The Wizard Test

by Bell, Hilari

  “It seems to me,” said the sorcerer, “that if you endured for a time, people would eventually forget you have the gift. Especially since you wouldn’t be able to use it, not knowing how. Whether you would be able to forget, that’s another matter.”

  “I won’t go back,” said Dayven. He tried to sound sincere. “Besides, what you showed me before, it was … interesting.”

  The sorcerer rolled his eyes in exasperation. He looked at the doorkeeper. The doorkeeper shrugged.

  “Very well,” said the sorcerer. “There aren’t many people with magical ability — we can’t afford to waste one. I’ll assign you a tutor. You will assist and serve him, and in return he’ll teach you the proper use of your power. I think I’ll assign you to Reddick.”

  The doorkeeper’s brows rose. “But Reddick was chosen… I mean, is Reddick the most, umm, reliable person to put in charge of an apprentice?”

  “Oh, I think so,” said the sorcerer placidly. “Perhaps the responsibility will steady him. And I think he’s the right one for Dayven here, which is more important.

  “Your first task as an apprentice, lad, will be to find your master and tell him that I want to see him immediately.”

  “If you want Reddick to leave town,” said the doorkeeper, “we’ll have to pay for it.”

  “Really? How tiresome. Get the money; the boy can take it.”

  The doorkeeper left.

  “Umm, Master, I don’t understand. Is my tutor going somewhere? Do you pay him to work for you?”

  “Reddick is usually traveling. He’s a bit of a rover, I’m afraid.”

  “Why do you have to pay him?” Dayven persisted. “Isn’t he loyal to you?”

  “Reddick’s very loyal. And the money isn’t a payment. At least, not to Reddick.”

  “But—”

  “I’ve got it.” The doorkeeper reappeared, a jingling bag in his hands. “Come with me.”

  At the tower door he handed the money to Dayven. “You can leave your pack with us. Don’t forget he’s supposed to come here before he sets out. It’s up to you to make sure he does.”

  “But where do I find him? What’s this money for?”

  “Bail,” said the doorkeeper, grinning. “Your tutor’s in the cells. As his apprentice, it’s your duty to buy him out. And don’t forget to bring him back here!”

  “What’s he in for?” asked Dayven as he followed the guard down the uneven steps. The sorcerer’s money had proved sufficient to pay his tutor’s fine.

  “Brawling. Drunk in public. Disrespect to the authorities. The usual,” said the guard. “He’s a regular down here. Hey, Reddick!” He unlocked one of the doors. “Time to go.”

  A messy heap of cloth and straw in the corner of the cell stirred and a face emerged. The hair was the same color as the dirty straw, and the short, thick beard was tangled as a briar bush. The eyes were bloodshot.

  “You pox-ridden son-of-a-snake,” said Dayven’s new tutor. “Can’t this wait till I sleep it off?”

  “No,” said the guard amiably. “On your feet, sot. You’re evicted. Your fine’s paid. We need the space for better men.”

  “What day is this? Thirdday? What jackass would waste good money just to get me out two days early? Who’s the kid?” Reddick stood, brushing straw from his robes. He was short and stocky; half muscle, half fat, Dayven guessed. His shoulders were broad as a bull’s.

  “The wizards paid your fine,” Dayven told him coldly. “They want to see you immediately.”

  “Which wizard?” Reddick emerged from the cell, wincing at the light from the high window. “Those prune-faced old skints never passed the hat just to get me out of this rat-hole.” He gave the guard a friendly clap on the back that made the man totter, and started rapidly down the corridor to the stairs. Dayven had to run to catch him.

  “The wizards want to see you immediately.” His voice was rising. “Now.”

  Reddick stopped walking. He reached out and gripped the collar of Dayven’s tunic; his fist was almost as big as Dayven’s face.

  “Let me give you some real good advice. Never yell at a man who’s sousing-sick. It makes us testy. I’ve spent a night and a day in this sty, and I’m hungry and dry as a desert. I’m going to a tavern. You want to come, keep your voice down. Got it?”

  When he let go of Dayven’s tunic, the boy staggered. Reddick plodded up the stairs, leaving Dayven staring after him.

  “Close your mouth or the flies’ll get in,” said the guard, coming up beside him.

  Dayven closed his mouth and followed Reddick up the stairs.

  When he reached the street, the wizard wasn’t there, but it wasn’t hard to guess where the sot had gone. Dayven looked for the nearest tavern; it was three doors down and the barmaid was slapping Reddick’s hand as Dayven walked in.

  “None of that, you saucy scoundrel,” she said cheerfully. “And no food or drink either, unless you pay something on your tab.”

  “You’d be that cruel to a starving man?” The rough voice was unspeakably pathetic.

  “Huh! They feed you three meals a day in the cells, you make-bait, and well I know it.”

  “That slop,” said Reddick. “I couldn’t eat a bite. Not knowing that your cooking was only moments away.”

  “Sure.” The barmaid went back to the tankards she was washing.

  “True as fate,” the wizard swore. “I hungered for your cooking as a bee hungers for the first flower of spring.”

  “You liar.” The barmaid shook her dishrag at him. Reddick held up his hands in mock defense, laughing. When the girl turned back, a flower lay in one of the newly washed tankards.

  She and Dayven both gasped.

  Dayven stared at his fingertips. He hadn’t felt any tingling. He looked more closely at the flower — he’d seen dozens like it blooming in a window box in front of the shop next to the jail. Just another wizard’s trick. He scowled.

  The barmaid smiled. “Your tab is so large already, I guess one more meal won’t make any difference.”

  “Two,” Reddick called after her as she started for the kitchen. “One for the kid, as well.”

  “So you think you want to be my apprentice.” Reddick finished the last of his stew and leaned back in his chair, cradling a tankard of ale in his big hands. “Since those snot-nosed Guardians gave you the cold shoulder and you decided being a wizard was the only thing left.”

  Dayven winced, but he couldn’t think of any other way to put it that wasn’t a lie. The wizard looked better now that he’d eaten. Dayven himself felt better for the meal, but he had a task to perform.

  “Will you go to the Master Sorcerer now? They said to be sure you saw him before you left. Are you going somewhere?”

  “I’m always going somewhere. And the old geezer’s not the ‘Master Sorcerer.’ No titles, no rank. You’re an apprentice, and then you’re a wizard. That’s it. His name is Sundar, if you want to use it.”

  “I thought he was in charge,” said Dayven. “Who is your leader then?”

  “No leader.” Reddick pushed his chair aside and stood. “We got a council, for all the good it does.” He hugged the barmaid. “I’ll be back,” he told her. “I couldn’t stay away from the best food in the city. Someday I might even pay for it.” He easily avoided her slap and strode into the street.

  Dayven scrambled after him. “Where are we going?”

  “To see Sundar. You said he paid my fine. I owe him.”

  “I think he has a quest for you,” Dayven told him. “Do you go on quests for the wizards?”

  “Wizards don’t have quests, kid. Only Guardians go on quests. You know that.”

  “A mission then? An errand?”

  “Oh, great.” The big wizard stopped and glared at Dayven. “Do I strike you as an errand boy?”

  “Actually… Ah … no, Master.”

  “Forget that master stuff.” The big man turned and strode on. “Name’s Reddick. You got something to ride?”

  “I can
get a horse,” said Dayven.

  “Then do it. Pack your stuff and food for a week and meet me in the stables at the wizard’s compound. I won’t take long with Sundar. We’ll leave in an hour or so. You got enough money left to pay for the food?”

  “Yes, but where are we going?”

  “You’re not going anywhere unless you get packed.”

  “I’ve already packed, but—”

  “What kind of apprentice are you? I give you an order and you argue about it. If you’re not ready to leave when I am, I’ll leave without you.”

  “But—”

  “Go!” Reddick strode away.

  Dayven’s jaw clenched as he watched Reddick move through the crowd. How dare that scruffy sot of a wizard give him orders? He was Watcherlad to the Lordowner… No, he was a spy for the Lordowner. And he’d better stop thinking like a Watcherlad and start acting like a wizard’s apprentice if he wanted to succeed. At least this careless drunkard would be easy to fool. Dayven turned and started back to the castle to find himself a horse.

  Reddick was waiting at the wizards’ compound gate when Dayven rode up. He had Dayven’s pack in one hand, and a drab brown robe in the other.

  “Here, put this on,” he said, tossing the robe to Dayven. “I’m not traveling with someone dressed like a Guardian’s messenger.”

  “Why is this robe brown instead of gray?” Dayven eyed the coarse brown fabric with distaste. He had left his Watcherlad’s tabard, embroidered with Lord Enar’s sigil, in his room, but his britches and shirt were cooler and more practical than a robe. Besides, only wizards wore robes, no matter what their color.

  “Because brown cloth is cheap. Only wizards wear gray. Most apprentices wear brown, but you can wear any color you want. You got another robe?”

  “No.”

  “Then wear that.”

  Dayven began to work his way into the voluminous garment and made a discovery. “Why has it got so many pockets?” Dozens of pockets. One was large enough to hold a thick book, and another so small he could barely insert two fingers.

  “To carry things in. Most wizards are pack rats. In a few weeks, you’ll probably be wishing for more of them.”

  Dayven pulled the robe over his head. “I’d rather carry my things in my… What are you doing with my pack?”

  “Loading it.” Reddick fastened the pack to Dayven’s saddle with practiced ease. “We’re leaving. We can make quite a few miles before the light goes.”

  “Leaving now? But—”

  “But what?” Reddick mounted his leggy mule and rode off toward the city gate. “You’re my apprentice, right? You go where I go. How else can I teach you?”

  Dayven spurred forward and grabbed the mule’s rein just above the bit, pulling the animal to a stop.

  “Where,” he said distinctly, “are we going?”

  “Is that what you’ve been fussing about? Why didn’t you ask? We’re going to spy on the Cenzar.”

  Reddick pulled his reins from Dayven’s slackened grasp and rode off.

  Dayven gritted his teeth and followed the wizard.

  Chapter 4

  “Why are we going to spy on the Cenzar?” Though Dayven would never have admitted it, the rustling jinot trees and the waking night-birds’ strange calls were a little unnerving if you were city bred. He gazed around the clearing where Reddick had chosen to camp. The wizard seemed perfectly at home.

  “Look at this stuff.” Reddick had gathered an armload of the jinot’s wafer-thin bark. Now he held up a strip. The fading orange sunset glowed through it.

  “It’s jinot bark. So what?” Dayven had spent most of the day brooding over being whisked out of town without being given a chance to tell Lord Enar where he was going, though he’d given one of the grooms a note for Soren when he’d gotten his horse. That should seem natural, even if the wizards suspected him. But he wouldn’t be able to write to his cousin from the Cenzar city — no messengers rode between the enemy strongholds. If he had urgent news… He’d find a way.

  “For one thing,” said Reddick, “jinot bark isn’t really bark. If you dig through the dry outer layers to the green ones, you can peel it in sheets. But they’re still thin as gossamer. That whole huge tree is composed of this stuff.” He put the bark down by the wood Dayven had gathered. Then he crumpled a handful and placed it in the fire pit between their bedrolls.

  Dayven glanced at a shaggy jinot trunk; it looked like it was shedding.

  “So what?” he repeated wearily. “Why don’t you ever answer my questions?”

  “Jinot bark is also good for starting fires.” Reddick pulled flint and steel from his pack and began to strike sparks into the feathery bark. “Why don’t I answer your question about the Cenzar?” A spark caught and smoldered — Reddick dropped the flint and steel and blew on it gently.

  “The answer should be obvious,” he continued between breaths. “We’re spying on them because they’re gathering an army to attack us.”

  Attack us. Did that mean the wizard truly considered the Cenzar an enemy? Or was he lying to fool Dayven? Or just offering another obvious, meaningless answer to drive his apprentice insane? If so, it was working.

  Smoke rose from the jinot and embers glowed. Reddick blew again, carefully, and the bark burst into flame. Reddick began to pile small sticks on it. “That’s a lot harder to do with regular wood,” he said with satisfaction.

  “I meant,” said Dayven with all the patience he could muster, “why are we going to spy on the Cenzar?”

  “Ah. Why didn’t you say so?”

  Dayven gritted his teeth and the wizard grinned.

  “I’m going because I’ve traveled with the Cenzar. I have friends in the city who’ll vouch for me.” Reddick added bigger sticks to the fire. “You’re going because, first, you’re my apprentice and I can’t teach you if we’re not together, and second, I think I can get you into a zondar.”

  Dayven blinked at the unfamiliar word and Reddick’s brows lifted. “You do speak Cenzar, don’t you?”

  “Of course,” said Dayven. “You have to, to talk to the peasants. But I don’t know that word. What’s a zondar?”

  “A school for warriors. They’ll be about your own age. You can study with them — learn how a Cenzar fighter is trained.”

  Dayven frowned. “Why do we need to know that? They’re brave, for barbarians, but we’ve beaten them before.”

  Reddick sighed. “It’s not that simple. We’ve always beaten them before because we had them outnumbered, but fighting isn’t just a matter of bravery, it’s a matter of method. Didn’t your Sword Master teach you to observe your opponent’s weaknesses so you can use them against him?”

  Dayven nodded.

  “Well, we haven’t fought the Cenzar since you were a baby. You can help us find out their weaknesses. Get into your blankets now. It’s getting chilly, and we’re starting early tomorrow.”

  Dayven wiggled into his bedroll. The long wizard’s robe twisted around him and he wiggled some more to untangle it. Reddick chuckled.

  “What will you be doing while I’m in school?” asked Dayven. “Is it really so important to learn how the Cenzar train?”

  “Of course it is,” said Reddick. “The more you know about anything… Here, let me show you.” He pulled a handful of jinot bark from the woodpile.

  Dayven felt the faint tingling in the skin of his face, but he still gasped when the bark burst into flame.

  Reddick cupped the burning bark in his hands. His expression, as he stared into the fire, was thoughtful and content. The bark burned for several minutes before it flickered out. Reddick brushed the ashes from his hands and held them out to Dayven, slightly smudged, but with no trace of a burn to show where the fire had been.

  “If you understand something, really understand it, it will hardly ever hurt you,” he said peacefully.

  “But—”

  “No more questions tonight.” Reddick rolled into his own blankets. “Get some sleep.”
/>   “But why did you use flint and steel instead of lighting the fire with magic?”

  “Magic takes more energy.” Reddick yawned.

  “Are you going to teach me magic?” Dayven asked. His stomach twisted at the thought. A would-be Guardian shouldn’t do this. Though Lord Enar had said—

  “Sure,” said Reddick. “Tomorrow. Don’t forget to keep the fire going.”

  In just a few minutes the wizard’s snores filled the small camp.

  Dayven lay awake. Lord Enar had said it was all right to learn magic as long as he was loyal — and there was no doubt of that! Still… He wiggled silently out of his blankets, reached into the woodpile and pulled out a fistful of jinot bark. Lighting a corner, he cradled it in his hands, watching the flame grow. It scorched his palm. He dropped the blazing bark and licked the burn. Reddick continued to snore; Dayven glared at him. Then he added more wood to the fire and went to bed.

  “Wake up, kid.” Someone shook Dayven’s shoulder. “It’s time for your magic lesson.”

  “Huh?” Dayven dragged his eyes open. The fire crackled cheerfully, but the pot over it hadn’t even begun to steam. Though the sky was lighter in the east, sunrise was at least an hour off. Dayven moaned and buried his head in his blankets.

  “Come on.” Reddick shook him harder. “We’re going to start riding at first light. If you want a magic lesson, you’ve got to start now.”

  “Forget it,” Dayven mumbled.

  A firm yank stripped the covers from his body. Dayven yelped as the cold reached him. He sat up, glaring at the wizard.

  “I thought Watcherlads had to be up and working before dawn.” Reddick grinned at him, blankets dangling from his fist. “How did you manage it?”

  “Soren got me up.” Dayven yawned and rubbed his face.

  “Soren must have been pretty determined,” said his tutor. “But you haven’t seen determined till you’ve seen me in action. Sit up straight — I’m going to teach you to meditate.”