Samuel looked up. The clouds were heavy and looming in from the west. ‘Even I can tell that!’ he declared with a laugh and Tulan looked at him seriously.
‘But do you know? Would you bet your life on it? Sometimes, I’m not always so sure, but right this moment, I know that it will rain before the hour is out. The strongest mages can even push their will into the skies and control the weather, not just read it; but unfortunately, I’m not so generously gifted.’
Samuel was in awe. It did rain as Tulan had foretold, hard and heavy, just as they made it to the next inn, and it set in for two days straight. It was still raining when Tulan, with a knowing wink, told Samuel to pack his things. Samuel stuffed his belongings into his bag, and, by the time they were downstairs, the sun was breaking through the clouds and the last glistening drops were dripping from the eaves. Scant moments later, they were once again bound for Cintar.
CHAPTER FOUR
The City of Magicians
THEY FOUND FEWER villages as they plunged deeper into the heart of Turia, and came across more and more cities and towns. Some of these had long-ago burst from their walls and ancient defensive structures, and now sprawled amongst the plains and valleys wherever they could. Broken fortifications and ruined walls scarred the landscape and Tulan explained that Turia had been witness to more than its fair share of warring. Times had been peaceful since the last great expansion of the Empire, but the brightly-uniformed Turian militia, ever-present, were a reminder of wilder days before the Emperor had united the lands of Amandia; warring days when the borders of nations changed almost daily—before the Empire had conquered them all.
On occasion, mighty cities loomed in the distance, but they didn’t enter even one. Tulan warned that it was much quicker to go around them and he gave each one a wide berth. The roads near cities became like rivers of overloaded wagons and animals and travellers. As it was, smaller roads joined with the Great Southern Highway as it coursed ever northwards, filling it with crowds of people and herded livestock. Great lines of soldiers would march past, clanking and stomping by. Sometimes the soldiers would be atop great beasts of horses, which would snort and whinny and throw up thick clouds of dust as they thundered by.
‘Not far now,’ Tulan said with a smile. ‘You’ve missed a few good months of schooling already, but I’m sure, with some hard work, you can catch up. If not, you’ll soon be back to Stable Canthem.’ Samuel nodded and smiled as he once more imagined what sorts of fantastic spells he would be learning.
Finally, they crested a hilltop and the smell of salt was strong on the wind. Suddenly a great city filled the landscape, laid out before an endless blue expanse of water that sparkled like rippling silver.
‘There she is,’ Tulan stated.
Samuel was spellbound by the sight. The city was twenty times larger than the biggest towns he had yet seen, surrounded by an enormous wall and with a spectacular, many-towered palace clearly visible thrusting up at its centre. It was not just a city—it was a city of cities. Smaller towns in the distance, vast-looking by themselves, were joined to it by lengths of road that scarred the fields and paddocks. A wide river ran from the hills in the east and a bridge spanned it where it was narrowest, giving rise to another string of buildings on the far banks. For all these sights, for all the grandeur of what man had created, it was the great, blue ocean that stirred Samuel’s blood most. It ran from as far as he could see from north to south and stretched out westwards to where the world seemed to somehow bend at its edges and vanish.
Horizon, Samuel thought to himself. He had heard tell of such a thing, but having lived all his life amongst the mountains, he could never have imagined how incredible it looked.
Water spat and foamed just out from the city where the rolling sea heaved upon dark, jutting rocks and the tiny shapes of great ships dotted its surface. Seas of cloth were strung from their towering masts to catch the wind. Samuel could not remove his eyes from the sight as the ships crawled slowly around the bay like ants roving idly around one of Master Kelvin’s flowerbeds. He had only heard tales of the sea, and nothing at all could have prepared him for such a sight. He almost had to remind himself to breathe again, startled back to reality as the wagon struck a bump that threatened to launch him from his seat. They started down the last sloping hillside towards the great city, and the ocean began to sink from view as the city continued to grow and grow before them.
As they crossed the open fields, the great walls of Cintar seemed to loom above them, until they blocked the view of everything else beyond. They were mountainous structures, made of some smooth, pale stone, without any hint of joint or mortar.
‘Everyone must live within the walls,’ Tulan explained, noting Samuel’s scrutiny. ‘This city is the heart of the Empire and no precaution is ignored in its defence. They are many other towns nearby, but nothing may exist on the plain unless it is within these walls. The Emperor is very protective of his home.’
More and more people had joined the road beside them and it only became more crowded as they all pushed towards a single great opening in the walls. All the people around them made a deafening throng. When they reached the open city gateway, Samuel craned his neck right back to look up at the wall’s dizzying heights. Passing through the gates was a spectacle in itself. Samuel would not have believed it was possible to even open and close such monstrous constructions. Teams of soldiers kept people moving along and tried to keep general order, barking orders and yelling at the people, while hoards of officials watched on, vigorously scribbling on their piles of papers.
‘You need a pass to enter the city,’ Tulan explained. ‘There are too many beggars and vagrants inside already. Space is precious in the city. You even have to pay just to visit relatives. It’s the greatest city in all the world!’ he added, gesturing splendidly.
‘But I don’t have a pass,’ Samuel stated with some alarm.
‘We don’t need a pass,’ Tulan explained with a knowing smile and tapped his black cloak in way of explanation. ‘You are magician, Samuel, or at least you will be soon. We can go anywhere in the Empire without question.’ And they passed into the entry way unheeded, almost as if they were invisible amongst the throng.
Passing that threshold was almost like stepping into another world. The air became cold and dark and people and animals alike seemed to drop to a hush, as if they all felt something chill and eerie in that boundary between all that lay within the city walls and all that was kept outside. Samuel kept his arms folded tightly across his chest and looked to the heights above him nervously as their wagon carried them on. Great slabs of stone looked down upon him, set firmly in place as if they had guarded the city for time immemorial.
As they emerged from the tunnel mouth and returned to daylight, the world leapt back to normal and the heat and the noise of the city fell upon them like a crushing blow.
It was a scene of apparent mayhem within the city walls. People, livestock, wagons and goods surrounded them in all directions and the noise was incredible. People were pushing and arguing and the crowd seemed to be surging in every direction at once, pressed up against the immovable barrier of the great wall. Was there a riot in progress? Samuel had to put his hands over his ears, but the din was still far too loud.
‘It’s quite busy here, today,’ Tulan yelled over the noise and Samuel nodded quickly in agreement. ‘But it’s not so bad further along. We just have to get away from the gate.’
Then, as if by magic, the crowd opened around them and Tulan urged the wagon forwards through the throngs of people.
‘Being a magician has many privileges,’ Tulan explained. ‘It can take hours to get through that gate on a day like today.’
They had moved a few streets away before the crowds lessened and the noise became more tolerable. Samuel was spellbound by the sights around him, never imagining that a city could be so much bigger than Stable Canthem. The buildings were mostly square and plain, constructed of stone and reaching up three storeys
and more all around, and many were lavish, being brightly coloured and decorated. Large, stone slabs paved the streets and were worn smooth with the countless passing of wheel, hoof and foot. Their horse towed them through a maze of streets, through the clamour of shouting vendors, through squares of spice sellers and sugar merchants, exotic animals and markets of fresh and preserved foods. Great swathes of coloured cloth flapped in the breeze and enormous jugs, jars and urns lined the street-sides, along with many things so strange that Samuel had no idea what they were. Everything imaginable could be bought, sold or traded, or so it seemed, and this was all only from his first few minutes within the city.
‘Take a good look, Samuel,’ Tulan told him, ‘because once you enter the School of Magic, they may not let you out for quite a while. The city has far too many dangers and temptations for a new student.’
On the occasional corner, a few armed soldiers milled about; no doubt keeping a presence to maintain law and order, for if this city was anything like Stable Canthem, it would have more than its fair share of thieves and cutpurses and on a much grander scale.
The quietest areas were those where they passed vast, looming warehouses, or where tradesmen were labouring away in their workshops.
‘Try not to get lost,’ Tulan instructed. ‘And, if you do, just ask for the School of Magic. Everyone knows where it is. I recommend that if they do let you out, you don’t travel the streets late or alone. You should be fairly safe, being a magician, but it’s a big city with many strange people, so it pays to use some caution.’
The School of Magic was itself a walled-off region, although these walls were miniature compared to those around the city. The iron gates—more decorative than functional— lay open and unguarded, almost invitingly. Young men, a few years older than Samuel, trotted over to care for the horse and wagon and carry their belongings, their black shirts and trousers marking them as magicians. Samuel and Tulan climbed down from the wagon and they made their way across the grounds.
‘You must study very hard, Samuel,’ Tulan explained as he led them to one of many ornate buildings, ‘but most of all, I recommend you keep your head down. I’m sure if you just do your best and cause no trouble, everything will go smoothly for you here. The Order has many good people, but also many selfish ones. If you do anything to get yourself noticed, it could make your life here more difficult. I’m not trying to scare you. I just remember what it was like when I was here. I hope you can try your best to be one of the good people, Samuel. The Empire has enough of the other kind already.’
They presently came before a large building with a sturdy-looking wooden door. Tulan pushed it open without delay and they entered a long room, a gigantic study of sorts. Many old men were sitting at numerous long tables, talking or reading from great books, and they glanced over momentarily as the pair entered. A good number of them sported dangling, white beards but, in the manner of the Order, each was groomed to the highest standard, looking wizened and sober.
Samuel squeezed his eyes half shut, for with all the magicians in the place, the room seemed full of sizzling lights. Energy burst from them all and filled the air, like furious brilliant insects swarming around them. Obviously, no one else could see it, or surely they would have been swatting madly at themselves. Slowly, as if his thoughts themselves had sparked some reaction, the light faded almost entirely away and Samuel could open his eyes fully once again.
‘I’ll introduce you to the record-keeper and then I must go attend to my business,’ Tulan said. ‘I’ll not be seeing you again—for a time at least—so good luck to you and welcome to the Order of Magicians.’ He smiled and offered his hand to Samuel who shook it firmly.
They wove between the tables and approached a simple door at the rear of the room. Some of the old men watched them as they passed with a mixture of expressions. Some seemed curious, others smirked, while others merely glanced up momentarily before returning to their own affairs. Tulan knocked three times on the door and, after some moments, a voice called to enter.
‘This is Master Salmus Dividian,’ Tulan whispered as they stepped through. ‘He is Custodian of Records and therefore in charge of student admissions.’
They entered into the brightly lit study where within, an aged man wearing spectacles right on the tip of his pointed nose was busily scribbling notes on a parchment. His beard was thick and curly about his chin and his hair was edged with grey. He put his quill aside and turned his attention to the newcomers, coughing to clear his throat and removing his spectacles to peer over his nose at them.
‘Ah, Master Goodwin,’ he called with a throaty voice. ‘How pleasant to see you again.’ He did not sound at all sincere. ‘And what do you have with you? A new student, perhaps, or a new worker for the kitchens?’ Master Dividian laughed heartily at this and Samuel could tell it was not something he did often.
‘This is Samuel, Master Dividian,’ Tulan introduced and the older man’s eyes flicked briefly to Samuel. ‘Master Kelvin has sent him with his best wishes and proposes to sponsor the boy.’
‘But this boy has no talent at all,’ Master Dividian grumbled. ‘How can Master Kelvin expect me to waste my time? I thought the man would have more sense.’
Tulan spoke again. ‘You will find that he does have some talent, Master Dividian, but of course he needs training and some refinement. I’m assured he has the potential to be a gifted magician with the proper schooling.’
Dividian looked unconvinced and sucked at his cheek. ‘If it is Master Kelvin’s wish, than I shall grant the boy an opportunity to prove himself, although the last thing we need is another outlander. Why can’t you find me more decent Turian apprentices?’ he said with unhindered disdain. ‘I’ll give him a cot with the others in the foreigners’ dormitory. He’ll have to do his best to catch up and if he can’t, I’ll put him out the front of the city to find his own way home.’ With that, the man replaced his spectacles and searched the papers on his desk until he found the sheet he required. ‘Samuel,’ he spoke to himself as he scrawled down the name beneath a host of others. ‘That was my old mule’s name. Good day!’ He then called out and waved at them dismissively, without looking up.
Tulan returned a half-hearted ‘good day’ and they left the room. ‘So that is what you are up against, Samuel,’ he said. ‘Just do your best to ignore him and try to keep out of his way. If you get on his wrong side, it will make your life here much more difficult. Imperials like him will always treat outsiders like you with contempt, so just do your best to avoid them. Having outlanders in the Order is still considered something of an inconvenient necessity and is not looked upon favourably by most. Times are changing,’ he sighed, ‘but ever so slowly.’
Samuel nodded and followed Tulan back across the room. More glances were applied to him, followed by the same mumbling, scowls and sniggers. He was starting to feel that this place was not really as wonderful as he had expected at all. In Stable Canthem, they would talk about the Imperials and laugh about them. Here, he was the one being singled out.
‘I am long late already, Samuel, so best wishes to you,’ Tulan said and gave Samuel directions to his lodgings. ‘Although it has been my pleasure to escort you here, the task has not been kind to my schedule and I must rush. Take care and I look forward to meeting you again in the future and seeing what marvels you have accomplished.’
‘Thank you, Tulan,’ Samuel said with gratitude, and they shook hands again warmly.
‘I’m sorry I must rush, but you will be well taken care of here. Goodbye.’ With that, Tulan walked back towards the school gates, leaving Samuel to fend for himself.
Samuel looked around. This was a strange place, indeed. Old men, young men and boys alike eyed him like a circus spectacle as they passed. They were all wearing black garments, while he still stood in the brown trousers and white shirt that Master Kelvin had given him, so he supposed he must look greatly out of place here. Gathering his wits, Samuel began moving between the various buildings, as pe
r Tulan’s instructions, eventually finding the appropriate one. It had ‘Apprentice Dormitory Three’ ornately carved on a decorative sign by the door, with curling golden letters that almost seemed to burn with fire upon the wood.
Stepping inside, Samuel found himself within a great, two-levelled room. A kitchen and tabled area covered the bottom floor with many chairs and places to study, while a balcony, ringed with many narrow cots, hugged the walls above. A spectacled young man a year or two older than Samuel was the building’s only inhabitant and he sat at a table reading with his arm in a white sling, hanging across his chest. The boy ignored him completely as Samuel climbed up the steep stairs and threw his belongings onto an apparently vacant cot, no possessions by its side. A window nearby revealed another building, a twin to this one, only a few strides away.
Not knowing what else to do, Samuel lay on the cot—it was surprisingly comfortable—and rested, thinking about his strange, new surroundings. He hoped the people were friendlier than they seemed or he was surely in for a miserable time.
Eventually, with nothing else to do or fill his thoughts, he swung his feet back to the floor and went back downstairs to speak with the other boy.
‘Just arrived?’ the boy stated as Samuel approached, not even glancing up from his book.
‘Yes,’ Samuel replied.
‘You could have been from Hammenton,’ the boy continued. ‘They had a small school there, too, until just recently.’ The boy finally looked up to meet Samuel’s gaze. ‘But you’re not from there.’
‘No,’ Samuel replied. ‘I’m from Stable Canthem, in...’
‘Marlen,’ the boy finished for him. ‘I’ve heard of it. I’m Eric Goodfellow.’ He offered his good hand to Samuel and they shook. His sandy hair was cut straight across, just above his glasses, as if edged off with one quick snip of a pair of scissors and the rest of his hair looked like it had been modelled from a bowl. It was not a fashion that Samuel would have chosen for himself, but at least this boy was being polite, although admittedly a little strange.
The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy) Page 15
