The Tower and the Fox: Book 1 of The Calatians

by Tim Susman

  His father looked around, too. “I won’t say I won’t miss it. Or that sometimes, at night, I don’t get a bit angry myself. I wish things could have been different. But I think that your situation right now is more than I’d dared dream for you. And so all this…” He waved his paw at the store. “Is worth it.”

  The weight of the moment kept Kip silent. He curled his tail behind him and then let it relax. He wanted to be a sorcerer on his own merits, not have to have his father sacrifice for him, or Odden make deals with Patris, or have to be vigilant every day lest he give anyone an excuse to upend his life. “I wish you could stay here,” he said, because it was easier than articulating the turmoil in his head, and because it was true. “At least for the Feast.”

  “Well.” Max lowered his voice and stepped close to Kip, speaking in a whisper. “That’s what I brought you here to tell you. Master Vendis will continue to summon me, via magic this time rather than raven, and so I will be at the College for brief occasions over at least the next year. Don’t tell your mother. She thinks my association with the College is ended, and it would cause her too much worry to know that I’ll be going back. Johnny Lapelli will be taking my place, but I’ll be helping him get used to his duties.”

  “Will you be able to come see me?” Kip asked. “I won’t tell Mom.”

  Max nodded. “I think I will, since you’ll be an apprentice. I’ll ask Vendis—Master Vendis, now that he knows you’ll be staying on. And we’ll try to come back for the Feast, but no promises. There’s a Calatian community down there too, and even if we plan to return here, we should spend some time forging bonds with them.”

  “Good.” Kip hugged his father. “I’m going to miss you.”

  “You’ll see me about as often as you would have anyway.” Max smiled. “Now, can you and Coppy stay for dinner?”

  Kip had seen what his parents were having for dinner, and he’d feel guilty taking half of it for him and Coppy, even though his stomach was growling from having missed lunch. “We’ll stay a bit longer, but we get fed at the College.”

  “All right.” Max stepped back, setting his paws on Kip’s upper arms. “But remember what I’ve told you here. Your life is your own to plot, and no-one else’s, so think about these choices. And help Coppy when he needs it, too.”

  Again the weight felt too much for him, but he stood and bore it. “I will, Dad. I promise.”

  They returned to the parlor, joined Coppy and Ada, and passed another pleasant hour before the daylight began to fade, and Max insisted they return to the College while Coppy could still see well. They embraced, and Ada cried a little and said she would write often, and Kip didn’t want to take that first step out the door, because while he still stood inside, his home still existed and he was part of it.

  But the moon was rising, and the sun just one long night behind it, and his parents had to leave, and he had classes to attend. So he and Coppy said their good-byes one last time and then walked out into the garden, through the alley, and into the street. Twilight had enveloped the town, but Kip could see easily as long as he looked away from the windows where fires and candles burned. In the night, the town felt restful, not the sort of place that would force his parents out and attempt to force him to stop his studies.

  They remained silent as they passed the church and the Founders Inn, and then Coppy said, “They’ll be all right. I’m sure of it.”

  “Aye,” Kip said.

  “And we will, too.”

  Kip nodded, tail swishing behind him. He walked three more steps, then turned and looked down at the town.

  There were Calatians and humans down there; there were those who wished him well or ill; a few who loved him and a few who hated him. Up at the Tower, which rose in the other direction, there were Calatians and humans, some who wished him well or ill, a few who loved him and a few who hated him. For now, his home was there, on top of the hill, in the ancient White Tower, and he was a sorcerer, though also a Calatian, a balance he hadn’t struck in his head quite yet. Again he wondered whether Peter Cadno also still lived in the Tower, the only other person in the world who’d had to strike the same balance. Perhaps in the coming months, Kip would discover the truth of it.

  “Wonder if they’ve had dinner yet,” Coppy said a few steps later as the gates came in sight.

  Kip put a paw to his own stomach and smiled. “Let’s go see,” he said, and together they walked through the gates, past a bowing Corimea, and into the College.

  Epilogue

  Dinner was in fact over, but Kip smelled food and heard conversation in the dining tent, so he held the flap open for Coppy. The tent was mostly empty, but Emily and Malcolm still sat at their table over crusts of bread. The rest of the tables showed little sign of being used, but the smells of roast fowl lingered along with cheese and the smells of a few students amid the strong phosphorus scent that was so familiar to Kip now that he easily filtered the other scents through it. He waved to the phosphorus elemental in the closest brazier as he came in, then smiled at Emily and Malcolm, talking alone at their table. “Come sit down,” Emily said, gesturing to the bench across from them. “It was a glorious meal. There was no Farley; he went down to the Inn with Adamson and the others. Oh, and the ones who weren’t chosen for anything had to have some spell done to them by some ancient master we’d never seen. Malcolm believes it was one of the spiritual sorcerers making them unable to cast spells or tell the college’s secrets.”

  Malcolm smiled widely. “I asked Master Vendis and he told me the college ‘takes precautions,’ though he’d not tell me what exactly.”

  “It was the best meal I’ve had here,” Emily went on. “Peace and quiet and even no ravens. It was heaven.”

  “We didn’t even get to eat.” Kip explained his parents’ situation quickly. “And I think they spent all their money on the trip.”

  “Oh.” Emily looked about. “I’m sorry. The demons have cleared away all the leftover food.”

  A peppermint tingle lingered in Kip’s nose. He raised his voice and looked toward the empty center of the tent. “Hey. Can we have some food?”

  Malcolm raised his eyebrows. “Got a demon in here watching us?”

  “Aye,” Kip said, then turned back to the empty space. “I know you’re here. If you’re going to spy on us, you might as well bring us food.”

  The peppermint tingle disappeared. Kip rubbed his nose and turned to the others. “It’s gone,” he said. “Maybe it’ll be back with food.”

  “If not,” Coppy said, “we can go down to the Inn.”

  “Rather not.” Kip smiled and looked around the tent. “Not while there’s such fine company here.”

  The demon did return with food, refusing to become visible but slamming down a tray of bread and roast fowl. The fowl was cool, but still delicious. “Ho,” Kip said to the peppermint tingle in the air, “can you bring some food down to my parents in New Cambridge?”

  His answer was a loud raspberry blown in the air, and the disappearance of the tingle. Coppy looked down at the tray, at the half chicken and three slices of bread. “We could take this down,” he said wistfully.

  “They’d want us to eat,” Kip said. “Besides, we’ve said our good-byes now.” He picked up a piece of the chicken, sniffed at it, and bit.

  They told Emily and Malcolm about their day, and as Kip was talking about his instruction from Master Odden, he asked Emily what she knew about the revolutionaries in Boston. “Not very much,” she said. “A bunch of blowhards, Thomas said, so I expect they have some good solid standing.”

  “Master Odden seemed to think they were serious.” Kip wasn’t sure how much to say.

  “He might know. I read that Mr. Adams’ articles from time to time, and he made sense to me, but I don’t know how he plans to do the things he talks about, and I’m not sure he does either. He’s just talking.” Emily twisted a lock of hair around her finger and lowered her voice. “Not that it wouldn’t be nice, you know, being in char
ge of our own country. I don’t trust a bunch of men across the ocean to know what we need here.”

  “We can’t talk like that,” Kip said with alarm. “Not if we’re going to study here.”

  “We’re talking, that’s all,” Emily protested. “Like your Mr. Adams. Oh, very well. I won’t say more about it.”

  Coppy’s eyes had widened, and Malcolm looked between Emily and Kip with interest, but both stayed quiet. Kip rubbed his whiskers, feeling foolish and relieved both. “How was your day once you were done with your masters?”

  “We sat with the students who were leaving and talked about where they were going,” Emily said. “Michael Cooper was going back to his father’s farm, and Peter Davies was going to try to attend William and Mary University. Carmichael pouted the whole day; he wanted to stay here, but no Master would take him. They said he’ll be receiving orders to report to a ship, but nobody knows where.”

  “I thought it’d be somewhere off the Canary Islands,” Malcolm said with relish. “Lots of good battles there.”

  “Don’t wish him dead,” Coppy said softly.

  “You of all people should, if anyone does.” Malcolm leaned his elbows on the table.

  The otter shook his head. “Even Farley I wouldn’t wish dead. I’d like to see him suffer some for what he’s done. Carmichael, though, he was only caught up with Farley and trying to impress him. You know, Kip, the way Thomas was for a while, and then when his father forbad him spending time with Farley he wasn’t nearly as bad.”

  “You’re right,” Kip said, “but he still did some terrible things.”

  “Aye, well.” Coppy shrugged. “I suppose we’ll see his true colors after some time of his service, should he ever come back.”

  “I hope he doesn’t,” Emily snapped. “Let him discover his true self somewhere else. We’ll have enough to worry about with Patris and Sharpe, not to mention Coppy working with Windsor. What?”

  Coppy had lowered his head, and Kip held up a paw, too late. “Oh, Coppy’s worried about that too,” he said.

  Emily reached across the table and set her white hand on his brown paw. “Don’t you worry,” she said. “If he mistreats you, you come tell us and we’ll get you through it just like we’ve done this year. With all we’ve accomplished, we’re not going to stop now, nor leave anyone out.”

  Malcolm set his hand on hers, and Kip lay his paw on top. “Not a chance,” the fox said. “We’re in this together.”

  At that moment, the tent flap moved aside, and the white-robed apprentice walked in. He sat down at a table, and within moments the peppermint tingle returned to Kip’s nose and food appeared in front of the vacant-eyed blond young man. He ate peacefully as the four of them watched.

  Emily stood. “Let’s leave him to his dinner,” she said.

  Malcolm followed suit with the rest of them, but started toward the young man’s table. Emily grabbed him by the arm. “What are you doing?”

  “Talking to him.”

  “If he wanted to talk to you, he’d talk to you. We’ll be here for years. There’ll be plenty of time. Come on.”

  “But—yes, yes, all right.” He hurried after Emily, but she didn’t let go of his arm until they were outside the tent. Then they stood in the chill night air, looking toward the Tower. “Time for us to get some sleep, you figure?”

  “Just about. First day with our masters tomorrow.” Emily rubbed her hands together. “And it’s chilly out here.”

  They had set along the path to the Tower when the creak of the gates stopped them. “Who’s coming back so late at night?” Emily asked, but the answer came in the form of two people walking toward them along the path, one taller with blond hair that glowed in the moon’s light, and one shorter and stouter. The evening breeze brought his odor to Kip’s nose, raising the hackles on the fox’s neck.

  “Hey,” Kip shouted before he could stop himself. “Aren’t you supposed to be gone?”

  Farley brayed a laugh and elbowed the boy at his side. “Tell it, Vic.”

  Victor Adamson cleared his throat. “My father had offered to pay full tuition for one more student to go on as an apprentice. Since I and you,” he inclined his head toward Kip, “were chosen, I offered Mr. Broadside the favor, and he has accepted. Master Patris has already approved it.”

  The words iced Kip’s chest. Malcolm reacted first. “Ah, you can’t do that,” he cried. “We only just got the smell out of the upper hall.”

  “You want to watch your mouth, Mickey,” Farley sneered. “I’ll be happy to relieve you of a few teeth if you like.”

  “Sure, and you could use a few extra,” Malcolm retorted.

  “All right.” Emily put her arms out. “We’re just getting some air. Go on back in.”

  The four of them stood against the wall of the Tower, well away from the path as Farley and Adamson walked past them. Kip couldn’t resist calling after Adamson, “So now we know where you stand, I suppose.”

  Adamson turned and raised an eyebrow. “I told you my intentions,” he said, and then came closer. “Broadside can be useful,” he said in a low whisper. “And I intend to make use of him. There’s no need for you to interfere, nor be interfered with.”

  “If you make use of him to get me kicked out, there is,” Kip hissed back.

  “You’re secure in the College now,” Adamson said mildly. “And you’ve proven capable of defending yourself against Farley. I shouldn’t even be worried, if I were you.”

  “What are you using Farley for, then? To be your magical muscle because you haven’t any?”

  Adamson’s eyes looked silver in the moonlight. His expression flickered with annoyance and then set back to neutral. “Sorcery is not the only power in the world, Kip, nor even the strongest. You’d do well to learn that.” With that, he turned and accompanied Farley down the path, around the corner, and back to the Tower.

  Coppy came over to Kip’s side. “That’s put rather a damper on the day, hasn’t it?”

  Kip shook his head. The moon’s light now seemed stark and bare rather than silvery, and the Tower loomed over them. Kip put a paw to the wall behind him, but felt only cold stone. The days ahead now felt more difficult than ever, but he tried to think of what his father would say. “There’s good and bad in everything,” he said. “Let’s go inside and do our part for the good.”

  Acknowledgments

  Over the seven years this novel has been in the works, a number of people have read drafts and provided valuable feedback. Ryan Campbell, David Cowan, Malcolm Cross, Kevin Frane, Watts Martin, Jim Worrad, and Becky Wright in particular helped out. Malcolm and Mark Brown encouraged me to rewrite the inital draft, and Kij Johnson’s novel workshop provided invaluable assistance in figuring out what to change.

  In bringing this novel to publication, I have to thank Mark and Grant of Argyll for their patience and belief in the book, and Laura Garabedian for the beautiful artwork.

  And as ever, my thanks to Mark and Jack and Kobalt, the best family a writer could ask for.

  About the Author

  Tim Susman started a novel in college and didn’t finish one until almost twenty years later. In that time, he earned a degree in Zoology, worked with Jane Goodall, co-founded Sofawolf Press, and moved to California. Since finishing Common and Precious, he has attended Clarion in 2011 (arooo to my Narwolves!) and published short stories in Apex, Lightspeed, and ROAR, among others. Under the name Kyell Gold, he has published multiple novels and won several awards for his furry fiction. You can find out more about his stories at timsusman.wordpress.com and www.kyellgold.com.

  About the Illustrator

  Laura is an illustrator of weird and whimsical work primarily of a fantastical bent. Her weapons of choice when assaulting her canvas include watercolors, ink, oil, or pencil, and her subject matter is as widely varied as walking trees, bleeding flowers, or dancing gryphons.

  The niece of an illustrator, Laura grew up knowing that art was in her blood and took every oppor
tunity to decorate her schoolwork, clothes, and skin with drawings, but was torn between Veterinary school or a career in the arts. Laura's current work often attempts to bridge that gap, incorporating her love of animals and anatomy into every piece that she creates.

  Nestled near the Rocky Mountains, Laura draws inspiration from the inspiring vistas, her goofy noodle-dragons, Isis and Baku, the small plot of land that she is curating for vegetables, and the local wildlife. You can find her work at http://www.fairytaleswithtails.com.

  Also by Tim Susman

  If you would like to get monthly updates on upcoming publications, excerpts of works in progress, and writing tips, sign up for his mailing list (your e-mail address will not be sold or used for anything else).

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  Common and Precious - A kidnapped heiress comes to sympathize with her desperate captors, while her father discovers the limits of his power in trying to rescue her.

  Writing as Kyell Gold:

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