by C. Night
Rhyen nodded and turned on his heel, jogging off toward his dormitory.
“Oh, and Rhyen,” Cazing called after him, “we are walking, so only take what you can carry!”
Chapter 3
Once he arrived at his bed, Rhyen paused to look around. Nearly everything he owned was strewn around it, on the floor or table, even under the table. It took him some time to locate his large travelling bag, but as soon as he found it he tossed it lightly on the bed and began shoveling his clothes into it as fast as he could.
Unfortunately, wadded as they were, his clothes reached the top of his bag long before they were all in there. Rhyen sighed and pulled them out, hastily folding and rolling them this time, and he found that they all fit, even if it was a tight squeeze. In the outside pocket of his travelling sack he thrust his cloak so that he would be able to extract it easily should the weather turn sour.
In his smaller satchel Rhyen tossed his best quill, ink, and some blank paper, his copy of The Book of the Ages, which was the only tome he owned, his rarely used comb, a few handkerchiefs (Rhyen sincerely hoped at least one of them was clean), and his knife. He paused, pulling the knife out. It had been a farewell gift from his father when the Academy had come to collect him. It was the last time he had seen his father—or any of his family. Letters had grown fewer and fewer over the years until they had stopped completely. Rhyen hesitated a moment, then undid his belt and slid the knife on. If felt foreign against his hip, but as he gently touched the leather sheath, Rhyen remembered his almost forgotten family, and felt somehow closer to home.
He glanced around his area. His was the first bed and table on the left side of the third floor in the dormitory. Behind his, and across the walkway, were dozens more, all inhabited by male students of the Academy. There were windows spaced every few beds, and while the beds closest to them were much sought after in the summer, snow and chill leaked in during the winter. Rhyen smiled, remembering. He had started at the very back of the dormitory, in the last bed crammed against the right side. He walked towards it now, savoring his memories. After all, even if he visited the Academy after he was a master, he wouldn’t be able to go inside the students’ quarters. This would be the last time he ever saw his dormitory. He reached the back of the room, and looked at the cramped little table and the tiny bed.
Rhyen almost laughed. It was so absurd to think that he had lived there once, now that he towered over most everyone he met. He couldn’t fit his legs in that bed now. As Rhyen had grown older, he had moved up through the dormitory until finally reaching the bed he had just vacated. All of his friends had already moved on to their apprenticeships. Although Rhyen was the tallest and strongest, he had been the youngest in his group. His last friend, Naun, had left a few weeks ago, apprenticed out to some magician in Ra.
Rhyen arrived back at his things. He slung the small satchel over his neck and shrugged his arms through the straps of the travelling bag, hoisting it onto his back. His bed was the closest to the mirror that hung near the door, and he surveyed himself in its reflection. He was wearing the same brown pants as yesterday, tucked into his worn leather boots, and a dark blue shirt that was unbuttoned at the top and fell just over the waistband of his pants, only halfway tucked in. His waist was decorated with the knife in its light leather sheath on his brown belt. On the opposite hip sat his rough, green, burlap satchel, and on his back his dark travelling sack.
Rhyen looked critically at himself. His blue eyes were thoughtful as he looked himself over. He mouthed “wizard” to himself, and gave his reflection a thumbs up. As he turned from the mirror he noticed his hair, and tried for a second to flatten the golden mass, but gave up almost immediately as he caught sight of his bed.
At once Rhyen slung the sack from his shoulders. He had almost left without his bedding! Rhyen gave a bark of laughter at the thought of him kipping under leaves at night, with a rock for his pillow. He rolled his blankets as tight as the wool would allow. Then he looked around for some rope, which of course he didn’t have. Rhyen swore quietly and hastened for the stairs. A boy of about fifteen was sauntering up them, and Rhyen hailed him, knowing him by sight but not by name.
“Hey! You there! Do you have any rope or string or anything?” Rhyen asked, skidding to a halt on the third floor landing.
“No,” said the boy with his chin in the air. He was a chubby, freckled, red-headed boy.
Rhyen swore again. “All right then, can I trade you for your belt?” Rhyen asked, his mind racing through his things, wondering what he could possibly give.
This interested the boy. His second chin quivered as he replied, “Trade for what?”
Rhyen poked his head back in the dormitory and looked at his nearly empty desk. Broken quills, an empty ink bottle, and scrap paper were all that remained. Rhyen thought quickly.
“You can have my bunk, if you move your stuff before anyone else does,” he said finally.
“Which one is yours?”
Rhyen pointed at his bed.
“Done!” The boy snapped off his belt, flung it at Rhyen, and ran to somewhere in the middle of the hall, scurrying to collect his things.
Rhyen had to reroll the blankets to use the belt to attach them and his pillow firmly to the back of his travelling bag. He tested it, batting the attachment back and forth until he was certain it would hold. Once again he hoisted the bag onto his shoulders and, without another backward glance, left his home of eight years behind.
He met up with Cazing, who was standing in precisely the same spot as when they’d parted. He looked exactly the same except he’d traded his teaching cords for a serviceable looking brown belt and his robes for pants and a shirt. He had thrown a cloak about his shoulders. A small bag hung loosely at his side, held by a strap that crossed his chest and over one shoulder.
“Do you have everything, Master?” Rhyen asked, confused. Cazing didn’t seem to have clothes or blankets or anything.
“I’ve got everything I need. You?” Cazing asked carelessly, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. Rhyen nodded, hefting his pack guiltily—he had far more than his master. At least the former belt of the chubby scholar was holding the pillow and blankets in place.
“Right, then. Let’s go.” Cazing said decisively. He turned on his heel and strode toward the entrance of the Academy. Rhyen followed. His pack was already cutting into his shoulder blades.
The entrance of the Academy was a massive stone archway hung with elaborately worked iron gates. The structure stood several stories tall, and almost as wide. The enormous gates stood impressively closed, but a smaller service gate built into the lower corner stayed open, guarded by a watchman. The whole of the Academy was crisscrossed with cobbled brick avenues and alleys. Trees, shrubs, and flowering bushes were planted along these paths, and manmade streams forged pleasantly through a wide expanse of grass and trees that constituted a park in the center of the campus. Ranging around this park were nearly twenty brick and stone buildings used as classrooms, offices, lecture halls, laboratories, the dining hall and dormitories, and of course, the library. The campus itself was in the wealthy upper east quadrant of Ikha.
As Cazing and Rhyen reached the gates, the sun was high in the sky. Cazing squinted up at it. “Noon,” he muttered, and no sooner had he said that then the giant bell tower in the center of the campus began to toll. “Right on time.”
The watchman unfolded himself from his chair and jogged out to meet them. “Sir, I’m to inform you that word has been sent to the horse trader, and he has your horses and things ready and waiting in the market.”
“Very good,” Cazing huffed, “I’m already sick of walking.”
The watchman bowed them through the service gate, and the two made their way through the winding, packed roads of Ikha, down toward the market. It was crowded, and the sun beat down on them, moisture hanging thick on the air. Cazing jostled his way through, Rhyen weav
ing after him. There was a veritable wall of people, making it was hard to see the different stalls and vendors.
“Where is the damn horse stall?” Cazing shouted, frustration getting the better of him.
Rhyen craned his neck—being taller than most, he could easily look over the heads of the milling crowd—and was able to make out a purple banner bearing the silhouette of a rearing black horse. It was hanging limply against the gray awning of a rather large stall. He pointed. “Over there!”
The noise of the crowd was almost overwhelming. Cazing turned toward Rhyen. “What?” he shouted.
“Over there!” Rhyen bellowed. He pushed past Cazing and made his way through the crowd to the stall. The throng parted much easier for him than it had for Cazing, who jogged behind him, muttering mutinously. Finally they reached the vendor, who was grinning at them. It was quieter near the stall, but not by much.
“Hello, Cazing! You’re looking particularly cheerful today!” He thumped Cazing on the back.
Cazing stared grumpily at the horse trader, who seemed to be an old friend, and who roared with laughter at his expression.
“You old dog, nice try! You couldn’t scare a baby.” He turned to Rhyen and extended his hand. “I’m Rode, by the way, and who might you be?”
“Rhyen… Rhyen Hyldhem,” Rhyen said, shaking Rode’s hand. “Do you breed horses?” He nodded at the beautiful horses padlocked under the awning. There were chestnuts and some dark roans mingled in with a few bays. Rhyen had hardly any experience with horses, but liked them anyway.
Rode threw back his head and laughed. His eyes were strangely large and dark, and, though Rhyen couldn’t have said what it was, there was something queer about him. But he was a pleasant sort of fellow, with longish black hair and a quick grin. Despite his expensive looking clothes, he was down to earth and friendly. “Sometimes. But today I’m just selling ’em!”
A smile broke through Cazing’s expression and he laughed too. “Rode here,” he explained to Rhyen, “is an old friend of mine who has a silver tongue. He could sell the moon if he wanted to!”
“And for a low price, if you’re interested!” Rode winked.
Rhyen grinned broadly. Rode’s enthusiasm was contagious.
“So, where are you off to, Cazing? And why do you need to load up two perfectly good horses with food instead of saddles?” Rode beckoned them under the awning and into the shade. Rhyen gratefully relaxed his eyes, which were tired from squinting in the sunlight. As he wiped the beads of sweat from his face, he could feel the heat rising off him in waves.
Rode sat on a bale of hay. Cazing and Rhyen followed suit. “Avernade,” Cazing said, accepting the bottle Rode passed him. He took a long swig and passed it over to Rhyen, who thankfully took a pull. It was warm ale, and Rhyen sincerely wished that he had asked what it was before drinking. He choked it down with difficulty and passed the bottle back to Cazing.
“Avernade?” said Rode shrewdly, raising his eyebrows in surprise. His calculating eyes darted between Cazing and Rhyen. “That’s a long way. Will you make it before winter?”
“Here’s hoping,” Cazing raised the bottle in salute and took another swig. He brushed his sleeve across his mouth and returned the bottle to Rode. “So, what has my long years of service at the Academy bought us?”
“These two.” Rode pointed to two heavily laden dark horses tethered together. “And as many supplies as they could carry. You’re really walking then?”
Cazing rolled his eyes. “What do you think?”
Rode smiled. “Alright, well then seeing as how you’re an old friend, I could let you have this one for, say, a hundred?” He jerked his chin at a golden stallion, who was tossing his head arrogantly nearby.
Cazing spluttered indignantly. “A hundred! Have you completely lost your mind?”
“Have you, running off to Avernade with this kid in tow? No offense,” Rode said as a kind aside to Rhyen.
Rhyen shook his head and spread his hands. “None taken.” But inwardly he scowled a little. It was his Name day today, after all, and he was now eighteen. He wasn’t a kid anymore.
Cazing glowered at Rode. “I’ll have you know I’ve just taken on Rhyen as my apprentice.”
“Have you now?” Rode asked. His words were heavy with meaning. Rhyen wondered what that was supposed to imply.
Cazing seemed to understand, because he nodded sharply. “Yes, I have. And Avernade is the best place to teach him. And I will walk before paying a hundred for a nag!”
“Nag? Nag! Look at the teeth! Inspect him. This horse is the best money can buy!” Rode jumped up and began pointing out various parts of the horse, a glorious golden stallion with a haughty white mane and tail. Cazing dragged himself off his hay bale to inspect the animal. The two men haggled good-naturedly, and Rhyen found himself losing interest.
He closed his eyes and winced as his shoulders relaxed. He was already sore and tired and hot and sweaty, but he was also excited. Yet his nerves seemed to have taken all they could in the past two days, so Rhyen found that most of all he was exhausted. He would have liked nothing better than to sit there and rest, and it seemed all too soon when he heard Cazing calling to him.
Rhyen staggered to his feet and weaved between tails and legs of various horses, hay falling around him like rain as they tore from bales stacked chest-high, until he made his way to Cazing and Rode. Cazing was wearing a grumpy frown and passing handfuls of Depas to Rode, who was grinning and holding out an eager hand.
“Do you have any money?” Cazing asked Rhyen bluntly.
“Um…” Rhyen hesitated. The answer, of course, was no. Although he had come from a relatively wealthy family of merchants, it had been years since he’d had any pocket money. In fact, being the youngest of eight, it had been years since he’d even corresponded with his parents, who were busy with his brothers and sisters and putting them through apprenticeships of their own. Only Rhyen and his second oldest sister, Amalyda, had any magic wielding skills, and they had both been sent off to the Academy at the age of ten, where they were trained and their futures set by the school. It must have been a relief for his parents to get rid of two children with little to no obligation other than paying their tuition and board, and Rhyen realized that he hardly ever thought about his family, concluding that they likely rarely remembered him either. He barely even knew Amalyda, since she had already moved on to her apprenticeship by the time he had arrived at the Academy.
Rhyen shook his head at Cazing.
Cazing groaned and dug in his pocket for more coins. With a sigh he said to Rode, “Fine, give me the cheapest horse you have that can get him to Avernade.”
Rode tried to cover his grin with his hand. “Avernade is a long, long way away, my old friend. The only horse I have strong enough for the journey and big enough to carry the boy is this mare here.” He slapped the haunches of a cinnamon colored horse, who cheekily flicked her tail at him. She was a handsome animal with a gleaming coat, and her long racing legs and elegantly arched neck hinted at expensiveness.
“Of course she is,” Cazing muttered. He shot Rhyen a filthy look. “You owe me, let’s see, how much are you going to swindle me for her, Rode?”
“I’ll cut you a deal—say, eighty-nine?”
“Eighty-nine! You pirate! I’ll burn in hell first!” Cazing shouted.
Rode laughed unsympathetically. “Eighty-eight then?”
Cazing haggled a little more before finally handing over several fistfuls of rattling coins for the mare. Rode handed the lead rope to Rhyen, who took it gingerly. He didn’t know what to do with it, but the mare turned her head and regarded Rhyen for a minute. She had deep brown eyes and a black mane that framed her ears comically. Rhyen tentatively ran a hand down her face. She lipped his sleeve and turned her attention back to the hay. Rhyen stroked her neck and breathed in the scent of horse, which he thought was l
ike afternoon summer sunshine turned into aroma.
He already loved the mare. Still running a hand down her neck, Rhyen turned to Cazing. “I thought you said we were walking, sir?”
“We did, and it was awful,” said Cazing, jerking his thumb back up toward the Academy.
Rhyen laughed. “That was only a half hour of walking!”
Cazing’s mouth twitched, but he said sternly, “Do you want the horse or not?”
Rhyen nodded. “Thank you, Master. She’s a beautiful animal.”
“And she’ll carry you to Avernade, which is the point of having her,” said Rode happily over his money.
Cazing harrumphed. “Where are their saddles and things? We need to get a move on.”
Rode paused. “You want saddles too? You should have said so, Cazing! I have some real cheap!”
“Real cheap? Rode, if you think I’m paying for saddles after spending a fortune on the horses, you have taken a complete leave of your senses!” Cazing furrowed his borws at his friend.
“I have to make a living,” Rode shrugged, nonplussed.
“I will curse you,” said Cazing threateningly.
Rode’s mouth dropped open. “Over a few saddles?”
“No, over almost two hundred Depas.” Cazing corrected him.
Rode chewed his lip and considered Cazing. Then he burst out laughing and slapped Cazing on the back. “All right, all right, the saddles are included in the price!” He chortled merrily and looked at Rhyen. “And he says I’m the swindler. As if anyone could swindle a sorcerer and get away with it!”
Rhyen blinked. A sorcerer? He quickly looked between Cazing and Rode. Cazing rolled his eyes sourly at his friend, but didn’t deny the title. Rhyen felt extremely light-headed. He had just assumed that Cazing was a wizard. There were only a handful of sorcerers left in the world… Rhyen suddenly felt a weight settle on his shoulders. On the one hand, he was awed to be studying under someone with so much power. On the other, he was more than a little afraid. He’d never known a sorcerer before. And no one he knew had either. Rhyen busied himself with petting the strong brown neck of his new horse. She put her nose against his cheek and snorted, leaving a trail of slime.
