A Slave to Magic

by Lana Axe

  “That’s because you created it,” she replied. “You didn’t just move it around, you conjured it from nothing.” Picking up her lute, she added, “That’s just how it is when you create music.” She plucked at the strings and hummed a merry tune. Looking up, she said, “There’s more to life than what you can learn in books.”

  Though her statement was true, Kwil saw no other way to learn the basics than through study. “Music requires study too, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes it does,” she replied. “And lots of practice. No different from magic, really.”

  As she continued to play her music, Kwil turned back to the book and practiced a few more spells. The hand gestures were becoming more difficult, requiring more-delicate movements in time with the incantation. Growing frustrated, he wondered if he would ever get the hang of it.

  Noticing his difficulty, Nera took a seat on the floor next to him. “Like this,” she said, taking a hold of his hand. His skin was the roughest she had ever felt, and a glance at his fingertips revealed reddened blisters and cuts. “What happened?” she asked, not seeing the obvious answer.

  Kwil looked at his fingers, unsure what she meant. “What happened to what?” he asked.

  “Your fingers,” she replied. “They’re so sore. Doesn’t that hurt?”

  With a shrug, he said, “I’m used to it. It’s no different from a farmer who works with his hands.”

  “Farmers can afford gloves,” she said quietly. A wave of guilt came over her, knowing that she was a part of this young man’s suffering. Despite her current friendship with Kwil, she had been content to order around servants and slaves all her life. Something had to change. “From now on, I’ll clean my own room while you study,” she declared.

  “Nera, it’s my job,” Kwil replied. “I don’t mind.”

  “I’ve made up my mind,” she stated. “Now let’s see if we can get this right.”

  As she assisted him in performing the gestures correctly, the clock on her mantle chimed.

  “I’d better go,” Kwil said. “I’m supposed to help in the kitchen tonight. You have guests coming.”

  Nera rolled her eyes. A fancy dinner with her parents was an inconvenience she could do without. But if she tried to stay in her room when guests were present, her father would likely drag her down the stairs. “I guess I’ll see you there then,” she said.

  * * * * *

  Taking inventory of the rows of decadent foods in front of him, Kwil counted no fewer than seven courses. The Orvas’ dinner guests would no doubt be delighted by the variety and quality of foods. Jenn had generously allowed Kwil to sample a few, many of them being far too rich for his stomach. A small taste was all he required to know the foods certainly weren’t for him. A lifetime of a bland diet had not prepared him for the sweetness of chocolate or the texture of goose liver.

  Making sure that each dish was covered, Kwil lit candles under the ones that needed to stay warm, and fanned the ones that needed to stay cool. It was not the most stimulating job in the kitchen, but it was better than scrubbing floors. Besides, he looked forward to seeing the night’s entertainment. This would be the first dinner party he had witnessed since coming to work for the Orvas, and he wasn’t sure what to expect. All he knew was, the more lavish the dinner party, the more respected the host.

  Jenn floated by him, a twinkle in her aging eyes. Though she had lived her entire life a slave, her spirits were undaunted. Dinner parties were her specialty—a chance to show what she was capable of. Kwil couldn’t help but smile as he watched the old lady darting to and fro with surprising grace and agility.

  Behind him the young laundress approached, clearing her throat loudly to get his attention. Kwil startled at the sound, turning around quickly to see who was there. It was the same young Gatan he had met before, and he felt ashamed that he had not asked her name.

  Thrusting a bundle of clothing toward him, she said, “These are for you.”

  Taking the green and yellow tunic from her, his brow furrowed in confusion. “For me?”

  The Gatan crossed her arms and sighed in frustration. “You don’t think they’d want you in front of their guests dressed like that do you?” Shaking her head, she walked away, leaving Kwil behind to ponder her meaning.

  He looked down at the shabby clothing he wore every day, the elbows of his shirt nearly threadbare. Though he washed the garments as often as he could, he supposed they could be cleaner.

  Jenn crept up behind him and patted him on the back. “In there, Son,” she said, pointing to the cupboard.

  With a nod of thanks, Kwil stepped inside and quickly changed into the fancy clothing he had received. The pants were slightly loose, obviously designed for a larger man, and the velveteen tunic with its gold trim felt scratchy against his skin. Plain cotton suited him far better, but he had no room to argue. These clothes meant he would be serving in the dining hall, not waiting in the kitchens to fetch supplies. He had anticipated a night of straining to see the entertainment, catching glances whenever he could. Instead, he would be up front, viewing firsthand whatever the Orvas had planned. The thought sent his heart racing.

  When he exited the pantry, Jenn was waiting for him. She reached up and patted his cheek before smoothing out his tunic. “That’s better,” she said, her eyes shining brightly. “You have fun out there, but don’t let them know it.” A soft laugh followed as she turned around to tend the confections, stacking them neatly on a silver tray.

  Voices sounded from the hall, signaling the servants that the guests had arrived. A passing Gatan shoved a pitcher of wine at Kwil, which he took gladly. Filling wine goblets was a simple enough task, and it would allow him to move freely about the room and observe the night’s events. After a wink from Jenn, Kwil headed into the dining area, where the guests where laughing and talking. Another servant carried empty goblets on a silver tray, and Kwil decided to follow him, filling the cups as he went. Each guest accepted his drink graciously, not paying much attention to who was doing the pouring. As long as their goblets remained full, they were pleased.

  Nera made an entrance wearing a long satin gown. She looked out of sorts, tugging at the tight bodice and grimacing in her mother’s direction. Kwil felt pity for his friend, seeing how much she detested the fancy garment. During their days of study together, he had never seen her wear anything other than pants. For a noble lady, she lacked severely in refinement and poise. She was truly her own person, and she wouldn’t be dictated by the mores of the day.

  Kwil hazarded a glance in her direction, noticing that she did not have a cup. Grabbing one off the dining table, he hastened to her side, filling the glass and offering it to her. At first glance, she seemed annoyed, but realizing it was Kwil standing before her, her face broke into a smile. Clearly he wasn’t the only one surprised to see a friend all dressed up. She said nothing, but her eyes sparkled with silent laughter. Kwil blushed slightly before moving away to tend the other guests.

  As the night went on, the guests became louder and seemed to find the humor in every little story that was told. Their glasses ran over, thanks to Kwil keeping a close eye to make sure no one was thirsty.

  Finally, Lord Orva stood, banging his fork against his goblet. “Bring on the entertainment!” he declared, to the delight of his guests.

  Applause broke out, many of the guests jumping to their feet. Being shorter than most of the Gatans, Kwil angled his neck to get a better view. A spectacular display of magic shot toward the ceiling. Colors and shapes flew around the room, including a multitude of butterflies. Nera shot a glance in Kwil’s direction as the butterflies darted past her.

  Following the display, a troupe of dancers entered the room. Their feline bodies were painted a multitude of colors, some Kwil had never seen before. The cost of such dyes must have been astronomical, but the Orvas would spare no expense to impress their friends. The men and women danced gracefully, tossing each other into the air and performing tricks on the fly. Kwil watched in am
azement, nearly forgetting his duties as wine bearer. It was of little consequence, though, as the guests could hardly look away either. Such a display of acrobatics was captivating, and the crowd fell silent enough to hear the tiniest squeak of a mouse.

  When the dancers finished, a second round of colorful magic lit up the dining hall. The crowd broke into applause and whistled their approval at the performers. Kwil stared in amazement, his mind full of wonder. Only the drumming of a hand against the table snapped him back to reality. One of the guests held out an empty goblet.

  Rushing to the man’s side, Kwil quickly filled the cup and backed away, his head down. Making his way around the table, he continued filling goblets until his pitcher was empty, then ran to retrieve another.

  Nera waited for his return, and then addressed her mother. “Mother, I’d like to take a slave back to school with me when I go. Since I’m in my second year, I’ll be far too busy to tend my own affairs.”

  Lady Orva seemed unsure. “Surely the school can provide for your needs,” she said. The cost of tuition was extremely high. In her mind, the school should provide ample servants to wait upon the students.

  Lord Orva was not deaf to the conversation. He watched the exchange with interest, his goblet held close to his lips.

  Nera tried again. “Mother, all the highborn ladies bring slaves with them to tend their private chambers.” Turning to face her father, she asked, “I will have private quarters, will I not?” At this point, she knew she had her father’s attention. He refused to be outdone or thought of as less powerful than any other lord. Out of pure ego, he would grant his daughter’s request.

  “You certainly shall,” he said, a smug expression on his face. “You shall take a slave with you, and you shall have the finest rooms the College has to offer.”

  Many of the guests around the table nodded their approval and lifted their glasses to the lord’s generosity. Kwil had worked his way around the table, adding more wine to Nera’s goblet.

  “This one will do,” she said, gesturing to Kwil.

  Without argument, her father gave a single nod to approve his daughter’s choice. Nera shot a knowing glance at Kwil, who sucked in a quick breath and held it. The young woman certainly had a knack for manipulating her father, and it had worked to Kwil’s advantage. He would soon be off to the Wizard’s College, learning things he could only imagine.

  Chapter 4

  Less than a week after the dinner party, Nera made preparations to leave for school. All of her clothing, except for the dresses, would need to be packed, as well as her lute, extra strings, and as many music books as she could get her hands on. The Wizard’s College considered music a waste of energy, and she would have few opportunities to escape to the city to purchase such items. She dreaded her upcoming workload as a second-year student, especially considering she had no natural inclination toward magic. If the subject matter at least interested her that would be something. Unfortunately, she had little to look forward to.

  Kwil’s presence would make things more fun, she decided. Over the past couple of weeks, she had come to enjoy his presence. She no longer thought of him as a servant. He was a trusted friend, one she could reveal her innermost thoughts to. Instead of chiding her for not trying harder to please her parents, he encouraged her to play music and perfect her art. He would even pause his reading just to listen to her newest compositions. Nera had no friend at the College she considered closer. In fact, she thought of the other students as mere acquaintances who would likely turn on her in an instant if the opportunity arose.

  A light knock at her door alerted her to Kwil’s presence. “Come in,” she called, turning to greet him. He carried no bags and wore the same shabby clothing he always did. “Haven’t you packed?” she asked.

  “I’ve nothing to pack, Nera,” Kwil replied.

  Frowning, she asked, “You at least have a change of clothes for the journey, don’t you? And it’s getting colder out. You’re going to need a cloak.”

  Moving across the room to tend the fire, Kwil replied, “I’ve never owned a cloak, and my other shirt is far worse than this one.” With a shrug, he added, “Your parents will likely give me a thicker one once winter truly arrives.”

  With a sigh, Nera said, “I guess they wouldn’t want you to freeze solid while you’re fetching their bath water.” She patted a finger against her cheek as she thought about what to do. “I’ll have the seamstress make you some new clothes. She’s always so fast.” Before Kwil could reply, she bolted to the door and hurried down the stairs to find the seamstress.

  Since the pair were due to depart the next day, Kwil doubted the seamstress could possibly craft anything so quickly. He would be presented to the College as a slave, which meant no one would care how he was dressed. In fact, with the majority of the population ignoring him entirely, he could run around naked and no one would notice. It was best not to argue with Nera, however, so he grabbed one of her books and took a seat by the fire.

  Only a few pages into his studies, Nera returned. In her arms she carried several garments. A wide smile graced her lips. “She was already working on new clothes for the serving staff,” she announced. “Here, see what you think of these.” She lifted up the shirt on top and held it up for size. “It might be a little big on you, but it’ll do.”

  Kwil brushed his fingers across the soft fabric. “This isn’t for a servant,” he replied.

  Pressing a finger to her lips, Nera said, “Shhhh. Some of these are, but a few of them aren’t.” She drew a heavy gray cloak from the bundle. “This will keep you warm.”

  Taking the cloak, Kwil marveled at its fine quality. A riding cloak suitable for Nera herself, it was worth more than the price of a slave. “This is too fine a garment for me, Nera.”

  “Nonsense,” she replied, plopping on her bed and grabbing her lute.

  “If I’m seen wearing this, someone might think I’ve stolen it,” Kwil said. No one would believe a lord dressed his slaves so well.

  “Then only wear it when I’m around,” she replied. “No one would dare question me.”

  Tears filled the slave’s eyes as he looked at his friend. By allowing him to learn, she had already done more for him than any other being ever had. Now she was giving him even more. He felt as if he were her equal, at least for the time when they were alone together. Realizing that she didn’t consider him her slave meant the world to him.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked, seeing his tears. Leaping up from her bed, she stood before him and wiped a tear from his cheek.

  Not knowing what to say, Kwil wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her as tight as he could. To his delight, she reciprocated and laughed softly in his ear.

  “I’m glad you like the clothes,” she said, pulling away from him.

  “I’m glad to have a friend,” he replied. “I’ve never had one before.”

  Placing her hands on her hips, she stated, “I’ve never had a real friend before either. I don’t fit in well among the nobles.”

  Wiping his eyes, Kwil smiled and attempted to lighten the mood. “I guess I have something to pack now,” he said.

  “Yes, you do,” she replied. “Stuff them in this bag, and we’ll pretend it’s mine.”

  After finishing preparations for the journey, the two fell into their old routine. Nera fiddled with her lute while Kwil read quietly in the corner. Instead of sitting on the floor, he perched himself on one of Nera’s cushioned chairs. Though she’d invited him to sit comfortably many times, he always insisted on staying on the ground, until tonight. For the first time, he felt deserving of a proper chair.

  It was well into the night before the two parted company, Kwil returning to his tiny room in the manor’s lowest level. The chill of early winter permeated the area, prompting many of the servants to double up for warmth. Luckily, no one was waiting in Kwil’s bed. Pulling his thin blanket up to his chin, he drifted off to sleep knowing this would be the last cold night he would spend
here. With Nera’s help, he would someday become a wizard and leave his life as a slave behind him.

  By morning, a well-rested Kwil made his way to the courtyard, where Nera’s bags had already been loaded onto her carriage. The inner compartment stood empty, awaiting its valuable passenger. The coachman simply pointed as Kwil approached, letting him know he would be riding on the outside with the luggage. Unfazed, Kwil climbed aboard.

  Moments later, Nera appeared in the doorway, her mother dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. Lord Orva stepped outside, wrapping an arm around his wife and waving goodbye to his daughter. Without delay, Nera climbed inside the carriage and peered out the back window toward Kwil. With a wink, she closed the curtain and waved to her parents.

  A few miles down the road, Nera ordered the driver to stop and invited Kwil to sit inside with her. The coachman started to protest, but a cutting glare from Nera forced him to hold his tongue. It was no business of a servant what the lady wanted with the slave. The journey resumed with the two friends riding in the warmth of the carriage.

  “Sit next to me and share my blanket,” Nera said.

  Kwil had taken the seat across from her to allow her some space but was glad to move next to her. Placing the blanket over his legs, he said, “Thank you. It was a bit cold out there.”

  “The coachman has a heavy coat to keep him warm,” Nera said. “It isn’t right they expected you to sit out in the wind in those thin clothes.”

  Nera reached for the small satchel she had brought inside the carriage. Pulling out a book of music theory, she laid it across her lap and reached back into the bag. Inside, she had the magic book Kwil had been studying. Handing it to him, she said, “Did you finish all of the others?”

  Kwil nodded. In only two weeks’ time, he had completed all the lessons in the first three books, and was more than halfway through the fourth. Even without fully understanding the new language, he could memorize and pronounce the spells correctly.