The Princess of Trelian (5 page)

“I’ll try to do that, Princess,” she said at last. “I do want you to like me. Very much.”

“I do like you, Pela. And I’m sure I will like you even more the more I get to know you.” She smiled. “Shall we go for our walk now?”

“Yes, Princess.”

Meg stood up, and Pela did likewise. “Do
you
have a favorite path, Pela? If you do, I would very much like to see it.”

Pela smiled shyly. “I do, Princess. It’s the one that goes past the cherry trees near the far wall. Do you know that one?”

“I haven’t been that way in a while, actually. I would be very grateful if you would show me.”

Pela positively beamed as they set out. She really was a sweet and friendly girl. Maybe she’d require less effort over time. Meg could hope so, anyway. She gave her lady-in-waiting one more considering glance. “Pela — do you think you could call me Meg?”

“Oh, no, Princess,” Pela said at once. “I couldn’t!”

Meg sighed. She hadn’t thought so, but it was worth a try. With Calen she never had to think about behaving like a proper princess. She was always just Meg to him. But she knew she couldn’t be that way with everyone. Just as she couldn’t fully be her dragon-linked self with everyone, either. That was even clearer after what her parents had told her this morning.

They walked on, Pela chattering happily, and Meg did not fail to note the way the gardeners and the guards looked up to watch them as they passed. She was glad they were paying attention.

C
ALEN PUT ON THE SPECIAL ROBES
Serek had laid out for him and examined himself in the mirror. He still couldn’t stop staring at his new mark. His hand stole up to trace its delicate shape along his cheek. It made his whole face look different. And now, with the fancy clothes, he barely recognized himself at all.

I look like a real mage,
he thought with some astonishment. A young mage, and still an apprentice, but all the same — a mage. When people looked at him now, they wouldn’t see an initiate. They’d see a mage with a true mark, and they’d know he was capable of real magic.

He knew he still had a lot to learn.
Tons
to learn. Even just learning how much more there was to learn would take nearly forever, he guessed. But somehow that didn’t bother him the way it used to. Knowledge and power had once seemed like impossible goals, a distant destination he would always be approaching but would never quite reach. Now that he was actually on the path,
really
on the path, he could see things more clearly. It was true that he’d never know everything; he’d never get to the end of the journey, not really. But with every step, he’d know more than he had before. Even now, he could look back and see how far he had come. Suddenly, having all that learning ahead of him seemed exciting rather than exhausting. He wanted to learn everything he could.

There was a knock at the door. Before he could answer, the door opened and Serek strode into the room.

“Sure, come on in,” Calen muttered.

“Ready?” Serek asked. “It’s time to go down.” He stopped then and took a long look at Calen. “The robes suit you,” he said after a moment. “The mark does, too.”

“Really?” Calen asked. “I mean, I like it. A lot. But it’s so strange to see it there. I look so . . . different.” He glanced once more at the mirror, fighting the urge to touch his face for the thousandth time.

“The first true mark is the strangest,” Serek said. “Each one brings its own . . . feelings, I suppose. But the first one has the biggest impact. It was like that for me, anyway. I believe it is the same way for most mages.”

Calen struggled not to stare at his master. Serek never spoke about feelings. Calen hadn’t thought Serek even
had
feelings.

They left Calen’s room and started down toward the ceremony chamber. Serek had told Calen what to expect. No banquet, unfortunately. Apparently it wasn’t the kind of ceremony that came with special food. It was just the talking kind. Calen would stand up in front of all the assembled mages, and the council masters, the ones the other mages had elected to be in charge for the current cycle, would say some things to him, and he was supposed to answer yes to all their questions. Serek said it wouldn’t take very long. It was just a formality, so he could be presented before the assembly with his first true mark, and then later on they would all just have dinner together in the dining hall as usual. Calen was slightly nervous about having to stand up in front of everyone, but it wasn’t like he’d have to do anything difficult. He was pretty certain he could handle saying yes a bunch of times, even in front of an audience.

“Hey,” said Calen, suddenly remembering. “What did those other mages want to talk to you about so badly?”

“Hmm?” Serek slowed his pace slightly, letting Calen come up next to him. Then the words seemed to register, and his face darkened. “Oh. Just some Magistratum nonsense. One of the reasons I’ve never wanted to be on the council is all the ridiculous posturing and politics.”

“I don’t think I understand,” Calen said.

“Sometimes not all of the mages will see eye to eye on something,” Serek explained. “That’s to be expected — we are a large enough organization, and part of our function is to discuss and debate matters of interest and come to some kind of consensus. But sometimes, certain of our number decide to run around outside of the council chamber, spreading rumors, stirring up trouble, and trying to get other mages to vote in a particular way. It’s not the way the council was meant to work, and I have no patience for it.”

Well, that was no surprise. Serek didn’t have patience for anything. “So they were trying to convince you to vote their way? About what?”

Serek looked down at Calen silently for a moment. “Nothing you need to worry about,” he said finally.

“But —”

“Calen.”

“Okay, okay. Never mind,” Calen said, holding up his hands in surrender. “It’s none of my concern, and you’ll tell me if and when there’s a good reason for me to know, right?”

Serek half smiled at him. “Exactly.”

They walked down two flights of stairs and turned toward the room where the ceremony would be taking place. A few other mages were entering the double doors ahead of them. Now Calen was starting to feel a little more nervous.
This is nothing,
he told himself firmly.
At least no one’s going to stick you with a needle!

They reached the doors, and Serek pushed them open. The room inside was large and shaped like a half-moon, with rows of seats arranged in a partial circle around a raised platform in the center. Right now about three-fourths of the seats were filled, and Calen glanced around at all the unfamiliar faces as he followed Serek down the center aisle. Most were full mages, although there were younger, less marked faces here and there: apprentices and initiates visiting with their masters. There had to be at least two hundred people. Maybe more like three hundred.

And this wasn’t even all of them. Serek had explained that some mages stayed at the Magistratum for long stretches of time, either between assignments to particular households or because they had chosen to stay and work on shared projects or help with the central administration. Others visited for short periods to get their new markings, to do research, to register apprentices, or to bring an issue before the council.

There were probably another hundred or so mages scattered across the continent, assigned to kings, minor lords, town officials, and even sometimes private estates. They acted as counselors, healers, and teachers and assisted their patrons with magic in whatever ways were needed, as long as they didn’t violate the laws of the Magistratum. Others traveled around looking for new apprentices or responding to new requests for mage assignments. The Magistratum carefully monitored everything, though. No mages were ever permitted to run off to wherever they pleased. Too much had gone wrong before mages were organized and regulated by the council.

The chamber slowly quieted as Serek and Calen made their way down the aisle. By the time they reached the front, the room was silent. Serek led Calen around to the side and up a narrow set of steps. The two council masters sat waiting in large, ornate chairs in the middle of the stage. Serek bowed to each of them and said in a clear voice, “Council Master Renaldiere, Council Master Galida, I present my apprentice, Calen of Trelian.”

Calen smiled. He liked that “of Trelian” bit. He’d never heard anyone call him that before.

Then Serek turned, walked back down the aisle, and took a seat that had been left open for him in the front row. Calen was left facing the council masters alone. The one on the left — Council Master Renaldiere — was a very old man, his hair white and kind of fluffy at the very the top of his head. On another man, that hair might have been funny, but the mage was so solid and imposing a figure that it was hard to imagine being amused by anything in his presence. Council Master Galida was a middle-aged woman, dark haired and attractive, with large green eyes and dark skin. Both of their faces were heavily marked, the lines and symbols on Galida’s face lighter in color to stand out against her complexion. The two mages regarded Calen solemnly for a moment, and he fought the urge to fidget. Then Council Master Galida instructed him to turn around and face the assembly.

Calen’s knees threatened to buckle, and he had to concentrate everything he had on his legs to keep them straight. He was looking out at a sea of faces, all staring right at him. Somehow it seemed like even more people from this vantage point than it had while he’d been walking down the aisle.

“Calen of Trelian,” came Council Master Renaldiere’s voice from behind him, “apprentice to Mage Serek and bearer of your first true mark. Do you claim full responsibility for your actions and their consequences, accepting the prices paid for all choices along the path that brought you to this place?”

“Yes,” Calen said as loudly and firmly as he could. He was relieved to hear that his voice sounded steady, not at all shaky, as he had feared it would be.

“Do you acknowledge the greater responsibility that accompanies all progress from this point forward along the mage’s path?” Council Master Galida asked next. “Do you accept the prices and choices that are yet to come?”

“Yes. And yes.”

“Do you willingly recommit yourself to the service of your master, your kingdom, and the mages’ order above all?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, Apprentice Calen. May the blessings of the Bright Lady light your path and the wisdom of the Harvester guide your steps upon it.”

The entire assembly murmured, “Blessings and wisdom” in response, and then it was over. Serek caught Calen’s eye and nodded. Calen turned and bowed to the head mages and then started for the stairs leading back down from the stage. That hadn’t been so bad, really. He didn’t know why getting up in front of people had to make him so nervous. Sure, everyone had been looking at him, but it wasn’t like they were going to
do
anything to him.

Calen raised his foot to descend onto the top step when suddenly an enormous
BOOM
crashed through the assembly chamber. He stumbled and just barely managed to fall backward onto the stage instead of headfirst down the stairs. Somehow the sound had turned into strange, swirling smoke. No — not smoke. It was magic energy he was seeing, enough to fill the air around him and out into where the audience was, too. The energy was made up of lots of different colors, too many for Calen to sort out and identify.

As his ears began to recover from that first assault of sound, he could hear people shouting. Serek was suddenly at his side, asking something. Calen couldn’t make it out, but he began shouting, “I’m all right, I’m all right!” in case that’s what Serek wanted to know. He let Serek help him up from the stage floor and lead him down the stairs and into a corner. All around them, mages were on their feet, pushing, running, calling out to one another.

“Stay here!” Serek shouted into Calen’s face, leaning in close enough that Calen could understand him.

“But —”

“Just do as I say for once!” Serek snarled, pushing Calen painfully against the wall. Then he turned and took off into the chaos that filled the room. Calen lost sight of him immediately. And then caught sight of something else. Shapes were starting to form all around the chamber. Shapes that seemed to have roughly formed arms and legs. And were they holding some kind of knives? Or maybe they were claws. And . . . Calen squinted, trying to make sense of the swirls of color and madness around him. And . . . and teeth? Were those teeth?

What
were
these things?

The shouts around him became confused and frightened as the shapes began attacking. People were screaming and running, climbing over the seats; some were rushing the stage. Calen saw mages fall under the blows of the magic-formed shapes, saw their arms raised in ineffective attempts to ward off the violent swipes of the intruders’ limbs, saw their flesh part in red ribbons sliced by claws or knives or teeth or
something,
but he didn’t see anyone fighting back. Why weren’t they fighting back?