Magician In Training (Power of Poses Book 1)

by Guy Antibes

  The door opened and Val walked out. The handkerchief he had given her was now a damp rag in her hand.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said. “But now what do I do?”

  Trak offered her a chair. He resisted consoling her a bit more physically, especially after what had just happened.

  “What do we do?” Trak said. “I think our days at the PPO are over.”

  “PPO?”

  “Pestledown Preparatory Organization.”

  Val nearly smiled at the description.

  “Maybe Coffun can help us.” Trak said.

  “You mean Mr. Cricket?”

  Trak nodded. “Mr. Cricket is a friend, at least I hope he still is. Perhaps he might have some ideas. I’ll also have to talk with my landlady and both of us should let Honor Fidelia know what happened. She showed some real concern.”

  “I thought she had a heart of granite,” Val said.

  “Feely’s note was delivered to her. I went to Coffun and then to Saddlebug’s”

  Val gave Trak an evil smile, “You mean Muddlebug’s?” That confirmed to him that Val didn’t write the note.

  He nodded, relieved that she could joke about it. “How about we go down and get something to eat? At least I can find out how long I have these rooms before I’m kicked out.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry yet. I also have to talk to Horsent Beanmouth, the trustee of my educational fund. Perhaps there is a different path to get my tutoring accomplished.” Trak said. He didn’t have a lot of faith in the lawyer or his firm, but continuing with the PPO didn’t seem to be very viable. “I can pay for dinner, and then we’ll go see Miss Fidelia.”

  She nodded and took Trak’s hand as he led her to the dining room. They sat down and within moments both Esmera and Honor had joined them for dinner.

  “So tell me what has happened,” Esmera said, glancing at Honor. “Honor has been sitting in my lobby for quite a while waiting for you to arrive.” It looked like the women had met before and might even know each other.

  Trak didn’t know whether to let Val talk or give his version of the story first. Val began to speak, so he didn’t have to make that decision. Trak added his own part of the story and then he sat back.

  “Bridges burned,” Honor said. “But not with me. I have an extra flat over my shop that you can use as long as you need to, Valanna It even has a water closet, so you won’t be bothering me, at all.”

  Val’s eyes began to water. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  “You won’t be seeing Timor Saddlebug again,” Trak said.

  Esmera took Trak’s hand. “The same goes for me. That flat is yours until you tell me you don’t want it anymore. I wouldn’t give up hope yet. Have a good talk to Coffun and tell him I sent you.”

  “But what if my trust dries up?”

  “Face that eventuality when you have to. Ask them for another tutor organization. Podor’s is not the only one. All of his tutors work for the other organizations as well.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  Esmera lifted her chin. “I don’t suppose you would, but you know, now.”

  “That makes me feel better. Perhaps I’ll see Leaf tomorrow, after all. Perhaps she’s been paid to the end of the month.”

  “Just watch your back,” Honor said. “Podor Feely is a nasty man.”

  “I know first hand,” Val said, shivering.

  ~~~

  Chapter Seven

  LEAF HAD BEEN PAID TWO MONTHS IN ADVANCE, so Trak had another month of instruction due from her. Honor would continue to teach him until he had his affairs settled. Coffun had been out the only time Trak tried to contact him. He had no desire to run into Podor Feely.

  After midday, Trak entered Honor’s shop. Coffun rummaged through the racks of costumes. He noticed his face screwing up in distaste. The place gave Trak the same feeling.

  “Trak, how are you doing after all of this mess?” Coffun said.

  “It is still a mess.”

  Coffun nodded. “Perhaps I can help. I just have to talk to a few of His Highness’s servants to spirit away most of Valanna’s possessions. We can leave a few of her things in her rooms for appearances. I spoke with Snively, your lawyer’s clerk, we are on amiable terms, and I found out that Podor had paid Beanmouth a sizable kickback to funnel your tutoring through him. I always take care of all correspondence, so he has agreed to continue the trust. However, Podor has already given me instructions to cancel your contract. I’m afraid you’ve made an enemy there, but since he will be at home convalescing from a recent ‘fall’, he won’t be up and around for a month or more. Timmy is in the same shape.”

  Trak didn’t quite follow what Coffun had done.

  “I am the one who interfaces with the tutors, so I’ll be able to get ye sent to the best ones. Timmy Boy was specifically chosen by His Nibs.”

  “So I’m using the PPO, still?” Trak didn’t want Podor to get any benefit out of his education.

  “No, you are using my preparatory organization. It’s a shadowy kind of thing and you’re not the only one who I work with. When you need to see me, just send a note to my home address and I’ll meet you at Esmera’s. I always liked that place.”

  “But what about Feely and Saddlebug? Won’t they be seeking revenge?”

  Coffun nodded. “They will, but I also changed your address at the office. They won’t know where you live.” He looked around the dance studio. “Are you taking lessons here?”

  Trak blushed and nodded. Coffun continued, “Then if the worst happens, use what you learn from Miss Fidelia. I’ve said what I came to say. Have faith in yourself, Trak. Learn all that you can and don’t worry about the girl. I’ll arrange for Podor to pay for her keep, even though he doesn’t know about it. A word of warning: all is not what it seems with the girl. I’m not one to say, but it might serve ye well to be stingy on the trust side with her.” He gave Trak a curt nod and left the studio.

  “Who was here?” Honor said as she stepped into the studio from the rear.

  “A friend, I hope,” Trak said. “Coffun, Feely’s secretary, has taken care of everything… well not quite everything, but enough.”

  “Oh, he is going to gather Valanna’s things from her guardian?”

  “Podor didn’t act like her guardian,” Trak said. “But yes, and I can continue my schooling and if you are willing, continue to get instruction from you. I think I’ll need to.” Trak didn’t like the direction events were taking. How could he survive two more years of instruction and then however many more at the university? He just didn’t see that happening. Valanna’s abduction was not an attack on her, but an attack on him. What motivated Podor to attack him? Why stage the abduction in the first place? Were his opponents all idiots? An arrow in the back would kill him as easily as anything else. If anything happened, at least Trak would go to his death a literate stableboy.

  Honor touched him on his shoulder. “Woolgathering again? Very well. Valanna is in the back studio and, I suppose, we are ready to continue.”

  ~

  The History/Geography tutor that Coffun selected had a more rigorous course of study than Timmy, as Trak thought of his erstwhile teacher. He had hoped that Valanna could spend more time with him, now that she lived with Honor. Dalistro hailed from Santasia. Both Val and he wanted to know about the acceptance of magic in his country, but they hadn’t chanced upon the right time to do so.

  Honor began to teach them a mini-pose. Val knew about them, but Trak had no clue a magician could perform a partial pose and still get an effective spell to work. He thought of Val being tied up and helpless. Was there a spell that could release the bonds even if gagged? Honor hadn’t gotten quite to the point where he could ask.

  After his second week learning from his new tutor, Trak walked back from Dalistro’s chambers. Val had to help Honor with a dancing class. Most of her dance instruction occurred in the hours right after dinner and that now c
ut into the time they studied together. He trudged up the stairs and had to face an evening of attempting to convert his sketches into written notes.

  Someone had lit a candle in his room. He tried the door, but it was locked. That didn’t seem to be something Podor or Timmy Boy would know how to do. They were both convalescing from their beatings at Trak’s hand. Had they hired an assassin? He thought of a spell he could quickly use and jiggled his keys in the lock. He didn’t hear anyone clambering to hide, so he carefully opened the door and saw a man sitting at his table, smoking a pipe. A jug of ale sat in the middle of the table. The intruder had certainly made himself comfortable.

  “Trak,” Neel Cardswallow rose from the table. “I’ve been waiting a couple of hours for you to come home.” He looked around the room. “I have stayed in these very rooms once, did you know?”

  Did everyone know everybody else? Trak thought. Neel had stayed here and knew Honor. Snively had suggested The Looking Inn. Coffun knew Esmera. Could the world possibly be this tiny? He stood, conflicted. Should he give his old friend a hug or was he on the run? An idea came to his mind.

  “Did you know my mother before she met my father?”

  “Who do you think introduced Galinda to Able?”

  So that accounted for him knowing Esmera and Honor, since he had lived in Pestledown. Why did Snively recommend Esmera’s Inn? Trak’s head began to spin, but Neel asked him a question first.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “Everybody knows everybody else.” Trak could only stand dumbly while his head continued to fill with confusing thoughts.

  Neel nodded his head. “That’s why I’m here. It’s not all by chance. Sit. Sit down, Trak. This is no way to treat an old friend.” Neel pushed the chair opposite him from the table with his foot. “We have some things to talk about.” He reached into the saddlebag hanging from his chair and pulled out a letter. “I wrote this, but Able told me what to write.”

  A letter from his father shocked Trak from his consternation. He sat down and folded his hands on the table, shaking his head.

  “My experiences in Pestledown haven’t quite been what I’ve expected.”

  “Can you read this?” Neel said.

  “I can puzzle through most of it. I’m still learning.”

  Neel tossed it across to Trak and poured himself a cup of ale. He took a swig and leaned on his elbows towards Trak. “Read it aloud and I’ll fill in the blanks.”

  Dear Trak,

  I hope you are doing well. The inn is pressing on without you. Gimpy’s two boys are both working with me now. I think he’s happy to have them off the farm.

  Neel tells me that Pestledown is…

  “Churning,” Neel said. “Don’t worry about that until you’ve read the letter. That’s why I’m here.”

  I know Chance Snively and Esmera Walkalot. Neel knows Honor Fidelia and that Cricket fellow. Listen to what Neel says. You are in danger and I’d rather you get some learning before it comes to you. The education…

  “Legacy, that means what your uncle left you.” Neel smiled. “You are doing remarkably well, Trak, even if you didn’t quite get through the names.”

  Trak couldn’t help but smile himself because he knew Neel spoke the truth. Leaf had complimented him often in the last week. With Val working for Honor’s dance studio, he had more time to study language. He turned back to the letter.

  …The education legacy is real. If the University still stands after all of this, you can get a university degree and become a real gentleman. Listen to Neel. He has important things to communicate to you. What he has to tell you is the truth. You must believe him.

  I love you always,

  Able left his unique mark at the bottom of the page. Trak sat back, still holding the page. He furrowed his brow. “What is all of this? I’ve been here for little more than a season and I feel like I’ve spent five years in Pestledown.”

  “Think of the stories, Trak!” Neel poured another cup of ale. “Now you need to listen and listen closely. Pestle is about to split apart. We don’t know when or quite how, but outside forces are finally building up for conquest.”

  Trak stood up. “I’m no soldier.”

  Neel grinned. “Yes, you are. Why do you think I’ve worked with you since you were eight years old, drilling the forms into your tiny little head? All you need is practice with real weapons.” He cocked his head. “I’ll grant you still need lots and lots of practice, but you’ve done marvelously well. When the time comes, you will need to use magic and your mastery at arms in defense of your country, but that is for another time.”

  “Defense of my country! What are you talking about, an invasion?”

  Neel nodded with enthusiasm. “An invasion from within coupled with an invasion from without. You’ve already fought with one of your antagonists.”

  “Timor Saddlebug?”

  Neel laughed and shook his head. “His master, Podor Feely. The cretin, sorry you probably don’t know the word, the idiot is one of their creatures.”

  Trak collapsed back down on his chair. “Who are they?”

  “The Warishians, of course.”

  “They are a poor country of desert herders. I just learned about them from Timmy. Nothing to worry about that I can tell,” Trak said.

  Neel took a swig of his drink and washed it around his mouth before he swallowed. “I wish Esmera carried a better brand of brew.”

  “She does it on purpose to keep sots like you out of her inn,” Trak said.

  “That’s more like the Trak I know with a bit of sass in your tongue. Now, Saddlebug and others controlled by Feely have spread that tale around. They’ve minimized the buildup of the Warish army for nearly a decade by flourishing false information. Your education is a bit twisted. Warish has been infiltrating our institutions from the bureaucracy, to the army, to the educators.”

  “That is insidious!” Trak was incensed, but he still didn’t quite know what he was incensed about.

  Neel clapped his hands. “That’s a new word, isn’t it? Who did you learn that from?”

  Trak lifted his chin. “A friend. A friend from Warish.”

  “Miss Sleekbottle?”

  A thread of alarm crept up Trak’s spine. “Is she one of them?”

  Neel shook his head. “We don’t know. Honor is trying to find out. Her abduction might have been staged to expose you using your magic.”

  “I already realized it was staged. I hate to think of her as a spy, but I don’t know anything. Why me?”

  “Your grandfather killed the famous rat. He was executed, but his family fled by ship to Santasia. Your grandmother returned with her children, under an assumed name. Two had more than a little magical talent, but when Galinda exhibited powers that rivaled her father’s, Esmera convinced her and her sister to leave Pestledown. I knew Able to be an honest and just man and let nature take its course. Unfortunately, that included the death of your mother when she came to Pestledown with her sister to see their brother. They were both captured and soon executed by the king, however we kept you a secret.

  “You may not like this, but your uncle, Willbest Youngblood, turned his two sisters in to the king. He had no magical abilities and sought the approval of the crown. The man suddenly came into wealth. Your education was a sop to his conscience, but you may be wealthier than you think. You inherit all of his wealth once you graduate from the University of Pestle.”

  “My uncle ratted out on my mother and aunt? How could he do such a thing?”

  Neel grimaced and shrugged his shoulders. “Money makes men do a lot of… unkind acts. I can see his point in seeking wealth, but causing the death of one’s siblings goes beyond anything I would do, personally.” He drank the rest of his mug and poured another. “She really must do something about this swill,” he said, making a sour face.

  “Someone told me a different story.”

  “Ask Esmera, and it will match mine.”

  Trak barely heard him. Hi
s life had come crashing down on him, just after he had come to terms with his new situation. He clutched his fists in anger, at his father, at Neel, at his benefactor, at Feely. Such betrayal and he was powerless to do anything about it.

  “All you can do now is prepare and follow through with your education,” Neel said. “People are after you because you are certain to have great magical power. Once Beanmouth discovered where you lived, everything went into action.”

  “I refuse to take any more money from Beanmouth! The legacy is blood money paid in exchange for the death of my mother!” Trak felt as if his head would burst. He felt himself loosing control and at this point he needed the release. He rose from his chair, again, and stalked to the window.

  He turned to Neel. “I’m heading back to Greenbrook to take my place at my father’s side again. I’m three times the stableboy that any two of Gimpy’s sons are. Anyway, I miss my father.” He held out his arms to Neel. “Take me back home.” Trak found himself out of breath. His eyes had watered and he brushed his shirtsleeve over them.

  “Too late for that,” Neel said.

  “What? It can’t be too late. I’ve only been in Pestle for a few months.” Trak took some deep breaths. “We can be back and see my father before the leaves all fall.”

  “I raised you better than that,” Neel said.

  “You didn’t raise me, my father did.”

  Neel finished off his cup and took a few deep breaths, looking away from Trak. He turned and looked directly into Trak’s eyes. “Forgive me, Trak. Able is not your father, I am. Able married your aunt Jeena and we felt it better that he appear to be your father. In some places, I have a higher profile than I’d like. We hid you well since it took the Warish fifteen years to find you.”

  Trak put his fists to the sides of head. “This can’t be true! I must be dreaming. You, my father? All you are is a drunk in my father’s inn.”