The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy) (21 page)

‘This is Samuel, Master Dividian,’ Tulan introduced and the older man’s eyes flicked briefly to Samuel. ‘Master Kelvin has sent him with his best wishes and proposes to sponsor the boy.’

‘But this boy has no talent at all,’ Master Dividian grumbled. ‘How can Master Kelvin expect me to waste my time? I thought the man would have more sense.’

Tulan spoke again. ‘You will find that he
does
have some talent, Master Dividian, but of course he needs training and some refinement. I’m assured he has the potential to be a gifted magician with the proper schooling.’

Dividian looked unconvinced and sucked at his cheek. ‘If it is Master Kelvin’s wish, than I shall grant the boy an opportunity to prove himself, although the last thing we need is another outlander. Why can’t you find me more decent Turian apprentices?’ he said with unhindered disdain. ‘I’ll give him a cot with the others in the foreigners’ dormitory. He’ll have to do his best to catch up and if he can’t, I’ll put him out the front of the city to find his own way home.’ With that, the man replaced his spectacles and searched the papers on his desk until he found the sheet he required. ‘Samuel,’ he spoke to himself as he scrawled down the name beneath a host of others. ‘That was my old mule’s name. Good day!’ He then called out and waved at them dismissively, without looking up.

Tulan returned a half-hearted ‘good day’ and they left the room. ‘So that is what you are up against, Samuel,’ he said. ‘Just do your best to ignore him and try to keep out of his way. If you get on his wrong side, it will make your life here much more difficult. Imperials like him will always treat outsiders like you with contempt, so just do your best to avoid them. Having outlanders in the Order is still considered something of an inconvenient necessity and is not looked upon favourably by most. Times are changing,’ he sighed, ‘but ever so slowly.’

Samuel nodded and followed Tulan back across the room. More glances were applied to him, followed by the same mumbling, scowls and sniggers. He was starting to feel that this place was not really as wonderful as he had expected at all. In Stable Canthem, they would talk about the Imperials and laugh about them. Here,
he
was the one being singled out.

‘I am long late already, Samuel, so best wishes to you,’ Tulan said and gave Samuel directions to his lodgings. ‘Although it has been my pleasure to escort you here, the task has not been kind to my schedule and I must rush. Take care and I look forward to meeting you again in the future and seeing what marvels you have accomplished.’

‘Thank you, Tulan,’ Samuel said with gratitude, and they shook hands again warmly.

‘I’m sorry I must rush, but you will be well taken care of here. Goodbye.’ With that, Tulan walked back towards the school gates, leaving Samuel to fend for himself.

Samuel looked around. This was a strange place, indeed. Old men, young men and boys alike eyed him like a circus spectacle as they passed. They were all wearing black garments, while he still stood in the brown trousers and white shirt that Master Kelvin had given him, so he supposed he must look greatly out of place here. Gathering his wits, Samuel began moving between the various buildings, as per Tulan’s instructions, eventually finding the appropriate one. It had ‘Apprentice Dormitory Three’ ornately carved on a decorative sign by the door, with curling golden letters that almost seemed to burn with fire upon the wood.

Stepping inside, Samuel found himself within a great, two-levelled room. A kitchen and tabled area covered the bottom floor with many chairs and places to study, while a balcony, ringed with many narrow cots, hugged the walls above. A spectacled young man a year or two older than Samuel was the building’s only inhabitant and he sat at a table reading with his arm in a white sling, hanging across his chest. The boy ignored him completely as Samuel climbed up the steep stairs and threw his belongings onto an apparently vacant cot, no possessions by its side. A window nearby revealed another building, a twin to this one, only a few strides away.

Not knowing what else to do, Samuel lay on the cot—it was surprisingly comfortable—and rested, thinking about his strange, new surroundings. He hoped the people were friendlier than they seemed or he was surely in for a miserable time.

Eventually, with nothing else to do or fill his thoughts, he swung his feet back to the floor and went back downstairs to speak with the other boy.

‘Just arrived?’ the boy stated as Samuel approached, not even glancing up from his book.

‘Yes,’ Samuel replied.

‘You could have been from Hammenton,’ the boy continued. ‘They had a small school there, too, until just recently.’ The boy finally looked up to meet Samuel’s gaze. ‘But you’re not from there.’

‘No,’ Samuel replied. ‘I’m from Stable Canthem, in...’

‘Marlen,’ the boy finished for him. ‘I’ve heard of it. I’m Eric Goodfellow.’ He offered his good hand to Samuel and they shook. His sandy hair was cut straight across, just above his glasses, as if edged off with one quick snip of a pair of scissors and the rest of his hair looked like it had been modelled from a bowl. It was not a fashion that Samuel would have chosen for himself, but at least this boy was being polite, although admittedly a little strange.

‘I’m Samuel.’

Eric nodded and returned to his book, reading a few more lines before setting it down upon the table.

‘Do you have some talent already?’ Eric asked.

‘They said I do, but I’m not sure about this whole magic thing.’

‘Well, you’ll find out soon. You won’t be here long if you don’t have at least
some
skill with magic.’

Samuel nodded in understanding. ‘What happened to your arm?’

‘I broke it a few days ago. I managed to levitate to the ceiling—but then I got nervous and couldn’t hold my spell.’

‘I think I did that once,’ Samuel stated.

Eric adjusted his eyeglasses and examined Samuel more closely. ‘You must have some ability, then. The others are with Master Glim. I’ll introduce you when they return. So, what have you learned so far? What can you do?’

‘They told me I’m not allowed to use any magic until I get taught how.’

‘Of course. It’s very dangerous to practise magic without proper supervision. I heard about one boy who was practising in secret and lost control. He was covered in mage-fire. It’s a terrible kind of fire made of uncontrolled magic. It burns your skin and flesh and damages your mind in dreadful ways. He left soon after—terribly scarred and unable to communicate in any way. I hope that doesn’t happen to you.’

‘So do I!’ Samuel declared.

Eric laughed. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not trying to scare you.’ For the first time, the boy actually looked welcoming.

They talked for a time until, towards mid-afternoon, a collection of tired and limping boys came in and sat at the tables or crawled up the stairs and collapsed onto their cots, each dressed in near-identical sets of black shirts and trousers.

‘This is Samuel, everybody!’ Eric called loudly.

A few boys waved in greeting or gave a welcoming moan. One boy came and sat with them. He was bright and energetic with his short, black hair combed neatly into place.

‘Hello,’ he said. ‘I’m Eric. Eric Pot.’

‘I’m Eric
Goodfellow
,’ the first Eric explained, noting Samuel’s look of bewilderment.

Samuel then introduced himself and shook the new Eric’s hand.

‘Most people call me Eric and him Goodfellow, just to save from confusion, or else we get full names. You know, like Eric
Pot
or Eric
Goodfellow
. Some people call me
Pot
, but I must admit it sounds a bit awkward.’

‘I understand,’ Samuel said. ‘In my hometown we had two Toms. It was confusing, but sometimes you could tell who they were talking about by the way they said it. You know—Tom and
Tom,
’ and the other two nodded in understanding.

Just then, a middle-aged man came in and approached them, dressed in the black-robed attire that Samuel had grown accustomed to seeing at the Burning Oak. His face was warm and pleasant, seemingly moulded from years of smiling.

‘Hello?’ the man said, addressing Samuel with a raised eyebrow. ‘I am Master Glim. And you are?’

‘Samuel, Sir.’

Master Glim seemed amused. ‘I’m not a Sir or Lord or anything else, so you don’t have to call me that. My real name is Dannidin Glim, but only my mother still calls me by my first name. Given that you are obviously not my mother, I guess you will have to settle with calling me “Master Glim”. Have you made yourself at home?’

‘I have, Master Glim. I chose a cot up there. Eric says it’s free.’

‘Good. I’m sure the two Erics will set you straight. I’m glad to see you’ve already fallen in with the brightest of the bunch. The next class is with Master Sanctus tonight and then I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Just follow these two and I’m sure they will take good care of you. Oh, I nearly forgot.’ Master Glim went over and retrieved a set of black shirt and trousers from a chest in one corner. They were identical to those Samuel had seen on the other boys here, and he gave them to Samuel.

‘Wear these for now,’ Master Glim explained. ‘Some of the more cantankerous Masters have been known to cast horrific-smelling curses upon poor city folk who blundered into the school. You wouldn’t want that on your first day, I’m sure. Now, the boys can organise some more things for you tomorrow.’

Samuel looked at the clothes with interest. Despite their apparent simplicity, the material was thick and fine and the craftsmanship was detailed. With that, Master Glim bade them farewell and Samuel changed into his new clothes, putting his old ones into the small chest by his cot. Then he ran back downstairs and the two Erics set about showing Samuel the remainder of the school grounds.

Young and old men alike strolled around in their dark clothes, some with black shirt and trousers, others with flowing robes cascading almost to the ground and flowing behind. A long, dark cloak or cape decorated the occasional man and Samuel wondered how it was determined what each magician should wear.

‘Ah! It keeps getting under my feet!’ Samuel declared. His trousers were a little too baggy and the hem kept dragging along the ground.

Eric Pot and Eric Goodfellow laughed themselves hoarse.

‘Don’t worry, Samuel’ Eric Pot chuckled. ‘We’ll get you some better fitting clothes tomorrow.’

‘Is it true—we can’t go into the city?’ Samuel asked them.

‘Yes, it’s true,’ Eric Pot replied, ‘for the time being.’

‘I’ve been here nearly four months and I haven’t been outside yet,’ Goodfellow added.

‘We’re supposed to focus on our studies,’ the other Eric noted sourly. ‘Apparently, the teachers will allow all of the apprentices to leave the school only once we have proved ourselves responsible and diligent—or so Master Dividian says.’

‘Although occasionally, we may be taken out of the city to practise our spells, but it’s not very often,’ Goodfellow said.

Samuel nodded in understanding, secretly wishing that he had seen more of the city before coming to the school.

They showed him another bunkhouse where the older, more advanced students lived. It seemed that schooling depended on skill more than age, but in general, both were closely entwined. The Adept, as they were called, looked up from their studies as the boys peered in and returned contemptuous looks. They looked statelier and much more mature than the boys in Samuel’s dormitory.

‘The Adepts are pompous asses,’ Eric Pot whispered. ‘Some are actually not too bad, but it’s generally better if you just keep away from them.’

‘Avoid them whenever possible,’ Goodfellow agreed, ‘or they will give you their chores. You have to obey an Adept, and they are usually far too lazy to do their own work and they pick on all of us in the foreigners’ dormitory the most.’

They backed out of the dormitory doorway and the two Erics continued giving their tour of the school grounds. There were lodgings for teachers, researchers, administrators and visitors, and lodgings for those who just lived on the school grounds. There were, however, no lodgings for common folk. Everyone who lived in the School of Magic was either a magician or learning to be one. There were some cooks and other workers who came each day to serve the Masters, but if there was some generic menial task to be done, the apprentices were called upon to do it.

The Erics explained that some magicians lived in the palace and a few in the city itself, but most lived within the confines of the school.

They showed Samuel the common room that he had first seen, where the older Masters lingered to study and converse, heckling any apprentices who dared to enter. Another large building housed the Great Hall, with enough seating for several hundred students around the curved walls and where the Emperor of Turia would sometimes come to be entertained with displays of magic. Several bathhouses were found in the school, one for the apprentices, one for the Adept and one for the Masters. They had great boilers that the students lit each day to produce copious amounts of hot water for washing. There was a large stable, in which horses and carriages and all manner of conveyances were kept. There was the Great Library, which had shelves and shelves of ancient manuscripts and handwritten books, and Eric Pot said that a cellar underneath held all the most amazing books, books that were reserved for the Masters only. Some of the Adept were allowed to read them, but only once they had proved themselves responsible. Of course, all of the Adept claimed to have free access to the cellar and declared its contents to be most astounding and wondrous. Typically, they were never more detailed than that in their descriptions, so Eric Pot was sure they were making it up.