Magician (8 page)

Kulgan puffed on his pipe, his brow
knitted in concentration. Suddenly he began to chuckle, then laugh.
Tully looked sharply at the magician. Kulgan waved offhandedly with
his pipe. “I was just struck by the thought that should a
swineherd fail to teach his son the family calling, he could blame it
upon the demise of the gods of pigs .”

Tully’s eyes went wide at the
near-blasphemous thought, then he too laughed, a short bark. “That’s
one for the moot gospel courts!” Both men laughed a long,
tension-releasing laugh at that Tully sighed and stood up. “Still,
do not close your mind entirely to what I’ve said, Kulgan. It
may be Pug is one of those wild talents. And you may have to
reconcile yourself for letting him go.”

Kulgan shook his head sadly at the
thought. “I refuse to believe there is any simple explanation
for those other failures, Tully. Or for Pug’s difficulties, as
well. The fault was in each man or woman, not in the nature of the
universe. I have often felt where we fail with Pug is in
understanding how to reach him Perhaps I would be well advised to
seek another master for him, place him with one better able to
harness his abilities.”

Tully sighed. “I have spoken my
mind of this question, Kulgan Other than what I’ve said, I
cannot advise you Still, as they say, a poor master’s better
than no master at all. How would the boy have fared if no one had
chosen to teach him?”

Kulgan bolted upright from his seat.
“What did you say?”

“I said, how would the boy have
fared if no one had chosen to teach him?”

Kulgan’s eyes seemed to lose
focus as he stared into space. He began puffing furiously upon his
pipe. After watching for a moment, Tully said, “What is it,
Kulgan?”

Kulgan said, “I’m not sure,
Tully, but you may have given me an idea.”

“What sort of idea?”

Kulgan waved off the question. “I’m
not entirely sure Give me time to ponder. But consider your question,
and ask yourself this: how did the first magicians learn to use their
power?”

Tully sat back down, and both men began
to consider the question in silence. Through the window they could
hear the sound of boys at play, filling the courtyard of the keep.

Every sixthday, the boys and girls who
worked in the castle were allowed to spend the afternoon as they saw
fit. The boys, apprentice age and younger, were a loud and boisterous
lot. The girls worked in the service of the ladies of the castle,
cleaning and sewing, as well as helping in the kitchen. They all gave
a full week’s work, dawn to dusk and more, each day, but—on
the sixth day of the week they gathered in the courtyard of the
castle, near the Princess’s garden. Most of the boys played a
rough game of tag, involving the capture of a ball of leather,
stuffed hard with rags, by one side, amid shoves and shouts, kicks
and occasional fistfights. All wore their oldest clothes, for rips,
bloodstains, and mud-stains were common.

The girls would sit along the low wall
by the Princess’s garden, occupying themselves with gossip
about the ladies of the Duke’s court. They nearly always put on
their best skirts and blouses, and their hair shone from washing and
brushing. Both groups made a great display of ignoring each other,
and both were equally unconvincing.

Pug ran to where the game was in
progress. As was usual, Tomas was in the thick of the fray, sandy
hair flying like a banner, shouting and laughing above the noise.
Amid elbows and kicks he sounded savagely joyous, as if the
incidental pain made the contest all the more worthwhile. He ran
through the pack, kicking the ball high in the air, trying to avoid
the feet of those who sought to trip him. No one was quite sure how
the game had come into existence, or exactly what the rules were, but
the boys played with battlefield intensity, as their fathers had
years before.

Pug ran onto the field and placed a
foot before Rulf just as he was about to hit Tomas from behind. Rulf
went down in a tangle of bodies, and Tomas broke free. He ran toward
the goal and, dropping the ball in front of himself, kicked it into a
large overturned barrel, scoring for his side While other boys yelled
in celebration, Rulf leaped to his feet and pushed aside another boy
to place himself directly in front of Pug Glaring out from under
thick brows, he spat at Pug, “Try that again and I’ll
break your legs, sand squint!” The sand squint was a bird of
notoriously foul habits—not the least of which was leaving eggs
in other birds’ nests so that its offspring were raised by
other birds. Pug was not about to let any insult of Rulf’s pass
unchallenged. With the frustrations of the last few months only a
little below the surface, Pug was feeling particularly thin-skinned
this day.

With a leap he flew at Rulf’s
head, throwing his left arm around the stockier boy’s neck. He
drove his right fist into Rulf’s face and could feel Rulf’s
nose squash under the first blow. Quickly both boys were rolling on
the ground. Rulf’s greater weight began to tell, and soon he
sat astride Pug’s chest, driving his fat fists into the smaller
boy’s face.

Tomas stood by helpless, for as much as
he wanted to aid his friend, the boys’ code of honor was as
strict and inviolate as any noble’s. Should he intervene on his
friend’s behalf, Pug would never live down the shame. Tomas
jumped up and down, urging Pug on, grimacing each time Pug was
struck, as if he felt the blows himself.

Pug tried to squirm out from under the
larger boy, causing many of his blows to slip by, striking dirt
instead of Pug’s face. Enough of them were hitting the mark,
however, so that Pug soon began to feel a queer detachment from the
whole procedure. He thought it strange that everybody sounded so far
away, and that Rulf’s blows seemed not to hurt. His vision was
beginning to fill with red and yellow colors, when he felt the weight
lifted from his chest.

After a brief moment things came into
focus, and Pug saw Prince Arutha standing over him, his hand firmly
grasping Rulf’s collar. While not as powerful a figure as his
brother or father, the Prince was still able to hold Rulf high enough
so that the stableboy’s toes barely touched the ground. The
Prince smiled, but without humor “I think the boy has had
enough,” he said quietly, eyes glaring “Don’t you
agree?” His cold tone made it clear he wasn’t asking for
an opinion. Blood still ran down Rulf’s face from Pug’s
initial blow as he choked out a sound the Prince took to mean
agreement. Arutha let go of Rulf’s collar, and the stable-boy
fell backward, to the laughter of the onlookers. The Prince reached
down and helped Pug to his feet.

Holding the wobbly boy steady, Arutha
said, “I admire your courage, youngster, but we can’t
have the wits beaten out of the Duchy’s finest young magician,
can we?” His tone was only slightly mocking, and Pug was too
numb to do more than stand and stare at the younger son of the Duke.
The Prince gave him a slight smile and handed him over to Tomas, who
had come up next to Pug, a wet cloth in hand.

Pug came out of his fog as Tomas
scrubbed his face with the cloth, and felt even worse when he saw the
Princess and Roland standing only a few feet away as Prince Arutha
returned to their side. To take a beating before the girls of the
keep was bad enough, to be punished by a lout like Rulf in front of
the Princess was a catastrophe.

Emitting a groan that had little to do
with his physical state, Pug tried to look as much like someone else
as he could Tomas grabbed him roughly. “Try not to squirm
around so much. You’re not all that bad off. Most of this blood
is Rulf’s anyway. By tomorrow his nose will look like an angry
red cabbage.”

“So will my head.”

“Nothing so bad. A black eye,
perhaps two, with a swollen cheek thrown in to the bargain On the
whole, you did rather well, but next time you want to tangle with
Rulf, wait until you’ve put on a little more size, will you?”
Pug watched as the Prince led his sister away from the site of battle
Roland gave him a wide grin, and Pug wished himself dead.

Pug and Tomas walked out of the
kitchen, dinner plates in hand. It was a warm night, and they
preferred the cooling ocean breeze to the heat of the scullery. They
sat on the porch, and Pug moved his jaw from side to side, feeling it
pop in and out. He experimented with a bite of lamb and put his plate
to one side.

Tomas watched him. “Can’t
eat?”

Pug nodded “Jaw hurts too much.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and chin on his
fists. “I should have kept my temper. Then I would have done
better.”

Tomas spoke from around a mouthful of
food. “Master Fannon says a soldier must keep a cool head at
all times or he’ll lose it.”

Pug sighed. “Kulgan said
something like that I have some drills I can do that make me relax. I
should have used them.”

Tomas gulped a heroic portion of his
meal “Practicing in your room is one thing Putting that sort of
business into use while someone is insulting you to your face is
quite another. I would have done the same thing, I suppose.”

“But you would have won.”

“Probably. Which is why Rulf
would never have come at me.” His manner showed he wasn’t
being boastful, merely stating things as they were. “Still, you
did all right. Old cabbage nose will think twice before picking on
you again, I’m sure, and that’s what the whole thing is
about, anyway.”

Pug said, “What do you mean?”

Tomas put down his plate and belched.
With a satisfied look at the sound of it, he said, “With
bullies it’s always the same: whether or not you can best them
doesn’t matter. What is important is whether or not you’ll
stand up to them Rulf may be big, but he’s a coward under all
the bluster. He’ll turn his attention to the younger boys now
and push them around a bit I don’t think he’ll want any
part of you again. He doesn’t like the price.” Tomas gave
Pug a broad and warm smile “That first punch you gave him was a
beaut. Right square on the beak.”

Pug felt a little better. Tomas eyed
Pug’s untouched dinner “You going to eat that?”

Pug looked at his plate. It was fully
laden with hot lamb, greens, and potatoes. In spite of the rich
smell, Pug felt no appetite. “No, you can have it.”

Tomas scooped up the platter and began
shoving the food into his mouth Pug smiled. Tomas had never been
known to stint on food.

Pug returned his gaze to the castle
wall. “I felt like such a fool.”

Tomas stopped eating, with a handful of
meat halfway to his mouth. He studied Pug for a moment. “You
too?”

“Me too, what?”

Tomas laughed. “You’re
embarrassed because the Princess saw Rulf give you a thrashing.”

Pug bridled. “It wasn’t a
thrashing. I gave as well as I got!”

Tomas whooped. “There! I knew it.
It’s the Princess.”

Pug sat back in resignation. “I
suppose it is.”

Tomas said nothing, and Pug looked over
at him. He was busy finishing off Pug’s dinner. Finally Pug
said, “And I suppose you don’t like her?”

Tomas shrugged. Between bites he said,
“Our Lady Carline is pretty enough, but I know my place. I have
my eye on someone else, anyway.”

Pug sat up. “Who?” he
asked, his curiosity piqued.

“I’m not saying,”
Tomas said with a sly smile.

Pug laughed. “It’s Neala,
right?”

Tomas’s jaw dropped. “How
did you know?”

Pug tried to look mysterious. “We
magicians have our ways.”

Tomas snorted. “Some magician.
You’re no more a magician than I am a Knight-Captain of the
King’s army. Tell me, how did you know?”

Pug laughed. “It’s no
mystery. Every time you see her, you puff up in that tabard of yours
and preen like a bantam rooster.”

Tomas looked troubled “You don’t
think she’s on to me, do you?”

Pug smiled like a well-fed cat “She’s
not on to you, I’m sure.” He paused. “If she’s
blind, and all the other girls in the keep haven’t pointed it
out to her a hundred times already.”

A woebegone look crossed Tomas’s
face. “What must the girl think?”

Pug said, “Who knows what girls
think? From everything I can tell, she probably likes it.”

Tomas looked thoughtfully at his plate
“Do you ever think about taking a wife?”

Pug blinked like an owl caught in a
bright light. “I . . . I never thought about it. I don’t
know if magicians marry. I don’t think they do.”

“Nor soldiers, mostly. But Master
Fannon says a soldier who thinks about his family is not thinking
about his job.” Tomas was silent for a minute.

Pug said, “It doesn’t seem
to hamper Sergeant Gardan or some of the other soldiers.”

Tomas snorted, as if those exceptions
merely proved his point. “I sometimes try to imagine what it
would be like to have a family.”

“You have a family, stupid. I’m
the orphan here.”

“I mean a wife, rock head.”
Tomas gave Pug his best “you’re too stupid to live”
look “And children someday, not a mother and father.”

Pug shrugged. The conversation was
turning to provinces that disturbed him. He never thought about these
things, being less anxious to grow up than Tomas. He said, “I
expect we’ll get married and have children if it’s what
we’re supposed to do.”

Tomas looked very seriously at Pug, so
the younger boy didn’t make light of the subject. “I’ve
imagined a small room somewhere in the castle, and .I can’t
imagine who the girl would be.” He chewed his food. “There’s
something wrong with it, I think.”

“Wrong?”

“As if there’s something
else I’m not understanding . . . I don’t know.”

Pug said, “Well, if you don’t,
how am I supposed to?”

Tomas suddenly changed the topic of
conversation. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Pug was taken by surprise. “Of
course we’re friends. You’re like a brother. Your parents
have treated me like their own son. Why would you ask something like
that?”