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

by Hogan, Mitchell

  A few of the apprentices were smiling at him, some in genuine admiration. The young boy with wavy blond hair who had spoken to him before the class raised both hands and gave him a silent round of applause, grinning all the while.

  “Today,” Theunisen said, “you have been shown what you are all capable of with hard work and dedication. A month or so earlier than this usually happens,” he said wryly, to the laughter of some apprentices.

  His expression became stern. “Remember this day. This is what you are working towards. Now, get back to work. The rest of you have a lot to learn.”

  At his words, the apprentices turned their attention to their own amulets with renewed vigor. Caldan felt their wells open, but no shields sprang up. He turned back to Theunisen.

  “What now?” he said.

  “Well, that is only the first shield you need to master. Unfortunately, I don’t have amulets for the others here yet since I didn’t think they would be necessary for a while, but no matter.” He shrugged. “Take the rest of the morning off. Relax and absorb what you have learned. I’ll bring other shielding craftings to the next class.”

  “But shouldn’t I stay here and practice?”

  “No,” Theunisen replied emphatically. “You know what you did and how the shield works. Can you honestly say you need to practice it?”

  “No, I guess not. Once you know it and can do it, you know it.”

  “Exactly.” He pushed Caldan towards the door. “Ah, I almost forgot.” He held out a hand. “The amulet, if you will.”

  “Couldn’t I keep it for a while? To study.”

  “No. But well done. You did well today.”

  Caldan nodded and grinned. “Thank you.”

  Still shaken by his discovery, Caldan sat on his bed in his room. The shutters on the window were wide open, and sunlight streamed in. He could smell the flowers in the garden outside.

  Around his neck hung the crafting he had paid good gold ducats for, his own shielding medallion. Truth be told, he thought it would only be a few months before he had enough ducats for materials to make such a crafting himself, but he had needed it sooner rather than later.

  With the morning off, he could do whatever he wanted. Miranda sprang to mind, but she was probably busy with whatever business she was into. Perhaps some sparring — the journeymen would be at the training grounds now for their usual morning workout.

  Caldan hesitated at the door. Hidden under his shirt, both his trinket and medallion weighed on him. But he had made a major breakthrough today, he knew, and such knowledge was useful for many other applications.

  With a smile, he left his room and headed towards the training ground.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Caldan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The thin cushion between him and the sturdy bench was padding enough, but something else was making him prickly. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and scratched his head.

  He leaned against the bench, his right hand touching his trinket on his finger, tracing over the engraved patterns. Since acquiring the shield medallion and learning how to use it, he’d decided to wear his ring in the open, despite the risk. From everything he had read, and all the information from talking to various masters, his best chance to find out the function of his ring was to wear it at all times. Some books suggested an affinity grew between a person who wore or used a trinket for extended periods, though he thought this was probably a flight of fancy written by someone with a less scientific mind than those who usually studied such objects. Passive effects could be noted by paying attention to your surroundings and odd happenings, usually accompanied with a change in feel of the trinket, such as heat, a vibration, or a visual effect. Trinkets that required activation were extremely hard to discern, even for the most experienced masters. Not knowing what you were dealing with and opening your well to a trinket could have damaging or even deadly consequences.

  Although his ring felt noticeable on his hand, he realized it was probably all in his mind, the effect of wearing something he wasn’t used to. Without close examination, in reality it could be a ring anyone would wear, and certainly everyone would assume a lowly apprentice wouldn’t possess any trinkets.

  Looking around, he took in the main room of the establishment in which Izak Fourie had asked to meet him for lunch. Yesterday, after meeting Miranda for a cheap evening meal at a street stall, and yet another promise that the good meal he owed her would be forthcoming soon, he had dropped into the Yawning Rabbit on the way back and had run into Izak, who pressed him into meeting the next day.

  Although early afternoon, Izak had stated the meeting was for lunch, and for someone like Izak it probably was. Caldan had eaten a substantial meal with the other apprentices before making his way to the eating house Izak recommended, which was indicated only by a nondescript sign depicting a bowl and a spoon.

  Inside, the establishment was clean and tidy. Long benches with low backs surrounded tables. A number of patrons sat in twos and threes, with a few larger groups. Caldan could pick out most of what was said around him; the place didn’t lend itself to much privacy. All the patrons wore good quality clothes, and many pieces of jewelry were in evidence. Obviously somewhere well-to-do folk came for a leisurely meal and idle conversation.

  A jug of heavily watered wine had been placed on the table in front of him as soon as he sat down, along with two cups. He had told them he was expecting a friend to join him. He took a sip. Good quality wine, as far as he could tell.

  His cup was half empty when he saw Izak approach. As usual, he was dressed in quality clothes: dark pants with a white linen shirt. Not a hair on his head looked out of place, and his gray goatee had been combed. Trailing behind him followed a pudgy man around the same age, with a pasty, flaccid face, dark eyes, and wrinkled clothes of a much lower quality than Izak’s. He was sweating slightly, Caldan noted, though the day wasn’t particularly warm.

  “Ah, Caldan,” Izak gushed with a broad smile. “I must apologize for my lateness. I woke up late and barely had time to freshen up before I had to leave. It’s been weeks, hasn’t it?”

  The pudgy man stood silently behind Izak, glancing around the room, eyes lingering on the other patrons in view, hands wringing nervously.

  “It has been a while,” said Caldan. “My studies have kept me busy. You look fine to me, and you brought a friend.”

  “Oh, of course. Allow me to introduce you to an acquaintance of mine, Sir Avigdor.”

  The man stepped forward and offered his hand. It felt like shaking warm porridge. Caldan nodded in greeting as Izak seated himself opposite then looked around and raised a hand to catch a waiter’s eye. Sir Avigdor also looked around the room and ran a hand down his shirt, as if to smooth the fabric. He shuffled to a seat next to Izak. Caldan sat back on his thin cushion and surreptitiously wiped his now damp hand on his pants.

  Having failed to catch a waiter’s eye in the few moments he had been trying, Izak rose to his feet. “Excuse me,” he said. “I’ll see what the delay is all about and order us something to eat. And drink.” He waved a hand at them. “You two can get better acquainted.” He strode off without waiting for a reply, straight to the bar.

  Sir Avigdor watched him go. “I hear you play Dominion well,” he said in a voice nothing like his appearance. Cultured, with a hard edge. “So Izak says, and so my mistress says. Sometimes Izak is right, but my mistress… she is always right.” He reached across for the jug of wine and poured a drink into the spare mug. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.” Caldan eyed him warily across the table. The pieces fell into place. “Lady Felicienne?”

  Avigdor raised an eyebrow. “Good. Very good.” He cleared his throat. “She is upset you’ve not taken her up on her… generous offer as yet. Izak and I are friends, however, and the Lady Felicienne has prevailed upon me to have Izak meet you here. You see, she doesn’t like unpaid debts, if you catch my meaning.”

  “I do. Could you please convey my apol
ogies to her. My studies don’t leave much time at the moment, and there were a few… issues I had to sort out first.”

  Avigdor sniffed the wine and wrinkled his nose, then sipped from his mug and grimaced. Caldan didn’t think he would be drinking any more. He was obviously used to better quality wine, despite the impression his outward appearance gave. Some people liked to put on a front to put others off guard, so they were underestimated. His eyes now looked more knowledgeable than calm, in control.

  “Ah yes, the sorcerers. I’ve heard their training can be hard. More than a few have left them broken, physically or mentally.” His gaze held Caldan’s.

  Caldan shrugged and tried to look nonchalant. “It’s been fine. Nothing too strenuous or demanding.”

  “Wake at dawn, physical exercises, classes in history, geography, alchemy, medicine and… crafting. Nothing too strenuous or demanding?” Avigdor drawled. “Many apprentices would disagree with you, I am sure.”

  “I’m used to studying and training hard.” Caldan searched for Izak and found him still at the bar talking to the barman. He looked back at Avigdor, who was watching him closely.

  Caldan grimaced and shifted in his seat. The bench was more uncomfortable than he first thought. “The training the Protectors put the apprentices through is hard, but as I said, I’m used to it.”

  “The sorcerers, you mean.”

  “No, I’m apprenticed with the Protectors.”

  Avigdor’s mouth opened in shock then closed abruptly. His lips curved into a sly smile. “An apprentice Protector, you say?” He leaned forward. “Listen, I’m all for trying to wring some advantage out of a negotiation, but you had best keep your arguments honest and not so…” He waved a hand in the air. “Laughable. I thought you were supposed to be an excellent Dominion player.”

  There’s something odd here. Why is he so dismissive of my claim? “What have I said?” protested Caldan. “It’s decent pay, and they have all the facilities and masters to teach me what I want to study. Master Simmon took me in, and I have a room in their quarters.”

  Avigdor sat back and folded his arms across his chest, looking squarely at him. He sat quietly before reaching over and taking a swallow of his wine. Again he grimaced at the taste, shaking his head and giving a quick grin.

  “I forgot myself and took another sip.” He gave a depreciating laugh. “It takes a lot to unsettle me these days.”

  The man was acting decidedly oddly, thought Caldan. Perhaps he was ill.

  Avigdor blew out a breath. “Well, it’s safe to say you probably have no idea.”

  “About what?” Caldan was annoyed now. “What’s wrong with the Protectors?”

  “Nothing. In fact they are reputable. They have fine alchemists, sorcerers and sword fighters.”

  “Then what’s so startling?”

  “They don’t have apprentices.”

  Caldan scoffed. “Of course they do. I’m one! There are apprentices everywhere. I have classes with them every day.”

  “Do you? With apprentice sorcerers or apprentice smith-crafters, I would judge.” Avigdor looked at him intently. “Have you met another apprentice Protector?”

  “Of course I have! Why…” His voice trailed off. Of all the other apprentices, not a single one was apprenticed to the Protectors like he was. All the students studying sword fighting, surely they were apprentice Protectors? But Caldan realized they weren’t. They were all apprenticed to the Sorcerers’ Guild. The rooms around his were populated by journeymen Protectors, not apprentices. He frowned. “Strange,” he muttered.

  “Indeed. Curious, I must say, and highly unexpected.” Avigdor was nodding slowly, and Caldan knew he was storing the knowledge away. “My mistress will be interested in such news.”

  “Then that means she owes me double.”

  Avigdor coughed into a hand. “Ah… maybe slightly more. Shall we get down to business? I was told you needed information. On what?”

  Caldan placed his hand on the table, fingers spread. His trinket glimmered between them.

  Avigdor whistled slowly. “That’s a valuable piece for an apprentice to have, and if I were you, I wouldn’t wear it until I could protect myself.”

  “I can. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Well, it’s your funeral.” Avigdor leaned forward for a closer inspection. “Lions, and a knotwork pattern. Rare, I would say, but I’m not an expert on trinkets.”

  “But can you help me find out more about it?”

  “Oh yes, most certainly. We have access to Anasoma’s trinket records, which mirror the capital’s, albeit with a few months’ delay. Descriptions, functions, owners past and present, they’re all there.”

  Caldan breathed a sigh of relief, though he still felt under a burden. This was more than he could have achieved on his own. Far more. But what would be revealed? Would the information be valuable enough to Avigdor and Felicienne that they would use it to his disadvantage? Frowning, he hesitated then spoke. “I trust this will stay between us? I mean, whatever you find, you’ll only pass to me and not anyone else?”

  Avigdor’s gaze grew curious. “What do you expect me to find?”

  “I really don’t know, but it might have led to my family being… killed, when I was young.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Though this makes it more interesting.” He placed his hand on his heart. “I promise whatever I find will be shared with only you. And my mistress, of course.”

  Reluctantly, Caldan nodded. The truth was, now that Avigdor knew what his trinket looked like, he could find the information anyway, no matter what Caldan wanted.

  “Do you need a sketch or a rubbing of the design?”

  Avigdor tapped his temple with a finger. “It’s all here. I have a knack for remembering details. Give me a few days. I can send a message to Izak?”

  Though Izak was friendly, Caldan wasn’t sure he trusted him yet. “To the Protectors would be better, addressed to me.”

  “They might wonder why I would send you correspondence.” Seeing Caldan shrug, he continued. “Is there anything else you can tell me about its origins?”

  How much to tell? “All I know,” Caldan began, “is that my parents and grandparents may have worked for the empire, though in what capacity I have no idea. Other than that, I have nothing to go on.”

  “A few days and you’ll hear from me. Then Lady Felicienne’s debt to you will be paid.”

  At that moment, Izak appeared at the table with a steaming pot of coffee and three glazed mugs. Beside him, a serving girl placed a tray holding two jars on the table. Both had the handle of a spoon poking out the top. Izak thanked her with a smile then shoed her away when she inquired if they needed anything further.

  “Well, I hope you two have been getting along while I was gone,” Izak said.

  “We were,” answered Avigdor, nodding. “Coffee, I trust?”

  At Izak’s nod, Avigdor helped himself to a cup, then went to place the pot back on the table, stopped, then poured a cup for both Izak and Caldan.

  “Sorry, not used to serving other people,” he said.

  Izak waved his apology away. “Quite all right, my friend. Who is?” He laughed. “What was the topic of conversation before I rudely interrupted?”

  Avigdor reached for both jars. “Your friend Caldan here was telling me he has become apprenticed to the Protectors.”

  Izak looked quickly at Avigdor and blinked a few times before his gaze moved to Caldan. “That’s…” He cleared his throat. “Could you pass the honey and salt, please? This coffee isn’t to my taste.”

  Avigdor passed the two jars across to Izak, who opened both and sprinkled a pinch of salt into his cup and stirred in a generous dollop of honey.

  “I wasn’t aware this was anything out of the ordinary,” said Caldan. “There are a lot of apprentices in the guild, and I assumed a fair few were apprentice Protectors. What’s wrong?”

  Izak shook his head slowly. “Nothing. It’s just surprising.”


  “Very surprising,” added Avigdor.

  “Hush,” said Izak and frowned at him.

  “Don’t hush me.”

  “Just drink your coffee while I explain some things to young Caldan here.”

  Avigdor muttered into his cup as Izak glared at him. To Caldan they sounded like two old friends grumbling at each other. He took a sip of his own coffee. His stomach rumbled. Despite eating with the apprentices, he was already starving, but both Izak and Avigdor looked like they had no interest in eating yet. He sighed.

  Izak sucked in a breath and turned to Caldan. “Are you sure you’re an apprentice Protector?” he asked. “Not just an apprentice in the Sorcerers’ Guild?”

  “Yes. I spoke to Master Simmon at length, and he asked me to become an apprentice Protector. Those were his words. What’s so strange anyway?”

  “The Sorcerers’ Guild has many apprentices, and all of them have talent in crafting, am I correct?”

  Caldan nodded slowly. “Yes, to varying degrees. Though they all have other talents, too.” He’d heard some talented apprentices went to study in the capital, paid for by the guild.

  “Tell him how the Protectors choose their members,” said Avigdor.

  “I was getting to that,” snapped Izak testily, glaring at him again. He looked at Caldan. “From what I understand, the Protectors choose from the apprentices recently promoted to journeymen, but not just the ones who are the most talented in sorcery or crafting. They also choose people who have other skills as well, including sword fighting, smith-crafting or alchemy. Not much is known about who they choose or why, to be honest. What happened with you? What did Simmon say?”

  His questions were casual, but Caldan could sense a sudden intensity to his gaze, and Avigdor’s posture straightened as he asked, and he leaned slightly forward. Just interest, or was this information of more value than curiosity?