The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy) (40 page)

Master Dividian was there, standing behind the ornate lectern and all the other teachers of the school were seated in the front-most seats. The hall was echoing with all the excited and worried chatter from young and old alike.

‘Quieten down, quieten down,’ Dividian urged gruffly, and slowly the hubbub calmed. ‘You may have heard that Grand Master Anthem has left the School of Magic and, yes, it is indeed true.’ At that, a great deal of chattering sprang up again and it took a certain amount of effort and shouting for Dividian to quieten everyone again. ‘After debating with the Magicians’ Council, he has decided to resign as principal.’ Great cries came up but Dividian continued on, raising his voice to be heard above the ruckus. ‘Classes will resume tomorrow, as usual. We will wait for instructions from the Magicians’ Council instructions as to what to do next. Until then, life will go on as normal. If Grand Master Anthem does not agree to their demands and is not reinstated, a new principal will be chosen. That is all the information I have at this time.’

At that, Dividian stepped away from the lectern and vanished out the small side door, while teacher and student alike began arguing about the consequences and what would happen. Samuel sat in silence, thinking, for he felt that there was much more going on here than had been revealed. He had not failed to notice that as Dividian had scurried away, the wily old man’s face had carried a thin and seldom-used smile.

‘So what do you think?’ Eric asked, throwing a pebble to bounce down from the grassy hilltop. Far below them, the great city lay sprawling within its walls, like a vast patchwork giant sleeping against the seashore.

‘They’re all mad,’ Samuel replied, sitting cross-legged on the grass and scribbling some notes. Further down the hill, a small group of apprentices could be seen dotting the fields, practising their lessons.

‘How can they just rid themselves of the Grand Master after all he’s done?’ Eric then asked, throwing another smooth stone.

‘Politics!’ Samuel spat out with disdain and looked up from his notes. The wind had a chilly bite and it caused the papers in his hand to flap about. For a moment, Samuel was tempted to warm himself with a spell or two. ‘And what’s all this talk of war? We haven’t heard anything about that except rumours.’

Goodfellow shook his head. ‘It’s just a lie. Dividian wanted the Grand Master’s place and now he has it.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Eric noted. ‘Old Dividian is not as bad as he seems. Tensions with Garteny have been uneasy since the Imperial War ended. The Empire’s history of invading and swallowing up all its neighbouring nations has left the Gartens understandably nervous. People are saying that they have been building up their forces along the border. They could be readying to invade. They lost some of their lands in the last war and now maybe they think it’s time to take them back. The Empire would need to resist such an incursion or it could spell trouble and The Emperor wants magicians sent along to help with the effort. The Grand Master is a little biased on the subject, so I can see how his constant bickering with Lord Jarrod could be interpreted.’

‘Biased?’ Samuel asked. ‘What do you mean?’

Goodfellow looked up with some surprise and adjusted his spectacles. ‘You mean you don’t know? The Grand Master is a Garten.’

‘Are you serious?’ Samuel asked in disbelief.

‘Of course he is,’ Eric called over. ‘That’s why there’s always been this contention over his position. Some people say he is still a Garten at heart, but he defected in the war and has never been back to Garteny since. All the Turians are obviously disgusted that a Garten has been running the School of Magic. If not for the fact that he is the most powerful magician in the Empire, I’m sure he never would have been granted the position to begin with. And apparently, he did the Emperor a great favour years ago that earned him his place in the Empire—but that seems to make little difference now.’

‘I heard he convinced the Emperor that he could do wonders with the School of Magic,’ Goodfellow revealed. ‘There were few magicians back then and most of them were too feeble to be of much use. His idea was to revitalise the school and begin finding and training students from a very young age. The Lions were each offered the position first, but none of them would take it so Grand Master Anthem was the only remaining choice.’

‘There’s something else suspicious that people have been talking about,’ Eric said. ‘It seems no one has seen the Lions since Anthem departed. It’s said they have been sent out to retrieve him, that the Emperor wants to be sure he never returns to Garteny…alive.’

‘I very much doubt it,’ Samuel said. ‘They are his closest friends. Why would they do such a thing?’

‘Because they’re patriots. They’re Turians and they support the Empire with all their hearts—not like us. We’re from all the tiny nations that the Empire has conquered at some point, so we don’t exactly have any innate love for it, but most of those born here in Turia would throw themselves from a cliff at the Emperor’s command. They’re just plain crazy.’

‘It just seems so strange,’ Samuel noted sourly.

‘Life’s like that, Samuel,’ Eric called with a smug grin. ‘Get used to it.’ He threw another small stone into the air and, this time, propelled it with a spell of Moving, so that it flew out towards the city with a resounding crack.

‘Whether it’s true or not, we’re still stuck with Dividian as principal,’ Goodfellow stated.

Eric was just spelling another stone into flight, but Goodfellow negated it with a spell of his own, and the stone fell dead onto the grass. Eric made a look of great disappointment.

‘That could hit someone on the head, Eric,’ Goodfellow pointed out. Eric shrugged his shoulders and started gathering up another handful of small white stones from around his feet.

‘So what do we do?’ Samuel asked. ‘Do we keep going to class?’

‘Of course!’ Eric replied, squatting as he picked from his choice of stones. ‘What else would we do?’

‘It just seems that if we keep going to class, then Jarrod and the Council will have won.’

‘I have to agree with Samuel,’ said Goodfellow. ‘Sending magicians to war seems incongruous in the face of everything we’ve been taught. I thought we were supposed to help people, not kill them.’

‘Supposedly,’ Samuel said. ‘But I guess our ideals and reality are two different things. This
is
the Empire and I suppose what the Emperor wishes happens.’

‘Well, let’s just go to class and see how things unfold,’ Eric suggested. ‘I don’t really see that we have any choice at the moment.’

Samuel nodded. ‘You’re right—unless we leave the Order, but then where would we go? At least while we stay with the Order, we have a chance to set things right.’

‘And what about you, Samuel?’ Eric asked. ‘Are you still planning to kill Master Ash or have you come to your senses?’

Samuel kept looking at the grass by his feet. ‘Of course I’ll kill him. What else would you suggest?’

‘You know we both believe you, Samuel,’ Goodfellow said, ‘but you have to remember that you shouldn’t pay so much heed to your dreams. You were feverish and delirious, remember?’

‘I realise that,’ Samuel responded darkly, ‘but I’m sure it was him. The more I think about it, the more convinced I am.’

‘Your family was killed a long time ago, Samuel, and, as you explained, it all happened very quickly. It’s a lot to risk on just a dream.’

Samuel was quiet for a few moments, continuing to gaze at his feet. ‘There are times in your life when something happens—something so terrible—that, even if you see it for just an instant, it will be forever burned in your mind. Nothing you do can remove it, and you will relive it over and over again in terrible clarity, and each time, you feel sick to your stomach. I doubt that even by killing Ash I can take that terrible memory away—of my father being clubbed to death, my family being beaten and killed and my mother screaming at me to run while she was being stabbed to death. I can only hope that eventually these images will fade and I can sleep peacefully again. The one expectation I have in life is to avenge them by finding their murderers.’

Eric abandoned his stones and came to sit cross-legged with his friends, slapping the dust from his hands onto his trousers. ‘If you do kill him, then you will be executed yourself. Do you realise that? You have no way to prove that he did anything.’

Samuel nodded. ‘I know.’

‘You could at least poison him, or pay someone to do it for you,’ Eric suggested. ‘At least that way you won’t be throwing your life away.’

Samuel nodded again. ‘I will think about it.’

‘Why do you think he killed them, Samuel?’ Goodfellow asked genuinely. ‘I mean, why would he kill
your
family? You said you family wasn’t rich or powerful at all. They were only farmers.’

‘That’s right,’ Samuel answered, picking some grass and throwing it to the wind. ‘We just had fruit and a few chickens. I’ve thought about it many times and I can’t understand at all why anyone would have wanted them dead.’

‘Perhaps some secret business of the Order?’ Eric proposed.

Samuel shook his head. ‘I don’t think they were magicians—they didn’t wear magicians’ clothes. Everyone has said how Ash is working for Lord Jarrod, and how Lord Jarrod is always scheming after something, so I’m thinking that it was some conspiracy of his. Perhaps there was a mistake in identity, or they thought we had some hidden gold. I really don’t know.’

‘Perhaps if you do kill Ash, it will cause an inconvenience for Lord Jarrod, so at least you can think of it as a service for the Order,’ Eric said.

Samuel laughed at this. ‘Yes. Perhaps I can.’ After a moment he noticed that the apprentices on the hillside had all begun to move back to the city. ‘It’s getting late. I didn’t realise I was so hungry.’ With that he stood and began slapping the grass from his trousers.

Goodfellow stretched his arms wide with a yawn, before standing and doing the same. ‘Now you mention it, I’m starving.’

Eric leapt up after them and they began trotting back down the hillside towards the great, grey metropolis that was the city of Cintar.

Samuel awoke to a dark figure standing at the end of his bed.

‘Again, you do not disappoint me, Samuel. I have been here only moments and you already detect my presence.’

Samuel sat up with a start and threw some mage-lights up to the ceiling. It was the secretive magician who had surprised him before, late one night in the Great Library.

‘I have been watching you, Samuel, and it is time you joined me.’ Samuel looked to his roommates, who all appeared fast asleep. A spell hovered across them like a blanket of shimmering mist. ‘They will not wake, Samuel.’

‘Who
are
you?’ Samuel asked.

‘Again, that does not matter. It seems things are not going well within the Order. Anthem was a good man. A little foolish, but I suppose his heart was in the right place. Surely you can see now how infantile these people are. I am beyond such bickering and trivial pursuit of power. Join me, Samuel and leave the petty Order.’

‘Are you with the Circle of Eyes?’

The man nodded solemnly. ‘That is a name of convenience we sometimes use, Samuel, but do not judge me from the company I sometimes keep out of necessity. I have a little project that would keep you busy for a while and I’m sure you would enjoy it. In exchange, I will teach you such secrets of magic that these fools will never know.’

‘I’m sorry, but I’m still not interested. I don’t care for whatever it is you think I want. I’m happy with the Order, despite its shortcomings.’

The man stepped forward to the balcony and leaned over to observe the floor below. ‘Why do you insist on frustrating me, Samuel?’ he asked. ‘I could make your life very uncomfortable. I’m showing you far more tolerance than I should, out of pure respect for your potential. If you decide you would rather be my enemy, you will surely regret it.’

Samuel slipped out from his bed and stood, feeling his bare feet on the smooth, timber floor. The man turned slowly to face him, keeping his back against the handrail.

‘I don’t enjoy your tone,’ Samuel told him. ‘I do not doubt you have great power, but you cannot change the way I feel. I do not want your help. I have become what I am through my own efforts, not from the tiresome lectures of these bores. They are useful for the most trivial of matters—I know that—but while they still pose some use to me, I will stay. I understand what you are telling me and, frankly, I do not care. I will make my own fate.’

Samuel could see a smile appear on the man’s face in the dim light.

‘So you have developed some spine. I am pleased. However, I must let you know that you have little choice. Many dark things are moving in the world, Samuel, things that your Order of Magicians knows nothing about. The Order is a nursery for children and a plaything of the Empire. They will use you to meet their own ends until you are of no further use—and then they will throw you away like an unwanted rag. All magicians of real consequence join the Circle, for we are the only power that can keep this world from harm. Their bickering, their politicking and even their wars are of no consequence compared to the responsibilities we soon must face.’ The man then sighed. ‘Very well, there is still some time. Remain here for now if you insist, but it will only make your schooling more difficult later. I will return for you in due course.’