Wielder: Apprentice: Book 1 of Lady Shey's Story (The Wielder Cycle) (19 page)

There was a long silence that Shey did not understand. Perhaps Morgoran’s dislike for the apprentice held his tongue. “Gondrial. The apprentice’s name is Gondrial,” he said finally.

Shey nodded but was careful not to say anything about the name for fear Morgoran would have a snide comment no matter what she said about it.

An attendant entered the room and walked directly to Morgoran. “Master, your guests have arrived.”

“Announce them.”

“Very good, master.” The attendant went back to the door and stood. “Master Ianthill and his apprentice, Gondrial,” he said.

Ianthill entered behind another attendant first, followed by Gondrial. Morgoran motioned for them to be seated to his immediate left. When Shey laid eyes upon Gondrial for the first time, butterflies fluttered in her stomach. He was not only handsome, he was the most handsome thing she had ever seen. He appeared to be about the same age as she. He wore tailored clothes—she could tell because they fit so well—and a small, trimmed Van Dyke goatee on his chin. His hair was midnight black. Instinctively she stood up when Morgoran did. Ianthill bowed to her.

“My lady, you look well,” he said. Shey panicked for a brief moment. How exactly did she look? She suddenly cared.

Gondrial came around the table to take her hand and kiss it. “You must be Lady Sheyna from Symbor.”

Shey fluttered at his touch, but she contained it, deciding to play as if she was not impressed. “It’s Shey now. I prefer Shey to Sheyna, if you don’t mind.”

Gondrial smiled. “Understandably.”

Shey was not sure if she should take offense or not.

“Do come sit down, Gondrial,” Ianthill commanded. “The lady is Morgoran’s apprentice, not some chambermaid for your charms.”

Shey felt herself blush and hoped it didn’t show. Gondrial went back around the table and seated himself next to Ianthill. Soup was brought out to both of them.

“I had Eckard assign you both adjacent rooms, Ianthill, in the west wing,” Morgoran said.

“That will be splendid. I’m sure we will be comfortable,” Ianthill answered.

An attendant poured both Ianthill and Gondrial some wine, and Gondrial took a long drink. “Ack, that’s dreadful,” he said.

“Something wrong with your wine, Gondrial?” Morgoran asked.

“It’s dreadful!” he repeated.

Morgoran gave Shey a wink and leaned in to whisper, “He does this every time.” He sat back up. “I had some elven wine brought up from the wine cellars. I am still not going to tell you where the cellars are, I am afraid.” He looked around, but the attendants were all preparing to bring out the main course. “I will have an attendant bring it out when I see one.”

“No need, I know my way around the kitchen. I will just go fetch it myself.” Gondrial left the table and disappeared into the kitchen.

Ianthill took a bite of soup and pointed his spoon at Shey, “You warn her?”

“Aye, I did. You might be able to add to my warning, though,” Morgoran said.

Ianthill put down his spoon. “I love my apprentice with all my heart, but be warned, he loves women almost equally so. He is charming to a fault, so don’t fall victim to him. Of all his vices, he is loyal and will be at your side in an instant if you are in danger, but try to tame his heart and he will bolt like a frightened deer. And for the love of all the gods, do not let him entice you into getting into trouble. Once you spend a little time with him, you’ll see what I mean. He has a good heart, but he is a scoundrel. I have tried to drive it out of him, but he is who he is.”

“Don’t worry, masters, I’m not so easily charmed.” Even as the words left her mouth she knew they were a lie. She was already intrigued by him.

“Good, keep it that way,” Ianthill said.

The main course came and went and Shey noticed Gondrial had still not returned. Then dessert came and went, and Shey began to become concerned that Gondrial had not returned to the table after going to retrieve the elven wine. Ianthill and Morgoran discussed politics, best ways to start training apprentices, and other topics that bored Shey to tears the whole while she worried about Gondrial. Finally she couldn’t take it any longer.

“What of Gondrial?” she blurted out.

Ianthill looked toward the kitchen door. “He’s all right. He probably found himself a kitchen maid to feed him. Don’t go worrying about him, now.”

“Do you mind if I satisfy my curiosity?” Shey asked Morgoran.

“Not at all. I would start looking in the pantry if I were you. There’s a block of ice in there, and that’s where I had the elven wine stored earlier,” Morgoran said. He looked at Ianthill with a wide grin, and Shey knew she was missing something.

Once in the kitchen, she asked one of the attendants where the pantry was, and he took her there. When she opened the door, the place was a mess. Bags of beans, rice, and other dry goods were scattered everywhere; jars of foodstuff and small barrels were overturned, and cabinet doors were left opened. Gondrial was lying on top of a few busted, fluffy bags in the center of the pantry, covered in flour, a bottle of wine in his left hand. He startled awake when Shey entered. She stood there glaring at him in shock.

“What?” he said. “I had trouble finding the wine.”

End of Wielder: Apprentice

Book One of the Wielder Cycle

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Shey Namear, the only apprentice of the wielder Morgoran, slammed the dusty old book she was studying shut, producing a cloud of dust.
The kings of Symboria were as dull as a bundle of practice swords
, she thought. It was near impossible to study, because at any moment her best friend, Marella, would be arriving at the Vale of Morgoran with her master to stay indefinitely. Shey moved to watch the road from the tower windows. They would both graduate from wielder apprentice to wielder adept together. There was also a possibility that her mother, Sylvalora, might return soon. In fact, the tower would be home to a bevy of visitors soon. Morgoran hinted earlier in the week that Ianthill was also bringing his apprentice, Gondrial, to the Vale later in the season; of course, Shey was not too thrilled about seeing him again. She pushed the tome in front of her away.
I can’t study!
she thought before she decided to go down to the main entranceway and wait for her friend.

The summer sun burned hot on the tower, but Morgoran’s magic kept the temperature inside cool and comfortable as Shey descended the tower steps from her room up on the third tier. When she was about halfway down, she heard Morgoran greeting someone out on the portico. She leaped two steps at a time, almost tripping herself to get down the stairs. When she got to the door, she saw Dicarion taking down a trunk from his carriage. A moment later, the driver opened the carriage door and Marella stepped out.

“Marella!” Shey called to her.

Marella looked up, her face beaming in the summer sun. Her curly blonde locks bounced as she jumped to the ground running. The two girls met in the middle, in an embrace.

Dicarion stopped from his task of removing luggage to admire the friendship. “You would think they had been apart for decades rather than two seasons,” he said to Morgoran.

“To two young girls, seasons might seem like decades,” Morgoran replied.

Shey pointed to the top of the tower. “I had the room next to mine on the third tier prepared for you. The view is spectacular. Morgoran let me choose from any of the rooms in the tower.”

“It sounds wonderful!” Marella said.

“I hope you’re hungry; the kitchen staff is preparing us a delicious lunch out on the patio.

“I am famished, but I would like to put my things away and wash some of the road off before we eat.”

“This way. I will show you,” Shey said, leading Marella through the entrance and up into the tower. “The porters will bring up your trunk. Get comfortable and wash up. I will meet you down at the patio. Just go back down the stairs and go east at the bottom. The patio is just outside the eastern double doors. You can’t miss it; when you get there the doors will be opened to the outside.”

“I’ll see you there,” Marella said as she found the washbasin.

As Shey anxiously awaited for Marella to come down to lunch, she took in the sights and smells around her. The small patio was the perfect setting for a casual lunch. The midday sun warmed the marble and stone, expelling the cooler morning air, and the fragrances from the flowerbeds surrounding the patio and lining the circular tower walls smelled fresh, clean, and pleasant.

Morgoran walked onto the patio and seated himself on the stone bench downwind from the table and continued to smoke his morning pipe. A few moments later, Dicarion joined them. Morgoran put away his pipe and went to the table just in time for the servants to bring in trays containing varieties of meats, breads, cheeses, and fruits. Shey felt her stomach rumble, and she remembered she had been too excited to eat breakfast earlier. She was thankful when Marella walked onto the patio. To Shey, a feast like the one now put before her was still a bit daunting. She almost felt like she needed to eat every morsel or it might go to waste and then she would not get to eat again for a long while, but she knew that to Marella, the feast was more commonplace.

When the spring water and juices were brought, Morgoran signaled it was time to dig into the feast.

“We should have a guest just after lunch,” Morgoran said to the group. “I must warn you that he is a bit odd. He is under the impression that dragonkind are the only parties responsible enough to wield magic. He is proposing that all magic be outlawed except for a few of us.”

“That’s preposterous,” Dicarion said after he took a drink of spring water. “Why would he believe such a fool thing?”

“Well, the dragons did once look after man and elf alike as protectors. He would like to see life return to those simpler times.”

“Simpler times! Apparently he did not live through them, then.”

Morgoran chuckled. “At any rate, I wanted to say something before he entered. We should remain cordial to him no matter what he says.”

“What is his stake in the outlawing of magic?” Dicarion asked as he reached for another piece of cheese.

“He is some kind of Oracle. He claims he can see into the future and that magic, if not curtailed immediately, will wreak havoc and change our way of life forever. He thinks magic and essence wielding is dangerous.”

A knock on the door was followed by a servant announcing Master Kambor had arrived. The blond-headed, blue-eyed young man entered the patio. “Forgive my intrusion. I am early.”

“Not at all, join us,” Morgoran insisted.

Shey was immediately taken with Kambor’s charisma. He was so handsome it was almost painful for her to look directly at him.

Kambor bowed before Morgoran. “I am Kambor, Oracle of Aedreagnon.”

Morgoran stacked some meat and cheese on a slab of bread and topped it with another slab of bread. “Let me be blunt. Kambor, is it?”

“Aye, that is my name.”

“I have no interest in your predictions when it comes to the use of magic. You are trying to convince the butcher that meat is evil and should not be consumed.”

“Not at all, Morgoran, I am merely telling the butcher that he should leave the butchering to those who actually know how to butcher correctly.”

“So you believe that only dragons, the onetime protector of man, should be the only users of magic and essence?”

“I do.”

Dicarion shifted in his seat. “Won’t you sit down?” He gestured to an empty chair. “I hate eating in front of company who hover over me like some kind of buzzard.”

“Forgive me . . .” He was searching for a name.

“You’re the Oracle. You tell me who I am.”

The Oracle smiled and seated himself. “I am afraid it doesn’t work that way.”

“Nope, it never does, does it!” Dicarion said before taking a bite of cheese.

Morgoran swallowed a bite. “A butcher is a butcher. One who cannot butcher correctly swiftly goes out of business.”