Magician In Training (Power of Poses Book 1)

by Guy Antibes

  “Now let us go through the twenty-five poses you have been taught. Show me the pose and then break the pose and describe it to me in your own words.”

  The work was much more tedious without Val to impress. Trak still carried heartache within him. He cared for her more than he ever admitted to anyone and her betrayal had continued to gnaw away inside.

  Midway through his third run-through for the day, Trak stopped and dropped his arms.

  “You can’t be tired already.”

  Trak pursed his lips. “Dalistro is making me work hard up on the decks.”

  She snorted. “Physical attributes are no match for magic.”

  “But they are not much fun,” Trak said. “Anyway, I can now do the forms and the poses faster than I could with the same accuracy.”

  Honor squinted her eyes. “You just might change your mind about the fun part when we land in Santasia tomorrow and we get into words of power.” She clapped her hands. “Now finish this set of poses. If you are flawless, we won’t have to start on another set until we locate our new quarters.”

  Trak knew he could finish the poses. They were, by now, burned into his brain and into his reflexes. It didn’t take him long to finish and he gladly left Honor and sought out Dalistro for his last session with blades. His elation at perfecting the poses was deflated by being thoroughly thrashed again, for Dalistro gave him no quarter in their last match aboard ship.

  His tutor nodded and smiled. “You’ve made progress. You might not be able to tell but I can. You can probably save yourself from an untutored brigand,” Dalistro laughed.

  “Where will I go when we arrive in Santasia, tomorrow?”

  “I have a few houses that I let out in the capital city of Espozia. There is one close to my personal residence, yet discreet enough for Honor. You will be staying with me.”

  Trak didn’t know what to think of that. Dalistro had taught him a great deal, but he wondered if he could handle so much of Dalistro. He had grown larger than life on the voyage. A spy, a scholar and a swordsman. Trak still wasn’t that far from shoveling out the horse manure in his father’s stable and he had to admit that the man intimidated him more now than when they first met.

  ~~~

  Chapter Ten

  THE CITY OF ESPOZIA DWARFED PESTLEDOWN. They had to sail for a few hours upstream along a wide, slow moving river to get to the city proper. Trak noticed the forts on their way. He imagined that all sorts of things were aimed towards the river to keep invaders from sneaking into the city.

  He walked to the railing to see if the city was around the next bend. Gradually more houses and small docks began to sprout up around the river, and then Trak marveled at the city, spread out on both sides of the river. Small boats scrambled across the river, evidently ferries transporting people and goods.

  “Different from Pestledown?” Dalistro said to Trak. He put his arm around Trak’s shoulder. “You will like it here, but remember always, our intent is to have you return to Pestledown. You are not a prisoner, but a patriot in exile. My job is to prepare you for what is to come in the Kingdom of Pestle, remember that.”

  Dalistro’s hand on his shoulder made Trak want to squirm. He suspected that Misson was much richer than anyone he had ever met in his life. The captain continued to joke around with him, but still acted as if his tutor outranked him. Life was much simpler in Greenbrook.

  Honor joined them. The buildings on the eastern side that Trak had viewed were much higher than those on the western side.

  “It has been a long time since I have seen Espozia,” she said. Trak didn’t know if she talked to him or Dalistro or to herself. “It has grown so much larger on the Ozitza side.”

  Trak furrowed his brow. “Ozitza side?”

  “I have been remiss in your studies. There is the side of the bureaucrats, Estia where I live, and the western side of Espozia is the Ozitza. There is more to the difference between the two than the height of the buildings.” His tutor cast a gaze at Honor. Trak could tell that Espozia probably had multiple versions of its history. However, he could learn magic in Espozia from Honor and he looked forward to more swordplay with Dalistro.

  The captain whispered in Trak’s ear. “If you’d like, you can follow Ferano on the ship and participate in our arriving in port.”

  Trak looked at the captain and at Dalistro and took off after the sailor. Ferano had taught him how to run up the rigging and how to swab the decks during his exercises. He had suspected that Ferano’s load was a little lighter at the expense of Trak’s sweat, but Trak now felt stronger than when he minded stables.

  Trak helped at the winches to bring up the sails.

  “Home. Time to find a home for a few weeks. I hope I find one soft and cuddly,” one sailor said.

  Another laughed. “My home will be red sea encased in glass bottle. In fact I will have many homes!”

  Each sailor contributed to the joking about what they would do when they landed, with each hope more outlandish than the rest. All had their say and looked at Trak, who looked a bit surprised. “Me?” he said.

  They all nodded and grinned evilly at him for putting the boy on the spot.

  “I will learn how to puncture my enemies when I get home and perhaps learn how to fly.”

  They all guffawed and went back to their work, moving from one winch to the next as the sails were furled up on the masts and, finally, the ship bumped up against a long dock.

  “That’s enough, Master Trak,” Ferano said. “I wish you fair sailing.”

  “And the same to you, Ferano,” Trak said as he ran over to Dalistro, who held out his birthday sword. Trak finished buckling it to his waist while Dalistro led him down a gangplank to the dock below. Honor followed them closely behind. She carried a large bag of possessions. Trak had a small borrowed duffel bag with two changes of clothes.

  They all piled into a rather nice carriage painted a shiny black with a fox sitting in a checkered field along with other flourishes.

  “Are you a noble? I thought there wasn’t a king in Santasia,” Trak said.

  Dalistro nodded his head. “There isn’t, but the aristocracy remained. In Santasia, it’s not your breeding, but what you do with yourself that counts. Think of nobles as members of an ancient club.”

  Honor squinted at Dalistro. “So no new nobles can be named? That’s not what I learned when I last visited Santasia.”

  “There are awards and titles, but they just allow you membership in the club,” Dalistro said.

  Trak didn’t think the tone of Dalistro’s words sounded true. He would have to be as careful in Espozia as much as he had been in Pestledown. He forced a smile. “I’ve never been a member of a club.”

  “You are,” Honor said. “There is a society of magicians in Santasia and you are already a member by virtue of your power. But I must give you warning. The club is closed. If you are found to have magic, your membership is mandatory. Once you are identified as a person with power, your life may change, so we will have to be discreet.”

  “My power? I know a few poses and fewer words, but I don’t think of myself that way,” Trak said. He looked out the carriage window as they passed a couple of fancily dressed men wearing swords. “I would rather be a swordsman.”

  Dalistro’s eyes followed Trak’s. “There is no reason you have to belong to just one club, is there?”

  Trak saw him casually looking at Honor, who glared back at him. He didn’t want to be in the middle of a fight between his two tutors. “There is no reason at all. I will become a good magician and a good swordsman. I show promise in both fields of endeavor, right?” He liked using the word ‘endeavor’. He hoped Dalistro would permit him a language tutor. Then a thought hit him.

  “Who is paying for Honor and me? I had my education in Pestledown, but I come here without any money.”

  Dalistro narrowed his eyes and smiled at him as if he knew something that Trak didn’t. His tutor knew a whole lot more than he did, so he didn’t see
why Dalistro would gloat. “You are guests of the Santasian Council. Nothing is being sought in return. The Warish want to rule the world and that would inconvenience the members of our clubs. Your power and breeding are something special that we don’t want in the hands of Warish or bleeding out onto the pavement of Pestledown’s Execution Square.” He had maintained his smile and bowed slightly towards Honor. “We essentially abducted you both, therefore we are responsible until events settle out.”

  Honor pursed her lips. “And what events are those?”

  “You’ll learn in due time,” Dalistro said.

  ~~~

  Chapter Eleven

  PRINCE NEZ FEREZ GAZED OUT OF HIS TOWER WINDOW towards the sands of the desert, barely visible along the western horizon. He loved the heat of his youth, traveling from oasis to oasis, while his clan eked out a living herding sheep and exploiting a few hidden mines of gold and diamond. The mines made them richer than most nobles in Warish, but the sheep kept their souls in touch with the land they all loved.

  A door opened and a young serving maid, even younger than Nez, entered, head bent and walking with tiny steps. “Your breakfast, Great Prince.”

  Nez loved being called a prince. He’d rather be called a desert prince or even a nomad prince, although, by now, his clan were anything but nomads. He turned and sent the maid away with a whisk of his hand. He sat on cushions at a low table in his rooms and ate a breakfast consisting of fruit, light wine and lightly breaded morsels of fried lamb.

  As he sat, a figure entered his room from behind a curtained wall.

  “Asem, you have returned with news from Pestle? What will you be telling my father?”

  The man bowed. “I have not eaten yet. May I?”

  Nez waved his assent and nothing was said as they both ate in silence for a moment.

  “Your lady friend, Valanna Almond, is back. Rescued from Podor Feely or his friend. I don’t know which. Why did you pick such a noxious man to house her?”

  Nez smiled. “She is a magician. Valanna should know how to take care of herself.”

  “I would never send such an innocent to Pestledown,” Asem said. “Podor used her badly to try and capture the Bluntwithe boy. The boy who is only a few years younger than you, Great Prince, but he thoroughly thrashed Podor and his henchman when they clumsily tried to capture him. Those were your orders? They weren’t mine.”

  That made Nez blush a bit. Asem was an old family friend and member of his clan. He could say what he wanted in Nez’s presence. “Perhaps I was a bit hasty. I should have let you know, Asem. Is that better?”

  Asem smiled. “Better. Unfortunately, we missed our opportunity to take him. You pulled the Almond girl out of Pestledown and that must have alerted the Santasians, who spirited him away just as the royal guard was about to take the boy. A Santasian tutor, we believe, Misson Dalistro.” He looked meaningfully at Nez.

  “Dalistro, a tutor this time, eh? He has outfoxed us again. My father will be furious.”

  The man in black nodded. “The witch that the girl learned a bit of magic from is missing as well.”

  “So we think they are both in Santasia now?”

  Another nod from the man in black and then he shrugged. “It doesn’t make a difference. Our plan progresses, as long as we are patient. Our plan is ripe, for in another year we can just walk into Pestle and take over.”

  Nez pounded a fist on the table, spilling some wine. “My father is much too patient.”

  “It is a virtue, Great Prince. The Pestlans will welcome us with open arms and with smiles on their faces. Who knows, the dimwitted king may just step aside in your favor.”

  Nez smiled and twisted a gold diamond-encrusted ring on his finger. “Perhaps. I am confident that I will rule before I am twenty?”

  “Assuredly.”

  “The boy, uh, the young man won’t be able to stop us?”

  “Risk is abundant in all affairs of state, Great Prince. I doubt he will ever understand his true potential before we either tame him or kill him.”

  “If he does, then you will end that potential in a most violent manner?”

  Asem smiled and bowed his head. “I live to serve you and your father.”

  ~~~

  Chapter Twelve

  HONOR SAT TRAK DOWN AS SOON AS HE ENTERED the pleasant little house on a back lane, not far from Dalistro’s impressive mansion. She shoved his portfolio in his hands.

  “You will need to learn sixty-seven basic poses. After that,” she shrugged, “you will know enough to begin a different course of study.” She pulled out a massively thick stack of parchment papers bound between two red leather-covered boards. “That is what is in here. This book is a personal treasure and you can only study it in my presence. Do you understand?”

  “Can I copy the pages?”

  “Of course,” she said in a most demeaning manner. Her mood had deteriorated after their voyage.

  “Then what is the matter?”

  Honor looked away. “I honestly don’t know where to turn.”

  “Are we in trouble?”

  “When have we not been in trouble, Trak? At least two groups monitored my studio, besides the king’s guard. I thought I trusted Misson, but I’m not so sure. Are you the pawn of some greater game?” She rubbed one of her upper arms and stood up. “I suppose you can just float along until someone decides you are no longer a player, but I don’t think that’s going to happen. I’ve been to Espozia before and we will be in danger as long as we are here. Not necessarily life-threatening, but dangerous nevertheless.” She looked at him as she walked to a window and looked out at the little park across the street.

  “Who is playing us?” Trak said, still somewhat confused by her words.

  “Everyone.”

  A simple answer for a complex problem. “So what do we do? Escape?”

  Honor laughed and walked away from the window. “Where to? Do you know?”

  Trak shook his head, but he knew she didn’t seek an answer. “Maybe we should wait for a bit until we know more. If I learn more swordsmanship and more magic, perhaps we might make a formidable pair and can go where we like.”

  She gave him a cynical smile. “And where is that? Join the Toryans?” She snorted. “That is the question.”

  “The Toryans are just a myth. Forest magicians,” Trak said. “Neel would know.”

  “And whose side is Neel on? Warish, Pestle, Santasia? Certainly not Colcan.”

  Trak had to think. “Is there a Pestlan resistance? I think he’s on that side.”

  Honor rubbed her thumb against her forefinger. “To be crushed by the greater powers.”

  “But I can help him, if I become powerful enough,” Trak said, standing up. “You said I had great potential.”

  Her face softened. “You do, but there isn’t much time to teach you what you need to know and the wisdom to use it properly.”

  “Wisdom? There is wisdom in magic?” Trak didn’t understand.

  Honor nodded her head. “Wisdom is the difference between a good magician and a great magician. You need to know what to use and how to use it. There are gradations in power and, at the right time, you will learn how to innovate.”

  “Innovate? You mean create magic?”

  Honor took Trak and held onto his shoulders. “Effects. You can learn different ways to apply your talent. That is the key to true mastery. There are few enough masters in the world. It is probably the most exclusive of clubs. Remember in the carriage, Misson talked of clubs.”

  Trak nodded. “I’m already a member of the Magician’s club. He said that.”

  “Not really, the guild demands a much greater commitment than you can give. I dealt with them when I spent my time in Espozia. Look not to them for support, young man. The noble’s club? They are probably more pawns than we are.”

  “So, it is the Council?”

  Honor snorted. “There is a council behind the council, who are the unelected rulers of Santasia. Who knows how many
factions there are in this country? Right now, everything is placid. But it’s like a river with a heavy current. It might be as smooth as glass on top, but the river swirls and flows quickly beneath.”

  “Can we do anything about it now?” Trak said, trying to get off of this depressing conversation. He could tell they would be having it again.

  “No.” Honor’s smile was a bit more genuine. “You are right. For now, we concentrate on your magic and, truth be told, my magic as well. If you want to be a team, I will willingly join. Our own two-person secret club, how about that?”

  “I would like that. You can keep me from becoming Dalistro’s man.”

  She rubbed her hands together. “Let’s make a great magician out of you, then. When we are done, you won’t need your sword.”

  Trak didn’t want that to happen, so he kept his opinions on swordsmanship to himself.

  ~

  The seasons were more pronounced in Santasia. With fall came a chill in the air. The cold air occasionally turned fall rains to snow, more snow that Trak had ever seen, but it melted away quickly. Dalistro kept him up on his exercises, language tutoring in both Pestlan and Santasian and history, which Dalistro had turned towards political systems. His increased educational load gave him little time to visit Honor. However he didn’t let that slow up his magic education. He spent his time at Honor’s painstakingly copying her pose-book into his.

  On the practice field, Trak learned that he could integrate his poses into exercise forms with his sword and that finally caught the notice of Misson Dalistro.

  “Where did you learn those forms?” his tutor said.

  “I picked them up in Pestle. I just haven’t used them here. I’m eager to learn new things.” Trak said as he stopped his exercise.

  “It is time to move our practices indoors. At this time of year, the plants in my conservatory begin to die off, leaving a large floor of bare dirt. That’s where we will begin to practice, starting tomorrow, unless the day is nice, of course, that way you can practice whatever forms you wish all winter long.”