The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy) (63 page)

‘What kind of company?’ Master Glim asked, but a knock sounded on the door and all eyes moved quickly to it. ‘Who’s there?’ Master Glim then called to those outside.

‘Erics!’ returned the familiar voice of Eric Pot.

‘Come,’ Master Glim instructed and the door creaked in.

Eric Pot entered, beaming with joy upon the sight of Samuel. Eric Goodfellow followed him in, adjusting his rounded spectacles and smiling like a birthday boy himself.

‘Samuel!’ Eric declared. ‘It is wonderful to see you!’

‘Samuel!’ Goodfellow echoed.

Both had matured somewhat, a little taller and broader in general. Samuel threw his arms around them both in turn and laughed with genuine pleasure.

‘I only wish it was under more fortunate circumstances,’ he told them.

‘How is that?’ Eric asked.

Samuel quickly explained the events in Tindal to the newcomers and the conversation he had been having with Master Glim and Lomar.

‘But I fear we may need to do something drastic about Lord Jarrod,’ Master Glim added at the end. ‘I am sure he will not easily be dissuaded. He has been pursuing his own agenda for many years, and now that he has the upper hand, he will fight tooth and claw to keep it that way. I feel all his eagerness to begin this war is only a convenience to get what he wants—a lever for his own means. I am guessing he has his sights set on the Elder Staff and has plans to become the next Archmage.’

‘I agree,’ Lomar said. ‘With the Archmage’s current strange behaviour, Jarrod has already begun sowing the seeds of dissent against him—only very subtly, but I can see that the stage is being set. I would not be surprised if he was responsible for the Archmage’s current state, himself. We must find a way to have Lord Jarrod voted out of the Council.’

‘I still think we should just kill him,’ Samuel suggested. ‘While I’m killing Ash, it won’t be too much of an added inconvenience.’

Goodfellow threw Samuel a doubtful glance. ‘We can’t just kill everyone who disagrees with us, Samuel.’

‘Well, not straight away, anyway,’ Master Glim added with a hint of guilt.

‘What other support can we count upon?’ Eric asked.

‘Precious little, Master Pot,’ Master Glim stated. ‘Unless it looks like we have an overwhelming chance of success, I would not expect support from many magicians at all. Most of our number are now old and frail and they would not like to risk confrontation with any of these hardy new apprentices, let alone face the wrath of the Emperor. As you could well expect, many Turians within the Order are quite happy to let this war progress. It is really only those who were formerly close to Grand Master Anthem to whom we could even dare suggest this plan.’

‘What about if we have Lord Jarrod discredited?’ Goodfellow suggested. ‘As Samuel has said, the relationship between him and Master Ash is well known. If we could prove the connection between Jarrod and all Ash’s dastardly work in Tindal, they would certainly have some questions to answer.’

Master Glim shook his head. ‘Samuel cannot even begin to show his face in Cintar. Lord Jarrod has ensured he will be arrested on sight and all Samuel’s accusations would be worth nothing to them. I doubt we could scrape up enough evidence to convince the Council of anything at this stage.’

‘What about the Argum Stone and their use of black magic?’ Samuel asked. ‘Surely that constitutes some kind of crime.’

Again, Master Glim brushed the suggestion aside. ‘Indeed, it is, the most heinous of crimes at that, but again, it requires proof, of which we don’t have any. If we could catch Master Ash in the act, that would certainly be damning, but I doubt he would be so foolish as to flaunt black spells before the Council. I suggest we begin carefully and make some subtle enquiries with those we know well in the Order. We should also speak to Lord Goodwin to ascertain his position in all this. He will know much more of Council matters than us and may be able to provide a handhold for us to begin our work. He may even know more about this relic that they seem to have hidden away. We can refine our plan from there. I know it sounds like we are dragging our feet but, strictly speaking, we are committing treason by even speaking of such things. It will pay for us to tread carefully, rather than rush in like fools and have our heads cut off before we can open our mouths to object.’

They really had little other choice, so all of them agreed with Master Glim’s plan.

‘Well, I had better be going,’ Master Glim said. ‘I had already arranged to meet Master Celios, so I must hurry before he comes grumbling and looking for me. Eric, please organise a guestroom for Samuel,’— to which Eric nodded.

‘Unfortunately, I must also leave for a prior engagement,’ Lomar stated. ‘Samuel, please stay hidden for the time being. From what you have said, you may not be the most popular magician in Cintar.’

With that, Master Glim and Lomar left the room.

‘Samuel,’ Goodfellow said, ‘it’s honestly so good to see you.’

‘I feel the same,’ Samuel returned. ‘And I heard you have both graduated. It feels so strange to think of you as
Masters of the Order.
’

‘Don’t worry,’ Eric said. ‘It feels strange for us, too! I still keep expecting Master Sanctus to run up and pull my ear every time I laugh out loud.’

‘And what about your great discovery? Any luck recreating your travelling spell?’

‘Not really,’ Eric replied, ‘but we prefer to call it a
Journey
Spell, if you please,’ he added cheekily.

‘Actually,’ Goodfellow added, ‘we’ve conducted a lot of research on the matter and formulated mounds of theory, but it still remains little more than that.’

‘Yes,’ Eric added guiltily. We just haven’t been able to actually cast the spell. I don’t know what it was that I did before, but we just can’t seem to recreate it—probably because it scared the willies out of me.’

‘Was it really that bad?’ Samuel asked.

Eric waved his two hands before him. ‘You don’t want to know! It was positively awful. I felt like I was twisting inside out. It only took a moment to arrive in Maidensvale, right in front of my parents’ house and, when I did, I couldn’t stop vomiting for hours. I thought I was delirious. On the bright side, my parents were glad to see me.’

‘I’d be curious to see all your notes,’ Samuel stated. ‘Perhaps later, once we have sorted out all this mess.’

‘Speaking of which,’ Goodfellow began, ‘do you really believe Lord Goodwin will side with us? Having a contact in the Council would be exactly what we need.’

‘Yes, I’m sure he will,’ Samuel replied. ‘I know him very well. In fact, perhaps one of you could contact him today and let him know I am here?’

Goodfellow nodded. ‘Of course. I can go to the palace now; but do you think it’s wise to mention your name, even to him?’

‘I trust him more than almost anyone,’ Samuel replied without hesitation.

Goodfellow left for the palace, while Eric went to organise another room for Samuel. After only a short time, he returned and led Samuel to a small residence only a few buildings away, which was almost identical to Master Glim’s, both inside and out. He also brought some food and a great pile of papers that were just a part of the total sum of their studies upon his Journey Spell.

‘You may as well look over these now,’ he explained to Samuel. ‘It’s not like we are doing anything useful with them and it looks like we may have a lot of time on our hands.’

They looked over the notes and talked long into the afternoon, until Goodfellow returned and announced that Master Goodwin could meet Samuel the very next day. They passed the remainder of the day idly, with Samuel catching up on all the other happenings since he had left the city. While it was only early evening, the two Erics left and Samuel crawled into bed with their notes spread around him. At some stage, he fell asleep and his dreams were, for once, sweet and refreshing, for his visions were of Leila and her sweet and beckoning smile. In the realms of his fantasy, she was still alive and well and everything felt at peace.

About mid-morning of the next day, while the others were busy, Samuel became impatient waiting for his meeting and, despite all the firm warnings he had received, he left the confines of his tiny room. He only had to wait until after lunch to meet Tulan, but his feet had become far too itchy and he felt the need to get out and see some of the old city sights—and he also had a few loose ends he wanted to tie up. He wandered out of his room and through the ghostly school grounds with his hood pulled up around his head. It had been raining hard through the night and was still bucketing down as if it would never stop, and so barely a soul was out to brave the weather. Heading out through the gates, Samuel was not fussed by a little water and he continued into the city proper. He had walked those city streets many times in the past and he knew the whole north-eastern quarter like the back of his hand. The city was so huge, however, that few people knew all of its main streets well, let alone the endless alleyways and crooks and crannies that criss-crossed between them. It was a test of his memory to find the one small doorway he was looking for but, after several wrong turns and a little backtracking through the puddles here and there, he finally found the tiny smoking house where he had last met Soddan.

He pushed through the cloth flap at the entrance and found the place exactly as it was the last time, as if time had not passed at all. Men were sitting around idly, sucking on their long hosed pipes and filling the room with a pungent blue smoke. After only a moment, a fuzzy-haired man came up to Samuel.

‘Can I help you, Good Lord?’ the man asked politely, glancing at the pool of water that was forming at Samuel’s feet. ‘A towel perhaps?’

Samuel pushed back his hood and wiped some of the water from his face. ‘I’m looking for someone. His name is Soddan.’

‘A fitting name,’ the man said light-heartedly, but he continued at once on noticing Samuel’s lack of amusement. ‘Oh, yes. I know him,’ he replied, ‘but I haven’t seen him for quite some time.’

Samuel nodded. ‘Very well. I’ll be going then.’

‘Would you like me to pass him a message?’

‘No, it’s not necessary. I’m sure I’ll bump into him eventually.’

With that, Samuel pulled his sodden hood back over his head and left the smoking house. Surprisingly, before he had even reached the end of the street, the rain stopped as if the clouds had abruptly ran dry. Water continued to pour from the roofs and gutters for some time, forming an impressive array of streams and tiny waterfalls that cascaded down onto the glistening streets. Many of the city’s drains had obviously blocked up and some streets had become like rivers. Great ponds lingered in some corners and Samuel had to wade knee-deep in places, with his boots filling up with water and making the going all the more difficult. People were sweeping the rain out their doorsteps and throwing bucketfuls of water out into the streets as they began to clean up.

Before Samuel had even reached halfway back to the school, the sun had begun shining through a few gaps in the clouds and it was almost looking like becoming a decent day. More people had begun to fill the streets and Samuel quickened his stride, hoping to get back to safety before the crowds came out in full force. Several patrols of Royal Guard had begun marching the streets, but they passed by Samuel without even a glance. It came as quite a surprise, however, when he spied a group of black-cloaked magicians coming up one of the slippery streets towards him. What made matters worse was that he recognised the short, stocky shape of Lord Vander at their head.

Samuel decided it was safer to turn around altogether and avoid them, but as he made back up the hill from where he had come, he ran into further trouble. A patrol of guards was spread across the street and they were questioning a clot of Paatin merchants. There were no side streets to slip down, so Samuel stopped in place, caught between the magicians and the soldiers. He looked over his shoulder to see if the magicians were still following. Lord Vander had his head turned and seemed to be arguing with the barrel-chested Lord Hathen at his side. On their farthest left, Samuel was quite alarmed to spy Lord Jarrod. The man’s legs carried him as if he were weightless, for he almost seemed to float along in his boots.

He must have paused a fraction too long, because Lord Hathen raised a hand in Samuel’s direction and began muttering to Vander beside him. Magician’s robes were a convenience at some times, but now they made it near impossible for Samuel to hide amongst the crowd.

‘You, there!’ Hathen began to call up towards him. ‘Stop a moment.’

Samuel acted as if he had not heard, turning his back to the men and starting away. He was terribly bad at looking casual at times like this, and he could not help but hurry a little, hoping to be away from them. They were by no means youngsters, after all, so Samuel just needed a little space and, as soon as he could, he would be off as fast as his feet could carry him. However, he still had to slip past the Royal Guards. Their captain was still engaged in chastising some apologetic hawker, but his men were waiting idly by and seemed on the lookout for anything to remove their boredom.

Samuel changed his steps into long strides, taking as much ground as he could while doing his best to appear unhurried.

‘Hold there!’ Hathen shouted again behind him.