Sunstone - Dishonor's Bane (Book 2) (4 page)

“Swordplay, not wool-gathering.” Mistokko laughed while Shiro wordlessly surveyed his surroundings. “Did you gather wool as a farmer?”

Shiro shook his head. “I made plants grow.”

Mistokko looked unimpressed.

“I made my plants grow very well.” He curled up one side of his mouth.

“Like figuring out how to stand with me on my deck?”

Shiro nodded and took the handle of the proffered sword.

“Have you ever held an instrument meant to kill men?” Mistokko said, waving his sword in their air. Shiro recognized the practice form. Shimmer of the Willow

“My father spent some time as a guard. He taught me all he knew. I don’t know if it is enough.”

“Then let’s see you warm up.”

Shiro replicated Mistokko’s form and launched into the twenty forms of preparation and introduced errors that his father would have never allowed. The forms came easily even through he hadn’t practiced them since his family had died.

“Impressive… for a farmer. You are a bit rusty or your father didn’t know them perfectly.”

“It’s what I know,” Shiro said, shrugging. “Let me see the way it is supposed to be done.”

Mistokko stretched for a few moments and then proceeded to perform the twenty forms. The captain couldn’t quite dip his left shoulder as much as strict form would require. Perhaps he compensated for a past injury. His performance was fluid and projected more power than Shiro.

“Very powerful. You are like a mountain cat, Captain,” Shiro said.

Mistokko nodded in accepting Shiro’s compliment. “I do believe we can keep each other sharp, if you know more than the practice forms.”

Shiro merely shrugged and waggled the sword in his hand. He looked sideways at the captain. “An easy sparring match? No contact?”

“No contact.” Mistokko grinned and took a pose to start.

Shiro just stood, with the point of the weapon on the deck. The captain shuffled towards him with his sword in two hands over his head. Shiro stood his ground and looked into the captain’s eyes. The blade descended and Shiro moved to his left, avoiding the blow. Mistokko moved his blade left, but all Shiro had to do was lift his own sword from the deck to parry.

Mistokko merely grunted as he swiped his blade up and hit Shiro’s guard. Did the captain want to knock the blade out of Shiro’s hand? Years of the hard work of a farmer shaped the corded muscles on Shiro’s arms and created an iron grip. He held and whipped his blade up between Mistokko’s legs, stopping just short of the captain’s crotch. The captain hopped back, waving his blade wildly in defense, but that wildness had little strength behind it and Shiro soundly slapped the sword away and forced his point to Mistokko’s throat.

The captain grabbed the sword. “Enough!  Perhaps I underestimated your ability. I rarely come across a tactician. You thrashed me much more than it appeared.”

Shiro didn’t know if Mistokko dissembled on purpose. This time Shiro pointed his sword up, holding it beside his head with a two-handed grip. “Again? And then we can talk about methods, perhaps.”

The captain grinned as he grasped the hilt with both hands but lifted his weapon up at eye level looking down his sword as if sighting an arrow. His target, Shiro’s chest. If Mistokko had an injured left shoulder, the blade would drift upward towards his shoulder as he lunged.

Shiro brought his sword around and cocked it at his waist, ready for the lunge. Mistokko’s attack rose to Shiro’s shoulder, just as he had thought while he wheeled his blade in front of his to knock Mistokko’s lunge aside. This time the captain’s power came through and the blade struck the top of Shiro’s shoulder despite his parry. How could that be?

Mistokko stood back, grinning. “You didn’t know you could use magical power to enhance your strokes, did you?

Power. Using magic as a weapon? Shiro had never thought of such a thing.

“Your parry would have been sufficient normally. I won through with the aid of a little magic. It doesn’t take much. I add a little ‘spring’ to my shoulder and back muscles. Not a lot. Certainly not enough to blow my opponent away, but sufficient to compensate for a few infirmities.”

“Is that what you wanted to teach me?”

The captain nodded. “When you told me you knew some sword play, I thought such a thing might come in handy for you. It is, in effect, cheating, but there have been times in my life when I dare not trust in my swordsmanship alone to defeat an enemy. The Guild might not be happy should they find out. I’m a bit at odds with them at the moment. In fact, the fat sorcerer who arranged passage wouldn’t have booked you if we hadn’t been good friends at the Guild in Boriako. Don’t volunteer that you traveled aboard th
e
Wicked Win
d
. I have a reputation to maintain. I don’t want too many people accusing me of being cozy with the Guild. I suggest that you hide the extent of your power at barely above the level of others in your apprentice class. The Guild doesn’t take kindly to gifted apprentices.”

“You don’t trust the Guild?”

Mistokko put his hands on his hips, threw back his head and laughed. “As far as I can throw this ship, farmer. I left the Guild right after my final test. I joined the army for a while and, when the Guild caught up to me, I boarded the first ship out of Roppon Isle and never looked back. I hated the politics and the enforced discipline. I’m free while I’m on the waves, but if I spent much time on land, the Guild would surely want to sink its tentacles into me again. Moderation and stealth. That’s my advice and I’ll only give it to you this once. From now on as far as you are concerned, the best organization in the world must be the Guild.” Mistokko winked at Shiro and laughed again. “Now about fighting with power. Do it with small sips, just where you need to. Precision.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?” Mistokko said. “Do you realize that using a great deal of power around others will take their life force rather than tap into the nexus? Over time they will weaken. If you use small amount, like I do when I’m off of the deck, no one is affected. Small sips, see?”

“My family died from a fever than ran through our village two years ago. Could I have been responsible?” The horror of the thought shocked Shiro to his very core.

Mistokko’s amiable grin faded. “Quite possibly. A person can develop their power at any time in their life. You might be a late bloomer.” Mistokko rubbed his face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. Perhaps your emerging talent had weakened them enough not to have been able to fight off the fever.” The captain shrugged his shoulders. “They do teach shielding at the Guild. I never became particularly proficient, but you are stronger than I am. Make sure they teach you.”

Shiro recoiled at the revelation. He couldn’t go back to his farm now that he knew that he might have helped a fever destroy his family. “I can’t go on today. More tomorrow?”

Mistokko nodded and let Shiro leave.

~

Precision. Shiro laid down on his bunk in awe at the concept. He just thought that magicians used their power and that was that. Full on or full off. He must have used it full on back on his farm and destroyed those he loved most. He wiped tears from his eyes when Shinku brought him more rice. He barely ate a thing and hardly slept that night, consumed with guilt. How could he have known? The final instrument of his families death… his children and his wife.

At one point he wished the sorcerers would have come earlier in his life, but then he wouldn’t have had a family. What would have happened if he knew how to shield his power?  They’d be alive. Wait… no he couldn’t learn to shield unless it was taught at the Guild. If he had been taken earlier, he wouldn’t have had a family. Confusion rolled around and around in his head without coming close to clearing.

In the morning, he had gotten over the worst of his guilt. He didn’t know if he’d ever really come to terms with the fate of his family. He had been ignorant. Hardly an excuse, but it was a reason. He’d always regret his power on that account.

He could have used his magic with precision and they might have survived. But if they lived, the nets of the Guild would catch up to him at one point or another to separate them anyway. He could do nothing to change the past and any scenario that he could think of still put him on his way to Boriako.

He walked out into the bright morning light and thought of the power that he had to use to rise to the captain’s deck. Shiro had to use just the right amount of lifting magic or he’d take a tumble again. Yesterday was luck, an instinctive move. He realized he had much to learn. As for Mistokko’s comments about the Guild, they aligned closely with his own after meeting the arrogant sorcerer, Roniki. Perhaps he could learn more before they landed in Boriako.

The captain wasted no time in beginning their drills again.

“Your swordsmanship is very good. Your father must have been a skilled guard.”

Shiro shrugged. “He never told me how good or how poor. He left the Imperial service once he found the love of his life and moved as far away from Boriako as possible.” A tightness in his chest and a watery eye made him pause. He took a deep breath. “I always treated swordsmanship as a game and a way to stay limber. Farming grows a lot of muscles, but it’s not suitable as an exercise for every endeavor.”

“Indeed. A sailor faces the same problem, but for different muscles. Let’s practice our forms together for a while and tomorrow, if the sea freshens, you can experience fighting on a rolling deck and I’ll show you how to better control your power.”

A quick nod from Shiro and the pair began to work on their sword forms, side by side. This time Shiro didn’t hold back.

Could he trust this man? Certainly the captain seemed free enough with his instruction and with his opinion of the Guild. Shiro decided that it wouldn’t hurt him to take what he could from Mistokko and hoped that in the future he could repay the man.

With days of practice, Shiro learned to control his power. The control also helped to maintain his strength, using his power for any length of time sapped him physically and if a swordsman used too much and the battle lasted long, he would tire much too soon. Shiro didn’t plan on becoming a warrior, but he suspected the lesson would have universal application.

Shiro learned the kinds of lethal tricks in sword fighting that his father never dared teach a young man. Mistokko also taught him the rudiments of controlling the wind as they sailed and, together, they moved the ship more quickly to Boriako and the Guild.

Despite Mistokko’s warning not to work with the crew, after a week at sea, the captain let him work side by side with the crew in various capacities. As their journey neared the end, Shiro regretted that his maritime education coming to a close.

As he stood at the prow, watching the city get larger on the horizon, Shiro’s thoughts turned to Roniki, the sorcerer who had treated him poorly at the Hoksaka guildhouse. If all Boriako sorcerers were like him, he’d have to be ready for constant battle and Mistokko said there were more untrustworthy sorcerers than not.

On the water, ships were always far from a nexus. The captain had to husband his magical assistance. Mistokko told him that the proximity to the nexus was tenuous on the ocean and one wouldn’t want to need the wind and not be able to produce any. The thought rolled in Shiro’s head as the boat approached the dock. Depressing thoughts returned that if he could have controlled the use of his power, his wife and children might still be alive. Mistokko’s reminder about the affects of magic on others had depressed any excitement he might have had arriving at Rokkan’s imperial capital.

~~~

Chapter Four

~

R
oniki looked down from his window
at the tall, poorly dressed man jumping off of the back of a cart at the gates to the Guildhouse. He’d received word that he had arrived on Mistokko’s Wicked Wind. Roniki had teleported from the Hoksaka guild a few days ago and didn’t look forward to this interloper demeaning the guild. He had always felt sorcerers should come from the nobility. The prospects of a peasant starting out with such power irked him.

He didn’t remember the man’s face from his brief encounter in Hoksaka. If his aptitude matched his test results, he bore watching. The man most likely had no idea of the strength of his talent nor was it likely that he knew his talent had cost him the lives of his family. He had taken the time to read the background reports the guild always put together on their new apprentices.

Roniki smiled at the thought that the pleasure might fall upon him to reveal that fact to him. It was outrageous that the gods would give a common man the talent to become a powerful sorcerer and Roniki had rarely seen such power displayed. His own Affinity did not compare to the newcomer. As the farmer walked into the Guildhouse and out of view, Roniki clutched the stone sill, hopeful it would fall to him to test and break that man.

~

“Shiro of Koriaki.” The servant announced as he pushed Shiro into the Guildmaster’s chambers. Shiro could only look, speechless with wonder, at the fine trappings of the room as he knelt in front of the guild master. Patterned carpets layered the wooden floor rather than the typical rush mats he had seen on other floors at the guild. Ornate painted panels adorned the walls depicting scenes of the use of Affinity. A case held foreign objects, likely from continents of Besseti or Zarroni. Incense flavored the smells of wax and polish. Smells of wealth, to Shiro. Even Captain Mistokko’s deck and personal quarters weren’t kept in such condition. The large window of glass, a rarity, shocked him. He had one tiny glass window square in the wooden sliding door of his farmhouse and that had cost his father nearly a weeks worth of market earnings. Waxed paper panels brought in most of the light to his farm dwelling.

From his knees, Shiro looked across the polished desk of yew. With it’s light grain darkened by many years of polish and use, the carvings only gained in character. Shiro nodded his head to the man. “Shiro of Koriaki, sir.”

The tiny man in front of him looked up a scroll with heavily lidded eyes. “Yes, yes. You are Shiro. No more Shiro of Koriaki. You are simply Shiro until you are admitted as a fully-fledged sorcerer into the Guild. At that time the Gods may present you with a new name. How much do you know of the sorcerers that work for the guild?”

Shiro was distracted from the question as his surroundings still held him in thrall. “Excuse me, sir?” Not an auspicious first sentence.

“How much do you know of the sorcerers?” An expression of impatience showed on the Guildmaster’s face as he adjusted the folds of his purple silk robes just so.

“Sorcerers are counselors to the rulers of the Roppon and they all are trained in the Boriako Guild. They use their magic to scry the future, change the weather, help with war craft, and make a province prosperous, sir.”

“You may call me Master Yushidon or simply ‘Master’ when addressing me. Not sir,” Yushidon said. He pursed his lips and examined a fingernail for a moment and then bit a portion off before he continued. “You are partially correct. We use our magical powers for various purposes. We do not scry, prophesy or foretell. The court astrologers make a feeble attempt at trying to do that. One could cast lots and be more accurate than they. We can influence the weather in a very localized way as you might have experienced since you came to us on Captain Mistokko’s ship. Few have the talent to work the power that comes to us through the nexus and it comes at a cost.”

Shiro knew what the cost was. It was talent that robbed the vital force of those around the castings unless carefully used. He might be from the farm, but Shiro considered himself smarter than most men and he knew how to learn. His mistakes had taught him important concepts on the voyage.

But if he were wise, he would have stopped using those cursed powers on his crops and possibly saved his family. The captain had restricted access to the upper deck while he sought out the wind for that very same reason. There were ways to shield the use of power, though, Mistokko had said. Shiro meant to learn them.

The Guildmaster paused and looked at his new apprentice. Yushidon narrowed his eyes and, again, pursed his lips in disdain. “You will be apprenticed to Master Boreko.” Yushidon made a face that told him that the Guildmaster didn’t hold Boreko in high esteem. “He will see you are properly settled in. You may go.”

Shiro followed an apprentice through the stone halls of the guild house. He had never felt so isolated in his life. Alone in a strange place. Yet he would learn. Perhaps he could break free like Mistokko did. He felt like a little child on the first day of village school, totally ignorant.

His guide took him to a large courtyard. Apprentices hurried across the gravel contrasting to the much slower stroll of the sorcerers.

~

“Your rooms,” said Boreko. “They aren’t too severe. It isn’t as if our apprentices are all young boys, who need the seasoning a stark, cold cell can provide.” The master smiled. “You are, what… early thirties?”

“Twenty-six.” Shiro looked at the room not particular happy with his new mentor’s guess. It was fully half as big as his entire farmhouse in Koriaki. He had two windows of glass set into the stone. Two carpets covered half of the floor with a raised portion of matting in the sleeping area. An actual steel mirror sat on top of a chest of five drawers. He just shook his head at the opulent furnishings. Shiro could see that the walls were wooden planks covering stone walls. That sheathing would keep him warmer in the winter, should he be allowed a brazier in his rooms. He had expected the wooden sliding walls that defined living spaces in every other dwelling he had ever entered.

He looked up at the blackened timbers of the ceiling. The guild house must be centuries old. How many apprentices had used this room? How many had died before they became fully accepted sorcerers? Shiro had no desire to know the answers.

“Oh. Sorry, I’m usually better at guessing ages.” Shiro could see embarrassment play across the man’s face. Boreko’s was a pleasant visage set in a rotund body. It looked like he approached sixty. He had a bald head with a fringe of salt and pepper hair twisted up in a topknot as casual as the one Shiro wore. A stringy gray beard framed his face. Boreko had the most startling light gray eyes where most eyes in Roppon, at least on his northern isle were dark, like Shiro’s. “I’m sorry that this is one of the smaller chambers, but if you’re from a village, I’m sure this will do.”

At the mention of his village, Shiro looked at his homespun clothes and rude shoes. “I don’t suppose I’ll be wearing the clothes I brought.” He smiled to put the older man back at ease.

“No. Put your satchel under your bed and we can get you new clothes. All of your needs are provided by the guild.” Boreko smiled as he pulled a large brass key out of his pocket. “Something to keep your things safe. The people may fear us, but there are those among the Guild who fear nothing. Not even the punishment for a bit of theft. Sorcerers use wards to protect their personal possessions, apprentices use keys and locks.”

Shiro could feel that the Guildhouse sat close to a nexus. He knew so little about the Affinity and how to use it. The thought of so much talent housed within the Guild’s walls might not be a good thing. Physically, he had no problem taking care of himself, but he had no experience with magic users. He put it in the back of his mind to be careful in this new environment.

“Can you tell me a bit about yourself?” Boreko asked. He fidgeted with his hands. The situation seemed to bring out more nerves for Boreko than it did to Shiro.

Shiro didn’t waste any time in providing a quick story, including his run-in with Roniki. Boreko seemed to relax, just a bit.

“Good. I wanted to hear it from you. Your history, as written down by the Guild is a bit different. Captain Mistokko wondered if you might be a spy. Your power is extraordinary for an apprentice. He had me meet him at the docks and asked me to mentor you. I didn’t want to. It sounds horrible and cowardly, I know. There are a few of us who are a tiny bit rebellious and we just don’t need the exposure. We aren’t seeking to overthrow the Guild or anything, but we are not looked upon with complete approval.” Boreko sighed. “Mistokko thinks you are someone special, over and above your potential, if you are truly untrained. I wanted to be sure you were genuine. There. I hope my instincts don’t prove me wrong.”

“You don’t have to worry. I’m anxious for a different reason. I’ve heard of culling in the guild and, if anything, I’m concerned I’m not going to make it through.”

Boreko pursed his lips. “It happens, but rarely. Just follow my counsel and you may do just fine,” he said, trying to give an encouraging smile, but Shiro could see the uncertainty behind it.

“You can help me?”

“I’ll do my best, Shiro. Now let’s get you into something more appropriate for a guild apprentice.” Boreko’s smile became a bit brighter.

As the pair walked along stone corridors lit by torches and across the main lobby and down to ground level, Shiro couldn’t help being impressed by the stonework and the fact that the main building had nearly as much glass as paper windows.

They came to a room with a split door. Boreko tapped on the upper section. It slid open to reveal a room full of shelves filled with clothes and other things in bins. “Remi. He needs robes and underclothes,” Boreko said as another older man leaned on the shelf built into the lower door.

The man looked Shiro up and down. “Show me your shoes,” were his only words. Shiro lifted up his sandals one at a time. The man disappeared and returned with a basket of clothing and left.

“A bit brusque, our Remmi, but once you get a little wine in him he loosens up like any man. Quite funny, actually.” Boreko smiled to himself as he gently pushed Shiro back towards his room. 

“Is Remmi a sorcerer?” Shiro said.

“He was an apprentice who didn’t make the grade. Most guards, servants and functionaries are the same: some power, but not enough to qualify as a sorcerer. Menial positions are where most of your ‘culls’ go. Your situation is a bit different. I am certain you have more than enough power, but you are a commoner and…” Boreko finished the thought with a shrug and a worried look.

~

“Lift your arm up, just so,” the instructor told Shiro. The class of ten apprentices gathered around him for a quiz. A faint mist appeared a foot from Shiro’s hand. Shiro moved it over a bucket. He had restricted his power to mimic those in the class, as always. He grit his teeth, knowing that he would have to use more to make the spell work properly. His hand waved over the bucket and he noticed the cloud turned dark and small flashes of lightning showed in the little hazy cloud. Raindrops began pelting from the miniature storm to the bucket.

“Shiro. You are using too much power.” The instructor squinted. Had he caught on to his trick? It looked that way. “That demonstration is quite unique as you intend, but quite unseemly.”

The instructor started pulling the other apprentices back as they edged forward to see Shiro’s manifestation and pushing them back. “Class, DO NOT get close to a spell. You’ve been told that spells can leach power from those close by if too much power is applied. Every apprentice needs as much energy as they can muster. We will learn shields that will protect you later. That’s enough for now, Shiro.” To the rest of the class, he said, “once you’ve produced your cloud, you are excused.”

Shiro walked out of the room, by himself, as usual. The storm wasn’t showing off. He was completing the spell as he studied it and he had applied only a bit more power when prompted. The instructor would be surprised if he had used full power, but then so would he, since Shiro had no idea what would happen if he put everything he had into that spell.

The steps most of the others needed to learn merely slowed him up. Was it because he was as much as ten years older than the others? What made him feel badly? Was that why he now could sense when he was tapping into others’ lifeforce. Boreko had told him that if one had Affinity, power would be drained from the bystander if there weren’t enough to draw from the nexus. If one didn’t, the spell would drain their power much more quickly. Mistokko had told him much the same thing. Losing his power more quickly was certainly better than leaching it from people.

~

“Ah, Shiro, isn’t it?” A master in the green robes of an instructor stopped him in the hall. Two others stood behind him wearing the red robes signifying that they had graduated and were awaiting assignment. Shiro recognized the sorcerer.

Shiro stood waiting for the inevitable hazing question he couldn’t answer. He recognized Roniki, the sorcerer that took so much pleasure in brushing Shiro off at the guildhouse in Hoksaka. Shiro took no pleasure at these confrontations with the sorcerers. It happened all the time in the Guild’s halls. Apprentices had no defense against the hazing that seemed to give some sorcerers great pleasure. The inevitably unanswerable question would land Shiro in the kitchens for a week of scullery duties.

“What spell does a sorcerer cast to make a lady love him?” Roniki smiled at what should have been a trick. Boreko had warned him about such questions as they often talked late into the night about many aspects of Guild life.