A Mage Of None Magic (Book 1) (4 page)

Apparently, the Lord Elder summoned.

Instead of waiting for the announcement, Ennalen wheeled around, stomped inside, and slammed her book onto the nearest shelf.

She stopped, drew a long breath, and after another moment’s pause gently took her cloak from its hook on the wall and proceeded downstairs.

5

Niel had hoped stowing his things as slowly as possible would discourage the swordsman, but Arwin watched and waited with maddening patience. Even more insufferably, despite his better judgment Niel had to concede a needling curiosity about the stranger’s proposition. Biddleby liked to say the simplest equation for a long life was prudence plus indifference, but what harm could come by humoring Arwin and listening to what he had to say?

Once it became obvious he could stall no further without looking ridiculous, Niel dropped onto his bunk and contemplated his accidental companion.

“If you don’t mind,” he finally said, “tell me how you know so much about magicians.”

“A very good friend was one,” Arwin replied. “A rather talented one, at that.”

Again, intriguing—assuming the swordsman spoke the truth. Canon often demanded one forgo concerns like food and sleep, never mind friendships. The rare person claimed fondness for a magician; the rarer one claimed to have it reciprocated.

“How is it you’re acquainted with our good captain?”

“I met him years ago, shortly after I left home. From time to time, when he happens to be in port, Jorgan lets me stow away. For old time’s sake.”

Niel cocked his head. “He doesn’t exactly strike me as the sentimental sort.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be on the wrong end of his blade when he’s perturbed, that’s for certain.”

The ship lurched, pitching Niel forward.

Arwin reached out and caught him by the shoulder, saving him a hard landing on the floor. “And we’re off,” he said.

Niel pushed himself from Arwin’s grasp and righted himself. “So it would seem.”

An oddly harmonious groan of straining wood filled the cabin as the sails caught hold of the nighttime wind. Niel gave a quick, silent hope that Jorgan’s pilot had good eyes.

And then, with no small dose of self-loathing, his curiosity finally won out.

“What kind of proposition did you have in mind?” he asked.

Arwin was clearly pleased to begin his tale. “I’m headed to Trelheim to meet some friends,” he said. “Haven’t seen them in months. Closer to a year, really.”

“Trelheim?”

“Small town in northern Aithiq. Borderland country, just north of the Great Forest. The Galiiantha aren’t fond of us settling so close to their home, you know.”

True enough. Stories ran rampant in the Lands about humans wandering too far from the colonies and disappearing. Some said the primitive Galiiantha tribes had a taste for human flesh.

“Ruins from one of their old cities are supposed to be a couple days inside the Forest. A certain nobleman asked me to—”

Niel raised his head. “You’re… an adventurer?”

Arwin shrugged. “I prefer explorer, but yes.”

Barely one rung up from actors, who themselves hardly ranked above peasants, polite society looked upon adventurers with scorn. Unlike acting troupes, though, who depended on the merciful patronage of whatever local lord they entertained, the aristocracy tolerated adventurers primarily because those who spent their days seeking fortune in the wilds of the world could also readily defend themselves. Some lords even considered it fashionable to send small bands of hired swords into the untamed reaches, sparing expensive and valuable members of their own militia. That didn’t make adventurers and their lawless ilk any more palatable to Niel.

“I don’t want to hear any more, thank you.”

Arwin rolled his eyes. “Of all the…
Please
tell me an educated fellow like yourself can set aside silly prejudices for the sake of conversation.” He gestured at the cabin walls. “After all, you seem to be in my debt.”

Niel fished into his belt pouch. “I’ll gladly pay my portion of the fare,” he said, then held out a copper coin.

“Keep your money,” Arwin replied. “I don’t want it. What I do want is common courtesy. Hearing what I have to say will cost you nothing more than staying awake a little longer. After that, you’re welcome to decline my offer and we can part as friends. Otherwise, dismissing me out of hand would be rude and insulting.”

Despite the unmistakable umbrage rising in Arwin’s tone he remained a portrait of composure, so Niel decided not to ponder whether Arwin’s hand had come to rest on his sword by mere coincidence.

Instead, he listened.

***

Lord Deralden, governor of the midland province of Edlaan, had called on Arwin and his band to scout for the ruins of an ancient city in Aithiq. His territory had suffered a bad year in crops, and taxes had fallen short. Though regarded as generally fair and honest, Deralden led an extravagant lifestyle, and to maintain that lifestyle—not to mention other necessities such as paying his troops—he needed a considerable influx of funds. Deralden hoped to partake of the rumored riches hidden within those unexplored regions.

Arwin had been tasked with finding the site, assessing the best way to exploit it, and returning with his information. If the prospect held promise, Deralden would outfit the band should they wish to stay on, or if not, pay them for their services and send them on their way. But Arwin needed a magician. With even the simplest of incantations, magicians could produce light if torches failed, detect other magic that might do harm, and locate the way to safety should they become lost.

“I looked every place I could think where there might be a magician for hire,” Arwin went on. “Finally, I ran out of time and started wondering how to explain showing up at Trelheim empty- handed.”

“Why?” Niel asked, more engrossed than he knew he should be. “Rogue magicians aren’t exactly easy to come by.”

Arwin grinned. “True, but my reputation would have taken a serious bruising had you not happened along.”

“Not to mention your ego?”

Arwin looked even more astonished than when Captain Jorgan had called him a liar. “Ego?”

Niel shook his head, too tired to smile. He looked over at his pack, thoughts coming too quickly to sort. It had been a very long day, and he wanted sleep.

“To be certain,” he said with a stretch, “you’ve given me a good deal to ponder. I’d like to rest on it, if you don’t mind.” He yawned and rolled onto his side, facing the wall.

“Of course,” Arwin replied. “Sleep well.”

Niel barely heard him.

***

A shock of brilliant turquoise made Niel grimace as he pushed open the deck hatch. The sea glared just as intensely as the endless sky, as though the entire world had fallen away and in its place left a dazzling palette of blue from which only earth-colored wood and raw-white sails offered refuge.

Niel smiled, thrilled to be actually, finally on board a ship at sea.

He’d slept very well, better than he had in weeks, but the wide open sky overhead, the cool sea churning below, and the fresh, salty air rushing by his face underscored the fact that he was not only relaxed and well-rested, but also famished. A few rations remained in his pack, but he decided to see if he could find something more satisfying than dried oats and old walnuts.

He let the hatch fall shut behind him and stood enjoying the ship’s gentle pitching and rolling as she cut her way through the water. Thanks to the rope bracelet he’d charmed before leaving home, Niel felt none of the nausea he suspected he otherwise might. He strolled about, steering clear of the sailors as they went about their work but marveling at the way they scurried without effort up the masts and bounded across the deck, never getting entangled in the riggings or in the way of one another.

On the far side of the ship Arwin leaned forward with his arms folded atop a rail. At his elbow sat the remains of a half-eaten apple, and Niel’s mouth watered at the thought of fresh fruit. He stared at its glossy round redness, at the soft yellow where it had been bitten—until the ship suddenly pitched downward and the apple bobbled over the side.

Niel approached and leaned his back against the rail where the apple had been. “Good morning,” he said over the hiss of the sea. “Lost your breakfast.”

“Good morning,” Arwin replied. “Not to worry. It was my third. Here.” He produced another. “Compliments of our good captain.”

With a muttered thanks Niel grabbed the fruit and bit deeply. The skin broke with a satisfying snap, and the apple’s juices filled his mouth with clean, tart sweetness. He munched loudly and happily as he looked out upon the sparkling water.

“Egads,” Arwin said. “Sure hope it’s not poisoned.”

Niel stopped chewing. So much for prudence.

“Das nah vey vunny,” he said through his full mouth.

Arwin grinned and faced the sea again. “I know. Careful not to choke.”

Niel made short work of his breakfast then tossed the core over the side. After sucking away the juice from his fingers and knuckles, then wiping his hands on the inside of his tunic, he gave a contented sigh and joined the swordsman in his vigil.

“Would you mind one more question?” he asked.

“Not at all,” Arwin replied.

“How is it you came to be an adven— explorer?”

The swordsman frowned as he weighed his answer. “Not so long ago I had something taken from me, something far more important than I first thought. My own fault, really. Set something down long enough and someone else is bound to come along and claim it as theirs. I should have tried to get it back. Instead, I ran away. That’s the vague and mysterious version, meant to pique your interest. If you want specifics, you’ll have to come with me to Trelheim.”

Niel smiled. “I’m sorry, but I have to decline.”

Arwin returned his attention to the horizon.

“Being familiar with magicians,” Niel explained, “you know I’m obligated to attend the College.”

Arwin nodded. “I do. But I thought I’d ask anyway, in case you…” He trailed off, dismissing the unspoken portion with his hand.

“In case I what?”

“It’s not important.”

In his mind Niel, saw himself reaching gratefully for the chance to exit not just the discussion but the entire situation. To his own astonishment, he then saw himself slapping away his own hand before blurting: “If you have something to say, then say it.”

Arwin gave him a long look. “All right, I will. From what I understand, apprentice magicians aren’t exactly petted and pampered. You work hard, performing all sorts of drudgery. In exchange, if you happen to be indentured to an especially benevolent sort, you’re granted a charm or two for your troubles. Right?”

“To an extent. What of it?”

“And then after years of dissecting bats and digging for roots, you learn enough for your teacher to grudgingly send you off to the College to continue your education under yet another teacher who’ll demand even more from you in exchange for a few barely more powerful spells.”

Arwin’s condescension angered Niel.

“That’s the way it’s done,” he replied.

“Rubbish,” scoffed the swordsman. “And why the irritation, friend? You all but admitted you don’t want to go to Fraal. I don’t see the need to become—”

“Admitted?” Niel snapped. “I
admitted
no such thing.”

“Even listening to me in the first place was admission enough.”

“You insisted!”

Arwin shook his head. “Anybody truly serious about attending the College wouldn’t have even allowed me to speak. You had a choice, and you chose to entertain my proposal.”

Niel cursed himself for not knowing what to say next, and for inviting this by opening his great big mouth. Obviously Arwin could pick apart any defense he might offer, but that—

Ah,
he suddenly thought.
Defense.

Magic in its primal state was a crude element, shapeless like wet clay, its final form determined by the practitioner’s interpretation of Canon more than anything else. In formal duels, magicians rarely set out to hurt one another, but rather to decipher the subtle shades within the magic practiced by their opponent. Instead of conventional attack and defense, the combatants strove to imitate and surpass one another on their rival’s own terms.

So, instead of trading barbs with the mentally agile Arwin, Niel decided to emulate him.

“I expect you’ll have explaining to do,” he said, going so far as to mirror the swordsman’s posture.

Arwin raised an eyebrow. “Do you, now?”

“To your friends, I mean. In Trelheim. You said if you didn’t produce a magician, you’d have a hard time explaining it. I feel sorry for you.”

Arwin now seemed angry. “
You
feel sorry?” He jabbed out his finger. “And what am I to do with the pity of an impudent half-wizard who won’t even—”

“
Don’t
take that tone with me!” Niel shouted, pointing his own finger into the taller man’s chest, caring neither about indifference nor drawing the attention of the sailors nearby. “In the few hours I’ve known you, you’ve done little more than second guess my decisions. Yes, I’ve worked hard. And yes, I’ve done degrading things for the sake of learning my craft. What things I know are important to me, and the paths I’ve taken were the best ways I had to learn what I could. Out of courtesy I’ve tolerated your intrusions. But as you said, I have a choice. I choose to end this conversation here and now.”