Thread Slivers (Golden Threads Trilogy) (6 page)

Lebuin didn’t comment on that; it was an old jibe. His family was wealthy and owned many ships, and yes, his cousin had married some remote relative to a barony. His mother had died giving birth to his sister. He was so excited to see his baby sister for the first time that lights danced around the room. Lebuin was three years old. His shocked father had called the Guild for help, unsure of how to deal with a magical son so young. The Guild had taken control of him, and he had grown up in this very Guildhouse. He visited, and was visited, by his large family but although he loved his father and siblings, he only ever felt at home here in the Guild.

He knew he was unique in his abilities and powers. In fact, he was extremely proud of how much power he had to control. Every so often someone was born with magical abilities from the very start. These people usually became great wizards. As one of these unique people, Lebuin knew that his early training had been more about controlling him than teaching him how to use his powers. His first eight years at the Guild had been spent in a private wing, being taught individually by two instructors at a time. He was never allowed to play with the other kids alone. He recalled that many of the other kids had avoided him out of jealousy, and he long ago decided he didn’t need them either. So he learned to live in solitude, which became a theme for his time there. Even after he had learned enough control of his emotions and powers to be moved in amongst the normal students, he was shunned by his peers. He had mostly ignored everyone else, staying in the library reading and researching when not required to be in classes. Only Finnba had managed to get to know him and become a friend.

He had spent so much time at the Guild with Magi and Journeyman that initially the Guild had skipped his introductory training, thinking he had already gotten it. It was discovered in his third year of training that he actually had not learned some of the anchoring techniques, so he had been put with the entry-level classes just as he was starting on his fourth year. Thankfully, the teachers rotated so much that he didn’t actually repeat anything specifically. In fact he was grateful for the restart, because it gave him the knowledge that there were in fact numerous points of view to magic.
I liked the repeat lessons — they were not boring because the different instructor brought an entirely different view to the lessons, giving me a better grasp of magic than others.
Perhaps when I am more respected I might recommend making that repeat loop part of the normal training for most. Of course, it would add three years to the training time.

“Is Magus Cune really so smashed up you can’t recognize him?”

Finnba’s question brought Lebuin back to the present. “What? No. He did smash his nose pretty badly and bled a lot from it before it stopped.”

“Huh, I figured the rumors were a bit exaggerated.”

“Rumors? Really, there are rumors already? We finished the exams not more than a mark ago.”

“Are you daft? You know a mark is ancient history in rumor time.”

“No, I just can’t believe I am the subject of one.”

“You mean ‘again.’ Well, of course you are — when someone manages to blow a full Magus totally out of their construction trial without losing the construct, people are going to talk.”

Rolling his eyes, Lebuin looked closer at his friend.
He isn’t exaggerating, that is really what they are saying. How could a full Magus spread such an exaggeration? Maybe it was the servants. Cune is going to be impossible to avoid after this. I’ll have to find some way to distract him from seeking vengeance.
“I didn’t blow him out of my test. I made a hole for him to fall into. He knocked himself out on the floor falling into it.”

“Seriously? Oh, that is so much better.” Finnba’s eyes brightened with humor. “Tell me what happened.”

A servant brought in a platter of food with two glasses and a bottle of sharre already opened. The food was set on the table between the two magicians, and the wine was poured. Lebuin barely noticed, but did start eating as he related to Finnba the events and Magus Andros’s comments.

After the story, and when, unsurprisingly, the bottle of sharre was empty, Finnba stood up. “Well, I’m off to set some rumors straight. This is far more entertaining than the whole ‘flamboyant Magi battle’ described to me.”

Lebuin pointed at his friend, laughing fully. “Don’t blow it too far out of proportion. I still have to deal with Magus Cune for many, many years.”

Smiling, Finnba gave him a fake shocked look. “Blow it out of proportion? Me? I only tell the precise truth, especially when it is far more entertaining than some silly yarn.” With that he stepped out of the nook.

Hunger satisfied and mind clear from the talk, Lebuin considered what to do next. He stood and stretched. He needed to do something while waiting for the council’s decision. He walked over to the window and looked out on the south street. Leaning comfortably against the sill, he slowly drank from his still full glass of sharre and watched the people two stories below moving back and forth on the road. It was interesting to imagine what each person was like, what they did, and what they might be up to, although it wasn’t hard as most were sailors, workers or peasants.

Lebuin was just about to go to his room when he noticed a rather graceful lady walking down the street past the Guild. What really caught his eye was the smooth flow of her calf-length cloak, with its rust colored, fur-trimmed collar matched perfectly to the dusky, almost black-red cloth. The hood pulled fully over her head was of the same material, but lined with a dark grey fur which set off the entire look. It was an unexpectedly elegant but functional cloak. Safely out of her line of sight, he watched her moving past, enjoying the flow of her movements and the shifting of the cloak. She wasn’t someone he had seen before, he was sure of that. That flowing movement was very unique, especially in this city of hard-walking, jostling dock workers and merchants.

Just as she was directly across the street from him, passing the narrow alley, someone hidden in the shadows grabbed her violently and threw her to the ground, out of the light. Lebuin yelped in surprise and stood up to get a better view. In the near-perfect darkness he couldn’t see the assailant or the lady. He immediately, almost unconsciously, invoked another long-practiced incantation to enhance night vision. His vision instantly became far better than an owl’s and sharper than a hawk’s. Everything about the scene below became crisp and clear.

The lady was totally helpless, face down four feet into the alley. The man attacking her was kneeling on her back with one knee, his other leg braced to hold her in place. He had her right arm twisted cruelly up and behind, being held by both his arm and knee. The attacker pulled a glass vial from a pouch and was concentrating on opening the stopper with his thumb and forefinger. Something else bothered Lebuin; his vision slid from the man’s cloak, and the cloak itself appeared to merge with the dark shadows on the pavement making it impossible to tell where the cloak stopped and the shadow began, even with his enhanced vision. This was not an ordinary mugger or rapist.

Lebuin was preparing one of the few offensive incantations he knew when the totally unexpected happened. The lady bent herself backwards, practically in half, kicking the assailant off of her back. Lebuin was so shocked all he could do was stand and stare with his mouth open like a fresh-faced school boy. Her attacker, caught off-guard, landed badly in a heap, his cloak making half of his body seem to be missing as if he was some kind of creature crawling out of the shadows themselves.

Lebuin stared dumbfounded, incantation totally forgotten, as the lady continued the back-folding motion completely over her head. She pushed off with her free hand, snapping over to end up standing in an attack posture facing the villain. Her cloak spread out behind her from the motion like some silly romantic bard’s tale. The villain started to stand, the effect not unlike a demon dragging itself into reality from the shadows. The lady, unfazed, took a step towards him and then jumped sideways directly over him. As she passed over him she caught him in a neck hold, braced by her other arm, which must have been screaming in pain from the abuse it had just endured. Her weight, motion, and hold did their job efficiently, obviously breaking the man’s neck.

She stood over the body for a moment and then grabbed it by the boots and dragged it further into the alley. Lebuin was still trying to come to grips with a brutal attack being turned totally on end by this amazing woman. She efficiently stripped him of a belt, a pouch, and for some reason even his boots. However, she left the cloak. She then moved back to the alley entrance and glanced nervously around. With no one really looking, she stepped back onto the main street. She pulled her hood — now soiled with alley grime — back up to cover her dirty elegant oval face and continued walking in the direction of the docks.

Lebuin watched her go and then looked back at the body in the alleyway to confirm what he’d just seen. There was a pouch still on the body and it was smoking. Within moments the body was completely consumed in a strange green fire that didn’t burn
up
so much as
in
. A minute later both fire and body were gone. All that remained was the cloak and a black charred spot on the alley floor in the shape of a body. The cloak still faded into the shadows. If it wasn’t for the impossible shadow it caused it would have been totally invisible.

Lebuin glanced around; he was still alone in his safe library nook. He reached up and unlatched the window. Cautiously swinging it open so as to not make noise, he cast another incantation. He watched the street, picking a moment when no one was looking, and then reached his mind out to that cloak. With a perceptible reluctance the shadows released their cousin and the cloak flew rapidly to the open window and his waiting hand. Once he had it in his hand he let it dangle loosely outside the window as he extended his incantation for dust and dirt repellence to it. Ashes, dirt, and slime fell from it to the grounds below. Once it was clean, Lebuin pulled it inside and closed the window. In the library light it was a very fine, dark-gray silk cloak with a hood. Lebuin looked it over closely and smiled. He even liked the color. Folding the cloak into a neat packet, he started back towards his room.

I cannot believe what it must be like to live out in this city. People always out to one up you if you let them. Pick pockets, thieves, muggers, rapists, and worse prey on the innocent
. Shaking his head, he replayed the memory of the lady flipping up backwards.
From helpless victim to efficient killer in less time than it took for me to decide what incantation to use to help her. I am so glad I don’t have to live out there. I am too much the scholar to try to deal with those kinds of challenges.

On his way back he met a well-dressed servant coming from the opposite direction. “Master Lebuin,” the servant said softly, stopping him.

For a moment he panicked, like a child caught stealing biscuits. He clutched the cloak a little tighter.
Get a hold of yourself, you’ve done nothing and this is just a Guild servant.
He forced himself to relax, so his voice was only slightly more excited than normal. “Uh, yes, do you need something of me?”

“Yes, Master Lebuin, I am instructed to bring you to the council immediately.”

Thoughts of the incident in the alley were pushed away suddenly as he recalled that he was waiting for news on his Journeyman trial. “Oh yes, of course, let me drop this package off in my room and I’ll go to their chamber presently.”

The servant nodded and fell into step with him. “I could have someone take that for you.”

“We are only a moment from my door. No reason to bother anyone with this.”

The servant simply followed him to his room and waited outside while he quickly put the cloak into his armoire. Then, despite the fact that he knew where to go, the servant led him through the corridors to the main stairs and down to the first floor. Instead of turning towards the council’s chamber, the man indicated he should follow him towards the main audience chamber. That could only mean one thing, and Lebuin stood a little taller as he walked behind.

Lebuin smiled as they approached the great doors. Before the doors stood ten Magi in two rows, who watched as he approached. He scanned the Magi’s faces, recognizing almost everyone. Oddly, Cune was not there. A gong sounded and the doors silently swung inward. The servant who had escorted him stepped forward. “I present Apprentice Lebuin of Llino.” He turned and made a sweeping gesture to Lebuin.

Lebuin looked into the large hall. It could hold a full two hundred people easily, and he was shocked to see it was full of other Magi and apprentices.
I really should have attended some of the other candidate trail ceremonies.
Laughing at himself inside, he managed to maintain a straight back and only smiled wider.
You’d think in twenty years I would have had time to go to at least one. But they always sounded boring, and I always had three books waiting in the library which were far more interesting. From what Finnba said, all I have to do is follow their lead.
Looking around, unsure about what to do next, he was grateful when the servant smiled and indicated he should walk in.
I know him from somewhere.
He rarely noticed servants; they came and went like ghosts. However, this one was about his height, wearing a very well-fitting Guild uniform of traditional dark gray pants and a soft, light gray button-down shirt with purple piping. On the front left and right chest corners of the shirt was the Guild sigil: a stylized dragon with the five waves behind it, embroidered in silver thread. The servant had light brown, almost golden eyes, and was a middle-aged Karkaian. As Lebuin recalled, his name was Ditani, and he was the personal servant for Magus Gezu.
Ditani, I haven’t seen him in the three years since Magus Gezu died. He cried at his funeral pyre. After that he disappeared. I wish I could talk with him, but this is not the right place or time. I’ll have to find him after this is done, but right now I have more important things to pay attention to.