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

by Hogan, Mitchell

  “What department did you say you were in? That Lady Felicienne runs?” he asked Avigdor.

  The man smiled, his pasty face shiny with a thin sheen of sweat. “I didn’t. And that’s the best question you’ve asked so far.” His eyes glittered with amusement. “Probably the first question you should have asked.”

  “Lady Felicienne is Third Adjudicator, that much I know. But what does that mean?”

  “By itself,” said Avigdor, “not much. The ‘department’, as you put it, isn’t well known. Our role is to keep our eyes and ears open, keep our fingers on the pulse of what is happening around the empire. Whether it’s the local populace and their mood, delegates visiting from other nations, even to visit other countries and assess their disposition when it comes to us. Same with the guilds and other organizations.”

  Caldan thought quietly for a moment. “You deal in information, spying?”

  Avigdor shook his head. “Information is part of it. Spying certainly is not. And would I admit that anyway?” He waggled a finger at Caldan. “I think not. No, essentially we gather information on all sorts of things, but the real challenge is to interpret it, to make sense of the information, to piece together facts from different sources and see patterns… conceptual reasoning, if you will.”

  Patterns, thought Caldan. “Hence Lady Felicienne’s interest in me, and yours. Playing Dominion is hard enough. To be good you have to be able to see patterns where others cannot.”

  Both Avigdor and Izak nodded.

  Caldan’s stomach rumbled again, reminding him he needed to eat. “Can we order some food?” he asked. “With the training I’ve been doing I need to…”

  “It’s coming,” interrupted Izak.

  “I could use some, too,” said Avigdor, patting his belly.

  “You could lose some weight,” commented Izak.

  “And you should eat more,” replied Avigdor. “All skin and bones, no meat on you. Anyway, back to what I was saying. A good Dominion player is likely to excel at what we do. I say likely, not guaranteed. You see, some people…well, they see the patterns in Dominion but have a hard time applying the same skill to human interactions and events. Mostly, these are the same scholars you would find spending their days in a library or secreted away doing their own research. We need people that can see patterns but also are able to relate to the world outside their window.”

  “And how did you and Izak become friends?”

  “Izak and I do business sometimes, in rumor, information.”

  Izak looked pained. “I’m not so low as to sell rumors.”

  Avigdor grinned, showing a set of surprisingly perfect teeth. “Call it what you will. But knowledge is power, and there are people that pay good ducats for a nice morsel.”

  A serving girl appeared, bearing another tray. She placed covered dishes on the table, along with a plate and a fork for each of them.

  Avigdor peered at the dishes. “I hope you ordered enough for us, not as if three of you were eating.”

  Izak’s face broke out in mock pain. “Please,” he said. “Give me some credit. I know what an active youth and an… overindulged adult can go through. Luckily, you’re paying.”

  Avigdor raised his eyebrows and sighed. “As usual.” He lifted the lid off the dish closest to him. “What have we here, noodles?”

  “Should be noodles, almond eggs, fish with onions, rabbit in wine and some fried spinach with garlic,” said Izak.

  Avigdor gave an approving nod and set to with a will, taking a good portion of each before waving them to do the same. Izak waited until they were done before taking a portion of a couple of dishes. While he watched Avigdor and Caldan hungrily attack the food, he chewed a bite of rabbit. They ate in silence for a while before Izak spoke.

  “You see, Caldan,” he explained through a mouthful, “I’m part of several circles, nobles, merchants, businessmen and the like… and, well… if a harmless piece of information comes my way, I let Avigdor here know. As a friend.”

  “As a friend,” repeated Caldan. “Of course.”

  “Good! I see you understand. And friends help each other. That’s what friends are for.”

  “I guess, but…”

  “Shush, Caldan,” admonished Izak. “We’re all friends here now. It’s a shame you’re with the Protectors, though.”

  “I might have offered you a job otherwise,” Avigdor said. “Yes, too bad.” He eyed his clean plate and the empty dishes sadly. With a sigh, he sat back.

  Caldan looked at them both then ran a hand across his short hair.

  “Gentlemen,” he said. “I think I shouldn’t leave the Protectors after all they’ve done for me so far.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t suggesting you did,” said Avigdor. “And you probably couldn’t. You see, no one leaves the Protectors.”

  Izak looked despondent. “At least that we know of.”

  Caldan stared at them. “What do you mean?”

  “Protectors die Protectors. Whether from old age or earlier. I’ve never heard of anyone leaving their ranks for any reason,” said Avigdor. “Never.”

  Caldan shook his head. “No. There must be people that have left. Who got tired of the life, wanted to start a family, something.”

  Avigdor and Izak both shook their heads. It was a long moment before Izak spoke. “Be sure of what you are getting into, young Caldan. Avigdor here wouldn’t take you now. He couldn’t. If you swore an oath to the Protectors then they would see you as theirs.”

  “I’m just another apprentice. I get up, I go to training and classes. I’m not special.”

  “Not like any other apprentice,” said Avigdor. “The others are apprenticed to the Sorcerers’ Guild, not the Protectors.”

  A silence fell over them. Caldan chewed a fingernail and thought back to what Master Simmon had said. Caldan had asked what would happen if he had a loose tongue and told someone about the Protectors.

  “You look pale,” said Izak. “Here, have a top up, and make sure you drink it all down.” He lifted the pot and poured more coffee into Caldan’s cup.

  Caldan gulped a couple of deep swallows, not tasting the drink.

  “Listen, Caldan,” said Izak. “I wouldn’t be too concerned, if I were you. We don’t know much about the Protectors, so it’s likely we are wrong. They probably have rules or guidelines we know nothing about. For all we know, people have left them, but it isn’t widely known.”

  Caldan began to shake his head then stopped. He remembered Master Simmon’s words, and they echoed in his head. Some things are too dangerous to be known.

  “As it is, I can only wish you luck,” said Avigdor.

  They spent the next few minutes in silence. Avigdor checked his pocket watch a few times, once frowning at it and shaking the case. Izak and Avigdor talked quietly among themselves, meaningless chatter, leaving Caldan alone to his thoughts.

  Caldan, for his part, didn’t know what to think. Was he lucky to have found a place where he was paid to continue studying what he loved, or was it a honey-coated trap? Judging by what Master Simmon said, he thought the Protectors had a noble cause, one he could identify with, especially knowing the information the master had imparted to him with such passion. Men like that were only passionate about what they believed in.

  He gritted his teeth, frustrated. Maybe they were making too much of this. So far he had been treated the same as any other apprentice, no different. No one had given him any reason to distrust them. In fact the masters had all been pleasant enough. Nothing to worry about, surely. Well, he would have to wait and see, keep his eyes and ears open. A sound strategy, anyway, for a new apprentice in a new city.

  What if whoever killed my family learned of my existence? Would they come after me too? Perhaps joining the Protectors and developing my talents would be the best thing for me. The thought of someone hunting him down, presumably for his trinket, made his blood run cold.

  The late lunch ended with small talk, of the weather and the current building
projects the emperor had decreed. Avigdor commented on the recent increase in tax evaders and criminals that were sentenced to hard labor on the building projects. Izak agreed it was best to keep them off the streets and from bothering honest folk.

  They shook hands and departed in different directions. Izak rushed off, citing an urgent appointment.

  Caldan walked slowly through the streets back to his room. At this pace he would miss his early afternoon class in metallurgy, but he already knew what they were covering anyway.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  It was midafternoon, and the city streets had been sluiced clean by a brief shower of rain, dirty water running down overflowing gutters. The showers at this time of year went someway to cleaning the city, but to Amerdan’s mind it was never enough. Most of the city’s residents paid little attention to hygiene and were content to wallow in their own dirt. Some bathed only once a week or less. It was disgusting. No wonder his shop was filthy after each day’s trading.

  Afternoon sunlight poured in from his two front windows, spilling across the floor. Motes of dust swam in the light. Amerdan wrinkled his nose at them, insidious beggars. He scratched updates in his ledger, inventory items depicted by simple pictures. He was in a strange mood, expectant yet disappointed. For a few days after his… delicacy, he had woken with a dull headache and pain in his eyes. The symptoms had since subsided, but he had yet to decide what had changed. Usually his keen mind would have worked the problem out by now, but this time was different.

  Beads clicked and bells tinkled. He looked up and, recognizing who arrived, rose from his stool. This person wouldn’t be here to buy anything. Best be careful, he reminded himself. He flipped the ledger shut and checked his knife under the counter.

  The newcomer wore clothing and insignia that denoted him as a master from the Sorcerers’ Guild. Dark robes covered his porcine body, and he was flanked by two lesser versions of himself. All took in the shop with dismissive glances. Amerdan didn’t blame them. It wasn’t much to look at. That was the point.

  The gray-haired sorcerer closed his eyes for a few moments and looked down at a circle of metal he held in his palm.

  “Can I assist you in any way, good sirs?” asked Amerdan, wringing his hands.

  “Silence,” hissed one of the sorcerers to the side.

  Amerdan’s skin prickled. The master wore a number of trinkets. He could feel them, taste them. He licked his lips.

  The master opened his eyes and blinked in the light reflecting from Amerdan’s spotless wooden floor. “I’m looking for someone,” he said in a nasal drone.

  Amerdan sniggered inside at his voice. “There’s no one here except me, good sirs. Perhaps you might look at some of my wares while you’re here? I apologize for the lack of variety. Mrs. Lephar, were she here, rest her spirit,” Amerdan’s eyes looked skyward, “would have organized a much better selection, but I’m afraid I lack her skills.” He spread his hands depreciatingly and shook his head. “She is sorely missed.”

  The master sniffed the air again and fiddled with a ring on his left hand. Amerdan was careful not to meet his eyes for more than a few moments, or to let his gaze linger on the sorcerer’s trinkets.

  “I believe,” the master began, “that some time ago an apprentice of mine had occasion to visit this shop to procure some goods to assist in his studies.”

  “Well, that’s possible. I’m sure I have many valuable items which a sorcerer might want to purchase.”

  “It’s not ‘possible’, it is definite. He was here. Young man, thin, pale complexion.”

  Definite, was it? Interesting. Amerdan wondered how the sorcerer knew. He hadn’t been expecting anyone to search for the apprentice for some time, if at all. The fact they had turned up quickly and knew the boy had been here was intriguing. Sorcerers must have more talents than he realized. Or perhaps they had the benefit of many trinkets to assist them.

  Amerdan scratched his head, screwed his eyes up in concentration and paused, as if straining to recall something. “I do remember someone like that. Smelled of dust and old books. Bought a few items then went on his way. Paper, ink, a lantern, that sort of thing. Why? What’s the problem? All the goods were of the highest quality, I assure you.”

  “No doubt,” said the master through his nose. “But your goods and their quality do not concern us.”

  “Good sirs, a few purchases from yourselves would…”

  “We’re not here to buy anything. He was here, my apprentice. And not for a short time.”

  Amerdan froze for an instant. “Of course,” he replied, as if remembering. “That young man. He spent some time in here, looking about, poking at this and that. Why, I almost threw him out since it didn’t seem like he would buy anything! But he… passed out. I was shocked, I can tell you! Fainted right there in the middle of the room. Knocked over a fine jar of pickled eels from the table, too. Smashed there on the floor.” Amerdan pointed to a spot. All three men followed his finger to the clean floor.

  “There isn’t any stain there,” replied the master.

  “No, I wiped it up.” Amerdan cleared his throat. “Anyways, after propping him up on a chair, I went out back to fetch some water to refresh him. He splashed a little on his face, and I made sure he drank some. The young lad was in a sorry state.” He shook his head slowly. “Scrawny as a newborn calf, he was.”

  One of the master’s hangers-on suppressed a smile. They had no idea, fools.

  “After a while, he recovered, and I had to feed him some bread and cheese, for his strength. He was feeling poorly. It took a long time to gather himself enough to leave.”

  “And do you know where he was going from here?”

  “I don’t pry into my customers’ affairs. Though he did mention a meeting he had arranged for later in the day, to work for some ducats. I gathered he was… short of coins.”

  The master nodded and grunted. He surveyed the room again, gaze lingering on the spot on the floor Amerdan had indicated.

  “Sir, I must ask a favor of you, as I have of all the people I have spoken to about this matter.” He gestured to one of the other two sorcerers, who stepped forward and presented a piece of paper from a flat satchel he carried. “This paper can be presented to any sorcerer, either in the street or at the Sorcerers’ Guild.”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t read.”

  “That doesn’t matter. Show this to any sorcerer and they’ll direct you to me. If you come across any information regarding my apprentice, no matter how trivial, you will use it and let me know?”

  “Of course. On my word of honor as a… a merchant.”

  “See that you do. His disappearance will not go unsolved; we cannot afford to let people with his talent wander unchecked.” He slid the paper towards Amerdan. “Any information will be rewarded handsomely.”

  “Yes, sir, indeed I will come calling the instant I know any more. You can count on me.”

  The master appeared unconvinced. “Well then, thank you for your time. May you prosper.” He bowed in farewell then turned and left, followed closely by his two attendants.

  Amerdan stared motionless at the beaded curtain covering the door for a long time, hand resting on the piece of paper they had left, before stirring himself. He didn’t know how they knew the apprentice had been here, or had spent some time here. Sorcery, obviously, something he had not much knowledge of and hadn’t counted on. A crotchety old man peeved his favorite new apprentice had gone missing. His two hangers-on hadn’t cared he was missing. Still, they had no idea. He was too good for that.

  Amerdan decided against shutting up shop early as that might look suspicious. He rubbed an arm and yawned. Last night he’d stayed out until the early hours checking on the movements of someone of interest. He smiled at the thought.

  This master, though, he had an aura about him, and if gossip were true would be capable of remarkable feats. So far Amerdan had avoided sorcerers; tales of their abilities had instilled a wariness in him. He had
thought they might be able to see his true nature, but this master hadn’t let on anything was amiss. Perhaps they weren’t as powerful and knowledgeable as they seemed. With the apprentice he’d taken a risk, and although a search had been sparked, they wouldn’t find anything. But… the results had been disappointing. Maybe a more developed potency was called for. A master perhaps? His pink tongue ran over his lips as he savored the thought.

  He looked at the paper, preparing to gather it up and store it with his other souvenirs but stopped, breath catching in his throat. The squiggles swam before his eyes then resolved into legible words. Words he could read.

  He laughed long and hard. The joy of finding another talent filled him with warmth and ecstasy. His skin tingled. That was unlooked for, yet welcome indeed. He wondered what other gifts the young apprentice had passed to him.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Caldan spent a good part of the few next days experimenting with his shielding medallion, trying to find out what its limits were. He kept up with his regular lessons and physical training under the watchful eyes of the journeymen and masters, but every spare chance he had he used to investigate the medallion. If he could decipher how it worked, he could make another, and probably better. The engravings on this crafting were sloppy, and from his metallurgy studies he knew the metal was inferior, but at the time he had been desperate. It seemed the journeyman who sold it to him had been of lesser talent and skill, probably in need of some quick ducats, perhaps to pay a gambling debt or some such.

  Caldan sat at a table in the apprentices’ workshop of the smith-crafting wing. Situated at the far reaches of the Sorcerers’ Guild building because of the smell of the forges and the noise of hammering, most of its rooms opened to the outside through large doors. A few rooms were set farther in, where apprentices, journeymen and masters could work on their designs and theories in relative peace yet still be close to the forges.

  The workshop was a good forty paces square with thick beams crossing the ceiling. Unlike the other areas of the building, the floor consisted of hard-packed earth rather than wood or stone. Only a few other apprentices were in the room with Caldan, busy with their own work. Many apprentices quickly abandoned their ideas of crafting fine pieces or being the first sorcerer to discover the secret of making trinkets, for the more practical materials of stone or fired clay until they had enough ducats to afford expensive materials. Around the room were the other apprentices who had the ducats to experiment or were conducting research given to them by a master, those who were particularly talented.