A Crucible of Souls (Book One of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (Volume 1) Paperback

by Mitchell Hogan

  “Really?” Amerdan bobbed his head and did his best to look impressed. “Talented, are you? You do have the look of someone who is destined for great things, mark my words!”

  The young man’s chest puffed up and he suppressed a pleased smile. “It’s early days yet. There’s a long road ahead before I can be called a sorcerer, much less be deemed competent by the guild.”

  “Still, to have met such a great sorcerer as yourself when he was young, that’s something to tell my children and grandchildren. A story for a cold winter’s night by a warm fire!”

  Looking away, the young man cleared his throat as one hand smoothed creases on his tunic. “Be that as it may, I’m rather pressed for time at the moment. I would appreciate it if we could conclude our business with all due haste.”

  “Certainly, good sir! My apologies to you for prattling on. We have some basic clay oil lamps here. Wick included with the purchase, of course. But for someone such as yourself, reading until all hours of the night, I have something special for you.”

  He picked up a bronze lamp, complete with a clear glass cover and a shiny metal mirror on one side to reflect light. “See the fine workmanship? The mirror reflects the flame, concentrating the brightness to see by! I can imagine this would suit you perfectly and save those sore eyes from reading in too little light. Here, have a look. See the quality and the thought that went into it. Perfect for you, I say!”

  Taking hold of the lamp, the young man turned it this way and that, fingers touching the metal mirror and running over the glass cover. He licked his lips.

  “This certainly looks a fine lamp. And my eyes do get sore from reading at night.” He drew in a deep breath then let it out and handed the lamp back to Amerdan. “Please, I think at this stage I’ll make do with a cheaper… I mean more durable clay lamp. I can be clumsy sometimes, and usually objects that are easily replaced are best.”

  As Amerdan placed the lamp on the shelf he gave a smile. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the youth’s longing gaze at the bronze lamp.

  “A shame. Someone destined for a glorious future, such as yourself, should have quality possessions. How can you study if you can’t see properly, squinting at a book in the dark with only a tiny clay lamp for light? I have such sympathy for the trials you have to go through.”

  “Ahem, well, thank you for your understanding.”

  “But wait, let me gather up these items. You’re in haste!” Amerdan picked up both the clay lamp and the bronze lamp and headed to the counter.

  Startled, the young man protested. “Sir… the good lamp… I didn’t…”

  “Wait, wait,” interrupted Amerdan as he deposited both lamps next to the pile of parchment and ink bottles. He stopped, scratched his head and frowned in thought. “An earnest lad starting out like yourself makes me want to give you a hand, if you take my meaning. I remember when I was in the same circumstance as yourself, apprenticed young, strange city, having to make do.”

  “I assure you, I have been to cities before…”

  “Of course you have. I was just saying. This lamp here, it’s been gathering dust for months.”

  Amerdan waved his hand at the air to signify dust floating around, although the spotless surfaces of the shop would have passed inspection by the emperor’s own staff. “I need to get rid of it, see. It’s taking up room, and I’m unlikely to sell it for another few months. Don’t know what I was thinking buying it for stock in the first place.” He shook his head in consternation. “I can let you have it for what it cost me, not a copper ducat more.” He brushed away the beginning protests of the young man. “The way I see it, is you are doing me a favor,” Amerdan explained. “And it would be my pleasure to assist someone such as yourself, who is in need of help.”

  “You’re too kind, good sir, too kind. If there comes a time soon when I can assist you in return, I would be only too glad.”

  “Excellent! Then it’s settled! Now, let’s get these together and you can be on your way.” Amerdan placed the ink bottles, bronze lamp and a jug of oil next to the parchment in a neat pile.

  “Let’s see. All up that comes to two silvers, five coppers.”

  The young man flinched at the price. “Ahem, well… it is certainly a bargain. Thank you again. However, at the moment, with all the other items I’ve had to purchase these past few days, I find I am rather short of ducats.” He looked at the floor. “I could give you a deposit, then when I return in say, ten days, I can hand you the remaining amount?”

  He pulled out a brown leather coin pouch and tipped the contents into his hand. “There you go, seven copper ducats deposit, and I can have the rest to you soon.”

  Amerdan shook his head and sighed. “Well now, there’s a problem. Of course I trust you to come back, but business is business, and I can’t be out of pocket myself for long. But mayhap there is something that can be done.”

  He reached out with his right hand and clicked three gold ducats on the counter, all in a line. Click. Click. Click. As each one clicked on the spotless wood, the young man’s eyes widened a little more. Enough to keep him in supplies for the year, Amerdan judged, with ample left over for a few luxuries or many a night’s drinking. Whatever moronic youngsters got up to these days.

  “You see, I have a few jobs that need doing around here. Oh no, nothing unusual,” he said, again cutting off the boy’s protest. “Don’t worry on that score. Just some crafting here and there, to keep the rats and mice away. A few others for cleanliness, to keep the dust at bay, that sort of thing. I also have some business associates who could do with some as well. And if you play your cards right, maybe you could have a nice little earner on the side. It would bring some needed ducats in and help you with your studies.”

  Eyes still on the gold ducats shining on the counter, the apprentice sorcerer licked his lips. “I certainly have some knowledge of the basics of crafting, which would be useful to a store owner such as yourself. But I don’t have much spare time. My master keeps me busy, studying and practicing all hours of the day and night. And the guild frowns on this sort of thing.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I really don’t think I could.”

  Click. Amerdan placed another gold ducat on the counter and slid it next to the other three. Greedy pig, but weren’t they all these days? “What could be easier?” he reasoned. “We both benefit. You assist a few honest locals with services they usually find hard to obtain, and in return a few ducats to repay you for your time and trouble.”

  “I shouldn’t. There are strict rules about apprentices and what we can or can’t do. I could get in a lot of trouble.” His eyes had not moved from the coins.

  Click. He slid a fifth coin in line with the others. “Another for your trouble.”

  The apprentice slowly reached for the coins.

  Five, Amerdan thought. Of course. His own hand covered the coins before the boy could scoop them up. “Ducats paid as the services are provided, of course.”

  The boy’s face dropped. “Of course.”

  “Take the ink, parchment and the lamp. Consider the lamp a token of my trust in you. The cost can come out of the first payment. Come back in a few days when you’re more settled and we can discuss what’s next. Agreed?”

  “A few days I cannot do. As a new apprentice, I scarcely have a break. Even at night there is usually some task I’m set, to develop my concentration or mental acuity. I think I should be able to extricate myself for some free time in ten days. Is that acceptable?”

  “Most acceptable, young sir. I’m sure they are keeping you busy, and you must have some adjusting to do, being new to the city and all.”

  The apprentice gathered up his purchases. “I expect any materials I require for the work will also be reimbursed?”

  “Certainly. I wouldn’t expect you to cover the cost. My friends and I appreciate your assistance. We really do.”

  “Until then, good sir.”

  The apprentice pushed aside the beaded curtain a
nd scurried out the shop door, head down. He paused for a second in the street to judge direction, then headed to the right.

  Amerdan poked his head through the beads soon after, squinting in the afternoon light. He spotted a dirty urchin lounging in a doorway. Catching the urchin’s eye, he gestured him over.

  Careful not to touch the filthy creature, he bent and whispered in his ear, holding out a copper ducat between a finger and a thumb to minimize any contact. The urchin nodded, snatched the coin, and ran off down the street to the right.

  Amerdan waited outside his shop, occasionally nodding to passersby and exchanging a word or two with some of the locals he knew as they passed.

  Before long, the urchin returned and gave him the information he was after. Amerdan nodded and waved him away.

  So, he was telling the truth, Amerdan mused. Apprenticed to the High Sorcerer Rhithik. As he said, he must be talented. Excellent.

  Feeling of unusually good cheer, Amerdan ducked inside and locked up. An early close today, he decided. Preparations had to be made. Everything had to be perfect.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  As he stood shirtless and half asleep in the predawn chill, pumping water for the apprentices, Caldan knew today marked a change for him.

  Late last night, after sneaking into the dark dormitory, one of the apprentices whispered that Master Garren had been looking for him, and had a heated discussion with Master Simmon.

  Caldan wasn’t sure why they had argued but reasoned it was probably because he couldn’t be found. From what he had seen, Master Garren was busy and couldn’t waste time looking for him.

  An apprentice Caldan recognized as Owen, a sandy-haired, cheeky lad who had whispered to him last night of Master Garren, sidled up to him and washed his hands and face in the trough.

  “You better see Master Simmon as soon as possible, I reckon,” Owen blurted. “He didn’t look pleased when Master Garren left.”

  “Thanks. I’ll do that after breakfast. Do you think it’ll be porridge again?”

  Owen snorted in disgust. “Hope not. They usually wait until the weather gets colder before they start serving it every morning.” He glanced up at Caldan then quickly looked away.

  Caldan sighed and kept pumping the handle. He didn’t think they would forget yesterday’s display in a hurry. Young people were impressionable, and he didn’t want them looking up to him or following him around like Marlon’s friends did.

  After a hurried meal of porridge, Caldan made his way back to the dormitory. Master Simmon was wandering around the practice yard, running a critical eye over the area. Seeing Caldan, he beckoned him over.

  “Master Garren came here last night, looking for you,” Simmon began without preamble.

  “I heard. Am I to collect my things and meet him somewhere today?”

  Simmon shook his head. “No. There has been a change in plans.”

  “What! Am I not wanted now? What did he say?”

  “Easy. Nothing like that. Walk with me to my study. I’ll explain everything there.”

  He gestured Caldan to follow and strode across the dirt courtyard then through an opening to where the older journeymen lived. They tramped down a hall and up some stairs, stopping at a polished oak door.

  Much like Garren’s room, two windows overlooked the garden, and there were two armchairs and a desk, but in addition to these, three solid iron bound chests stood against one wall.

  Caldan frowned at a vibration in the air radiating from the glyphs etched into the iron bands. All three chests had no discernible lock. On the desk sat a vase filled with wildflowers, looking out of place in Master Simmon’s room, for someone of his position.

  “Can you feel the craftings?” asked Simmon, noticing his expression.

  Caldan nodded. “Yes.”

  “Not many can. That’s another mark in your favor.”

  “Am I being tested?”

  Simmon sat at his desk. “Always. Sit, please.”

  “Master Simmon,” said Caldan as he lowered himself into the chair. “Is Master Garren upset I was missing when he came for me?” The vibration from the chests made Caldan’s skin itch, and he scratched an arm.

  “No, not at all.”

  “Then… I was told he looked upset…”

  “He was. But not for that reason.” He sat thoughtfully for a few moments. “Tell me, do you know what we as Protectors do? Why we exist?”

  Caldan shifted in his chair. What was going on? They said they could use him and pay him wages, but judging by what had happened so far, they were not very organized. Master Garren still hadn’t come for him, and it had been three days now, and Simmon had him cornered in his study asking him questions about the Protectors. For two copper ducats a seven day, he hadn’t known what to expect, but it was reasonable to assume they would put him to manual work. He knew he was lucky to be here, but he needed to find out what he would be doing. Why Simmon was questioning him was beyond his understanding.

  “Not exactly,” replied Caldan. “I thought you were a martial faction of the Sorcerers’ Guild. Those with crafting talent who were not so… bookish, I guess you could say. Who focused on protection wards and could look after themselves, and who weren’t afraid of traveling to other countries for research or to procure rare books. Maybe to search ruins left from the Shattering. And to safeguard the security of the Sorcerers’ Guild.”

  Master Simmon smoothed his short beard with his hand. His thin silver ring and bracelet trinkets tugged at Caldan’s awareness.

  “We do all that, and that’s what the outside world sees of the Protectors. But I’m going to give you more information on us.”

  Caldan eyed Simmon warily. He was a master swordsman and sorcerer who openly displayed two trinkets. Something odd was going on. He didn’t think Simmon was untalented in crafting, far from it if the three chests were his work.

  Caldan opened his senses and reached out to judge the strength of Simmon’s well again. As before, the tear of his well felt like a wound, narrow and rough. But he sensed something else this time, as if the well were deliberately constricted. In shock, Caldan deduced Simmon was hiding the real strength of his talent. But why would anyone do that? And how?

  Simmon looked thoughtful. “What did you sense?” he asked abruptly.

  “Your well is narrow, constricted. Judging by that, I wouldn’t have thought your ability in crafting was strong, but…” Caldan hesitated.

  “Continue. What else?”

  Did he dare tell Simmon? Perhaps this was a test as well. His head swam with conflicting thoughts.

  “It’s as if your well has been disguised to appear smaller than it is. You are hiding your strength.”

  “Hmm… you can see that?”

  “Yes.”

  Simmon’s gaze became piercing. “Bear with me while I tell you more of our history. I believe you will find it interesting, and when I am done I’ll outline what happened with Master Garren to make him so upset.” He paused as if expecting a response.

  “Sure,” Caldan obliged, not sure but not knowing what was expected from him. His gaze was drawn to the flowers on the desk.

  Simmon smiled. “Strange to find wildflowers in my room?”

  “Er… yes.” He didn’t know what else to say.

  “My wife and daughter picked them for me. My wife doesn’t like the thought of me spending time in a cold stone room without anything to brighten it up, despite the fact there’s a whole garden outside. I promised I’d keep them on my desk.” He caught Caldan’s eye. “And as a Protector I always hold to what I promise.” He held Caldan’s gaze for a long moment, then slowly nodded as if coming to a decision. “What I am about to say can’t leave this room. It’s between you and me. Some things are too dangerous to be known. No one would believe you if you ran off and spread tales around the city anyway. I feel confident I can give you some information on which to make a decision.”

  “What decision?”

  “Ah, I get ahead of my
self.” Simmon looked down and rubbed his metal trinket bracelet. “What you know and see of the Protectors is only part of our role, not the sum of what we do or even our main purpose. I can’t tell you everything, but I can let you know a few pieces of our history.”

  Caldan nodded, still unsure of what transpired. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

  “What do you know of the Shattering?” Simmon asked. He held up a hand to stop Caldan’s reply. “No, wait. I won’t ask any more questions, I’ll explain. You know through being taught and all you have read that sorcery can only be used for helpful, constructive purposes, correct?”

  “Yes. I’m sure most people with talent have tried to start fires or light a candle, but it doesn’t work that way.”

  “When one of your craftings wears away, what happens? When the material it is made from can no longer withstand the forces flowing through it?”

  Caldan thought of the parchment he used to keep his door at the Otter secure. “It erodes, as if it decays or burns.”

  “You could say it is destroyed by virulent forces?”

  “Yes… you could say that.”

  Simmon leaned forward again intently. “Constructive sorcery is what today’s talented sorcerers study, and untalented ones too. But contrary to what is commonly known, there are ways to harness crafting to unleash destructive forces.”

  Caldan’s mouth opened in shock. He quickly closed it. “But… then why… that’s good, isn’t it?”

  Simmon shook his head. “No. Imagine every sorcerer, no matter who they were, able to hurl fire, to boil the blood of those facing them. Power to destroy also corrupts those that wield it. Destructive sorcery isn’t easy, but for a sorcerer of talent it isn’t hard either. The forces are there to be unleashed. You don’t have to shape them as much, or craft objects to control them, because they are gone in moments. Constructive sorcery is actually harder. To control and shape the forces into a specific function takes much more skill.” Simmon paused for breath. His voice had become more passionate with each sentence. “Remember, it’s easier to destroy than it is to create. Such is always the way. And there will always be people without morals, the weak of will, who let their base desires override what they know is the wrong action to take. And there are those who by some design are unable to see they are on the wrong path, who lack the empathy of normal people. And so the Protectors were formed after the Shattering to monitor and contain the use of destructive sorcery. Some things are too dangerous to be known, and it’s the Protectors’ mission to make sure such knowledge is either destroyed or concealed. To ensure those without qualms will not be able to use it for their own purpose to the detriment of others.”