Magician In Training (Power of Poses Book 1)

by Guy Antibes

  Neel’s smile faded. “And you’ve never seen your father in his cups? We both lost the loves of our lives. Isn’t that enough to drive one to drink?”

  “If it were me, I’d strike back at my uncle.”

  “What makes you think we didn’t? Didn’t I mention Snively works with us? He made up the will for your education; your uncle didn’t leave you anything. If he knew you were alive, he probably would have turned you over to the King’s Guard.”

  “I thought that the lawyer was skimming off some of whatever my uncle left.”

  Neel relaxed again. “Oh, he is. As long as he has Snively do all the work, he won’t look too closely.”

  Trak brightened. “And Coffun works for Podor Feely in the same way.”

  “I always knew you were brighter than me,” Neel said. He stood and took Trak into his arms. “Please forgive us for what we’ve done. You know the reasons we were there to protect you. I’ve been there for you all along. Trak, you know that. We are all a loose group from various factions. Some work for Santasia, others for Colcan. I work for myself and for the freedom of Pestle.”

  Trak had gone rigid when Neel hugged him, but he couldn’t resist believing any longer. “I do. But I always thought you were more like a big brother than a father.”

  “As we intended. I even let you grow up into an illiterate stableboy. That just gave you more protection when anyone snooped about, and I assure you that they did.”

  Trak just let Neel hold him for a bit. “You’ve taught me more than Able. Forgive me when I call him Father and you Neel.”

  Neel shook his head gently. “Just keep calling us that way. Neither of us will mind. In fact, it’s better that you do that while we are here in Pestle.”

  “Are we leaving Pestle anytime soon?”

  “You will go overseas at some point for your tutoring.”

  “Santasia.” Trak’s thoughts turned to Misson Dalistro. His tutor would be in on it.

  “Among other places, but that is a subject for another time. Right now you have to concentrate on getting your letters so you can read and write and learn about Pestle and the rest of the world. Your current tutor will teach you the right way.”

  Trak disengaged from Neel’s grasp. “He’s a lot harder than Timmy Boy.” Trak managed a smile for the first time during their conversation. “Perhaps now I know why.”

  “Timmy Boy. Good nickname,” Neel said while gathering his saddlebag. “I’m not staying at the inn. Continue as you are. I’ll drop in on you in a few days, but there are a few things I must do first. Keep your origins to yourself. The only ones who know our true relationship are Esmera and Honor.”

  Trak nodded. “Esmera has been very nice. Honor, I don’t quite understand.”

  “I never did, either” Neel said, but Trak picked up that Neel left something unsaid. “Happy studies and watch your back. If you are of a mind, your father gives you permission to finish off the jug of ale.” He walked out the door without another word.

  Trak looked at the jug and poured the remainder into the cup. Neel had finished it off and left a drop or two behind. That brought a chuckle to Trak. The act was more like the Neel he knew. He looked at the door his new father had used. Trak wondered if he could get down any dinner. He patted his stomach and thought that a trip to the dining room would be worth a try.

  ~~~

  Chapter Eight

  Misson Dalistro put his fists on his hips and shook his head. His tutor had waited for their session to end and had dismissed Val, leaving Trak alone with him. “You must apply yourself, Trak. Valanna has constantly showed a higher aptitude for absorbing this information.”

  Val continued to work nights at Honor’s studio and Trak just hadn’t learned his letters well enough to understand everything in the books that Misson had lent him. He sighed and realized that he would have to tell him the truth.

  “I have this problem, Master Dalistro, I am barely literate. I just can’t get through the books fast enough. Miss Sleekbottle helps me from time to time, but it’s not enough.”

  Misson bent back and laughed. “I was waiting for you to tell me. I’ve known since the first day, but you’ve been so diligent that I decided to wait awhile and see how well you did. Well enough for me to put this off for two full weeks.”

  “I’m sorry sir.”

  “No need. How does it go with your literacy tutor? Leaf Gougepenny, isn’t it?”

  Trak relaxed just a bit. “Well enough, I’m probably as literate as any average ten-year-old schoolboy.” He gave his new tutor a weak smile.

  “I’ll have a talk with her. Perhaps we can mix the two subjects together. We haven’t gotten to the really important parts of this class yet.”

  Trak scratched his head. “There are important parts? I thought everything was.”

  Misson laughed again and his eyes flashed. “I have things to teach you, without Val knowing. Cardswallow is an acquaintance of mine.” He winked at Trak.

  On his way home, he thought that his first tutor was an enemy and now this one was an ally? Trak didn’t know what to think, but if it moved him along in his education and whatever implications that held, then all the better. Now he’d have more secrets to keep from Val and, perhaps, Honor. Although Esmera probably knew, he wouldn’t mention anything to her, either. Trak thought the longer he didn’t tell anyone that he knew a few things here or a few things there, perhaps everything would go away.

  He hoped that Able Bluntwithe would show up in his rooms like Neel Cardswallow—Trak never liked Neel’s last name— and tell him that everything had been a big joke. Yeah, a big joke. Was his last name really Cardswallow? He didn’t like Trak Cardswallow any more than Neel Cardswallow.

  His rooms were lit again. Trak clunked up the stairs. He didn’t know if he was ready to take another mind-bending conversation with Neel. He still couldn’t think of him as his father. The curtains were drawn from the inside, so at least he didn’t have to see Neel pouring himself cup after cup of ale.

  The latch didn’t work, so Trak had to pull out his key. He knew that he had left it unlocked for the maids. All of this drama and for what? Everything remained so mysterious. He was just tired after a long day of studying. He didn’t like the fact that his tutor knew Neel. Things were intertwined and it made him uncomfortable because he just didn’t comprehend what went on around him.

  He braced himself for more words from Neel when he entered the room.

  “Happy Birthday!”

  Trak looked around his room and saw Neel, Valanna, Honor, Esmera and Coffun. He took a step back in shock. Birthday? He scratched the back of his head. It was, come to think of it. Today, he was sixteen. He shook his head in disbelief.

  A birthday cake sat in the middle of his table with two pitchers. One with the ale Neel despised. That made Trak smile, but then the shock of it all made him grin.

  “I didn’t know!” Trak said as he flung off his book bag and shook hands with Neel and Coffun. He had to endure hugs from Esmera and Honor, but there was no ‘endure’ in the hug that Val gave him. He turned red as she clung on to him longer than the others. “Thank you for reminding me.”

  “You didn’t forget,” Honor eyed him dubiously.

  “Really, I did. I’ve had a lot to think about lately.” He looked at Esmera and Neel and squinted his eyes as he looked at them both, standing next to each other.

  “Who came up with this?”

  Esmera laughed. “You can thank you’re old friend, Neel.”

  “Everyone knows Neel,” Trak said. He didn’t mean to, but he thought it sounded mean.

  “I didn’t until tonight,” Val said. “Any friend of yours is a friend of mine.” She smiled sweetly. He had missed seeing her outside of class. It must have been a week or more.

  “Well, I’m glad that you’ve been able to tear yourself away from the dance studio and to see you in a less stressful setting. Like that word? Stressful.”

  Val colored and Trak didn’t miss the appra
ising look that Honor gave her. He rubbed his hands, knowing he said something that was awkward. Perhaps Val didn’t do a very good job. She was just a little older than him, after all. Trak still didn’t have any idea how to formally dance in Pestle. “Let’s have some cake!” Anything to clear the air of the awkwardness that he felt. Food and drink always did the trick in his father’s inn. He corrected himself, at The Blunted Sword.

  “So now that you’re sixteen, what new things will you accomplish this year?” Coffun said.

  “I imagine to pass these two courses and seek out tutors for the next half of the year.”

  Coffun waved his forefinger at him. “This is the easiest term. You only had one tutor in addition to Miss Gougepenny because you didn’t know how to read. She says that you will be sufficiently able to read and write after she’s done with you, so all you will need is a dictionary to help you learn the words that come up in your studies.”

  “I thought this was his birthday?” Neel said. “Don’t scare the boy silly. Save one of those slots for me, Mr. Cricket. I’m going to give Trak some needed arms training.” Neel winked at Trak. “That’s my birthday present. Weapons and weapons practice and it starts tomorrow, even before your next term.”

  The prospect of holding a real sword excited Trak, despite his uncertain relationship with Neel. At Greenbrook, they used toy weapons made out of wood.

  Esmera felt Trak’s biceps. “Soft, much too soft for a warrior. A scholar, maybe, but if you want to defend yourself, you’ll need some physical exercise. Perhaps I can use your help in the stables after all, when you’re not practicing with Neel.”

  Trak knew he blushed after she called him soft. He didn’t used to think that he was so soft, but perhaps he had lost some of his muscles. Trak knew that he had grown taller in the last few months and didn’t seem to put on any weight, no matter how much he ate. He looked at the cake and thought that might be a good place to start to gain some bulk.

  “Sit down, Trak. We all have presents.”

  He blushed again. “You didn’t need to get me any presents.”

  “Yes, we did,” Neel said. “Here.” He laid a sword on the table. It was used, like the knife he still wore at his hip, but he could tell it was once a very expensive blade. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Thank you, works,” Neel said, while everybody laughed.

  “Thank you, then.”

  Coffun gave him a book wrapped up in brown paper. Trak opened it up. “A dictionary! This is mine to keep?”

  The old man nodded. “Podor certainly won’t miss it.”

  They all laughed again. Trak had never felt so good since he had arrived in Pestledown.

  He thumbed through the pages, actually able to read many of the words, when Esmera set down a frame of some kind. Trak instantly thought of a painting. He opened it up and it was, indeed, an old painting of three young girls. One of them had to be Esmera. She didn’t look as… forceful then.

  “My mother and aunt?” he asked, hoping she would say yes. He never had a drawing or anything to reinforce the vague memories he had of his mother.

  “She’s on the left,” Neel said. Esmera nodded. The woman had light brown hair, blue eyes and a pretty face. He looked at Neel and could see his eyes glisten nearly as much as Esmera’s.

  “I am stunned.” He couldn’t bring himself to say another word for a minute and had to collect himself. “Thank you, Esmera,” he finally got out.

  Honor presented him with a rolled up parchment. People used parchment only for important documents. He unrolled it and was able to discern that she had just given him one year of training at her dance studio.

  “You don’t have to do this. I can pay you a gold a month.”

  “Use it on yourself. A boy’s got to have money to have a good time and I don’t think you’ve had a bit of it since you arrived, dripping on my doorstep,” she said, her eyes brighter than he ever remembered.

  Trak couldn’t accept this, but he would have to deal with this later. He didn’t want to spoil his own party. That left Val to give him something and he didn’t expect anything from her. A gift from a girl in Greenbrook meant something about their relationship, but she, nevertheless, slipped a long thin box in front of him.

  He opened it up and looked back at her. “This is—“

  “A pointer for when you become a scholar and teach others. Think of our time together learning from Mistress Fidelia and Master Dalistro.” Val winked at him.

  He suspected that they all knew that she had given him a wand. Magicians used wands to cast their magic rather than burn or freeze their fingers. “Thank you, for your thoughtful gift. I will keep it safe until such time that I can demonstrate my knowledge to others.” Trak was rather proud of the way he put that. If anyone listened in, they wouldn’t have any proof he meant that his first demonstration with that pointy stick would be to project a magic spell from a pose of power.

  His guests all left at once. He didn’t get to personally thank Neel or Valanna for their gifts. He picked up the sword and went through all of his sword forms and then he picked up Valanna’s wand and practiced his poses, linking them with movement, just like he did with a blade.

  Exhausted from the exertion, Trak fell on his bed, fully clothed, smiling up at the ceiling, feeling pretty good about his life at that moment.

  ~

  “Is it true that most tutors and instructors teach that Warish is a backwater country with no civilization and sparsely settled?” Trak said

  Dalistro gave Trak an appraising eye. He nodded. “That is true. If you took any instruction with most other tutors and certainly all at the University, they would tell you that. Ah, they will dazzle you with recent expeditions and new books stating otherwise, but history, as I know it, changes daily in Pestle.”

  “How can history change?”

  Misson laughed. “At first it is an implication, a thought, a criticism. When such indicators are not batted down, the implications become propositions, the thoughts are accepted and the criticism becomes dogma. Before you know it, history has changed.”

  Trak furrowed his brow. “But it hasn’t really, has it?”

  “No, however, people believe what they want to believe. Recognition that the Warishians intend on invading Pestle is not a happy thought, is it?”

  Trak thought for a moment. “If an invasion happened, there would be a lot more unhappy thoughts.”

  “More than thoughts, Trak. Pestle would be taken unawares and everyone’s lives would change. Have you ever heard of how to cook frogs?”

  A smile blossomed on Trak’s face. “I’ve cooked a few myself for my… father. You put them in a pot of cold water and they don’t notice the temperature rise until it is too late.”

  Misson nodded. “And such it is with relentless propaganda.”

  “Propaganda? What does that mean?”

  “Good of you to make the frog concept clear. Propaganda is the art of mis-informing the population. Propaganda might not be outright lies, but it gently shapes the opinion of the population. Not everyone absorbs information critically. For those that do, propaganda has less effect.”

  “Aren’t university students too smart for that?”

  “No. Remember the boiling frog. The students, by now, are just about to the point of being cooked alive. They have no idea that they have been fooled about any number of things.”

  “Including a false interpretation of history?”

  Misson smiled and rose from his seat. “Exactly, from now on we will discuss history as I know it and history as is being currently taught in Pestle. You make up your mind which is correct.”

  “What about Mistress Sleekbottle? She’s from Warish.”

  “She has just withdrawn from our sessions.” Misson waved a note that he picked up from his desktop. “You might ask her yourself, but let’s get on a bit with our new approach before you ask her.” Misson looked at the clock on the wall. “Ah! Time is up. I think you have enough to contempl
ate tonight. I have no assignment for you.”

  That was a first. Trak quickly left Dalistro’s house and headed back to his rooms. News of Val’s ending of the classes disturbed him. If she hadn’t given him the wand, he might wonder about her sincerity in all of this.

  In their magic classes, she had acted like she barely had enough power to complete the spells. Was that a ruse, too? He didn’t want to think about her faking her weakness and prepared himself for an evening of military forms practice. Neel— Trak just couldn’t call him father— had been called away the day after his birthday party and had told him to get into shape for his arms training.

  After dinner, he went out to the alley that ran behind the inn and brought his birthday sword, which he wouldn’t practice with and one of the practice swords that the stableboys used, along with a pole to use for staff work.

  He began his workout and moved through the forms as he always had with the pole and the practice sword. Everything went smoothly and he exercised with the same precision he always did, until six dark figures emerged from the darkening day at either end of the alley.

  “Come with us,” one of them said.

  Trak bent slightly at the waist. He’d never been in a real fight and wondered if this would be the first. He took a step towards the one who spoke and then lost control of his limbs. As he fell, he twisted around and saw a magician just breaking his pose.

  ~~~

  Chapter Nine

  WHEN TRAK WOKE UP IN THE DARK, HIS WORLD SWAYED back and forth. He didn’t think he was dizzy, but as he sat up, he realized he was back on a ship. He shook the cobwebs from his mind and stood, feeling around for the door. To his surprise, it was unlocked. He stepped out into a dim hallway lit by widely spaced lanterns.

  No one paid any attention to him as he walked up the ladder to the next level of the ship and then onto the deck. He could barely make out the lights of Pestledown, dwindling in the distance. He didn’t really want to chance a swim at night, especially as woozy as he was, but still clung to the railing contemplating a plunge into the dark water below.