“I believe she was the one who suggested they call me,” Lord Timothy said, when Gennady asked. “I was only four villages away.”
“And you came.” Gennady smiled, feeling a flush of affection for the sorcerer. “Thank you.”
“I had to come.” Lord Timothy didn’t sound as if he cared. Much. “Recruiting newborn magicians is part of my job.”
Gennady smiled. Primrose had saved his life. He was sure of it. His father ... he smiled again as he remembered the fear on his father’s face. All the beatings ... Gennady could avenge them now, if he wished. He could go back to the village and teach his father—and everyone else —a lesson. It was what they would have done, if things were reversed. No doubt they would have killed him, if Primrose hadn’t called the magician. The law was strict—newborn magicians were to be reported at once—but fear of magic ran deep. His father might well have killed him before he could wake, if there hadn’t been another option.
The sorcerer’s answers got shorter and shorter, the further they moved from the village. Gennady took the hint and shut up, resigning himself to looking around as they rode through ever-larger villages and towns. He’d never really understood, not intellectually, how large the world was before. His universe had been limited to the village and its surrounding environs. But now ... he stared in disbelief at towns that housed hundreds, if not thousands, of people. They looked so ... wealthy compared to his family. He looked down at his tattered shirt and trousers, patched and handed down through the generations, and felt a stab of shame. He looked like a rube. The city dwellers would laugh at him. He promised himself he’d beg or borrow new clothes as soon as he could. And yet ...
I have no money, he thought. It was rare to see money in the village. He’d certainly never handled any. The villagers normally bartered for food, if they couldn't grow it themselves. How am I going to get new clothes?
The road grew wider still. They cantered through a thicket, then found themselves looking down on an even larger city. Gennady couldn’t believe his eyes. The cluster of buildings was immense. They couldn’t all be houses, could they? He thought he spotted an inn or two, but he didn’t know. The giant mansion in the centre of the city looked ... weird. A castle? It didn’t look anything like the count’s castle, the one he’d gazed upon with awe and trepidation. It looked as if whoever had built it had no reason to fear attack.
He leaned forward, half-expecting to be taken into the city, but the sorcerer picked a road that led around the walls instead. The city’s stone walls looked impregnable, as if they had nothing to worry about from anything. Gennady had grown up on horror stories of raids from the forests, of villagers who had sometimes attacked other villages because they were starving and desperate or simply didn’t have anything better to do. He’d heard all the stories, but ... he’d never seen it happen. He’d never really believed it happened. And yet, this city looked ready for attack. The handful of guards on the walls peered down at them, then saluted. They didn’t seem to realise he was from a village.
A faint pulse of magic flashed through the air as they rounded the city and headed towards a glowing square of light. A pair of guards stood next to it, but otherwise ... he felt the light calling him, and he wanted—needed—to go to it. He felt almost as though he was going home. The sorcerer pulled on the reins, slowing the horse. Gennady loosened his grip, suddenly aware of aches and pains in muscles he hadn’t known he had. Clearly, horses were not the romantic creatures of children’s tales. Or maybe noblemen had tougher arses. He doubted it. They weren’t that different.
“Brace yourself,” Lord Timothy said, as the horse walked towards the light. “This may be ... interesting. And illuminative.”
Gennady opened his mouth to ask what Lord Timothy meant by that, but the horse went through the light before he could form words. There was a flash of blinding light—he squeezed his eyes shut, too late—and a sensation of pain, then nothing. The pain felt odd, as if he’d imagined it. The sensation was gone almost before he was aware of it. He opened his eyes, blinking in shock. It had been mid-morning in the Cairngorms, but now it was late afternoon and ... and they were riding towards an even larger town. This one was secure, he thought. There were no walls protecting the residents from wandering bandits.
“Welcome to Dragon’s Den,” Lord Timothy said. There was a hint of disappointment in his voice. “Your home for the next few months.”
Gennady leaned forward, drinking in the scene. There were towering mountains in the distance, their peaks lost in the clouds ... it took him longer than it should have done, he thought mournfully, to realise that they weren’t the Cairngorms. They’d travelled hundreds of miles in a split second the moment they’d ridden through the lights. He stared at the mountains, then turned his attention to the town itself. It was crowded with people, more people than he’d seen in his entire life. And they all looked wealthy, wearing fine clothes and riding horses and ... he felt another stab of shame. He really didn’t fit in.
The people didn’t seem to notice—or care—that two magicians had just ridden into their town. They were doing ... whatever they were doing, without paying any attention to Gennady. He was relieved, despite himself. He felt so utterly out of place that he almost wanted to ask the sorcerer to take him back home. And yet ... Lord Timothy had bought him. Gennady wondered if that made him the sorcerer’s slave. He was willing to be a slave—or worse—if the man taught him to use magic. He’d do anything to learn, anything at all.
Magic sparkled through the air. A magician stood in the middle of the street, performing tricks for children. Gennady watched in awe as flames rose and fell, the fires darting around the magician's hands and into the magician's mouth without burning the man. The kids whooped and cheered, drawing his attention to them. He felt a surge of sudden hatred, blinding in its intensity. They were so free and happy, enjoying themselves ... running wild, instead of the work he’d had to do from birth. The kids looked more than old enough to work the fields ... it wasn’t fair they were free to do whatever they liked, while he’d had to work and be beaten for not working enough. Even the count’s son had to work ...
He looked away and blinked in surprise as he saw two teenage girls—they looked to be around the same age as Primrose—wearing dresses that exposed the tops of their pale white breasts. A third wore trousers. Tight trousers. He could see the shape of her legs ... He stared in shock, torn between fascination and a grim belief they were prostitutes. No decent woman would expose so much of herself, not in the open. Even a wife wasn’t supposed to get naked in front of her husband. They had to be loose women, the kind of lady the cities bred ... he swallowed hard, forcing himself to look away. He’d heard the stories, but ... they didn’t look unpleasant. They didn’t look as if they were going to corrupt him with their city-ways.
His voice shook. “Those girls ... are they whores?”
Lord Timothy laughed. “No,” he said, in a tone that suggested Gennady had asked something very stupid. “Judging by their clothes, they’re the daughters of wealthy merchants.”
“And they’re dressed like that?” Gennady found it hard to believe. He’d met a couple of traveling peddlers. They’d always dressed like villagers. “They’re ...”
“That is the fashion,” the sorcerer said. His voice suggested boredom. Gennady didn’t believe it. “They’re trying to attract husbands. They’ll wear their hair up once they’re married.”
Gennady forced himself not to stare at the girls. It wasn’t easy. He’d heard all the stories, all the bragging from the lads, but he’d never had a chance to look himself. Hogarth had claimed to have seen every girl in the village without her scarf, let alone the rest of her clothes, yet ... Gennady was sure he was lying. The women of the village were decent. They were decent because they had to be. The girls behind him ...
Primrose would never dress like that, he thought. He tried not to admit, even to himself, that he would have liked to see her like that. She’s a decent woman.
He felt his heart start to beat faster as the horse cantered through a pair of gates and into a small courtyard. Primrose would wait for him. He was sure of it. He’d go back to the village with power and ... and she’d wait for him. There would be no objections to the match, once he was a sorcerer. Her father would be proud to have a sorcerer for a son-in-law. And anyone who objected would be made to pay. Gennady smiled, remembering all the humiliations that had been heaped on him. He’d make them pay. He’d make them all pay.
A wisp of magic brushed against him as the horse came to a halt. Lord Timothy swung his legs over the beast’s side and dropped to the ground, then held out a hand to help Gennady clamber down. The horse snorted rudely, but stayed still as a pair of stable-boys came around the corner and took the reins. Lord Timothy gave them each a silver coin, then directed Gennady to follow him. Gennady was stunned. Silver coins? He’d never seen so much money in his entire life.
Lord Timothy led him straight towards a large stone building and in through the door. More magic brushed against him, feeling decidedly unfriendly. Gennady shivered, making sure to stay close to the sorcerer as they walked into the lobby. A middle-aged woman in long green robes was sitting at a desk, reading a parchment scroll. Gennady frowned as she looked up, then stood. She looked old, yet young. Her face didn’t carry the scars and pox marks that blighted his mother and sisters.
“A newborn for you,” Lord Timothy said, curtly. He glanced at Gennady, then pointed to a chair. “Sit there and wait.”
“Yes, My Lord,” Gennady said.
“He has good manners,” the woman said. There was a faint hint of mockery in her tone. “They’ll stand him in good stead.”
Gennady felt his cheeks burn as he made his way to the chair and sat down. He was used to being mocked—he was the only village boy to be mocked by the girls—but ... he put it out of his mind as he tried to relax, catching sight of his reflection in a shiny surface. No, a mirror. It wasn’t the first he’d seen, but it was the largest. He forced himself to look at himself through new eyes. His skin was marked and pitted, his eyes dull, his hair a bird’s nest, his clothes stained with mud and blood and the gods alone knew what else ... he looked like something the cat had dragged in. Pathetic. He looked pathetic. No wonder they'd mocked him. Shame prickled as he waited, resolving he’d clean himself up as quickly as possible. If he was going to be a magician, he was going to look the part.
It felt like hours before Lord Timothy and another woman, wearing blue robes, came over to him. The woman looked him up and down, then nodded. Gennady looked back, sensing the magic around her. She looked formidable, like a farmwife in her prime. And yet ... there was something about her bearing that suggested she wasn’t used to hard work. The magic did it for her. It was hard, impossibly hard, to deduce her age. She seemed ... timeless.
“Gennady, this is Lady Flower,” Lord Timothy said. “She will be one of your tutors, preparing you for school.”
Gennady blinked. “I need to be prepared?”
“Yes.” Lord Timothy sounded surprised. “You don’t know how to read, let alone write. You don’t know basics that most students learn from their parents. So ... Lady Flower and her fellows will be tutoring you. Once you’re ready, you’ll be sent to Whitehall.”
He lowered his voice. “And don’t give her any problems, or you’ll be turned into a toad.”
“I have never turned a person into a toad,” Lady Flower said. She had an aristocratic voice Gennady hated right from the start. “I’ve always preferred slugs, myself.”
Gennady shivered. The threat was terrifying. And yet ... he’d always been weak and helpless, unable to defend himself. Hogarth would have had a real problem with women in authority, if their places had been swapped. Gennady was too used to being bossed to care.
“Yes, My Lady,” he said.
“Lilly was right,” Lady Flower said. “You do have good manners.”
Lord Timothy stepped back. “Do well,” he said, gruffly. “I’ll see you after you graduate.”
Gennady felt a flash of panic. “You’re just leaving me here?”
“I have to watch for others like you,” Lord Timothy said. He buckled his coat. “Lady Flower will tutor you and your fellows. She will take care of you.”
“You’re not the first person to come here,” Lady Flower assured him. “You’ll be fine, as long as you work hard.”
“I will,” Gennady promised.
“Good,” Lord Timothy said. He nodded to Lady Flower. “I’ll tell your family that you’ve settled in nicely.”
“You’re going back to the mountains?” Gennady leaned forward. “Tell ... My Lord, please tell Primrose that I’ll make myself worthy of her.”
Lord Timothy’s face went blank. “If that is what you wish, I’ll pass on the message next time I see her,” he said. “If, of course, I ever do.”
“Thank you, My Lord,” Gennady said. He hoped the sorcerer would pass on the message. Primrose would want to hear from him, wouldn’t she? “I will make myself worthy of her.”
Chapter 3
On one hand, the boarding house was the best place Gennady had ever lived.
The food was good—and plentiful. He shared a room with three other boys, but there was more room—private room—for himself than ever before. There were no drunkards waving their fists as they crashed through the rooms, no savage beatings for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time ... in many ways, it was perfect. He never wanted to leave.
But, on the other hand, it was the hardest thing he’d ever done.
Gennady had never learnt to read, let alone write. The thought of learning to write so he could send letters to Primrose had died when he’d realised she couldn’t read either. He’d never thought he might be ignorant until he’d left the village, seen a far wider world and discovered—too late—that he was woefully unprepared. The villagers hadn’t prepared him for studying reading and writing, let alone magic. Even the more complex forms of arithmetic were beyond him.
It didn’t take him long to discover just how far behind he truly was. Lady Flower and her staff were patient, but Gennady rapidly grew frustrated as they helped him work his way through hundreds of exercises in the hopes some of it would stick. He’d always had a good memory—he’d needed one, as he’d never been able to write anything down—yet it wasn’t good enough. Other students came and went, but Gennady felt as if he wasn’t getting anywhere. The frustration burnt at his mind as he memorised thousands of letters and sigils, remembering what each one meant without being able to modify them to suit himself. He could—and he did—learn by rote, but it proved impossible to make the jump to actually understand what he was being taught.
He was tempted, more than he cared to admit, to simply run away. It wouldn’t be hard to leave. The boarding house wasn’t a prison. He’d spent enough time exploring Dragon’s Den to be sure he could get out of town if he wished. But where would he go? The magic pulsed within him—Lady Flower had taught him a handful of exercises to control it—but he didn’t know how to use it. Not yet. He couldn’t go home until he did. Primrose would reject him if he wasn’t a sorcerer. And Hogarth and his cronies would kill him. Gennady still had nightmares about their last meeting.
“I just don’t understand,” he confessed, after two months in the boarding house. “It just doesn’t make sense!”
“You’re lacking the basics,” Lady Flower said, calmly. “And until you master those, you can’t jump ahead.”
Gennady looked at the walls. There were a handful of ancient textbooks on the shelves, each packed with knowledge ... knowledge he couldn’t access because he couldn’t read. His own journal was empty, mocking him. He could copy a paragraph word for word, like a common scribe, reproducing the words without actually being able to comprehend it. It was frustrating as hell. He knew it was just a matter of time before he got kicked out, yet ... it just refused to click.
“I don’t know,” he said. He stared at
her, wildly. “Is there no way to teach me through magic?”
Lady Flower’s lips thinned. Gennady felt his heart sink. He’d seen that expression before and it always meant trouble. Lady Flower had no qualms about smacking his hands or his arse with a ruler, if she felt he was being deliberately thick-headed or malicious. The other students whined and moaned about it, as if it was the worst thing in the world ... Gennady knew, better than any of them, that there were worse things. His body was so used to pain he could shrug off something that would leave his fellows crying like babies and begging for mercy. It wasn’t something he intended to tell them.
“Not in the sense you mean,” she said, finally. “Yes, I could cast compulsion spells to make you learn. But they wouldn’t really make you absorb the knowledge. And ... there are potions that are supposed to improve your wits or sharpen your memory ...”
“They sound ideal,” Gennady said, wistfully.
“You’re not stupid,” Lady Flower told him. “You have a very good memory. Your problem is a lack of comprehension. There’s no magic I can do to aid with that.”
Gennady looked down at his slate. The words mocked him. He knew what they were supposed to say, but ... he didn’t, not really. The words had meaning, yet ... collectively, they had a different meaning. He felt his heart sink, once again, as he parsed them one by one. They seemed to contradict each other.
“You know what the words mean,” Lady Flower said. “You just have to learn to put them together.”
She stood, leaving Gennady to his work. He barely noticed when she left. He was too busy trying to parse the sentences. The writing was as crisp and clear as he could have hoped, yet understanding was denied him. He felt his head pound as the dinner bell rang. They wouldn’t let him stay forever, not if he couldn’t learn to read and write. They’d kick him out, and then ... and then what? He’d been too frightened to ask.
Fantastic Schools: Volume One (Fantastic Schools Anthologies Book 1) Page 35
