The Artful Apprentice

by Christopher Nuttall

  Jan led the way outside, brushing down his robes. “I should look at the shops,” he said. “Or do you have something else in mind?”

  “The shops would be nice,” Emily agreed. She’d been taught to get the lay of the land as soon as possible. “And afterwards, if we have time, we can walk in the mountains.”

  “As long as we don’t walk into a high-magic zone,” Jan said. “We might come out with two heads.”

  “Two heads are better than one,” Emily said, although she knew it wasn’t true. There were stories of magicians who’d grafted two heads onto one body. They tended to end badly. It was possible, she’d been told, to transplant a head onto a headless body, but it was officially forbidden. She suspected that meant the procedure had simply gone underground. “But you’re right. It wouldn’t be safe.”

  Jan gave her a sharp look. “Why does your master live there, then?”

  “Ask him,” Emily said, vaguely. “He certainly never told me why he lives here.”

  She grinned as Jan led her into the shop. “Where do you live?”

  “Celeste,” Jan said. “Have you visited?”

  “Once,” Emily said. “But I didn’t stay long.”

  She smiled as she looked around the bookshop. It was crammed with books, from fictional stories with lurid covers to factual textbooks about everything from farming to accounting. They’d all come off a printing press, as far as she could tell. Even the magic textbooks had clearly been printed, rather than hand-written or duplicated through magic. She picked one up and leafed through it. The tutors had complained about cheap books replacing their valued textbooks, but it was clear their objections hadn’t registered. Textbooks were expensive. Anyone who found a way to make them cheaper would be a hero, as far as the students were concerned. A poor student might have to depend on outdated works in the library.

  Until now, Emily thought, with a flash of pride. Everyone can read and write now.

  Jan chatted happily as they walked from shop to shop, purchasing a handful of items for later use. Emily listened, enjoying the chance to relax and talk about nothing. It wasn’t quite like meeting her friends — and she had the feeling a meeting with Cat would be awkward — but it was better than staying in the tower. She promised herself she’d write to the others when she got home. The chat parchments lacked a certain something.

  Thunder rumbled, in the distance. “I think you’d better get back home,” Jan said. “It looks like rain.”

  Emily nodded. “Walk with me to the valley?”

  They fell into a companionable silence as they made their way through the town and up towards the grazing patches. The shepherdesses were already hurrying the sheep to the barns, sparing no attention for the pair of magicians in their midst. Emily hoped they’d get back home before it really started to rain. The clouds were so dark she was sure it was about to get very heavy indeed.

  “I’ve enjoyed today,” Jan said. He stopped and turned to face her. “Did you?”

  “Yes,” Emily said. She felt oddly light-headed. Her heart was pounding in her chest. “I would certainly like to do it again.”

  “You could come visit me next time, when we both have a day off,” Jan said. “I could show you ‘round the city.”

  “I’d like that,” Emily said. He wanted to kiss her. She could tell he wanted to kiss her. And part of her wanted to kiss him back. “I didn’t see much of Celeste when I was there.”

  “There are wonders,” Jan said. “There’s supposed to be more magicians in the city than anywhere else.”

  He leaned forward. Emily lifted her head, allowing him to kiss her lightly. He hugged her gently, then let go. Emily wanted him to kiss her again, even as she was surprised at her own behavior. She’d known Caleb and Cat for years before she’d allowed them to kiss her.

  “I’ll see you again,” Jan promised, as he stepped back. “I’ll write.”

  “Me too,” Emily said. Rain started to fall, cold droplets splashing against her hair. “I promise.”

  Jan bowed, then turned and hurried back to the city. Emily watched him go, feeling oddly conflicted. Part of her wanted to call him back. Part of her wanted time to process her feelings. Jan was a nice guy. And there would be advantages to a long-distance relationship...

  She shook her head. It was time to go home. She’d worry about Jan later. If nothing else, it might be quite some time before they both had another day off on the same day. It might be a while before she could see him again.

  And if I don’t hurry back, she thought as she started to walk, I’ll be soaked to the skin by the time I get home.

  Chapter Nineteen

  EMILY HADN’T BEEN SURE WHAT TO expect when she arrived home after her date. Void would be perfectly within his rights to interrogate her, to demand to know what she might have told Jan — and, through him, Master Lucknow. But Void said nothing about it the following morning as they plunged back into their studies. They worked through endless spells, practicing until her fingers ached, her head pounded and her magic felt as if it had been pushed right to the limit. Void dueled with her, teaching her trick after trick for cracking advanced wards... tricks he’d used to break his own wards. She thought he was pleased with her progress, but she couldn’t tell. It was all too clear she had a long way to go.

  The days started to blur together, despite her best intentions. Emily barely had time to write anything beyond brief notes to her friends, not when she couldn’t keep up with her studies. Void seemed to be aware of her limits, but he kept pushing her to break them. There were days when she could only emerge from the workroom, stumble into bed and awaken the following day to do it again and again. She felt as if she was constantly on the verge of breaking, even as he added more and more to their lessons. There were times when she seriously considered telling him to go to hell and walking away. And there were times when she was honestly unsure why she shouldn’t.

  “We’re going to be having a small party tonight,” Void said, one afternoon. “Wear something nice.”

  Emily felt a twinge of alarm as she nodded tiredly. It was customary, according to the books on apprenticeships she’d been ordered to read, for the master to feast his apprentice before a particularly dangerous test. She wasn’t sure just how long it had been since her last test — she couldn’t have sworn to a week, a month, a year — but she was uneasily aware that one was looming. What would she have to do this time? Her imagination provided too many possibilities, each worse than the last. She tried not to think as she headed back to her room, washed thoroughly and changed into a blue dress. Queen Marlena had given it to her, years ago. She winced as she pulled the dress over her bare shoulders and let it hang down to her ankles. The poor queen had never been the same since her husband had gone mad.

  “You look lovely, My Lady,” Silent said.

  “Thanks,” Emily said, sourly. She hadn’t heard the maid enter the chamber. “But I feel too tired for anything.”

  She silently promised herself, as she headed down the stairs, that she’d spend half of her next day off in bed and the rest in the bath. It would feel good to lie back and soak the pain out of her muscles, although it wouldn’t do anything for her magic. She’d barely noticed how much she was eating, her appetite growing with her magic. She would be really putting on weight if she wasn’t burning through the calories quicker than she put them on. As it was, she had a feeling she was actually losing weight.

  Void stood by the table, waiting for her. He was alone. Emily felt a flicker of disappointment, even though she hadn’t really been expecting any guests. Void could have invited her friends, if he’d wished, but... her eyes narrowed as she saw the roast pheasant and potatoes on the table. It looked as if the coming test was really going to be bad. She took the chair she was offered, then watched as he picked up a bottle and poured red liquid into a glass.

  “A friend of mine brews this for magicians,” he commented, as he passed her the drink. “It creates a pleasant sensation, but doesn’t a
ctually interfere with the magic.”

  “Or make you so drunk you do something you regret in the morning,” Emily said. She sniffed the drink warily. It smelt odd, as if there were something insubstantial about the smell. “What is it?”

  “He calls it Liquid Sunshine,” Void said. He smiled as he poured himself a glass. “Suffice to say it probably isn’t real sunshine.”

  “Probably not,” Emily agreed. “And it’s safe to drink?”

  “It won’t make you drunk,” Void said. “And it shouldn’t impede your judgment.”

  He sat down. “Please, help yourself to food,” he said. “The cook has excelled herself.”

  Emily frowned down at the liquid. Her mother had drunk so heavily that Emily would sooner have died of thirst than taken so much as a sip of alcohol. She still shuddered whenever she remembered watching her mother throwing up in the toilet, then staggering into the kitchen to drink some more. There were potions and spells that could make someone quit drinking, she remembered. She would have loved to pour one down her mother’s throat. But would it really have fixed the underlying problem?

  She took a sip. The liquid tasted faintly of roses... and something else, something she couldn’t identify. It was nice, but... she promised herself she wouldn’t drink more than a glass. It was easy to think one could handle alcohol or drugs or anything else until one went too far and discovered, too late, that one couldn’t.

  “I hope she and the others will finish the scraps,” Emily said. The pheasant was a huge bird. She didn’t they could finish it between them. “You’ll make sure of it?”

  Void shot her an amused look. “They’ll have whatever is left,” he said. “And they’ll also have prepared something for themselves. Cooks always do.”

  Emily nodded slowly as she filled her plate. Void passed her the gravy, then started to slice meat for himself. She took a bite, savored the taste, then started to eat in earnest. Void said nothing as they ate, seemingly enjoying the food as much as she did. She wondered, suddenly, just what his childhood had been like. Was he a newborn like Jan? A magical child like Melissa? Or somewhere in between, like Alassa and Imaiqah? She’d known him for six years and still knew very little about him. It was quite likely that most of the people who’d known him as a child were long dead.

  And they wouldn’t have named him Void, she thought, dryly. His birth name has been lost in the mists of time.

  Void leaned back in his chair, holding his drink in one hand. “Why do you think we’re having this party?”

  Emily was tempted to point out it wasn’t much of a party, with only two guests, but she kept that thought to herself. “You’re going to throw me in the deep end again.”

  “True enough.” Void didn’t look surprised by her statement. “You have been doing well, over the past few weeks, but only in a controlled environment. It’s time for you to be tested. Again.”

  “Yes, sir,” Emily said. “I take it there’s no point in arguing.”

  “You can argue,” Void said. “It just won’t get you anywhere.”

  Emily nodded. “I’ll write out a long and detailed set of arguments later.”

  Void sipped his drink. “Have you considered the nature of power?”

  “Sometimes,” Emily said, refusing to be thrown by the sudden change in subject. “Why do you ask?”

  “Tell me,” Void said. “What is the nature of power?”

  Emily considered the question for a long moment. A dozen answers came to mind, but she didn’t think any of them were the right answer. And yet, they could all be right answers. Power was... power. She snorted at the thought. Power was...

  “It’s the ability to manipulate the world around you,” she said, finally. “That’s power.”

  Void cocked his head. “Explain.”

  “If you have power, you have the ability to get what you want,” Emily said. “Fame, fortune, sex... anything. You could just take whatever you wanted. You could make whatever you wanted to happen... to happen.”

  “An interesting argument,” Void said. “Is a king more powerful than a sorcerer?”

  Emily took a breath. “Yes and no,” she said. “A sorcerer might be more powerful than a king, in absolute terms. But a king could command other sorcerers if he isn’t a sorcerer himself.”

  “Who might ask why they should follow the king,” Void pointed out. “The really powerful sorcerers don’t get involved in mundane affairs. Why should they?”

  “They don’t need to,” Emily said. “They can already get what they want... unless they want the pleasure of telling people what to do.”

  Void smiled. “You’d be surprised how many people I meet want that pleasure.”

  I wouldn’t, Emily thought.

  “Power is a complex beast,” Void said. “A king may have legitimacy. A pretender might have a huge army behind him. Who has the real power?”

  “The pretender could kick the king off his throne,” Emily said. “But that wouldn’t make him accepted.”

  “It’s astonishing what someone will say or do if you put a sword to their throat,” Void pointed out, dryly. “Everyone will loudly declare the pretender to have been the real king all along, conveniently forgetting whatever oaths they swore to his predecessor. The former king — who will probably be quietly executed — will be scrubbed from history. And that will be that.”

  “Until the next pretender comes along,” Emily said.

  “Quite,” Void agreed. “Those who rise to power tend to have an excellent, some would say intuitive grasp of both power and its limits. They rarely make missteps and, when they do, they manage to recover quickly. Those who don’t earn their power rarely understand its limits. They don’t realize they need to keep a tight grip on their power until it’s too late.”

  “Like a prince inheriting his throne from his father,” Emily said. “They don’t learn the ropes until it’s too late.”

  Void nodded. “It’s not easy to train a prince in wielding power,” he said. “But failing to teach him can lead to utter disaster. Power — understanding power — is the key to reaching the top and staying there.”

  “And that’s why you’re making me go through everything,” Emily said. “You want me to understand my power.”

  “Yes.” Void met her eyes. “I want you to understand yourself.”

  He leaned forward. “How do you think they see you?”

  Emily hesitated. “I think I disappoint them.”

  “You have a fearsome legend,” Void said. “At the same time, in person, you don’t look that impressive. A girl — a young girl. Someone who doesn’t push herself forward as hard as she could, if her legend was true. How many people look at you and think the legend isn’t remotely real?”

  “Too many,” Emily said. “But I don’t want to push people around.”

  “A show of strength can save you from actually having to fight,” Void said. “You don’t have to push people around. But you do have to show them you won’t be pushed around.”

  Emily sighed, inwardly. “And that’s power?”

  “Yes,” Void said. “Or part of it.”

  “It reminds me of a riddle,” Emily said. The locals would understand if she told them about Game of Thrones, perhaps a little too well. She tried to remember the precise wording, but drew a blank. “There’s a sellsword, standing in front of a king, a priest and a rich man. The three of them tell the sellsword to kill the other two: the king claims he should be obeyed because he’s the king, the priest insists he should be obeyed because he speaks for the gods, the rich man points out that he can pay. Which one should the sellsword obey?”

  Void smiled. “Sellswords are rarely loyal to anything beyond money,” he said. “He’d take the rich man’s coin and butcher the other two.”

  Emily blinked. “Is it that simple?”

  “It can be,” Void said. “What does the sellsword want?”

  He looked into his glass. “The king may represent legitimate authority. But if t
here’s a sellsword in a position to kill him, he’s already lost actual authority. Siding with the king might mean getting killed when the real power shows up. The priest can promise nothing, beyond words that might or might not be redeemed after death. The rich man can promise money, but what’s to stop the sellsword killing him and taking the money?

  “Of course, money might be worthless without legitimate authority. Even gold and silver is of purely limited value if the country isn’t stable. Having a king alive, and on the throne, will help with that. But the king might not be grateful when all is said and done. The priest might promise a different kind of stability, yet... religious movements tend to veer sharply into madness when they gain power. And they hate sellswords. The poor bugger may find he’s cut his own throat. And... the rich man’s money may be worthless, depending on where you are.”

  He smiled, coldly. “But a sellsword might try to put a rich man on the throne,” he said, slowly. “Why not? A man who understands the root of his power might not be so quick to discard the sellsword. Or... why can’t he simply kill all three of them and take power for himself?”

  “He might not be able to take power,” Emily said. “Or maybe he doesn’t want power.”

  “Everyone wants power,” Void said, flatly. “They just differ in what they’re prepared to do to get it. How would you answer the riddle?”

  “I don’t know,” Emily said, honestly. “The writer who came up with it suggested that power lay where people believed it lay.”

  Void chuckled. “You don’t look very impressive, Emily. A fool who saw you might dismiss you as a mere girl, one in need of a man to guide her in all matters. Would his perception drain one iota of your power? Would you lose the ability to turn him into a frog — or simply kill him outright — because he’s a fool? Because he looked down his nose at you?”