The Reign of Magic (Pentamura Book 1)

by Awert, Wolf

  Nill winced and said sheepishly, “Why…?” But again, Ambrosimas cut across him.

  “You’re a walking challenge to everyone in this city. You’ve no respect for tradition, you ignore the order and you care nothing for rules. The people feel like they must show you that what you’re doing is wrong. You don’t care for other people and you just charge on, no matter whether you’re leaving friends or foes behind. Every single one of your enemies is just waiting for the opportunity to show you what’s what, and you’re making more of them by the day. And your magic – you have little strength. Enough for day-to-day magic, of course, but quite a few of your classmates are considerably stronger than you are. And instead of showing humility, you play around in front of everyone however you want. In Ringwall there are mages for whom magic is sacred, and they are itching to end your nonsense.”

  “But, isn’t it a good thing to play around with magic to find out how it works?” Nill was crestfallen. What Ambrosimas was telling him was very similar to the speech Brolok had given him. Brolok’s suggestions had been easier to ignore as silly opinion, but the words of an Archmage were not so simply silenced.

  Ambrosimas laid an arm on Nill’s shoulder and steered him to a corner of the room that was covered in cushions and pillows. This was an actual corner; Nill could feel the presence of the walls even though the illusion remained as convincing as ever.

  “People don’t like being shown things they’ve never even thought of. Who wants to be shown up by a neophyte, a muckling with no parents, with a curse for a name? Staying alive here will not be easy.” Ambrosimas gave another loud laugh. “No, no. Not easy at all.”

  Nill was rather shocked at how easily Ambrosimas was speaking of death, and laughing about it.

  “We will have to work together from now on. I’ve always found that the best start to a new relationship is giving gifts. I have a gift for you.”

  With these words he pulled out a pair of used, but very well-made leather boots from behind him. “You’d best put them on right now so I can fit them for you.”

  Nill had no words for this and eventually managed to stammer “Thank you.”

  “On the sides of the legs there are small pockets. You can put your dagger in the right one, and something else in the left. Running around barefoot is fine and your connection to the Earth magic is enhanced by it, but you should be properly clothed here in Ringwall.”

  Nill stuttered his thanks again.

  “Gifts are not just a sign of friendship. Gifts can also be complicated weapons,” Ambrosimas continued.

  Nill still did not know what to say. What the Archmage was saying was so far away from his own thoughts that he felt incredibly small and unimportant. At the same time he was fascinated by the new world that seemed to have opened up in front of him. From his village to the wild hills, from the freedom of nature to Ringwall, and from the study of magic to the study of Thought. But so far he had understood barely a word Ambrosimas had said to him.

  “A gift is supposed to make you happy, yes? That is one side, the nice one that we expect. At the same time a gift is an obligation. If you decline a present, there will be discontent; wars have broken out over such simple matters. If you accept, then you have to give one in return. If it’s too small, it seems depreciative, and if it’s too large, you look arrogant.

  “Yes,” the Archmage smiled, “there is more than just magic and blank steel that you can use as a weapon. Now, Nill: what do you have for me in return?”

  Nill gulped. “I don’t have much. My clothes and my dagger, which is…”

  “I understand, you don’t want to part with it. It would be a silly gift anyway – what am I to do with a dagger? Give me your amulet instead.”

  Nill felt an icy hand squeezing his throat. Without meaning to he grasped the round disc, as though it could help him order his wildly spinning thoughts. Was this what Dakh had warned him of? Was Brolok right in saying that every Archmage was only intent on gaining more power, and none of them were to be trusted? Even those who laughed a lot?

  The Archmage’s good-natured smile seemed like a menacing grimace, but before Nill could object his mentor continued. He whispered and sang, his voice was mellow. The words dripped from his lips like sweet honey, and Nill’s resistance melted away. He was ashamed for his thoughts. How can I suspect my mentor of such terrible intentions? He wants what is best for me, he thought. Ambrosimas’ pudgy cheeks were growing thinner, his small black eyes grew large and gray. Nill felt as though he was looking into two faces at the same time. He could still see Ambrosimas, but also long blonde hair, large gray eyes with long lashes, and a wide-full lipped, laughing mouth. “Tiriwi,” he meant to breathe, but the image had vanished faster than it had appeared. The face before the face became manlier, darker and more serious. The gray eyes were brown and then gray again, the mouth was shut, became motherly and soft and then shrunk to a thin strip. Brolok, Dakh, Esara; they all appeared, smiling encouragingly. The gray eyes went yellow, turned sideways and from Esara’s face grew hair. You, too? Nill thought, realizing that he rather missed his ram. But the image disappeared as well; the slanted eyes became large, blue-green and so deep that one could drown in them. The hair was full, parted atop the head and hanging in two long ponytails on either side of the face. Nill looked the young lady in the face and could barely even make out Ambrosimas with his double chin and sparse hair behind her. The face was not smiling. It looked at Nill imploringly for a long time. Nill nodded. If you wish, of course. I will give him the amulet, mother. Full of delight and deeply relieved, he took his amulet from his neck and handed it over to his beloved mentor.

  Ambrosimas thanked him, stroking Nill’s hair gently. In that moment all loveliness vanished, and Nill saw nothing but a fat man pretending to be his patron. The laugh had left his pudgy face, and the amulet was hidden behind his massive hands.

  “You see, little Nill, that’s how fast it can happen. That’s how quickly you can lose what’s most important to you in Ringwall.” Ambrosimas’ expression was devoid of happiness, he seemed serious and insistent.

  “You’re mad to be wearing such an amulet in Ringwall. I only hope that nobody else has discovered it yet. Have no fear, I do not want to keep it, but it must disappear. Before it goes I need to take a close look so that I know what we’re dealing with.”

  He considered for a moment.

  “Bar Helis and Mah Bu were enough of a distance away from you during your trial. With some luck they missed it, but you won’t always be so lucky. I have to think of something. Until then, hide it in one of your boots and for the sake of all that is sacred, take it away from your chest.”

  Nill understood nothing. The amulet was the only hint he had of his parents and was more valuable to him than anything he could imagine. But if Dakh-Ozz-Han had failed to solve the mystery surrounding it, how was he, a lowly student, to do it? Nill knew he would need help from someone he could trust. But could he trust anyone in Ringwall? In a low whisper he asked: “When did you see it?”

  “When you were foolish enough to charge at me. You presented the amulet right in front of my face. You think I couldn’t feel the magic in that disk? Every mage can, being an Archmage is no requirement for that.”

  Ambrosimas took the amulet in his hands, closed his eyes and concentrated with all his might on the small disk.

  “A great mage must have made this. The amulet has an incredible magical power. But I can feel nothing in it. I could attempt to find out the secret, but your trinket would probably take some damage from it. Put it in one of your pockets, and don’t forget it. You were not given this thing randomly. One day you will find out what it does and how it can help you. And it will help you, that’s what it was made for. You need only wait. How long that will take, I do not know.”

  “Could this amulet have come from my parents?”

  Nill had calmed down again, but he was still eyeing the Archmage with a certain amount of suspicion. He gave the amulet another tho
rough inspection and then handed it back to Nill.

  “Possibly,” he said shortly. “You don’t know your parents, and you’re an arcanist, although upon your arrival you were clueless about magic. Your parents must have also been arcanists then, and if the amulet truly came from them, then one of them had tremendous power. But…”

  The Word frowned, thinking hard. “Sorcerers and mages come and go in Ringwall. Nobody knows exactly what they do; there are too many of us. But the great mages leave their tracks in the world like a comet in the sky. They may be able to vanish and hide their magical powers, but even that would come to people’s attention someday, and they would wonder what a mage has to hide. And from that moment, everyone would search for him. If mages are on the hunt, there is nowhere to hide.

  “I do not know of a single great mage who has left Ringwall. They are all here. Knowing that there is a powerful mage out there that nobody knows is alarming. Some of the archmages would stop at nothing to solve this mystery – nothing, I tell you; they would give their own lives. So hide that amulet well and pray nobody ever finds it.”

  With these words he took the amulet out of Nill’s hands and stuck it in Nill’s boot pocket.

  Nill hesitated. “Please, why should the amulet be any safer in my boot than around my neck, under my clothes?”

  The Archmage laughed again, his face contorting more than usual. “Because I gave them to you. Why do you think I did that? They were crafted with the express purpose of hiding magical objects. Now come. The boots will only hide the amulet from a cursory glance, but a searching gaze will not be fooled. Make sure nobody thinks you’re concealing something.”

  “Where are we going?” Nill asked.

  “To a friend of mine. She’s a White Mage and thinks, as do many, that she can find the truth in magic. As if truth were anything but a myth.” Ambrosimas grumbled in his throat. “I’m bringing you to her because she’s going to teach you how to behave in a courtly manner.”

  Nill stopped in his tracks. Had he misheard?

  “You heard me. You will learn how to talk, how to eat, and how to act in certain situations. Manners, decency and style.”

  “And what’s all this to do with magic?” Nill asked indignantly.

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Nothing!”

  “And why am I to learn this in Ringwall?”

  “Did you understand the thing about the gifts?”

  “I think so.”

  “You see? That had nothing to do with magic either. And the same goes for courtly behavior. Behavior can be a weapon too. Magic on its own is useless. Come now.”

  With these words Ambrosimas nudged Nill towards the entrance.

  Nill had wondered for a while now where the white mages lived in Ringwall. When he was walking through the corridors he usually made it from one lodge to the next quite quickly, and only a few parts of Ringwall were not instantly recognizable as belonging to one of the eight lodges. The kitchens, for example, or the archivists’ chamber. In any case, there seemed not to be enough space for the white mages. Now Nill realized that they had no lodge, but lived everywhere in Ringwall, sometimes next door to an elemental mage or similar.

  To get to the High Lady, Ambrosimas, pulling Nill by the hand, went through a portal, turned around a corner and now stood before a reddish-brown, carved door of some valuable wood. They could have been anywhere in Ringwall, but the color of the walls, the barely visible patterns in the floor and the flat, vibrating aura of the place told Nill that they had not left the quarter of Thought.

  To Nill’s surprise Ambrosimas opened the door without knocking, and to his even greater surprise they were expected.

  “May I introduce you to the Lady Morlane? Morlane, this is my pupil; I need scarcely say more.”

  “Indeed, the pair of you have been the talk of the city for quite some time. Welcome, Nill.” Morlane reached a hand out to Nill, who took it gingerly by the fingertips, not quite sure what to do.

  “Ambrosimas, you would make me most happy if you stayed here for some tea or juice. But I do understand that you have certain obligations as an Archmage.”

  “Morlane, my dear, I would love nothing better, but we have business to attend to. May we catch up on our happiness in a few days.” Ambrosimas looked thoughtfully at Nill, indicated a bow to Morlane and disappeared noiselessly in the corridors.

  Nill stood around rather embarrassedly, feeling foolish. He held his left wrist in his right hand and shifted his weight from left to right.

  “Sit down.”

  “I don’t want to learn courtly behavior. I am the way I am, and that’s how people should take me.” Nill pushed his chin out defiantly.

  Morlane smiled. “I’m willing to do that for you. But how are you?”

  Nill looked up. “How do you mean?”

  “You said I was to take you as you are. But how are you? I have not yet had the opportunity to find out, and so I shan’t take you as you are, but as I see you. And what I see is not too flattering. Is that what you want?”

  “I don’t care.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “No, I’m not. And if I was?” Nill was in a combative mood.

  “You’re right,” the High Lady answered. “It’s not always important if you lie or not. There’s no great harm done. But you are a bad liar, and lying badly is a very bad thing.”

  “Why?”

  Morlane sighed. “Because doing something badly is always bad, and it’s even worse when there are others who do it better. How would you like it if Prince Sergor-Don would, rather than challenge you, just hush you and say that your abilities are not even sufficient to lie semi-convincingly?” Morlane spat the “Don” a little, as though it came over her lips with some effort.

  Nill wanted to answer that even that was of no further importance to him, but then he had to grin. No, he would have cared. Instead he said: “I thought you’d expect me to always be truthful.”

  “Only cruel people and some fools are always honest. Truth is only in magic, and Ambrosimas denies even that.”

  “You mean all decent people lie?” Nill’s eyes flashed in indignation. He also had the nagging feeling that Morlane was just toying with him, and his annoyance increased.

  “Between truth and lie there is much room for well-chosen words. Nobody will tell you all the truth there is to tell, and a straight lie is a rare thing indeed. You’re no exception.”

  “Why do I get the feeling that you aren’t taking me seriously?”

  Morlane’s face was unreadable. “Because you’re very good at seeing things and I don’t take you seriously yet. How can I take someone seriously who tells me that he doesn’t want to know how to behave, that I’m to take him as he his and that he cares nothing about anything?”

  Nill grinned again. “Will you promise me to take me seriously once you’ve got to know me better?”

  “Not until you’ve learned how to behave.”

  Nill sighed. “The nobles are all so arrogant and inconsiderate.”

  “You think I’m arrogant and inconsiderate?”

  “No, not you. I think you’re beautiful and dangerous.” Nill could have kicked himself and slapped a hand to his mouth. “Forgive me, I don’t know why I said that.”

  “Because I wanted an honest answer… so I helped a little. Maybe you’ve forgotten, but I am a mage. I have to say that I’m surprised. I’m certainly no beauty – at least not any more – and the fact that you think I’m dangerous makes me think.”

  Nill was surprised himself. He looked at the High Lady and had to admit to himself that she was very beautiful. Her face was simple and clearly defined. What did a crease or two matter? Her hair was white, not the dead white of old age, but the lively white of allmoon clover. Her robe was white too, and the hems were superbly decorated with beautiful lace. The only piece of jewelry she wore was a silver comb in her hair. It looked a little unfinished, the traces of the hammer that had forged
it still evident on the surface. Brolok would never have released it from his forge; he would have worked on it until it shone evenly throughout. And still the imperfections gave it character, shadows and light playing on it with every turn of the head. Morlane’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Have you ever considered that your noble classmates could well do with some courtly behavior lessons themselves?”

  Nill said nothing, disconcerted.

  “And so, let us begin. First and foremost: never contradict a noble, no matter what they claim or say.”

  “What?” Nill stared at the High Lady in disbelief, but her expression was unchanged. When Ambrosimas had told him he was to be instructed in courtliness, he had expected a load of superfluous rules and pointless suggestions, but this was beyond everything he had imagined on the short trip. “I’m supposed to just take everything they say, their rudeness, stupidity and insults?” Nill shook his head. “Never!”

  “Exactly. Talking back will get you nowhere – instead praise him and ask for what you did not understand.”

  Nill frowned. He had no idea what the lady was trying to tell him. “And then?” he asked.

  “Then he has to answer. And those that ask in the right manner will always have the upper hand against those who answer.”

  Nill whistled through his teeth, causing Morlane to raise an eyebrow in disapproval.

  Nill stayed with her for a long time and promised to return. “By my honor!” he swore, and he had never said anything like that before.

  The mage’s knees were trembling, and cramps were biting the muscles in his legs. He had walked down many stairs, from the ramparts atop the outer wall to the deepest part of Ringwall. But the shaking that gripped him was not due to the lengthy walk. It was the fear that raced through his body, uncontrollable despite years of discipline. But he had wanted it so himself. As a White Mage he owed no duties but those to his studies and the Magon. No Archmage could command him. But the opportunity to do an Archmage a favor was rare, even in a mage’s life. He could not throw an opportunity like that away, although the question of why he, rather than those who had contacted him, had been chosen for the favor came to him very late.