A Sorcerer Imprisoned

by Guy Antibes

Ricky looked at the warden but didn’t say anything.

  “Well? Is it true?”

  “It is. Master Pisan introduced a student as a buddy, but then left and locked his office door. He expected the buddy to beat me, but that didn’t happen.”

  “What happened, then?”

  Ricky took a deep breath. “My guardian is the weapons master of Doubli Academy. He taught me how to defend myself, so I defended myself. As far as I can tell the other student doesn’t hold anything against me.” Ricky had to suppress a shrug. He didn’t want to give an arrogant impression, but he didn’t want to lie.

  “Pisan said you threw your possessions out into the hall.”

  Ricky shook his head. “While I ate dinner, someone broke the lock on my door, burned the one book that I brought from Tossa, stole all my clothes, and urinated on my bedding. I didn’t want to sleep with a smelly mattress. Master Pisan wasn’t in his office, and I had to meet with you before breakfast.”

  Warden Sarini pursed her lips. “You’ve even disrupted your classes.” She picked up a note. “This is a demerit. That means detention for you, and yet you are willing to help other students in language and arithmetic?”

  “A student said my third hour class had changed. I was in the wrong building when I found out, so when class started I wasn’t on time and I was locked out.” That reminded Ricky that he hadn’t noticed the borrowed history book. What a day, yesterday!

  “You will be assigned to a detention for an hour each day for an entire week.”

  “Can I clean the library?”

  That caused the warden’s eyebrows to rise. “Why?”

  “The books are dirty, dusty, and aren’t in any particular order.”

  “No one goes in the library,” Warden Sarini said.

  “I’ll be spending a lot of time there, and if I have students to help, I can’t think of a better place. There are tables and chairs and it’s quiet.”

  “I can do that, but I want something more from you,” the warden said. “I am aware of certain activities in the Home, but I don’t know what they are.”

  “The basement exercises?” Ricky asked.

  “Among other things,” the warden said. “You will just tell me anything that looks out of the ordinary. If we can keep that between us, I will let you clean the library and tutor students.”

  “As long as you keep Hendrico the guard there. I think we get along.”

  Warden Sarini narrowed her eyes. “You would. Very well. Keep me apprised. I do believe you are quite different from our normal clientele,” the warden said.

  Ricky nodded. “I will talk to Master Hisso about students to work with in the afternoons.”

  ~

  He had to hurry to get some breakfast in him. By the time he got back to his room, he had a new mattress and a new door. A collection of clean, used clothes was piled on the floor. He found his history book jammed underneath the broken-down dresser. He folded his clothes and refilled the dresser.

  Other than the burned sorcery book, Ricky felt a bit better. Maybe he could find a text on sorcery in the library. He caught Master Hisso before class started.

  “Warden Sarini will let me tutor some of the students,” Ricky said.

  “Very well. In two days come here right after lunch and I’ll have a few inmates ready. I am quite familiar with the capabilities of a few of our problem students and we will try you out for a bit.”

  Ricky nodded. “I’m happy to help,” he said.

  “See that you do,” Hisso said, a little of his arrogance seeping through his words.

  Ricky left the room, noticing Kela Torris taking a seat in Master Hisso’s class. He wondered if she had spent all her time at the Home trying to learn Parantian. Whatever Master Hisso had done to teach her hadn’t worked.

  She shot him a nervous glance and then turned away.

  ~

  Ricky had remembered to bring his history book. He greeted Henni and began to quickly read the first chapter. Most of the facts were as Ricky knew them, but as he slowed his skimming, he realized that there were differences in some of the events from what he had learned in Tossa.

  He didn’t know what was correct and what wasn’t. Ricky read through certain passages a few times to learn what the textbook taught, looking for a theme that was different, and found it. Applia was always placed in a positive light. Ricky had learned some stories where the Duke of Applia had betrayed the Duke of Tossa, and that didn’t appear in the first four chapters of the history book.

  Ricky threaded his fingers through his hair. Could Sealio’s history books tell a different story? He shook his head. Ricky wondered if trying to work through different versions of the facts was worth it. He left before he needed to and returned to his cell to put his history book underneath the dresser before he showed up early to his gardening class.

  “We need to continue to work on the north side,” the gardener said.

  Ricky took a few hand implements and began to work. He liked gardening, and he used the tools to practice a variant of the forms Effie had taught him to modify for street fighting.

  More students began to fill up the area, so Ricky moved farther to the east, away from the big gardening shed, and found more weeds. He also started to work the heavy soil a bit more. As he bent over, he sensed darkness overhead and looked up to see three inmates he didn’t really know standing over him, blocking out the sun.

  Ricky noticed a number of fellow inmates coming his way. He couldn’t use his trick around so many inmates.

  “You the one who beat up Gil?”

  Ricky was about to stand up, but one of the boys pushed him over on his side. Ricky continued to roll over and came up on his feet a few paces away from the boys.

  “I am,” he said as he straightened up. He held one of the garden implements in his hand, but he didn’t dare use the sharp end of the tool. He reversed it, so he now held a bludgeon.

  None of the other boys held weapons, but Ricky didn’t care. He wouldn’t be able to avoid sustaining bruises, if not broken bones. He backed up and looked at the walls. A guard looked on from a watchtower built on the wall.

  The first attacker came and tried to hold onto Ricky’s weapon. Ricky quickly tapped him on the hand, it was all he could manage, but the boy withdrew as more inmates crowded around the four boys.

  Ricky let the boys concentrate on the weapon, but he had other moves that didn’t need weapons. He feinted towards one of the boys and kicked another in the groin. The victim of his kick fell backwards to the ground. Ricky positioned another boy between the victim and him and began to threaten with the bludgeon, backing up the boy and causing him to trip over the fallen attacker’s body. Ricky whacked the newly-downed foe on the upper arm and stomped on his stomach.

  The boy, despite his pain, grabbed Ricky by the foot and twisted. Ricky fell to the ground and two of his assailants converged. Ricky reversed the bludgeon and used the back of the little hoe, slamming the hook of the metal blade into the shin of an attacker before he sustained a kick in his stomach.

  He recognized that he no longer had any offensive options and assumed the protective ball that Saganet had taught him. The kicks started to come and persisted until the gardener showed up with a guard.

  The guard helped Ricky to his feet. “Had enough?” he said.

  Ricky glanced at the guard in the tower who gave Ricky some kind of a salute. He didn’t know what it signified, but the gardener could have stopped the fight much, much earlier.

  He breathed deeply, quite happy that he hadn’t broken any ribs. He watched his assailants limp away. Ricky expected plenty of bruises, but he felt lucky that he came out of the fight intact. None of his opponents escaped injury, either. All in all, Ricky felt that he had endured. He couldn’t count it as a victory, but he didn’t feel defeated.

  “How much longer?” Ricky said to the gardener.

  “You can leave now if you go to the infirmary.”

  Ricky nodded. “I’ll do that.�
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  He now felt more of the beating, so he didn’t waste any time getting to the infirmary. The healer made him strip as he examined the bruises, still just red, but Ricky knew most of those would turn blue.

  The healer touched his forehead. “You’ll carry a facial bruise. Since you are new, that may get your assailants in trouble.”

  Ricky heard voices at the entrance to the infirmary, his opponents.

  The healer looked up from wrapping a nasty bruise on Ricky’s leg that had just begun to hurt. “Don’t worry. If they try anything, the guards will have their way with them.”

  “The infirmary is neutral ground?”

  The healer smiled and nodded. “You need to remember that. Just go to the infirmary washroom and clean yourself up a bit and leave.”

  Ricky nodded and did as he was told. One of his attackers wiped some blood off his bare foot.

  “Nasty. Where did you learn to fight like that?” the youth said.

  Ricky shrugged. Oddly, he detected no malice from the boy. “From a Royal bodyguard who taught at the school I went to.”

  “Pisan said you might save yourself with magic. I didn’t see any.”

  Ricky looked at the older boy’s face. “No magic. My bruises prove it.” He pointed to his forehead and touched another spot that just began to throb.

  “I didn’t do that,” the boy said looking afraid.

  “You all attacked me. So do you all pay the price of a visible injury?” Ricky made a noncommittal face. “Is that how it works? This is my third day here.”

  “It might. It depends on what the gardener and the guards saw.”

  “Well, good luck with that. I mean it. I’m just trying to get through my sentence,” Ricky said.

  The boy looked at Ricky with an odd look, but didn’t reply. After walking out of the infirmary, Ricky hurried to his room to retrieve the history book and still made it before the bell rang for class.

  Master Risticca turned around from the window.

  “One of the inmates said you were welcomed to the Juvenile Home during second hour. I wondered if you’d make it here on time. No broken bones?”

  Ricky shook his head and remembered to reply. “No, Master Risticca.”

  “What about your history lesson?”

  “I read the four chapters, but I learned my history a bit differently in Tossa.”

  “Oh?” Risticca said.

  “The Tossan histories claim the Applians weren’t quite as noble as the text said.”

  Risticca nodded his head a few times. “Did you learn anything about that?”

  “Different perspectives. I assume the text that you gave me was written in Applia, Master Risticca?”

  “It was.”

  “Then I don’t know which book to believe, sir.”

  “Do you believe anything in the books?”

  “Some of the events in the histories are, in the main, the same.”

  “In the main,” he repeated. “Could they both be wrong?”

  “I suppose so, Master Risticca.”

  The teacher peered at Ricky for so long it made him uncomfortable. “I’m not sure the other students would pick up on what you just told me, but most of those in the Home are untutored. If there are any principles that I teach in the class that have you wondering, I’d like you to discuss them with me. That will be a requirement, just for you. Do you understand, young Valian?”

  “I do, Master Risticca,” Ricky said.

  “Good. You won’t need that textbook today. You may put it in the back with the others. Class will begin soon.”

  Ricky earned some stares as inmates began to file in. Risticca looked over the class and locked the doors. Ricky had noted that Master Hisso hadn’t locked his doors. It made Risticca’s comments all the more curious.

  Risticca sat on the edge of his desk facing the class.

  “We have a newbie among us, one who didn’t make it to class yesterday,” Master Risticca began, “Hendrico Valian. Although he is new to the course, he has a grasp of some of the intricacies of historical analysis.”

  Ricky’s eyes told him many of the boys had no idea what Risticca was talking about.

  “However, he is not as far along in learning about ethics. Isn’t that right?”

  The boys nodded slowly.

  “This week we’ve been discussing the aspects of exchange. Does anyone know the importance of trade?”

  Ricky knew, but he wouldn’t be contributing today. He needed to observe before he opened his mouth. Risticca’s approach made him nervous. The man had an agenda that remained hidden.

  A few boys raised their hands. As the class wore on, Ricky realized that Risticca wasn’t teaching from a textbook, and he wasn’t really teaching history. He taught political economics, at least that’s what Ricky would have labeled it. Risticca was teaching opinion, not fact.

  At the end of the class, Risticca called Ricky up to the front of the class. “What do you think?”

  “Why did you have me read the textbook, Master Risticca?” Ricky asked.

  “I tested your ability to think. You kept quiet today. I’m sure some of what we talked about isn’t what you believe.”

  “I learned from different teachers and lived in a different environment for the past year,” Ricky said. “Some of the opinions taught at Doubli Academy don’t match yours.”

  “Are my impressions wrong?”

  Ricky pursed his lips. Risticca seemed to want a debate of some kind.

  “I don’t know. I’ll need to hear more.”

  “You’ll get plenty of opportunity for that.” Risticca swatted his hand in the air. “Dismissed.” He turned and shuffled papers on his desk.

  Ricky walked out. He didn’t shake his head until he was well away from the classroom. If he had listened to Risticca before he entered Doubli Academy, he might have swallowed the teacher’s opinions whole. Uncertainty blossomed. He would have to hear more, but he doubted if he agreed with much of what Risticca said.

  Paranty’s King would have hugged Risticca for his words. A strong arm and a noble brow lifted certain men above others. Those men could best decide the economic futures of the citizens. The teacher had droned on for an hour supporting a noble’s right to decide.

  Saganet Crabacci, his guardian, had taught him otherwise. Karian Grandari, his best adult friend owned a shop. How could a Duke or a King know better than Karian how to run his business? Ricky had spent hours and hours in Market Square and doubted if he had seen many of noble birth directing the activities.

  Risticca’s words didn’t seem to cover a citizen’s ability to improve their life through trade, but Ricky would have to hear more. Maybe his teacher would be able to weave his words today into concepts that would embrace both, but Ricky doubted it.

  The library called to him. Ricky descended to the basement and greeted Henni with a smile and a wave.

  “I have detention,” Ricky said. “I’ve been given the opportunity to clean the library.”

  Henni scratched his head. “Weren’t you going to do that anyway?”

  Ricky nodded. “I might as well get credit for it. Where are those rags?”

  “In that closet. If you need water, the washroom is farther on down the hallway.”

  Ricky nodded and lit a sorcerous light and grabbed some rags to get wet. He would wipe down the furniture first and then sweep the floors. He expected to spend a lot of time in the library and wouldn’t mind if it were clean and orderly. He had picked that up during his time at the Academy.

  Ricky estimated that the library was a bit bigger than Saganet’s gymnasium, but with all the tables, chairs, and shelves, cleaning would be more of a chore. After he dusted the chairs and tabletops, he put chairs on the tables and swept out the place.

  Henni walked back to Ricky and informed him it was lunchtime. “That’s a big pile of dust,” the guard said.

  Ricky nodded. “There are three of those. I haven’t even gotten to the books and the shelves, yet.�
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  Henni just shook his head. “Suit yourself. You look like you know what you’re doing. Better get gone, so you can come back, and we can count your time in the afternoon towards detention.”

  Ricky agreed and left Henni. He had cleared enough space out of the guard’s sight to continue his exercises. After running up the stairs, he stepped into the dining hall and found the same stew for lunch that they served for lunch and dinner yesterday.

  He sat down and recognized a few inmates who sat close by. They nodded to him. Ricky nodded back and kept his head down while he quickly finished off his lunch. His original thoughts about the food served might have been wrong. The stew tasted worse with every meal.

  Henni wasn’t at his post when Ricky returned. The dusty books were waiting for him. Ricky decided to start at the back and work his way forward. He read the titles for each volume and carefully thumbed through the pages while he piled the books on the tables. He’d only gotten a few shelves done when Henni found him.

  “The library already seems like a better place. The other guards will be after my job,” he chuckled. Your hour of detention is up, so you’re on your own time,” he said.

  Ricky nodded. He exercised for an hour using heavy, but better conditioned books as weights. He worked through staff forms with the broom. Sweating, he sat down and put his head on a table, now clear of dust and dirt.

  He took a deep breath and power-linked with Loria.

  Is this a good time?

  It is for me, Loria said. How have your first few days been?

  About as expected. How is the Academy?

  Loria paused for a bit. You’ve only been gone for a week and the academic year at Doubli hasn’t begun.

  It seems like I’ve been gone for much longer, Ricky said. I have some people that I’d like Saganet to check on. The warden. Her name is Nania Sarini. One of the teachers, Sossi Hisso. There is a girl here, Kela Torris. She says she is a Fisttian. Her parents were entertainers.

  Why her? Loria asked.

  She doesn’t seem to fit in at all. Her parents died somehow, and they put her in the Home. She has a poor command of Parantian. I’m curious. Ricky didn’t know why he had brought her up either. I’ve already been in a few fights and have the bruises to show for it. I haven’t seen torture and staff beatings, although they are said to happen. No friends. Oh, Ricky said, Franken Pestella is here. Did Lord Taranta have him shipped here?