A Scholar Without Magic

by Guy Antibes

  “You are kidding me, aren’t you?”

  Sam shook his head. “Perhaps I was a little too creative,” he said. “If I hadn’t talked to the girl, I might have been able to track the thief.”

  “I hate to see you waste your money on a book that was instantly stolen,” Pal said.

  “I’ll give you the money for another one. Keep it with you this time. I’m not going to give up, however. I have to figure out how to follow the thief after he steals something.”

  “Something more creative? Isn’t that what defeated you this time?”

  “Simpler is better, that is what I was always told, but despite that, I saw a lot of creativity among the Baskin snoops.”

  “I’m not so sure I believe you.”

  Sam pulled out his constabulary token. “This is real.”

  “I can’t read Toraltian,” Pal said. “You could be a dog catcher or street sweeper, and I wouldn’t know the difference, but this does look official.”

  Sam shrugged, and now he realized that the constables might not have been able to read Toraltian either. No wonder they dismissed him so quickly. Perhaps he would have to visit the university constabulary for some kind of documentation. He didn’t know if they would provide it, but Sam did have his letters of recommendation.

  Sam asked Pal to tell him more about the dueling competitions, and the discussion kept them going until the bell sounded for students to get to their dorms. Sam had even more to think about. He wanted to keep out of Viktar Kreb’s sight, but Pal said the dictator was a fanatic when it came to dueling. He lavished extra prizes on the winners.

  “You can make extra Eagles when you win matches in front of our beloved leader,” Pal said as they walked to their dorm.

  “Not me,” Sam said. “I’m just in the class for the exercise and to improve my swordsmanship. I’m not that interested in competition.”

  “But you have to compete to get credit for the class,” Pal said.

  Sam would reserve judgment until he actually saw a dueling competition, something that he had successfully avoided his whole life, so far.

  ~

  The university guards weren’t like the intelligence guards that had taken him away when he applied to the University of Tolloy. The office was one of the few wooden structures Sam had seen on the campus, indicating a low priority for the university’s funds. He walked in to report his encounter with the book thief.

  The guard on duty had a news sheet spread out on the counter when Sam entered. He looked up with bored eyes.

  “Yeah?” the guard said, not particularly interested in a visitor.

  “I came to report a book theft,” Sam said.

  “So?”

  “The same thief stole a book earlier in the day. My dorm mate and I set another book out as a trap, and the culprit stole the next book, too. I followed him, but I was stopped by a couple of constables, and the thief disappeared in the night.”

  “We aren’t a lost and found. That is in the administration building,” the guard said. A few of his companions joined him at the desk.

  “Has anyone else reported thefts?” Sam asked, getting somewhat exasperated by the runaround he was getting.

  “Sure. We always get reports, so what?”

  Sam took a deep breath to keep his voice steady. “Have you ever investigated the stolen books?”

  A new guard showed up. There were extra markings on his uniform. “We don’t exactly have the budget to investigate the purloined property, young man.”

  “I will do it for free if you authorize me to work with you,” Sam said.

  The guards laughed. “Is this some kind of prank?” the duty officer said.

  “Not at all,” Sam said. He produced his letters of recommendation and his Baskin constabulary token. “I spent a year as an apprentice-constable and have worked with constabularies in Norlank, Wollia, and did some personal work in Pundia. You can examine these. If any of you can read Toraltian, it might be easier.”

  “I can,” the officer said. “I run the university guards.” He spread Sam’s documentation over the news sheet and examined each page. “This is real paper,” he said. “You really did all this?”

  Sam gave the man half a smile. “I worked with others, but I was involved in the cases.”

  The officer looked at the other men. “If it is for free, I don’t know why we can’t give you a try. If this is a prank, it might lead to expulsion,” he said darkly.

  “I understand. I’ll try to make as light a footprint as possible as I investigate.”

  “Investigate,” one of the guards said, chuckling. Others joined in.

  “Come into my office,” the guard leader said.

  Sam gathered his letters and asked for his token from one of the guards, who reluctantly gave it up, and followed the leader into a large office, complete with a conference table and a wall of files and shelves filled with folders. The leader pointed to a chair at the table and sat at the head.

  “Why do you want to do this investigation?”

  Sam thought for a bit. “I miss it. I’ve been a student at the university for a couple of months, and a dormitory friend asked me if I had stolen his book. I didn’t, of course, but I offered to help him until we caught the thief. I was about to confront the man, but two constables stopped me, and by the time they let me go, the thief had gone, just like I said. I didn’t like losing him.”

  “It’s personal?”

  “Shouldn’t it be, at least just a little?” Sam said.

  The man smiled. “Just a little. So why do you come here, for permission?”

  Sam nodded. “If I had some kind of identification, then if I am stopped by anyone, I can show them authorization and continue my pursuit.”

  “I can’t let you arrest someone. You aren’t even eighteen yet, are you?”

  “Sixteen,” Sam said. “But I can find evidence and identify suspects. I was able to construct bait that the thief took. I can do it again. If you let me work with you, we might even find something bigger than a single thief.”

  “Something bigger?”

  Sam nodded. “A little investigation might uncover an organized operation. There is money to be made reselling newer books.”

  “You are accusing the campus bookseller of stealing books?” the leader asked.

  “No, but I am saying that unless an investigation is conducted, you know nothing. If I find a sole thief, then there wouldn’t be such an operation, would there?”

  The man leaned back in his chair. “You don’t think small, do you?”

  “A snoop has to keep an open mind.” Sam kept from smiling, but it was kind of exciting to be applying his new insight into something real.

  “If I give you permission to ‘snoop’ as you say, you will keep me informed on a regular basis?”

  “That is how I have always operated, but quite frankly, I haven’t worked alone before.”

  The man laughed. “Does that scare you?”

  Sam shook his head. “No. It just means I have to make sure you get information when I have something to tell you. An investigation might take a few days or a few months. I can’t do it full-time, you know.”

  “I know,” the leader said smiling. He glanced at Sam’s documentation. “I will give you a guard badge. That is what we use in Tolloy.”

  “Is it made out of pollen?” Sam asked.

  “Yes, for you anyway.”

  Sam couldn’t carry a pollen badge. It wouldn’t last more than a day or two in his pocket. “Could you make it out of something natural? Wood, metal, or even a certificate? Pollen and I don’t get along very well.”

  The leader’s eyebrows rose along with a frown on his face. “I suppose a certificate would do, since you will have this solved in a few days, right?”

  “It will get solved when it gets solved, but I’m sure the thief didn’t know I had caught him.”

  The guard thrust out his hand. “We will give it a try. I wouldn’t go without your proof, and
I can’t guarantee the other guards won’t give you a bad time.”

  “I’m used to it,” Sam said.

  “I am Lieutenant Kelch, Student-Guard Smith.”

  Sam grinned. “You won’t regret letting me work with you.”

  “You report directly to me. Is that acceptable?”

  Sam nodded.

  “I’ll also give you a guard’s whistle. They are made out of brass, so it might substitute for a non-pollen badge.”

  “That will work.”

  “I’ll want a written report every week if nothing has happened until you close the investigation down, which you can do at any time.”

  Sam arose. “I won’t disappoint you.”

  “That would be hard to do,” Lieutenant Kelch said, “since I don’t have any expectation that you will succeed.”

  Sam didn’t care if the lieutenant thought he’d fail or not if he gave Sam permission to snoop at the university.

  Chapter Seven

  ~

  “W e have a club tournament coming up in two weeks,” Professor Grott said, starting off Sam’s Level One fencing class. “I will expect every minute of your time practicing that you aren’t in class or studying. I have assigned opponents for each workout and posted the pairings on the announcement board.”

  Sam had only begun to formalize his outline for finding the book thief. He wrote out his plan and would send that to Lieutenant Kelch. At least, Kelch would have a good laugh at Sam’s investigation plan. He would have liked to feel that there was genuine encouragement, but the guard whistle did have the university guard’s insignia etched on the surface.

  He wondered if he could beg off training for the matches, so he approached Grott. “Is there a chance that I will be dueling? I have another project that I am working on,” Sam said.

  Grott gave Sam a knowing smile. “I had a suspicion you didn’t want to duel. All the others keep asking me where they are ranked on the dueling list, but you have never once shown an interest.”

  Sam shrugged. “If I’m not that good…”

  “You are on the third team, second from the top, if you wish to know. Unless you drop out of the class, you will be facing your counterpart at the Writer’s Guild. If you think writers aren’t competitive, think again. Last year they tied us for second place in the overall dueling rankings.”

  “Who came in first?” Sam asked.

  Grott laughed. “The Vaarekian National Intelligence Agency, of course. They always do. The military isn’t allowed to compete, but they have their own competition.” Grott put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about competing. Consider it good practice. You never know when you will have to fight your way out of a brawl. I admire a student joining us to hone his skills, but obligations come along with the benefits of lodging and eating with the rest of the athletes.”

  Sam grunted. “I appreciate your confidence in me, but I’m still building my strength,” he said.

  “You’ve gotten stronger even in the few months we’ve been training. I’ll bet you still have height to add to the bulk you’ll get when you grow into true manhood.”

  Sam nodded. “I’ll go find my opponent.”

  He didn’t know if he would be ranked high enough to compete, but even though he was at the bottom of the three tiers, Grott had him dueling. Sam was anxious to know what to expect, since his first experience watching a duel would be as a participant.

  After a grueling session against a much better Level One swordsman, Sam retreated to his rooms. He washed up and inspected the new bruises he had acquired in the latest session. He wrote his message to Lieutenant Kelch explaining that he would be starting his investigation in two weeks, due to his commitment to the dueling team.

  ~

  Sam had thought Kened Rider was tough when he taught at the Baskin Constabulary, but Professor Grott and Professor Drak were merciless. Sam started the day off with a run, generally in the rain. He had learned Polistia had a rainy season, and they were in the middle of it.

  Breakfast consisted of hardboiled eggs, some kind of sweetened mush, and fruit washed down with two mugs of water or tea, followed by group calisthenics. Sam had a few minutes for study and then lunch at the practice hall followed by a sparring session.

  It seemed that Sam always drew an opponent better than he, but there was nothing he could do but fight back. Switching styles didn’t work the way he initially had thought when he fought under pressure, and Grott kept up the pressure.

  At least in the afternoons, Sam was able to cram in as much class time and study time as he could before another practice session in the evenings, going over forms and critiques from the class time and noon practice.

  Professor Grott forbade any student from leaving university grounds, so Sam couldn’t sneak over to see Emmy or grab a meal at Hilsa Forinin’s restaurant. On the two weekend days, it was session, critique, session, and critique. Two days before the matches, Grott assembled the entire class. None of the class, even the non-participants, were attending school for four days.

  “We will simulate the dueling match for the next two days. Even lower level students will join in. Professor Drak and I have created brackets for each level with select Level Two students matching up with Level Ones who will be in the actual event. There are two slots open for anyone who can make it that far up through the matches. Everyone is to attend the competition, even if you aren’t participating.”

  Sam warmed up. He looked at the brackets. He would be fighting a Level Two student. The advantage was Level Twos were supposed to have less ability, but the disadvantage was that Sam had never practiced with his opponent.

  Professor Grott had recruited two more judges. They would be judging four matches at a time, starting with the lowest level. Since Sam had never seen a formal duel, he paid strict attention to the rules and conventions in the early matches.

  Duels were fought in fifteen-foot circles, and a match could be forfeit if a duelist stepped outside three times, unless obviously pushed. Much to Sam’s surprise, pollen in any form was forbidden. No armor could be produced, and no pollen arms or aids of any kind could be made during a match.

  Sam thought back to the pollen obstacles made during sword practice for fighting pirates. He had never seen that kind of fighting put into practice, but he could imagine how it would upset a dueling competition. That restriction gave Sam some hope that he could put on a decent showing before being defeated by a superior swordsman.

  The lower-level students walked out to their circles. Sam didn’t know if these would be of any help. Most of them were novices or second-year swordsmen, so Norna Hawkal told him. He watched as the students stood side by side, looked at their respective judges.

  The judges stood outside the circle, and each one raised a hand. The students turned to face each other. They pointed the tips of their swords to the ground and took a step back from their opponent. The hands went down, and the match began. The clanging of swords rang through the practice hall.

  Sam’s eyes went from match to match as he tried to catch any kind of nuance that might be of some help, but he quickly found out that the Level Three students lacked the finesse he had experienced working with other Level Ones. His attention turned to the judging. Where the sparring matches were over after the first person to get three touches, dueling demanded five touches.

  Sam leaned over to Norna. “Are their rules about drawing blood?”

  She nodded. “Skin can be scored, but if there is a puncture, the duelist who did the thrusting is warned. Two punctures, and they are disqualified. A deep cut counts as a puncture.”

  Sam was unaware of any such rules in Baskin, but then he’d never been to a dueling competition, so he hadn’t thought about blooding an opponent in a match. Kened Rider never let his constables spar with sharp blades, although they could do work on moves with a bladed sword. A sharp weapon seemed to handle better than a dulled one.

  The final match of the first Level Three round was decided with
both duelists bloodied with many cuts. They were instructed to report to the classroom attached to the hall, where two healers were stationed. The second round of the Level Three matches was much the same. Sam wondered if he really should use the Lashak sword as a dueling weapon. Grott had encouraged it, and Drak was excited about seeing Sam use it in a real match. He would try it out in his first match before he had to use it for real.

  The Level Two matches were more interesting. Sam could see potential in the Level Two students, but their flaws shouted out to him. If anything, the weeks of concentrated practice gave Sam a much sharper eye for form than he would have thought possible. The judging seemed to be a little looser, but then with the increased speed, the judge he had been following might not be up to the task.

  Sam’s group was finally called. Sam had to warm up again, but so did the others. He found there were two simultaneous Level One matches with two judges for each match. Sam had drawn Professor Grott and one of the fill-in judges.

  His opponent was older, taller, and stronger than Sam, but that wouldn’t mean anything until they fought. The judges let them both warm up for an additional two minutes before the match. Sam used Lashak forms to warm up this time, since they wouldn’t reveal any of his characteristics. He kept an eye on his opponent, who seemed to be more interested in showing off his rather conventional style. Sam noted a slight lack of fluidity that might or might not indicate a lack of speed.

  The judges raised one hand. The hall hushed as the first of the highest-level duelists in the school began their matches. Sam took two smaller steps back and pointed his sword to the floor. He glanced at his opponent, who showed a confident smile and said, “First-year,” with an unconcealed sneer.

  Taunting didn’t work on Sam since he had been taunted all his life. He looked at the judges who dropped their hands and his match began. His opponent ran at Sam with his sword raised with both hands. Sam couldn’t believe the student made that move. He was unbalanced, and Sam easily stepped aside and blocked his slash with the blunt edge of his sword. He twisted the blade and ran the edge up the sharp edge of the Level Two’s blade and quickly hit the other boy’s wrist with the flat of his sword.