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Tempests and Slaughter
Tempests and Slaughter

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Tempests and Slaughter

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‘Did you see it?’ That soft, awed whisper belonged to Varice. ‘His Gift – it just flowed out of him, like … like ink!’

‘It looked like the night sky, with stars. I thought he was dreaming something odd again, but awake,’ Ozorne murmured. ‘Is he alive?’

‘Of course he is alive.’ That was Dagani. ‘Do his dreams always force his Gift to manifest?’

‘Sometimes,’ Ozorne replied. ‘I’ve never seen it during the day before.’

‘Did you let him know that his Gift was doing things in his sleep?’ Varice asked.

Arram could tell by her tone that she was displeased. He tried to wiggle his fingers to indicate that she should calm down, or make Ozorne be quiet. He wasn’t certain which he wanted to tell her, but it didn’t matter – his fingers wouldn’t move.

‘Why?’ Ozorne asked. ‘He wasn’t harming anything. And it’s entertaining when I can’t rest.’

‘Arram, my dear, your Gift has hold of you,’ Dagani told him softly. ‘Make it release you. You are the master. Make it accept your will. Otherwise I will be forced to use stern measures.’ She paused and said, ‘They may involve removing your shirt.’

The thought of the beautiful Dagani seeing his bony chest made Arram fling his power around the fugitive tendrils, then shove them down into his centre with a strength he didn’t know he possessed. Once they were subdued, sinking into the pool of his Gift, he sat up, banging into Ozorne’s shoulder.

Dagani drew over a chair and sat on it. ‘You need to work on your concentration. You must not lose your hold on your power in your sleep – a greater mage might draw it from you as a spinster draws thread from wool.’

‘I would never!’ Ozorne said with a grin. Dagani quelled him with a raised eyebrow. The prince ducked his head and busied himself in drawing up chairs for himself and Varice.

‘What happened to you?’ the mage asked. ‘One moment you were with us, and then … your Gift broke away and your mind followed it. You collapsed.’

Arram remembered and moaned with disappointment. ‘I missed it! You see, there was this tremendous power outside the wall, so huge I could feel it—’

‘Oh, please,’ Ozorne said, though he was smiling. ‘The master didn’t feel any tremendous power! You’re mistaking your own loss of control—’

Dagani held up her hand. ‘This power, did it move consistently in one direction, or did it shift here and there?’

Arram had been staring at Ozorne with hurt – how could his friend say such a thing? The master’s question distracted him. There had been one strain of magic, immense, but farther away. It hadn’t come near him. It was the other that had moved, approaching the gate. ‘It moved,’ he murmured. ‘I think it was going to come through the gate, even with all the magic on it, but it stopped when you pulled me away.’

‘Well.’ Dagani tapped her full red mouth with a finger that was tipped with blue lace-like designs. ‘You would have learned these things in the Upper Academy as you grew more attuned to … the natural world, and the Divine Realms.’ The three students stared at one another, amazed. They hadn’t heard of this aspect of magecraft. ‘Magic attracts magic. Normally it is not a factor, unless you are working very powerful spells. As masters you would be taught how to ward off magics that would interfere. But there are other magics that might be drawn to you.’

She rose and walked to the open door, looking outside. ‘The power you felt – and I know you felt it – the slow one that moves in one direction is the Zekoi River and its god. I’ve been feeling the itch all day. He doesn’t always come this far north, but when he does, you know it.’ She leaned on the doorway. ‘And the other that nearly caught you must have been one of the lesser gods.’

‘Can they pass through the spells on the wall?’ Varice asked nervously. ‘I’m not sure I want to deal with any gods, ever.’

‘If they do, Master Cosmas will summon a group of us to deal with whichever god it is, be it hippopotamus, crocodile, hyena, snake.’ Dagani smiled. ‘You need not worry, my dear. This place has drawn magical beings for centuries, and we always manage to deal with them. Now, Arram will meditate for the rest of our time, to settle down, while you two will undertake our first lesson.’

At supper Arram was trying to create an image of the power he had seen for his friends when a runner tapped him on the shoulder. The image flew apart. Arram turned to glare at the older boy. ‘I almost had it!’ he snapped.

‘Shouldn’t use your power in the dining hall anyway,’ the runner informed him. He was chewing on a straw. ‘Cooks don’t like it.’ He shoved a folded note at Arram and wandered off. Fluttering her fan, Varice watched him leave.

‘Don’t tell me you admire that oaf,’ Ozorne scolded Varice as Arram unfolded the note. ‘I heard he goes into the city with his bully friends and picks fights with the gumat.’ He’d used the word for the street toughs in the poorest parts of town.

‘Looking doesn’t mean swooning,’ Varice retorted, rapping her royal friend lightly on the shoulder. ‘Arram, what is it?’

‘I have a new class with Master Yadeen,’ he moaned in dismay. ‘Before breakfast!’

‘Hag roll the dice,’ Ozorne murmured. ‘Studying what?’

Arram knew he must look as puzzled as his friends. ‘Juggling!’

THE IMPERIAL UNIVERSITY OF CARTHAK

The School for Mages

The Lower Academy for Youthful Mages

REVISED SCHEDULE OF STUDY, SUMMER TERM, 436 H.E.–

SPRING TERM, 437 H.E.

Student: Arram Draper

Learning Level: Semi-Independent

Second Morning Bell

Summer Term – Juggling – Yadeen

Autumn Term, Spring Term – Stones and Magic, Juggling – Yadeen

Breakfast – Third Morning Bell

Morning Classes

Gems and Stones – Summer Term – Third-year student

Religions – Autumn and Spring Terms – Third-year student

Four-Legged Animals: Anatomy – Summer, Autumn, Spring Terms – First-year animal healer

Language: Ergwae

Lunch – Noon Bell

Afternoon Classes

Protective Circles – Cosmas

Illusions: Objects – Dagani

Basic Spellcraft – Summer, Autumn, Spring Terms – Fourth-year student

Monkey, Orangutan, and Gorilla: Anatomy – Summer, Autumn, Spring Terms – First-year animal healer

Supper – Seventh Afternoon Bell

Extra Study at Need

CHAPTER 6

June 5, 436–March 18, 437

‘Inhuman,’ Arram moaned to himself as he lurched up the gently sloping path. ‘Should have – have stayed home with the family business. No friend keeping me up all night asking how I knew ’bout power if it was outside a shielded wall …’ He stopped for a yawn that made the hinges of his jaw crack. Then he turned down the roofed corridor that would lead him to the master’s workroom. Of course it was at the end of the walkway, past three gardens. Each had spraying fountains set in patterns of coloured stones. Arram would have loved to stick his head in a fountain to cool off – the sun had already turned hot, in only an hour! – but he had a long day ahead, beginning with Yadeen.

The last workroom on the corridor was open. Arram found Yadeen leaning against the far wall. He always forgot how big the man was!

He bowed. ‘Good morning, sir,’ he said nervously.

Yadeen, wearing a loose pale linen shirt and breeches, nodded. He was turning something over in his large hands. Before Arram could guess what it was – it was small enough to be hidden in Yadeen’s grip – the master said, ‘Catch,’ and tossed it to him.

The wooden ball hit Arram in the middle of the chest – not hard, but enough that Arram noticed it was there. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said as he fumbled and dropped the ball. He retrieved it. ‘I wasn’t—’

‘Catch.’ Yadeen calmly tossed another ball at him. Arram reached for it and dropped both that ball and the one he already held.

‘The idea,’ Yadeen said, ‘is for you to catch the first ball one-handed so you will be able to catch the second ball with your other hand.’ When he saw Arram glance around at the shadowy room, he said, ‘Let’s go outside, where we’ll have more light.’ He led the way to a patch of bare earth next to the building.

‘I don’t understand,’ Arram said when they halted. ‘What is this for?’

Yadeen collected the balls from Arram’s hands and walked until he was fifteen feet away. ‘It is for concentration and coordination,’ he said, raising his deep, accented voice so Arram could hear. ‘Until you can fix your attention on one thing while your hands do another, you will be a very dangerous young mage, and not for the proper reasons. Catch.’

Arram caught the first ball with both hands. This time he only missed the second ball, since he remembered to keep the first in one hand. ‘I’m sorry,’ he called.

‘Don’t apologize,’ Yadeen ordered. ‘Learn.’

Through autumn, Midwinter, and into spring term, Arram, Ozorne, and Varice worked hard. Arram might have felt sorry for himself given the extra hour with the stern Yadeen in the mornings, but the same day that Arram began the study of juggling, Ozorne announced he was to apply himself to an hour of swordplay, on his mother’s orders. Varice, who never slept past sunrise if she could help it, decided to volunteer in the kitchens, in defiance of her father’s wishes. Unlike many of their fellows, the three never complained of trouble falling asleep.

At Midwinter, Arram had the pleasure of buying more than trinkets for his friends. He got a fine pocket dagger for Ozorne and a carving knife of good steel for Varice. Each of them had obtained books that he had coveted all season but refused to buy, since he’d been saving his coin for presents. And for his birthday he got more gifts, not just from his friends, but from Masters Cosmas, Dagani, and Yadeen.

‘It is the custom for a master to do this for the student, but not the other way around,’ Yadeen said when he handed a package to Arram. ‘It is assumed the student needs every nit he can find, if not for now, when he has a stipend, then later, when he is on his own. Don’t bother to be grateful,’ he said when Arram opened his mouth. ‘I do poorly with gratitude. Open it.’

Arram gently unfolded the beautiful blue-violet shoulder drape the master had used for wrapping – where he’d wear such an elegant garment he had no idea! – to find a polished red wood box, figured with dragons and griffins. He opened it to discover hand-sized balls, six of them, each different shades of reddish, brown, or black wood.

‘Juggling balls,’ he said blankly. He looked up at Yadeen and realized the master’s eyes were dancing. It was the first time he’d seen the man look humorous. ‘I don’t know what to say,’ he joked, keeping his tone flat.

Yadeen clapped him on the shoulder. ‘I knew you would be pleased. Try them out before classes begin again.’

Gifts from Cosmas and Dagani were books. Dagani’s was on great illusions, including one that was supposed to have lured all the world’s griffins out of the Mortal Realms and back to the Realms of the Gods. Cosmas’s book told of unusual mages: those who did not follow the normal path to a position as a teacher or a serving mage for a government or for a noble or royal house. Ozorne and Varice both leafed through it and shrugged, uninterested. They didn’t offer to show Arram the books they had received from Cosmas and Dagani, and Arram didn’t ask. He was too interested in his own books.

If asked later, Arram would have said he didn’t remember the passing of the weeks. He did recall students from the Upper Academy lingering around Varice in the late afternoons. Arram was taking evening strolls through the halls with dark-eyed Sheni in January and early February, before she tired of his ‘headache-making big words.’ She left him for a student who hoped to be a healer when he reached the Upper Academy. It was just as well: Ozorne was bleak again and needed attention and reminders to take his medicine, as he had the previous spring.

Varice ignored the older students. She made extra money giving new turns to spring garments for other girls, stitching on lace, taking in seams or letting them out, and sewing on embroideries. When Arram pointed out one evening that surely her stipend covered all her expenses, she looked down her nose at him.

‘There’s the future to think of,’ she informed him, holding her work up so she could be certain the seam was even. ‘I’m putting money by for that.’

They were in one of the empty cubicles in Arram’s room. Although they tried to talk quietly, Ozorne heard. He was in bed; they thought he’d been sleeping off another shadowy spell. ‘I told you, you’re going to live with me,’ he called. ‘We’ll have our own place, in the mountains or a forest …’

‘And if we’re sent journeying once we’re working for a mastery?’ Varice enquired. She picked up a handful of lace and began to roll it neatly. ‘You know they do it to a lot of them. I for one don’t intend to sleep on the ground on a ragged blanket, eating charred rabbit I cooked on a fire!’

Arram snorted. Ozorne began to chuckle. The idea of Varice – of any of them – living in such conditions was too amusing to consider seriously.

‘You know they’ll settle us with a master elsewhere in Carthak, or somewhere north,’ Ozorne said as he sat up and threw off the blanket. ‘They don’t just cast people they’ve taught so much into the winds of chance!’

Varice sniffed. ‘I hope so, but I’m not taking those chances if I can help it.’

‘I wouldn’t permit it,’ Ozorne told her cheerfully. Arram believed him, and his heart sank a little. It would be fun to wander alone, learning whatever he pleased. Perhaps Ozorne would let him off the leash now and then, when the time came.

The afternoon of the following day, he was so fascinated reading a book Yadeen had loaned him that he lost track of time. It began to rain. Only the appearance of a wet spot on the page, and the boom of the sixth-hour bell, jarred him from his trance. He yelped. He had promised to work on illusions with Ozorne and Varice; he was an hour and a half late!

Hoping to gain time, he jumped the waist-high wall to a herb garden. His plan was to run crossways over the rows of bare mounds that waited for warmer weather, which would cut his distance in half. He had not expected there to be a line of large jars positioned on the other side of the wall.

Down he went with a crash, spilling forward onto a mound with several shattered jars. The ground beneath him was decidedly damp. When he struggled to his feet, he found he was muddy from chin to toe.

His first instinct was to run and let someone else take the blame. His second thought was that this would be truly stupid. A mage could track him by the print his body had left in the mud. This occurred to him just as a man who had been kneeling near the corner of the wall rose to his feet.

He was stocky, not much taller than Arram, with skin a ruddy golden-brown. His black hair was cut short and streaked with grey. Dark eyes with long, sloping lids that lengthened at the corners looked Arram over. He wore a sturdy wool shirt under a sleeveless vest equipped with a number of pockets. His breeches, also covered with pockets, were heavily burdened with the tools of a working gardener. When he stood, it was easy to see that his legs were widely bowed, like someone who had spent a large part of his life on horseback.

Arram knew him. Everyone did who paid attention to the university gardens. He gulped. ‘Master Hulak, I’m so sorry! I never would have jumped the wall—’

‘If you knew I was here?’ the school’s head gardener, also a master in the study of plants, medicines, and poisons, asked gently.

Arram’s knees wanted to give way. ‘No, Master!’ he protested. ‘If I’d known there was work being done here! I thought it was too early for …’ His voice locked in his throat.

Hulak studied him for painful moments before he said, ‘So you think because you see no plants there is no work to be done? It is fine to gallop over my rows?’ He raised a hand for silence when Arram would have defended himself. Clearly he was still thinking. At last he enquired, ‘You are Arram Draper, Varice’s friend?’

Arram nodded. ‘Yes, Master.’ Everyone knows Varice, he thought.

‘Not Master, only Hulak. You are said to be clever.’ The older man watched him, his eyes seeming not to blink.

‘I’m trying to be,’ Arram replied honestly.

‘You have left me with’ – in a form of exquisite torture, the gardener pointed to each shattered jar and counted its number aloud – ‘seven broken vessels I had planned to use in the morning. These things are money out of my spring term budget.’

Arram saw coins – his coins – flying out of a drawer in the bursar’s office. ‘How mu—’

But there was that upraised palm commanding silence again. ‘No. More important is a student silly enough to think a garden is dead because he sees nothing above the ground.’

To add to Arram’s enjoyment, it began to truly pour. Hulak did not even seem to notice. Arram did, as mud ran down his chest, breeches, and feet. He said nothing, feeling that the worst was about to come.

‘You repay me by coming each school day, at this time, for an hour.’

Arram heard himself whimper softly.

Hulak ignored him. ‘Today I am in the third garden from the river. Tomorrow I will be in the fourth garden, and so on, until I reach the end of this long corridor. The next day I will move south, to the first garden on that corridor, and on. Understand?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Arram mumbled.

‘I will bring you better clothes for gardening, and sandals.’ Hulak looked him up and down. ‘Mages should understand plants. Varice knows this. Now it is your turn. Tomorrow, after your monkey lesson.’ He looked along the row. ‘Pick up the jar pieces, take them to the shed over there. Put them in the basket with others.’ He returned to the row where he had been working.

Arram heaped as many shards of pottery as he could carry in half of a broken jar and bore them to the shed, walking around the garden instead of through. As he worked, one question plagued him: How had Hulak known who he was?

‘Of course he knows,’ Varice said when he finally met her and Ozorne for supper. ‘Master Hulak knows everything!’ She patted Arram’s arm. ‘You’ll learn.’

Ozorne nodded. ‘The university paid a royal sum to woo him here from the Mohon tribes that live north of Jindazhen.’

Varice giggled. ‘It wasn’t the money,’ she informed her friend. ‘Master Lindhall – he was the one who brought Master Hulak here – told him about all of the plants and trees in the East that Hulak had never seen. You just have to know how to talk to him.’

‘Not this afternoon I didn’t,’ Arram grumbled. ‘Now I have even more work before I can do my classroom studies!’

Ozorne patted his shoulder. ‘Just wait till we get to the Upper Academy, my dear fellow,’ he said cheerfully. ‘You will dream of these happy, lazy days in the Lower Academy with wistful sorrow.’

Exhausted after his trying day, Arram gratefully fell into bed and slept almost immediately. It seemed as if he’d barely started a decent dream of a blonde girl who beckoned him to her when thunder crashed overhead. She vanished and Arram prised his eyes open.

‘That was going to be a good one,’ he muttered to the gods of dreams.

The thunder – no, not thunder, but pounding on the door – resumed.

‘Make it stop or I’ll make it stop,’ Ozorne growled from his cubicle. ‘They teach me explosive spells now.’

Arram crawled out of his blankets and stumbled to the door. ‘What the —?’ he demanded as he threw it open.

He stopped. The burly fist raised to pound again belonged to Yadeen. He looked no more awake than Arram. ‘If I am up and about, someone will share my misery,’ he informed the youth. ‘The marble slabs that are the face of the imperial platform – at the great arena – fell during an earth tremor. Did you feel it?’

Arram shook his head.

‘I would like you to help me put new stones in their place,’ Yadeen explained. ‘To do so I need you to let me use your power as well as my own. Normally no one would ask this before you had learned the spells to stop another mage from drawing on you, but this is an emergency. Will you help me? I swear by Mithros, Minoss, and any god you prefer that I will make you do no lawless thing, nor hold back any amount of Gift to keep you subject to my will in the future.’

Arram gawped at the older man. Finally he found the wit to say, ‘Wouldn’t you rather have one of your personal students? The older ones, I mean?’

Yadeen grimaced. ‘For a task such as this, they lack …’ He hesitated, then continued, ‘Sufficient raw power of the right order. I would need two or three of them, and one of my three is about to leave to serve at a quarry for a year. Rather than deal with all that, I would prefer one student, if possible.’

Arram jumped. ‘Yes, sir, of course, sir!’ he said, and grabbed the clothes he had placed on his chair for the morning.

‘Say nothing to anyone with regard to my evaluation of how many of my older students could do this,’ Yadeen said, accepting a cup of tea from Irafa, who had emerged from her own room. ‘Both of you.’ He raised his voice and looked towards Ozorne’s cubicle.

‘Your secrets are safe,’ the prince called back. ‘Though I’d say you need new students if your senior ones are this useless.’

‘Their skills are elsewhere,’ Yadeen retorted after a sip of tea. ‘Have you been asked to throw fire yet, or to work a simulacrum of yourself good enough to fool a master?’

‘No, Master Yadeen,’ came the grudging reply.

Yadeen took another gulp of tea. ‘In any case, our task is better done with a younger student if that one is strong enough. Older students have trained their Gifts in complex mental webs. It gets harder to pull them into solid ropes for great tasks. Arram, are you ready – ah, good. Enjoy your sleep, Your Highness.’ Yadeen closed the door once they were in the hall with Irafa. ‘You brought your workbag? May I see?’

Arram handed the bag over.

Yadeen examined the items and returned the bag to Arram. ‘With luck you won’t need this, but there’s no telling.’ He looked at Arram. ‘Coat and hat?’

Arram pointed to the door to the outside corridor and yawned.

Yadeen smiled. ‘Make certain they are there.’ As Arram went outside for his things, Yadeen returned his cup to Irafa and exchanged a few words with her. Arram was struggling with his coat when the master joined him in the outer corridor.

Yadeen gripped Arram’s coat sleeves and drew them properly onto the youth’s arms. Next he thrust Arram’s broad hat onto his head. As they set off, rain blasting their faces as the wind blew, he explained.

‘The emperor hosts the ambassador from the Copper Isles in three days. They wish to see our new wild beasts. The platform must be as good as new,’ he said. ‘Old Mesaraz gets cross if things aren’t perfect when he’s showing off, particularly since this Kyprish fellow is here to talk trade. The emperor would also like to find out how he took ship at this time of year and arrived safe and sound. Lucky for us, all we need to do is smooth and polish some tons of rock and put them in place.’

Arram trotted beside the master, bubbling over with questions. He chose the one that worried him the most: ‘Is it true, what you said, that it’ll be hard, later, to get a single pure line of my Gift? One that isn’t already tangled with spells?’

Yadeen glanced at him, a wry look on his face. ‘It depends on the mage. I was largely trying to plant the idea in your friend’s head, to see if he believed it enough to hobble himself a bit. I would prefer that you didn’t say as much.’

‘No, sir.’ Frankly Arram didn’t believe any suggestion would have power over Ozorne, and he hadn’t felt magic pass from Yadeen when he’d said that to his friend.

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