians approached the main
courtyard. By the time they had emerged around the keep, a silent
message seemed to pass through the crowd. Suddenly the kitchen boys
were busy handing out wooden platters for the celebrants to heap food
upon, and mugs of ale and wine were being drawn from the barrels.

The boys dashed to a place in line at
the first table. Pug and Tomas used their size and quickness to good
advantage, darting through the throng, snagging food of every
description and a large mug of foamy ale each.

They found a relatively quiet corner
and fell to with ravenous hunger. Pug tasted his first drink of ale
and was surprised at the robust, slightly bitter taste. It seemed to
warm him as it went down, and after another experimental taste he
decided that he liked it.

Pug could see the Duke and his family
mingling with the common folk. Other members of his court could also
be seen standing in line before the tables. There was no ceremony,
ritual, or rank observed this afternoon. Each was served as he
arrived, for Midsummer’s Day was the time when all would
equally share in the bounties of the harvest.

Pug caught a glimpse of the Princess
and felt his chest tighten a little. She looked radiant as many of
the boys in the courtyard complimented her on her appearance. She
wore a lovely gown of deep blue and a simple, broad-brimmed hat of
the same color. She thanked each author of a flattering remark and
used her dark eyelashes and bright smile to good advantage, leaving a
wake of infatuated boys behind.

Jugglers and clowns made their
appearance in the courtyard, the first of many groups of traveling
performers who were in the town for the festival. The actors of
another company had set up a stage in the town square and would give
a performance in the evening. Until the early hours of the next
morning the festivities would continue. Pug knew that many of the
boys the year before had to be excused duty the day following
Banapis, for their heads and stomachs were in no condition for honest
work. He was sure that scene would be repeated tomorrow.

Pug looked forward to the evening, for
it was the custom for new apprentices to visit many of the houses in
the town, receiving congratulations and mugs of ale. It was also a
ripe time for meeting the town girls. While dalliance was not
unknown, it was frowned upon. But mothers tended to be less vigilant
during Banapis. Now that the boys had crafts, they were viewed less
as bothersome pests and more as potential sons-in-law, and there had
been more than one case of a mother looking the other way while a
daughter used her natural gifts to snare a young husband. Pug, being
of small stature and youthful appearance, got little notice from the
girls of the keep. Tomas, however, was more and more the object of
girlish flirtation as he grew in size and good looks, and lately Pug
had begun to be aware that his friend was being sized up by one or
another of the castle girls. Pug was still young enough to think the
whole thing silly, but old enough to be fascinated by it.

Pug chewed an improbable mouthful and
looked around. People from the town and keep passed, offering
congratulations on the boys’ apprenticeship and wishing them a
good new year. Pug felt a deep sense of Tightness about everything.
He was an apprentice, even if Kulgan seemed completely unsure of what
to do with him. He was well fed, and on his way to being slightly
intoxicated—which contributed to his sense of well-being. And,
most important, he was among friends. There can’t be much more
to life than this, he thought.

P
ug
sat sulking on his sleeping pallet.

Fantus the firedrake pushed his head
forward, inviting Pug to scratch him behind his eye ridges. Seeing
that he would get little satisfaction, the drake made his way to the
tower window and with a snort of displeasure, complete with a small
puff of black smoke, launched himself in flight. Pug didn’t
notice the creature’s leaving, so engrossed was he in his own
world of troubles. Since he had taken on the position of Kulgan’s
apprentice fourteen months ago, everything he had done seemed to go
wrong.