by Kris Hiatt
“It is five hundred copies of each exam,” Drevic began and paused. The younger brothers didn’t seem to be bothered too much by the first part, but he figured they would be by the rest. “And it’s one month, not two.”
Usually, each brother could complete fifteen to twenty copies like these each day since there were only fifty questions for each exam. That meant they could complete this project in just over twenty-eight days. That was working on the project full-time or near full-time. They had less than that as Drevic had to proofread each copy. These brothers still had their coursework to complete and were going to have to put in many extra hours just to complete the project. Drevic knew the Archmagister was testing him. He wanted to know if Drevic could motivate people. He wanted to know if he could he get the best out of each student. Drevic knew it was the first of his many tests he would have to endure before they awarded him the rank of Magister.
“That’s over two thousand total copies,” one of the other brothers, whom Drevic didn’t remember by name, complained.
“Two thousand and five hundred to be precise,” Drevic corrected. Five different exams and they were making five hundred copies for each one of them. Those five exams would be given to each applicant as one large exam consisting of two hundred and fifty questions.
The size and scope of the project started to dawn on the group then. Most of them sat and looked at each in disbelief. Not Baros.
“Brother Drevic, as you are the highest ranking member here, may I suggest you start reading?” he asked. He wasn’t looking at Drevic; he was gathering the required scribing materials and carefully placing them in locations that suited him. Once done he looked about and gave the rest of the scribes a look that enticed them into action.
Drevic waited a few moments for each scribe to ready themselves before beginning.
#
It was well after midnight when Drevic finally arrived back in his quarters and his hand ached miserably. He knew it would only get worse before it would get better. He and the team of aspirants worked for nearly twelve straight hours and all of them had forgone their studies in lieu of the time constraints on this project. When it was time for dinner Drevic sent Baros to the mess to get food for all six of them. He took over the scribe work and continued to read to the other four so they may make the most of their time. After a short break to eat after Baros returned, they resumed work, this time with Drevic reading and scribing at the same time. He wasn’t looking forward to the next few weeks.
#
In the end, it took them twenty-four days to complete the twenty-five hundred copies, a feat Drevic wasn’t sure was possible at first. Each of the scribes worked very hard, even if they did complain from time to time, and he intended on giving them a personal recommendation to Archmagister Nimbril.
He thought he would proofread them himself, but decided to ask Baros to help him. He had demonstrated exceptional skills and a willingness to help and to learn. They had already completed proofing the other four members of the team – there were several errors from each –and started on their own.
“We should trade,” Drevic said.
“Hrm,” Baros mumbled, absorbed in what he was doing. He was so absorbed he didn’t bother looking up from the page he was working on.
“We are used to our own writing, and we know what was written, so we may overlook something. It will be less likely to miss something if we are looking at someone else’s work,” Drevic explained.
“Makes sense,” Baros agreed.
They exchanged stacks and continued in silence.
#
“Only one error,” Baros said when he was done in a tone that told Drevic he was surprised at the findings.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Drevic said as he continued proofing. He was nearly finished.
“Well,” Baros stammered. “The others had so many more that I was expecting more, that’s all.”
Drevic continued until he finished with his proofing a short while later. “No errors,” he said. He was very impressed with not only the quality of the work Baros completed, but the attitude and manner in which he completed it with.
“HA! Beat you,” Baros exclaimed and jumped on the table and danced horribly.
“Get down from there you buffoon,” Drevic instructed.
“Don’t be mad,” Baros said in tones that indicated he was pretending to be wounded.
“I am not mad. I am merely looking at someone I had thought was intelligent showing me that they are clearly not.”
Baros jumped off the table, clapped Drevic on the shoulder and said, “You’ve got to relax a little. I was celebrating a job well done, that’s all.”
It was nearly lunch time and Drevic hoped he could get the completed copies to the Archmagister before he took his lunch. The stack of copies was quite large so he decided to have Baros give him a hand.
“I’ll relax once you help me deliver these to the Archmagister. C’mon, let’s go,” he said and picked up three of the six stacks.
Baros rolled his eyes but complied.
Drevic was happy to see the empty table by the Archmagister’s door once again. He approached and knocked once, as was the requisite number since he was not summoned and he decided it was not of extreme importance.
“Enter,” Archmagister Nimbril said from inside the room.
Drevic opened the door and walked inside. He stopped only a few paces in and moved to the right; allowing for Baros to move alongside him.
“Oh,” Nimbril said. “Do come in.” The expression he wore on his face clearly showed he was expecting someone else. Given the time of day, Drevic thought he was expecting lunch.
“The task is complete, Archmagister,” Drevic stated happily.
“I can see that,” the Archmagister said pointing to the stack of papers both men carried.
“Baros and I have proofed them,” Drevic said and poked his chin in the direction of Baros knowing the Archmagister would understand.
“Set them on the table,” Nimbril said, pointing at a table directly to his left.
Drevic placed his stack on the table after Baros and moved toward the door with Baros following.
“Brother Drevic, you will stay a moment,” the Archmagister commanded and raised himself out of the comfortable chair in which he sat.
“Of course,” he said and opened the door for Baros. Once Baros was through he closed the door. Baros mouthed ‘good luck’ before the door closed. Drevic was taller than him, so there was no chance the Archmagister had seen it.
Once the door was closed, Drevic turned to regard the Archmagister with a deep bow.
“Magister Brental came to me about a month ago with great concern.”
Drevic thought back to the incident in the hallway between him and the fiery magister. He had avoided any other incidents up until this point, so Archmagister Nimbril must be referring to that. He was actually surprised that he hadn’t been called on to account for his actions before now.
“It was an accident,” Drevic began but stopped as the Archmagister raised a finger, silencing him.
“He wanted to bring you up on charges of assault,” Nimbril said and waited. It appeared to Drevic that he only paused long enough to see if the younger man would interrupt him again. The Archmagister gave a slight nod and continued, “But, I spoke to both younger brothers who were with him that day. One agreed with Brental, the other said exactly what you just did.”
Drevic didn’t think it was safe to say anything yet, so he remained quiet as the Archmagister looked him up and down as if he were trying to acquire the truth from his actions.
“You put me in a difficult situation, Brother Drevic. On one hand I have a well-respected and longtime member of the order saying one thing,” he said and raised his left hand palm up. “And on the other hand I have you saying another.” He raised his right hand as he did with his left; palm up.
Drevic thought the well-respected part was a bit of a stretch; many of the students
he talked to thought Brental to be a difficult man to work with and avoided him when they could. He thought it best to keep that to himself, however, so remained silent.
“You are wiser than he is, to be sure,” the Archmagister said after a few minutes of contemplation. “Here you are accused of assault, and yet other than the first outburst, you have said nothing in your defense simply because I have not asked you for the details. You know when to speak, and when not to.”
Drevic was stunned. The Archmagister had disparaged Magister Brental in front of a lesser brother. That either meant Archmagister Nimbril held little regard for Brental, or that he had a high regard for Drevic. He decided it was probably a bit of both, but still remained silent.
“Of course it was an accident,” the Archmagister howled. His laughter sounded painful and unpracticed. “If I believed you had assaulted a magister, or any other brother, you would already be back in Haven with your family, explaining why you botched the greatest thing you could ever hope to achieve in your life,” he said when his laughter subsided.
Drevic knew what he said to be true; he would have been long gone if the Archmagister thought it were true. He thought of life without the College and didn’t like the prospect of that very much. His father had a fair deal of money and was a shrewd businessman. Drevic was kind and didn’t have the heart to try to squeeze every piece, every kaden from his clientele. That’s why he convinced his father to petition for him to attend the College.
“But,” he said, all laughter removed from his voice. “You must be punished.”
Drevic was confused, very confused. The Archmagister had belittled Magister Brental in front of him, had given him a sideways compliment and, most importantly, had exonerated him of the crime. That he was to be punished didn’t make any sense to him. He held fast, however, and remained silent, though if he had to do it much longer he thought he might have to literally bite his own tongue to keep it still.
“I got him to agree to drop all formal charges, but it does mean you have to take a break from your studies.”
“What!” Drevic said in disbelief.
“Did you think you could get away freely after bowling over a magister and causing physical harm? You’re lucky I was able to negotiate what I did; formal investigations tie up a fair amount of time and some of the magisters would side with him just because he is a magister.”
That calmed Drevic a little and he regained most of his composure. He was happy the Archmagister neglected to berate him for speaking out of turn. Formal accusations were far more serious than a discussion with the Archmagister. If the Board of Magisters convened and found him to be guilty he would be expelled at the very least. Even if he were found innocent, his reputation would be irreparably damaged in the eyes of many. He considered himself lucky.
“Considering you have been holed up for the last month completing a project for me, and completing it admirably I presume, I was able to convince him to drop the charges if you acted as an ambassador for the Onneron Brotherhood on his behalf.”
Drevic wasn’t certain as to what the Archmagister was referring to, but he had a few ideas. He kept quiet, knowing it would be explained to him.
The Archmagister eyed him speculatively, as if once again waiting for him to say more. As before, when the older man must have decided he wasn’t going to say anything, he continued.
“I was to send Magister Brental to Haven to deliver a message to the Archbishop at the Onneron Priory. It is wise to send someone of his rank, but he dislikes those types of tasks stating that they are too menial and below his station. As if he knows what his station entails,” the Archmagister said, more to himself than Drevic. “It was his turn in the rotation as an emissary, but he is probably the worst magister to perform such a function.”
Nimbril’s eyes lit up and he walked up to Drevic and grasped him by the shoulders. He smiled softly. It made him look years younger and while his earlier laughter sounded like a foreign thing to his body, when the Archmagister smiled in the way he just did, it looked like it belonged there.
“But you!” he beamed. “You know how to remain quiet when the situation calls for it, and I think you would make a wonderful emissary.” His smile faded slightly. “At least better than Brental, anyway,” he added. “And do make sure you take your best robes with you. You will be meeting the Archbishop of the Onneron Church.”
He had no idea what to say. It was clear the Archmagister favored him. He didn’t have a clue as to why.
“You may speak now,” Nimbril said, not even a hint of a smile left on his face. Drevic didn’t think the faded smile was due to the training provided by Path of The Calm, but was smart enough not to say so.
“I am honored you trust in me enough to,” Drevic began, but the Archmagister started shaking his head as soon as he spoke.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Nimbril said, annoyed. “You are honored and won’t fail me. You want to thank me for the opportunity, blah, blah, blah.”
It was amazing to Drevic how quickly the Archmagister’s mood could change. Either he was more adept at Path of The Calm than Drevic had seen before, or… He didn’t want to think of the other possibility. There were far too many implications of that.
“You leave tomorrow, and you must walk there. It’s part of the deal. On your way back you can board a ship coming from Haven to here for the exams. Pick any one of the dozens, it does not matter. Be back no sooner than two days before the exams. Brental wants you gone for as long as possible.”
The Archmagister walked back over to his desk, sat down, picked up one of the papers on his desk and began to read. Drevic decided to wait. After a few moments the Archmagister raised his eyes and looked at Drevic with hard eyes.
“You’re still here?”
“Leaving now, Archmagister,” Drevic said, bowed, and headed for the door. When he reached it, Nimbril spoke again.
“Brother Drevic, this conversation is to remain private, understand?”
“Of course I do, Archmagister.”
“Don’t you want to know the nature of the assault you were to be charged with?”
He had assumed it was because he knocked Magister Brental off his feet, but couldn’t be certain, so he raised his eyebrows hoping to get the answer.
“You ripped off his toenail when you bowled him over,” the Archmagister said and proceeded to laugh his strange, cackling, laugh. “He took off his boot to show me!” He exclaimed and laughed even harder. Tears were streaking down his face as he laughed. The Archmagister continued to laugh and gave Drevic a shooing motion.
Drevic bowed and exited the room. He could hear the Archmagister’s laughter most of the way down the hall. He began to think about that other possibility; he began to wonder about the sanity of the man who was the head of their order.
#
Fourteen days ago he walked out the front gate of the College, which was never shut, nor barred, and proceeded to walk toward Kilindric to procure a travel pack to store supplies in. He was given a few pieces in which to purchase goods on his way and the message to the Archbishop in the form of a rolled up parchment sealed by the Archmagister. It was Brental who handed him the message and the pieces. The magister had opened a coin purse and pulled forth two onner and a handful of pieces, then had pretended to think about it and stored one of the onner back in the purse. He handed Drevic the remaining pieces and simply pointed toward the gate. He wore a menacing grin the entire time.
He left Kilindric behind him a short time later, after spending all five of his pieces on a travel pack and supplies. He was left with only an onner for additional supplies and his trip home. He hoped it would be enough. He wasn’t too worried about the trip to Haven, most folk were kind to the brothers of the College and were willing to take them in and provide some food and place to rest. He was worried about the cost of the boat ride back from Haven. Many prospective students were attempting to find passage South from Haven to the College. The fastest means was to secure a spot on one
of the sailing vessels. You would arrive at the College in just a few days. If you couldn’t afford one of those, you had to make a three week trek on foot to get there. Or you could rent a horse or get lucky enough to ride with one of the few merchants that still traveled the roads. That would cut your time down to about a week and a half depending on the merchant and how many stops they intended to make along the way. He thought it best to solve that problem when and if it arose, so he continued on down the road.
He was offered many rides within the first couple of days and politely declined each one. He was explicitly told to walk. He took the time to stop and answer questions for those curious about the College. His beige robes were a clear indicator of who he was. The most typical question always revolved around the stone-faced or becoming one. He answered honestly and said it was possible, but was not common. He could tell most of the folk were terrified at the idea that one could lose the ability to love and feel joy. Some praised him for his devotion in spite of the risks; others simply called him a fool. He took them all in stride. Others asked if it was true that the Onneron Brothers could actually heal people. He told them that it depended on the severity, but the brothers could heal minor wounds, although not instantly as many tales would lead people to believe. He explained that the healing process was a natural thing and took time. The magic only lessened the recovery time, not remove it entirely. After a while he decided to simply wave and politely decline the offers but still continue to walk. His conversations became very brief after that. It wasn’t that he wanted to be rude, but he did have a timeline, and while he could afford a little time, he didn’t want to miss this or any deadline. If he was going to spare some time, it was going to be after he reached Haven and found a ship to sail back on. And, since he was from Haven, he hoped to use that spare time to catch up with his family. It had been a few years since he had seen them.
#
He was unaccustomed to such physical exercise and his body was tired from all the walking he had done in the last several days. Ahead of him on the road he could see a traveling merchant that looked as if he had thrown a wheel on his wagon. The back of the wagon was slanted hard toward the road where the wheel was missing. The wheel lay on the ground next to the back of the wagon. The wagon was laden with supplies and the merchant was unloading them in what Drevic thought was an attempt to lighten the weight so he could reattach the wheel. There were two mules tied to a nearby tree grazing from the tall grass that grew near the road. He could only see one person; a man Drevic thought looked like he was in his forties and no one else. Usually a merchant had at least one other with them, usually some sort of sell-sword just in case a bandit decided to attack. They weren’t that frequent, but frequent enough to be of concern.
