by Guy Antibes
SONG OF SORCERY
Book Two
By
Guy Antibes
Table of Contents
Map of Applia
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Excerpt from A Sorcerer’s Diplomacy
Copyright Page
Author’s Note
A Bit About Guy
Books by Guy Antibes
Copyright ©2017 Guy Antibes. All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without the permission of the author.
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This is a work of fiction. There are no real locations used in the book; the people, settings, and specific places are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblances to actual persons, locations, or places are purely coincidental.
Published by CasiePress LLC in Salt Lake City, UT, December 2017.
www.casiepress.com
Cover & Book Design: Kenneth Cassell
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AUTHOR’S NOTE
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I usually have more of an idea how a story is going to turn out when I start to write. That didn’t happen with A Sorcerer Imprisoned. I knew where Ricky was ultimately headed, but the rest of it wasn’t so clear. However, as I wrote, the mists parted and I was able to see ahead. Ricky continues to develop in this episode and we get to meet some new characters along with glimpses of familiar faces.
I’d like to thank Bev and Judy, my editor, for helping me produce this second book in the Song of Sorcery series.
— Guy Antibes
THE CITY OF APPLIA AND ENVIRONS
A Sorcerer Imprisoned takes place in the city of Applia, with a few scenes in the countryside. To help follow along with the action, I’ve included a map of key places, although there is probably less need for a map for this book than others in the series.
(Contact Guy for a clearer map at www.guyantibes.com)
Chapter One
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T HE RELENTLESS DRIZZLE CHILLED RICKY TO THE BONE as the constables’ coach clattered over the wet cobbles of the city of Applia. The feeling of foreboding crept up on him the farther he traveled from his friends in Tossa and the closer he got to the Applia Juvenile Home, until that sense of darkness began to suffocate him.
He loosened his collar and peered through the misty fog as they passed by murky buildings and finally stopped at a gate. Ricky poked his head out of the small coach window and looked at the dark gray wall of rough-cut stone. He had arrived.
The constables began to gather their belongings. Ricky had only the satchel, filled with used clothes and a few odds and ends, at his feet. The coach jerked to a stop.
“We have arrived,” a constable said. “It’s time for you to get out.”
Ricky didn’t want to step outside the coach, but he did despite his fears. One of the guards tossed his bag to him and forced a thick envelope on him. Ricky barely heard words of apology and well wishes. He couldn’t imagine anything turning out well, but he clenched his teeth and nodded.
“I will make this an opportunity,” he vowed to no one but himself, as he stepped through the dank air.
“This way.” A Home guard dressed in dark green led him up the steps into the building Ricky feared more than any other.
A surprisingly younger woman greeted him. if one could call her narrowed eyes and grunts a greeting. She snatched his envelope before he had a chance to offer it.
She read his name on the front. “Hendrico Valian.” The woman peered into Ricky’s eyes. “Nine months? You are only with us a short while. Such a pity.” She clucked her tongue. “Such a pity,” she repeated. “We will make sure it is memorable. Come this way,”
Ricky looked at the woman’s back, watching her long ponytail swing with every step. In a way, she reminded him of Effilia Asucco, a former bodyguard to Princess Pira of Paranty. She looked fit and walked with confidence. He straightened his back, mimicking her erect posture and followed her into a dismal office.
He saw little in the way of feminine or even personal touches in the room. He sat on a hard wooden chair that stood in front of a large, old desk. The woman slapped his folder down and stood in front of her desk chair.
“You will address me as Warden Sarini or ma’am.” She shook a finger at Ricky. “I don’t put up with inmates with airs, got it?”
“I don’t have any ‘airs,' ma’am.”
She grunted and glared at him as she pulled the papers out of the envelope and sat down to go through Ricky’s documentation.
“A killer?” She looked up at Ricky. “You don’t look like one.”
“In self-defense,” Ricky said. “I’ve been attacked a number of times in the past year.”
She didn’t respond but continued to read. “A thief, too?”
“I don’t steal anymore. My grandfather made me.”
The warden grunted again. “I’ve heard that before.” She shook her head while she continued. She paused and put the papers down. “You are a sorcerer? You won a performance competition?”
“I had a partner,” Ricky said, trying to minimize his contribution. “It was a novice contest in Tossa.”
“No one likes sorcerers in the Home, and that includes me. The prohibition on sorcery as a weapon applies in the Juvenile Home, just like it does outside. We’ve never had a trained sorcerer before, just young inmates with a little talent.”
“I wouldn’t call myself trained with only one year of learning, but I won’t use magic as a weapon,” Ricky said. “I hope it doesn’t get to that.”
Warden Sarini pursed her lips and sighed. “It will. No one makes it out of the Applia Juvenile Home unscathed, even if you are here for just nine months. I will have my eye on you, and we will meet regularly, young Valian.”
Ricky bowed his head and looked up. He didn’t expect any favors from this severe woman.
“How do I find my way around?”
The warden folded her arms and leaned back in her chair. “Everyone lives in a cell. You’ll go into a single. In your case, it might be for your protection, but for most, it’s to protect the inmates from the newcomers.”
Ricky didn’t believe her. Putting someone in a cell was a pure intimidation tactic. He stared at the warden.
“Then your building supervisor will take you for a tour.” The warden stood, making Ricky rise with her. She rang a bell at her desk.
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“Yes, Warden Sarini?” a green-garbed guard said, poking his head into the office.
“Building Two. A single cell with a window on the ground floor.”
The guard grinned and nodded. “Come along, you.”
Ricky grabbed his satchel and trailed after the guard. As they walked the stone-paved floors, Ricky looked at the blackened beams and old-fashioned architecture.
“How old is the Home?” Ricky said.
“This place? It used to be the ancient castle of Applia before the unification of Paranty, so it was around here five hundred years ago.” The guard shook his head and chuckled. “No one has ever asked me that before.”
“I was just curious,” Ricky said. He had never seen such an old building in Tossa. If the Home had a library, he’d do some historical checking.
They climbed up a few steps to a different wing. This building looked newer and much less fancy.
“An inmate just graduated,” the guard said. “I can let you have this one.” He unlocked a door and showed Ricky into a room larger than his bedroom at the Academy.
The walls were exposed brick, and the furnishings reminded Ricky of Gobble’s shantyboat in Tossa’s Shantyboat Town, but Ricky would have some room to move around. He had expected walls made of bars like the holding cells at the constabulary.
“What do I do now?”
“Wait. The supervisor for this building will visit to orient you before dinner.” The guard considered Ricky for a moment. “You look to be an intelligent boy. Keep your head down and don’t get involved in any of the gangs around here, if you can help it. That is the fastest way to get your sentence extended.”
“Thank you,” Ricky said to the closing door.
He heard the key move in the lock. The room might be bigger than expected, but Ricky was locked in, just the same.
He took an inventory of his belongings. Other than a well-used advanced sorcery textbook that Petro Garini, a professor at Doubli Academy, had given him, Ricky had nothing of real value. He made up his bed from the rumpled stack of linen on the lumpy, stained mattress.
He was wondering if he should empty his satchel when he heard the lock on the door move.
A short fat man pushed the door open and let it hit the wall.
“Master Leon Pisan. I am your supervisor, and you are…” he looked down at the clipboard in his hand, “Hendrico Valian, age fourteen?”
Ricky nodded.
“Answer me with your voice, not with your head bobbing,” the man said. His voice plainly communicated his irritability.
“I am Hendrico Valian, Master Pisan,” Ricky said. “I’ll be fifteen in a few months.”
The man smiled. The smile was condescending. Master Pisan would not be a friend.
“Nickname?”
“Ricky, Master Pisan.”
Pisan smiled again. “Ricky. Do you know what you do here at the Home?”
Ricky was about to shake his head, but said, “I do not.”
“You will learn, and you will work. This says you can you read?”
“I can, Master Pisan.”
Pisan made a notation. “We have classes for those who read and those who don’t, but don’t get any ideas you’ll be working less. I will take you to the dining hall where you will take all your meals. Check outside your door tomorrow morning for your schedule for the rest of the week. Warden Sarini likes things orderly at the Home. See that you help her do that, or you will regret it.”
Ricky didn’t consider himself a disorganized person, so that wouldn’t be a problem, but he did wonder what kind of work he would be doing along with the other inmates.
“Any questions?”
“How many inmates are at the Home?”
Pisan had to think for a bit. “It varies, but we have space for four hundred boys and girls. We always have more boys than girls.”
Ricky nodded, but Pisan wasn’t looking.
“Come with me.”
Ricky followed Pisan after he locked up Ricky’s cell door. Boys were exiting their rooms as they made their way through the hallways. The dining hall was back in the main building, the old castle. It must have been the court room, with taller windows. Boys and a few girls were already sitting down chattering away, eating from wooden bowls on battered metal trays.
“Join that line,” Pisan pointed to an archway. “I suggest you eat by yourself. Stay seated until I come to escort you back to your cell.”
“Yes, Master Pisan. Where are the younger children?”
“They live in Building Three on the east side of the Home. You never see them until they reach twelve.”
Ricky stepped to the line and looked back to see Master Pisan walking through another door. Perhaps that was the staff dining room. He inched his way forward and did what the shorter boy in front of him did.
The trays were piled in a wooden box. Ricky looked down. They were all so battered that he’d be surprised if any of them would stack. He grabbed one and took a bowl, a wooden spoon, and a metal cup in no better condition from another wooden box.
He exited the meal line with some stew, a lump of bread that didn’t seem too stale, and a cup filled with water. He missed the food in the dining hall at the Academy already, but a year ago, what he held in his tray would have been a feast.
Ricky looked across a sea of long tables. He found an empty one and began to eat. He had finished all the bread and half the stew when his head rocked from a slap from behind.
“Hey!” Ricky said standing up, holding a painful ear. He turned around and looked up at the eyes of an older, taller boy the size of a man. At his side, Ricky saw a familiar face. Franken Pestella, the boy who had helped the late Victor Taranta attempt to murder him, glared and pushed Ricky against the table.
“Welcome to the Applia Juvenile Home,” Franken said with hard eyes in an unhappy face. Franken followed the other boys as they joined the meal line.
Master Pisan must have observed the altercation. He sauntered up to Ricky. “Friends of yours?”
“Just Franken. I knew him at Doubli Academy.” Ricky said still rubbing his ear.
“A lord in Tossa arranged his detention for something to do with his son. He’s already found a gang to his liking,” Pisan said, looking at the group of boys. “You should, too, if you want protection.”
That didn’t jibe with the guard’s advice, Ricky thought. He’d rather not become a gang member, so he didn’t respond.
“Finished?”
Ricky nodded.
“Then I’ll take you back to your cell.”
When Pisan opened the door to Ricky’s room, he presented Ricky with a key. “Keep your door locked if you want to retain your possessions. We don’t even try to find those who steal from other inmates. There is a breakfast bell. You can read your schedule while you eat. I suggest you lock your door when I leave. There is a chamber pot in the room and a washroom you can use at the end of the corridor.”
Ricky did as Master Pisan suggested and emptied his satchel in the old broken-down chest of drawers. He didn’t have anything else to do, so he lay down and closed his eyes.
He woke in darkness. He couldn’t find a candle and wondered if the inmates didn’t get any. He lit a magic light and took out his sorcery textbook.
Ricky read a few pages of the chapter on performance sorcery when he heard pounding on his door. Keys rattled, and the door flew open.
“What are you doing?” Master Pisan said, breathless. Two concerned guards looked over Pisan’s shoulders.
“Reading,” Ricky said.
“What’s that?” Pisan pointed to Ricky’s glowing globe, floating in the air above the textbook.
“I’m a sorcerer, and that is a magic light. It’s hard to read in darkness, Master Pisan,” Ricky said.
The supervisor scowled. “You aren’t supposed to perform sorcery on the grounds.”
Ricky looked at the guards. “Is that the truth?”
The men looked at each other and shook
their heads.
Pisan turned red and slapped Ricky on the other side of his head. “Don’t question me!” the supervisor said. “Get that thing extinguished and go to sleep.”
At least the ear that Frank’s friend had slapped had quit hurting, Ricky thought as the door closed, only after Pisan witnessed the light going out. His first day at the Home wasn’t what Ricky had expected. The trouble was, Ricky didn’t know if it was better than he thought, or worse.
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CHAPTER TWO
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A RINGING BELL INTERRUPTED THE EXERCISES that Saganet Crabacci, his guardian, taught him to do before he left for the home. Ricky wished he had a washstand in his room, but he wiped his face with a rag he had brought with him and finished dressing.
He checked his door for the promised schedule, but it hadn’t been posted, or someone had stolen it.
It seemed that all inmates ate breakfast at the same time, making the meal line extend all the way to the dining hall’s entrance. Ricky looked around the room and spotted Frank with his gang. He would stay away from that table.
Without worrying about Master Pisan, Ricky took the opportunity to observe the other inmates. There were a few clusters of girls, and he noticed clumps of boys, apparently separated by ages. He noticed eruptions of roughhousing among the inmates, but nothing worse than what he had experienced the previous day.
Breakfast consisted of some porridge, but it did have a few raisins sprinkled in. He took his place far from Frank and ate by himself. No one bothered him, save for a few odd looks. Ricky didn’t dress appreciably better than the other boys, so other than his isolation, he didn’t feel he stuck out. There were plenty of other loners in the dining hall.
He dumped his tray, wooden spoon, and metal cup into separate bins and made his way to his room. Ricky snatched two sheets of paper jammed on a little nail sticking out of the door and walked inside.
The Home had printed a map on one paper and a list of rules on both sides of the other. Ricky looked for the schedule and found faint scribbling on the backside of the map. He could barely make out the room numbers and the times and only two descriptions of what he’d be doing at that time.
