The docks were least busy during the early mornings when most traders were setting up. Compared to the chaos of the afternoons when ships were pulling in and people took it upon themselves to loiter about, it seemed less chaotic than it really was.
“Your grandfather wants you to court a mage,” he said as they passed a stall where a man was calming a rattling cage of wild geese. It hadn’t been a question, but Telvine nodded.
“Mages are paid a lot,” she said. “If I marry a mage, then I won’t have to become a peddler like my parents.”
Kilvic nodded.
Peddlers were merchants too. But while those that held the richer part of the trade were the one popularly known by the title, those who’d failed to make it big and barely made enough to take a few weeks off to rest where referred to as peddlers. Amongst the latter, the more popular ones were known to move from place to place.
Kilvic gave a casual shrug. “You know entry into the Academy is free, all you need is a recommendation from a certified mage. Or you can simply show up and prove your skill. If you save enough, you’ll probably have enough to survive a semester.”
“Thank you.”
He shrugged her gratitude because he knew it was false; another demand of courtesy. “The Malfrax shouldn’t stop you,” he pointed out after a while. “I’ve had it a few times before.”
This stopped Telvine in her tracks and he was forced to stop with her even though he knew exactly where to find Tut. “What’s the matter?” he asked.
“How many times have you had it?” she asked, shock scratching at her face.
Kilvic thought a moment before answering, though he didn’t need to. “Twice, that I’m aware of.”
“How old were you?”
“Once when I was eleven.” Although that had been under special circumstances, he thought best not to add the piece of information.
“And the other?”
He could see the hope in the girl’s eyes. “My mother,” he said, “told me I also had it when I was much younger.”
“How much younger?”
“Young enough to have it,” he answered then turned the subject simply. “I don’t want to miss the boat, Telvine.”
As if just remembering the purpose of their trip wasn’t to get well acquainted with each other, she fell into step at a quicker pace.
Kilvic had no problem following.
He found it confusing how things so petty could cause so much problem. Malfrax had a simple remedy. It might take a while to get rid of it without the use of potions, but it didn’t mean it couldn’t be remedied. All it did was make it painful to access the gifts of being a mage. If it was as bad for everyone as it had been for him, then it meant using their gifts would only bring them pain. But that was the remedy; continued use. But not the kind everyone wanted. Light a candle, pick out a card from a deck, move a coin a few inches. Parlor tricks, at least that’s what his grandmother had called it when she’d found him doing them, but it was the solution.
He shrugged the thought away as they approached a tall man with grey hair that fell to rest on his shoulder. Although he stood with his back to them, there was no mistaking old Tut. Although, why people at the harbor called him old was knowledge Kilvic didn’t have.
The man turned just before Telvine tapped him.
“Ah, little Tel.” The man shot her a cheerful smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Have you finally agreed to run away with me?”
Kilvic snorted a withheld laugh. A joke, he told himself, his hand covering his mouth while Telvine’s face turned a shade red.
“No, sir,” she answered, smiling. “Just here to help business.”
“Ah,” Tut scratched the stubbles that covered his chin, “so this is more like an assurance of a one-day consideration. A someday, if you will.”
Kilvic took the time to study the man. His height was easily that of his grandfather’s, although he was significantly more muscled. His face showed signs of significant age; a weathered skin, wrinkles around rheumy eyes and a fore head held in a constant crease. While all these were significant signs of age, Kilvic estimated he was most likely ten years younger than he looked. Twenty years younger than the only male human presently at castle Grey.
“So,” Tut spoke again, after Telvine’s response which Kilvic hadn’t heard, “you said something about business.”
“Yes.” Telvine turned to present Kilvic. “Grandpa asked me to bring him to you.”
Tut scratched his chin again as he studied Kilvic. “You’ve enough muscles on you, boy. I could use the help. Although,” he leaned in, cocking his head to the side, “I don’t think you’re here for a job.” Convinced with whatever ran around in his head, Tut stood straight, leaving Kilvic to tilt his head back slightly to meet his gaze. “Where would you be going?”
“Zeldric.”
“Oho! Zeldric, you say. Any port you’d prefer I drop you off at?”
“Novdrag.”
Tut’s lids narrowed. “Novdrag?”
Kilvic nodded. “Would that be a problem?”
“Not at all.” The man shook his head. “Is just that, usually, people tend to offer to work their pay aboard my ship. Now I could just drop you at one of the ports near the kingdom, or better yet, I could show you how to get there by land.” Here he ran a worried hand through his grey hair. “But to go into the heart of the kingdom costs more than if you stopped at one of the cities and took a predefined route. No offense.”
Kilvic noted how the man had added the last part for the sake of being polite. He didn’t blame the man for reaching his conclusion. Anyone would, considering what he was wearing.
Though they were not the clothes to be expected of a peasant, they were commoner’s clothes, and commoners didn’t so easily travel between kingdoms. According to his mother, he was a commoner somewhere between the son of a drunk and the son of a stable master, which was the most respectable job a commoner of the lower caste commonly held. That said, he saw the man’s worry, so he placated it.
“I can pay.”
He watched disbelief pass the man’s face, then confusion when he realized he wasn’t joking, then—which he suspected was the man wondering if he was lying—suspicion, then cautious acceptance. So many expressions within the space of a breath. Not as much as his grandmother, but it was definitely enough to be considered a lot. Perhaps I could paint a castle with his.
“And how would you come by such money, boy?”
Telvine turned to the man in outrage. “Tut!”
Kilvic gave a glad nod at her outrage in his stead before giving an answer, nonetheless. “I am a boy who’s left his fifteenth birthday a few months behind him,” he said, meeting the man’s stare with his own. “Now, I could explain to you how I’ve saved up money most of my life because it’s always been my dream to go to the capital.” The man’s expression softened and he went on. “Or I could tell you of how my widowed mother sacrificed to save up money because she knew it has always been my dream to enroll in the Academy of my father’s kingdom.” Now he saw confusion on the man’s face, uncertainty. “Or I could tell you how I’ve spent the better part of one year waylaying unsuspecting victims and picking pocket.” Now he saw incredulity. “That said, I’ll settle for the truth.” And just as Ariadne had taught him when facing down a bigger prey than he was when it threatened to claim his kill, he steeled his gaze, let his brows settle closer together, and gave the man a look that had once made the kind Lady Jenis take a step away from her grandson, then said, “How I have the money is none of your business.”
Now everything banked on the old man’s response, and not that of the girl who stood to the side looking at him with fear.
His mother’s accountant had once told him that negotiations were a game of push and pull. However, as a child some men would think to treat him as one. When that happened, it ceased being a game of push and pull and he was permitted to shove, because when a man ignores the conversation of business to stroll unto a business that was not his, then it was a disrespect to the business at hand as well as his person.
Or at least that was what he had learned in his years amongst human trade.
After what seemed a long time, Tut gave a nod. “Fair enough,” he replied, a contemplative look on his face. “I’ll also say another truth in there is the fact that you are headed to the academy.” Then turning around without as much as a farewell to Telvine, he added over his shoulder. “The fee is ten gold coins.”
Telvine gasped beside Kilvic, jostled from whatever fear had held her.
“You will receive two square meals for the duration of the trip,” Tut continued, ignoring her, “and seeing as I don’t like the looks and smell of you, you’ll remain below deck for its duration as well. The boat’s this way, and I’ll be your captain.”
Kilvic gave his escort a friendly nod. “Become a mage,” he said, then followed after the captain, his mother’s accountant’s words echoing in his head: Every business man is a liar, and the first price to ever leave his lips is a lie. And when you are forced to shove during a deal with a man older than you, he will seek to oppress you with his trade. Don’t let him. Unless you absolutely have to.
“I’ll give you six gold coins,” he told Tut as he caught up, the standard fee for such travels. “And except it causes an obvious problem, I’ll come on deck whenever I feel the need.”
Tut barked an entertained laugh. “Eight gold coins and three square meals, and you stay below deck.”
“Seven. Two meals. And I go on deck whenever I feel the need.”
The man stopped to regard him, then offered his hand. “Deal.”
Kilvic took his hand, hoping handshakes weren’t going to be a constant occurrence even within the academy. “Deal.”
“Good.” Tut retrieved his hand. “Now, have you ever been on a boat before?”
Kilvic shook his head. “No. But I’m a quick learn.”
Tut laughed again, this time it was honest and it was amused. “Oh, kid.” He wiped his eye. “Not for this one you’re not.”
He’d soared the sky on more than one occasion. He’d ridden horses in full gallop that one time his mother had thought it wise to get him one. At the age of eleven, learning how to ride a horse had left him walking with slightly bowed legs for weeks, not because they actually bowed, but because his thighs and groins hurt less when he did. He’d even ridden on one of the contraptions at home over liquids the likes of which his grandmother claimed no child should when he’d told her of it. If he was being honest, that was what gave him the confidence to tell Tut he was a quick study. What else was a ship if not a vastly larger mechanism than the contraption he’d ridden alongside the ferry man. And what more was the sea than a vastly larger substitute for the liquids of mount Trenon.How wrong he had been. How underappreciated the sea had been in the tales he had read. He had mistaken arrogance for self-confidence.And though the liquid of the s
The Academy’s grounds were a great distance from end to end. At its center was a statue, tall and proud, if not of a king, then perhaps the man who’d founded the academy. Although the crown on its head suggested it would be a king.The other buildings were as pristine as the one that housed the headmaster’s office which Diedrich informed Kilvic was called the Administrative building. The building which his classes was held was called the literate building.And as they walked past active classes within the literate building, he felt the air rattle from one of the rooms as someone used magic strong enough to cause acceptable disruption to the elements of air.Eventually, Diedrich stopped before a door. “This, student, is your current class. After you are done here, I will be glad to show you to your quarters.”“I don’t think that would be necessary,” Kilvic told him, adding when he saw the contemplation in the
Kilvic found himself paying no attention in his first class at the Academy. A few students were commended by the instructor who he learned was called Master Fitzgerald. Apparently, the aim of the lesson was to control any perceived element within the space of both hands. Most of the students commanded the air which seemed the easiest, swirling the element between their hands. A few managed bursts of subliminal sparks, a conjuring that worked with a reaction between the elements and their body heat. This achievement was worthy of more praise than others, and the fact that it was accomplished by those with pristine uniforms was not lost to Kilvic.Due to their wasted time in conversation, none at his desk had conjured anything. Fortunately, Fitzgerald had done well to ignore them.Their next class was under the tutelage of a man they all referred to as Master Tillaman. Though he hadn’t gotten the name of Fitzgerald’s class, Kilvic had deduced it had something
“So, today we will talk about the kinds of mages,” Tillaman addressed the class as Ariadne sat down. “In Zeldric, mages are defined into classes. This is the reason the academy exists; as a way to help you know where you are most proficient, and help you do your best in that class…”“I’m going to be a sword mage,” Stratin whispered from his side of the desk.Kilvic turned to the boy. He was undeniably built for sword play, but the way he placed his feet when he walked insisted his strengths laid elsewhere. To be a sword mage, he would have to perfect the use of the weapon to the point where he would be capable of infusing his will, not just his reia, into whatever sword he wielded.Being a sword mage required a vast level of physical dedication mages hadn’t always been known for. Whatever swordplay he chose would have to be ingrained in him and the sword he carried, and with his eccentricities—as Ariad
Grunald’s class, unlike the others, wasn’t held in a class room. At least, not in a room that gave gratitude to the term.Where there should have been seats, there were none. The entrance was free of the confines of a door which allowed the students the freedom to walk in as they pleased. The walls, brown as mud, were covered in weapons as many as could arm an army of Nazruls, and rose so high it could have easily been mistaken for a cave rather than a room. In all things, it was the best place to teach a school of learners in the use of weaponry.Kilvic walked in after Stratin who was all too eager to attend. Moss, on the other hand, was a sharp contrast to the boy. It seemed as though he would rather be anywhere else. And though Kilvic understood the concept of such preference, he did not agree with it. Not much of human behavior was taught by his mother or grandfather at castle Grey, but the concept of duty held a prevalent position in whatever was done.
Kilvic managed a smile as he walked down the passage just before Moss and Stratin appeared on both sides of him.“What’re you smiling on about?” Moss asked in his voice that wasn’t certain if it wanted to become a baritone. “Grunald’s class was horrible.”Kilvic discarded the smile. “It has nothing to do with that.”“Then what?”Like his smile, he discarded thoughts of unjustified retribution, giving what was left of it to his new friend in one sentence.“I believe I’ve just made myself an enemy.”They left the comfort of the buildings, substituting the aegis of ceilings and blue lights for the freedom of the cool breeze and an evening sky which was without cloud nor the light of the sun. The lights of the classrooms and their passages really did much to eliminate the knowledge of what the weather looked like outside of them.Kilvic followed Moss and S
Their accommodation proved itself to be nothing in line with what Kilvic had expected. A dorm, or perhaps a hostel, would’ve been more than sufficient. Instead, he was led to a house.The building was a dull blue, and judging by its height, it held no more than a two stories. The door stood firmly at its center so that from frame to end the walls on both sides were of equal length. The house had a porch with steps they climbed and Kilvic couldn’t draw himself from the bold Carague emblazoned on one side of the wall.A carague erred on the side of the jaguar, but physique was as far as the semblance went. The demon easily stood twice the size of its earthly counterpart, and with a poisoned saliva, its preys never went far once tasted. It was a strong enough demon, but he’d always considered it one best used for hunting, because while its three eyes gave it a greater peripheral view, it was negated by its inability to focus on more than one point at a t
Kilvic drummed his fingers against the desk beside him. Standing in line was a new experience for him. His classmates had long discarded the concept of orderliness and were pushing back and forth, though a select few remained seated. Suffice it to say, he stood outside of the line but never took his eyes off his position behind Moss.He’d been in the academy for two weeks now and understood the basic routines surrounding its daily activities. Today was his fifth summoning lecture, and while Instructor Quiv had taught them various other essentials, and stalled long enough, he was finally allowing them summon their first demons. The demons they would summon today, he had told them, would be the demon they would use for at least the rest of their first year.In the times he’d taught them, Quiv had made certain they all understood that nilhium was the only way to summon a demon from the eartherrealm. It was the most valuable crystal a mage could ever get their