A Slave to Magic (2 page)

Stuffing the bundle into his shirt pocket, he
scurried back outside.
Today will be a good day
, he told himself.

A horn blasted behind him, breaking him from his
reverie. Spinning around, he spotted Lord Orva, perched atop his destrier. He
was a large man, who preferred a large, impressive horse when he rode out on
the hunt. The tigerlike stripes of his face gave him the look of a fierce
hunter. Kwil stepped aside as the lord and his friends galloped past without so
much as a glance his direction. Listening to the thunder of footfalls as they
moved farther and farther away, Kwil knew how he’d be spending the afternoon—cleaning
and processing whatever his master managed to catch. Magic would have to wait
for another day.

“B
oy!” Lady Orva
called.

Kwil nearly dropped
the bundle of laundry he was carrying. Lady Orva rarely came downstairs except
to eat, and she had spoken no words directly to him since his arrival at the
manor. He dipped his head, a sign that he was listening for her command.

“My daughter is returning
home from school this evening,” she said. “Make sure her room is spotless!”
With those words, she twirled her skirts and headed back up the stairs.

Kwil was not aware
the couple had any children, other than the one on the way. He’d never been
asked to clean the rooms on the third floor, likely where the girl’s room was
located. The second floor was reserved for guests, and Kwil was very familiar
with those.

Bundling the
washing under one arm, Kwil pushed open the front door and stepped outside. The
weather was pleasant, with few clouds present in the sky. It would be a good
day to help with the horses, but it was unlikely any daylight would remain when
he had finished cleaning. Making his way past the gardens, he headed toward the
large tubs where the laundresses were busy scrubbing garments and hanging them
on the line to dry.

“What’s this?” a
heavy servant asked. She placed her hands on her hips and stared at the young
man. She was a Gatan and had little patience for human slaves. Kwil had
encountered her almost daily, and she never bothered to speak a kind word to
him.

“Laundry,” he
replied, extending the bundle toward her.

“You been wearing
these fine dresses?” she asked, cackling with laughter.

Kwil did not reply.
He remained silent, still holding out the bundle for the woman to take. After a
few moments of looking him over, she said, “Don’t give it to me. Take it over
there.” She gestured with a plump thumb toward another servant.

Without a word,
Kwil moved forward and approached the girl. She was a young Gatan who barely
looked at him as he approached. Reaching out her thin hands, she relieved Kwil
of his burden.

“You can bring them
straight to me from now on,” she said in a quiet voice. “There’s no need to
bother Sal.”

Kwil nodded his
understanding, unsure if the Gatan wished him to reply verbally. A glance at
her eyes suggested she was kind but shy. She avoided his gaze but showed no
anger that he had looked at her. Before he could get himself into trouble, he
marched on, avoiding the heavy laundress as he went.

Keeping his head
down for fear of running into someone, Kwil moved up the manor steps. Another
servant passed him, but she paid him no heed. Stopping on the third floor, Kwil
raised his head and looked at the area before him. Rows of paintings hung on
the walls, all of them depicting families with young children. As he moved
along, he observed their faces, deciding that they must be relatives of the
Orvas. Their fur came in a wide variety of colors, as was common among Gatans.
Sometimes the children looked like their parents, and sometimes they looked
entirely different.

One painting
featured an unruly child, which the artist had chosen to depict truthfully. He
appeared to be tugging at his mother’s tail, the expression on her face showing
her chagrin. Kwil couldn’t suppress his amusement, and he laughed out loud, the
sound echoing from the walls. Quickly slapping a hand over his mouth, he turned
his head to see if anyone had heard. To his relief, no one was there.

There were only two
doors on the third floor, and he hurried toward the one on the left. To his
delight, it appeared he had chosen correctly. Inside was an abundance of
furniture, all covered with white sheets to keep away the dust. Shaking out the
sheet that covered the bed, he observed the plushness of the mattress beneath.
Placing his hand on the bed, he pushed down, wondering what it must be like to
sleep in such luxury.

As he looked
around, he observed a thick layer of dust on every sheet. This was exactly the
sort of task he was waiting for. Returning to the door, he focused his mind to
the latch, willing it to move into position. With an audible click, the door
locked. Kwil smiled to himself, satisfied that no one would enter and find him
practicing magic. Cracking his knuckles, he positioned his hands and looked at
the sheet covering the desk. Slowly the sheet began to move, drawing itself
away from the furniture beneath. It hung briefly in midair before dropping to
the ground.

Kwil frowned,
wondering what had gone wrong. This was a spell he performed often, and he
shouldn’t have had any trouble with it. Bending to pick up the fallen sheet, he
sneezed, blowing dust all around him. Could a layer of dust be inhibiting the
sheet’s movement? It seemed far-fetched, but he knew little of the intricacies
of magic. It was possible that many minute details could affect it.

Deciding to clear
the dust away first, Kwil reached for a broom. As he gripped the handle, he
realized that dust was no different from any other object. In fact, it was much
smaller and lighter. Focusing his mind, he concentrated on the dust that had
settled upon the sheet covering a nearby chair. The dust rose in a small cloud,
the gray particles dancing and swirling as they moved. Kwil fought back his
excitement as it floated across the room, making its way to a trash bin in the
corner. As it fell in place, Kwil celebrated quietly to himself. Next, he
lifted the formerly dusty sheet, bringing it carefully to his arms to be
folded. The delicate work of folding the sheet could not be done with magic. At
least, not yet. Fine movements were difficult, and it took a lot of practice.
If he had days to clean the room, he would certainly give folding a try. For
now, he was content with moving dust and sheets.

Kwil continued cleaning
in this manner, celebrating small victories, and confounding himself with his
failures. With no master wizard to guide him, he might never perfect his art,
but that didn’t stop him from trying. The cleaning went on for hours until a
rattling came from the door. His concentration broken, the final bits of dust
scattered across the bedroom floor.

“Who’s in there?” a
female voice asked from outside the door.

Rushing to the
door, Kwil quickly opened the latch and lowered his head.

“About time,” the
woman said. She leaned down to look at his face. “You new here?” she asked.

Kwil nodded, taking
his first look at the lady before him. She was a youthful Gatan with tricolored
fur. Flecks of gold highlighted her darker sections, and splashes of white
added personality to her coat. Instead of the dresses worn by most women, she
wore a buff-colored blouse with brown trousers. Her pale green eyes stared at
the young man intently.

“Do you always lock
the door when you’re cleaning?” she asked, observing the stack of neatly folded
sheets.

“Forgive me,
Mistress,” he said.

“Pffft,” she
replied, waving her hand. She shoved her way past him, gently setting a wooden
case on her bed. As she placed a bundle of books on her desk, she said, “Call
me Nera, not Mistress.”

Kwil stammered over
his words, unsure of the correct way to reply. “It is forbidden,” he managed to
say.

“Then call me that
when no one else can hear you, okay?” she replied. “Looks like you missed a
spot,” she added, grinning and pointing to the dust pile on the floor.

Kwil quickly
dropped to his knees and swept up the dust, placing it inside the bin. Bundling
the sheets, he bowed and made his way back to the door. Shifting the load to
one side, he reached for the door. As his arm lifted, he bumped into the books piled
on the desk, knocking two of them to the floor. Immediately he dropped to
retrieve them, his eyes falling on the titles of the books. All of them were
about wizardry.

Gently caressing
the covers as he placed them neatly in a stack, he could hardly pull himself
away. Here before him was the information he desperately craved, information
that could teach him how to properly cast spells.

“Have you finished
yet?” Nera called from behind him.

Seduced by the
sight of the books, he had momentarily forgotten where he was. Clearing his
throat he replied, “Yes, Mist—Nera.”

Nera smiled. “Close
the door on your way out,” she commanded. Turning her back to him, she focused
her attention to the case on her bed.

Kwil took one more
longing glance at the books before exiting. Pulling the door shut behind him,
his hand rested a moment on the handle. He must find a way to read those books,
even if it meant stealing them. Being caught could cost him his life, but
without those books, he would feel as if he’d died anyway. The magic inside
those pages called to him, beckoning him to the knowledge within.

* * * *

For several hours, Kwil
busied himself scrubbing every inch of Nera’s washing room. Unable to
concentrate long enough to use magic, he worked directly with his hands
instead. Only steps across the corridor was the knowledge he craved. How could
he steal the books without causing suspicion? And where could he possibly hide
them? Shaking his head, he tried to force the idea away. With Nera back home,
it was likely he’d be sent daily to tend her room. That would be his chance to
read while leaving the books where they belonged.

Back and forth Kwil moved his mop over the same
spot of floor he had already cleaned. Nera had to leave her room eventually.
Even if there was no time to learn this evening, he wanted to touch the books
at least one more time before going to bed. Hoping she would demand a change of
bedclothes or that something hadn’t been completed to her liking, he waited for
her voice to call out to him. To his disappointment, she did not.

After what felt like an eternity, he heard a small
click of a door. Peeking out into the hallway, he saw Nera walking away.
It
must be dinnertime
, he realized. His stomach was tied in knots, so he
hadn’t become hungry yet himself. The only nourishment he craved was in those
books. Leaning out to observe, he watched as Nera made her way to the stairs
and disappeared out of sight. This was his chance.

Dropping his mop to the ground, he raced across
the hallway and let himself into the young woman’s room. The books lay unmoved
on the desk where he had left them. Snatching up the first volume, his eyes
greedily ran over the pages as his heart pounded against his chest. This
particular book focused on basic elements, magic that was unknown to Kwil. As
he skimmed the pages, he caught snippets of advice on pulling magic from the
elements that surround a wizard. Such magic seemed practical, but Kwil felt no
connection to any element. How did one discover which element controlled his
powers? Continuing to flip through the pages, he saw passages about wizards who
could manipulate two or more elements. Smiling to himself, he hoped he would be
able to do that someday.

Moving on to the next book, his eyes drank in the
title:
A Beginner’s Guide to the Arcane
. Clutching the volume to his
chest, he knew he had found gold. Carefully opening to the first chapter, he
stared at the words on the page. The writing was in the common tongue, but the
spells were written in foreign characters, followed by a pronunciation guide.
To his great disappointment, he realized he needed to go further back and study
the correct language. The other two books on the desk were written in this
language as well. Where would he find something that could teach him these
words?

With a sigh, Kwil nearly set the beginner’s book
aside, but his hand would not let go. Taking a deep breath, he opened it once
more and flipped to the first lesson. It was simple enough, naming a single
word that would allow the reader to flip pages without touching the book.
Stumbling in his attempt to pronounce the incantation, Kwil expected nothing to
happen. His eyes went wide as the page flipped. Grinning ear to ear, he
repeated the word to flip another page.

Considering himself lucky that the pronunciation
guide was so well written, he moved on to the next spell. Along with an
incantation, it presented a guide for the movement of the wizard’s hand. It
explained how to move one’s fingers at the appropriate parts of the
incantation. This would allow him to turn to any page he desired in his books.
Leave
it to a wizard’s school to teach you to study magic by using magic,
he
thought. If a student incorporated magic into every aspect of his life, he
would surely grow accustomed to it. Eventually, he could perform these spells
without thinking. Kwil could only imagine what it would be like when he reached
that point. These books could lead him there.

Slowly he spoke the words, attempting to move his
fingers along with the rhythm of the spell. Nothing happened. Frowning, he
tried again, but this time was no different. As he began the third try, the
door swung open behind him. Dropping the book, he spun around to see Nera
holding a small plate of food.

Hurrying to his feet, he tucked the volume away
neatly on her desk and bowed his head. How much had she heard? What would she
do to him? Silently he hoped she would not tell her father. Kwil would rather
be turned over to authorities than face Lord Orva. He was a cruel man, and
there was no telling what punishment he would have in store for a slave
attempting to learn magic.

“I didn’t realize slaves were allowed to read,”
she said, setting her plate on the desk.