The Wilder (The Trouble with Magic Book 1) (15 page)

While Karryl was away, Symon decided to deal with the matter which had been at the back of his mind since the day of the accident. During the banquet at the palace he had taken the opportunity to have a few quiet words with King Vailin. The young monarch had agreed that the matter should be resolved as soon as possible, giving his magician carte blanche to handle it in the way he thought best. Now, as he entered the shop of the Scribes’ Guild, Symon wondered if the Scrollmaster would react favourably to the legal requirements which were about to become part of his life.

The jingling of the bell above the door had just about faded away when a young man wearing a plain pale blue robe and cap, entered from the side door.

He moved to stand in front of Symon. Palms flat together, he made a respectful bow. “Good day to you sir. How may I help you?”

Symon returned the greeting, recognising by the colour of the narrow sash he wore over the shoulder of his robe, that this young man was one of those who would be shortly taking his journeyman examinations. “Is Scrollmaster Andir available? There are certain matters that I wish to discuss with him.”

The student looked thoughtful for a moment then his face brightened. “Ah! Yes. The Scrollmaster has a class of novices in the Guild Workshops but I can take over for him. I will inform him of your arrival. Who shall I say wishes to see him?”

Symon produced a small white card emblazoned with the Royal crest and handed it to the young man. “I’m sure he will recognise this.”

Taking the card, the student brought forward a chair for Symon, then quickly left through the side door.

A few minutes later and looking slightly harassed, Andir entered through the same door and thrust out a hand in greeting. “Master Symon! I’ve been meaning to come and see you, but with preparing the students for their examinations, and a class of novices that started this term, I just never seemed to find the time.”

The magician smiled and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “I quite understand. However, I’m afraid the matter cannot remain unresolved any longer and there are certain things we absolutely must discuss. Do you have someone free to mind the shop?”

Andir hurried out, returning a few minutes later with another young man attired in pale blue. After giving him some brief instructions, the Scrollmaster ushered Symon through the side door. Leading him down a short passageway he opened a door into a cosy sitting room where a log fire popped and crackled merrily. Two tastefully upholstered easy chairs flanked the hearth. Settling Symon in one of these, Andir poured two glasses of a deep red wine.

Handing one to his old friend, he settled himself in the chair opposite. “I must admit I have not been looking forward to this moment. After what you said on the day of Karryl’s accident, I have given the matter a considerable amount of thought. I must admit I’m almost dreading what you are going to tell me.”

Symon took an appreciative sip of his wine before replying. “Well, it’s quite simple really. All we have to do is establish whether or not you are a gifted seer. The warning you had about Karryl may just have been a one time premonition brought about by extreme circumstances.”

Andir wrung his long bony hands and looked positively shamefaced. “No. Loath as I am to admit it, I’m afraid you’re wrong. It’s been a part of me for as long as I can remember, and there have been times when it has caused me no small amount of distress.” He leaned forward and looked earnestly into Symon’s face. “I do ask you to believe that I was unaware that this curse, which you call a gift, was governed by any law. I know you will probably say ignorance of the law is no defence but I think my greatest crime is not having acted on these forebodings. Perhaps if I had, some things may have turned out differently. In my ignorance I decided nothing I said or did would change anything.”

Symon placed his wineglass on the hearth, leaned back in his chair and regarded the distressed Scrollmaster over steepled fingers. “That is where you are wrong. These ‘forebodings’ as you call them are only indicators of possibilities. It is only when they are reinforced by prophecy that no action can be taken to alter the outcome.

“What already is can sometimes be altered to a certain extent, and future events can certainly be changed if the appropriate action is taken. I must admit my old friend, that I am somewhat surprised at your naive
té
. I’m also disappointed that you did not trust me sufficiently to confide in me. How many years have we known each other?”

Andir seemed close to tears and, reaching for his glass of wine, took a large gulp. His voice barely rose above a whisper. “I’m so sorry. The histories are littered with incidents of seers being stoned or put to death, and I took it all to heart.”

Symon’s response was an unsympathetic snort. “The histories? Peppered with the unfortunate consequences of ancient superstitions! Surely you must have realised that we are living in a time of equality and acceptance, where any magical ability is encouraged and nurtured, even covered by legal statutes to prevent misuse.

“Do you know what happens to those who refuse to come under the umbrella of the law? They are banished. There are places in the world where there is nothing but ruin and anarchy simply because no form of control or supervision has been placed over their magicians and wilders. The general population lives in a state of constant fear. Some of their magicians are very powerful and unscrupulous. That is not the kind of life to which you or I wish to be subjected.”

Andir shook his head. “What can I do? I can’t turn back time.”

Symon studied the Scrollmaster for a long moment. “Perhaps not, but your gift, or curse if you prefer, must be acknowledged in the law of the land, and any further seeings you have must be reported and duly recorded.”

To Andir’s amazement Symon started to chuckle. “Wouldn’t it be something if the Official Recorder turns out to be an ex-student of yours?”

Andir groaned and forced a weak little smile. “Please. That doesn’t bear thinking about.” His brow furrowing he looked intently at Symon. “So what do I do now? Am I to be banished for my failings?”

Symon picked up his glass from the hearth and sipped his wine while he thought things over. He knew there was no way he could allow Andir to remain unpenalised for his failings, human though they were. Once the Scrollmaster was registered as a Seer his past would be questioned. If Symon had been seen to turn a blind eye, then his own credibility would also suffer.

The little magician leaned forward. “I have an idea. I will put your case to the Council of Magicians and request a pardon. They will probably call for a hearing. If we can show them no harm has been done, and no actual crime committed then you will be formally registered as a Seer, with no stain on your character. However, before that happens you must make a provisional registration, in case you have any seeings while we’re waiting for the hearing.”

Andir leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands over his long face. “That’s not very likely. I only have one or two in a year, and sometimes they’re not very clear. There have been times when I didn’t understand them at all.”

Symon raised an admonishing finger. “Well, if you’d done things the proper way you would have been able to discuss it with those who have more experience and they could have guided you. Now, there is no more time to lose. Are you comfortable about leaving your student in charge of the shop for a couple of hours?”

It was a very subdued and thoughtful Scrollmaster who accompanied the Royal Magician to the office of the Guild of Magicians at City Hall.

After his long weekend, during which he was fussed over and generally pampered by his friends and family, Karryl returned to the tower more or less his usual self, although something his best friend Joel had told him was sitting uncomfortably in the back of his mind. He decided to let it sit there for a while, until an opportunity presented itself and he could bring it out into the open.

His experience at the stream seemed to have done him no lasting harm, and he soon settled back into his routine of studies. The interrupted search for the book of Ingalian history was resumed, much to Karryl’s amusement, because he had no recollection of ever having read such a book. “If I was quoting from it while I was asleep, then it must be in my memory somewhere, mustn’t it?”

Symon looked down from the top of the stepladder he had climbed to reach the highest shelf, stuffed with scrolls in hard leather cases and dark bound, serious looking tomes. “I don’t know why I’m looking up here. Have you ever read anything from this shelf? You’d have had to get the ladder to reach, even though you’re already inches taller than me.”

Karryl grinned. “Yes. I have dipped into one or two of them, but I hitched them down with the broom handle. At the time, I didn’t know you had a ladder.”

Symon frowned and tutted. “I don’t suppose you’d recognise which ones they were would you?”

Karryl slowly shook his head. “No. Sorry. Shall I come up and look? It might jog my memory if I saw them close to.”

Symon gave him a long look. “I think it would be advisable if you kept your feet firmly on the floor my lad. Perhaps when you’ve learned the art of levitation I shall feel more comfortable about you being above ground level.”

Karryl gave the little magician a mischievous grin. “Why are you using a ladder then?”

Symon gave a deep sigh, and came slowly down the steps to stand in front of his still grinning apprentice. With an air of infinite patience and long suffering, he looked up into Karryl’s face. “I am using the ladder because the levitation spell requires a considerable amount of concentration. As it is quite some time since I last used it I doubt whether I could maintain the spell and search for books at the same time. I have no great desire to emulate the exploits of a certain young gentleman I could mention.”

Karryl threw his head back and roared with laughter. Symon inclined his head as was his way, and tried in vain to keep a straight face. Karryl’s infectious laugh soon overcame his determination, and throwing up his hands in mock despair Symon scuttled off, chuckling, to the kitchen.

Later that evening, the two of them were sitting in their fireside armchairs reading, their feet stretched out to benefit from the cheery blaze. Outside the snow was falling again, thickly and steadily, covering everything in a soft white muffler as if preparing for the Winter Festival. The sound of the logs cracking and popping in the fireplace lent the evening an air of comfort and security. Symon puffed contentedly on his pipe, occasionally stealing a glance at his young apprentice who, although ostensibly reading, seemed to be turning the pages of his book rather more quickly than usual.

Symon was curious. “What are you reading?”

Karryl replied without looking up. “A Comparison of the Four Disciplines. I think I must have read it before because it seems very familiar.

Closing the book he rested it on his lap, then looked at Symon. “It’s almost as if I know it off by heart.”

Symon patted his palms together. “Well, let’s see if you do.”

For the next hour Symon questioned his young apprentice on the contents of the book. As Symon did know the book off by heart, the questioning became gradually more rapid and intensive. Karryl answered each of Symon’s questions faultlessly and without hesitation, his eyes beginning to shine as he revelled in his grasp of the more complex facets of the subject. Although he was impressed, Symon deliberately kept his expression neutral as he stood and went over to a bookshelf.

Taking down a large volume bound in dark brown leather, he handed it to Karryl. “I noticed you reading this a while ago. ‘Portal’s History of the Postwar Coalition between Teloria and Ingalia.’ An unusual choice. Did you find it interesting?”

Frowning slightly, Karryl turned a few of the pages, stopping to read a paragraph here and there as if refreshing his memory. “Ah! Yes. I remember it now. Some of it was very interesting. I liked the part where he described the tremendous spells they used to restore the disturbed weather patterns, and the battles that were fought in the jungles of Ingalia. Oh yes, and how they brought those hundreds of refugees down from the mountains after that massive quake. That was good! The politics was a bit heavy though.”

Sitting back in his chair he stared dreamily into the middle distance for a few moments, before turning a wistful gaze on Symon. “I’d love to be able to cast that spell where they put a shield round everyone, so they wouldn’t freeze in the mountains after their homes collapsed.” He gave an assertive nod. “I think helpful spells are the best.”

Symon chuckled. “You would be a magician like no other if you could cast that particular spell on your own. It required hours of preparation and a considerable number of very skilled magicians to initiate it, and then great power and total concentration to hold it together. I’m not surprised that you remarked on that one. It’s probably one of the greatest multiple spells that has ever been cast.”

The magician stood gazing into the fire, his hands folded under his chin as if recalling old memories, then slowly turned about and wandered into his kitchen. He emerged a short time later with a laden tray, which he placed carefully on a small table beside the hearth. Karryl was leaning back in his chair, his legs crossed at the ankles, idly flipping the thick pages of the book they had been discussing.

As Symon began to pour cups of tea, Karryl tapped the book with his finger. “Did a magician write this?”

The corners of Symon’s mouth twitched and he nodded. “Oh. Most definitely. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that when I was reading this part about the way different spells were used, and their effects, I could almost hear you talking.”

The ensuing silence was almost palpable. Karryl lifted his head, his eyes wide, and saw the look of amusement on Symon’s face and the twinkle in his grey eyes. Grinning from ear to ear Karryl snapped the book shut, causing Symon to wince, and poked a finger at the leather cover. “You wrote it, didn’t you!”

Symon made a little bow of acknowledgment, and managed to look a little embarrassed. “How very perceptive of you. Indeed I did, but very many years ago. I travelled a lot in those days and it took quite a long time to write. In fact, I thought it would never be finished. I didn’t noise it abroad over much, but nevertheless it seems to have acquired some status over the years. Now, surprisingly, it is required reading at many universities.”

Karryl blew out his cheeks in wonderment and gave a little whistle, then frowned slightly as something occurred to him. “Why did you use the name ‘Portal’? If you’d used your own name you could have been rich and famous!”

Symon gave him a mysterious little smile. “How do you know I’m not?” He paused while Karryl gave that little throw-away some thought. “Anyway, ‘Portal’ seemed most appropriate. After all, is not a portal the way in to something you wish to discover?”

Karryl gave the little magician an admiring glance. “That’s clever. I don’t think I’d have worked that one out.” He gave a little gasp and jumped to his feet. “Talking about discoveries, I’ve just remembered something. Well, to be honest I’d just put it to the back of my mind, but now seems as good a time as any.”

Dropping the book on his chair, he carefully pulled out the silver pendant from inside his tunic and lifted it over his head. Symon raised an eyebrow, and putting down the cup of tea he was holding, leaned forward for a closer look.

Karryl held up the pendant between thumb and forefinger. “A messenger from the palace brought me this on my birthday. Her name was Detelia and she was very nice. She said it was very rare, and had certain magical properties that would be revealed at the time of greatest need. She seemed to think it was the right time for me to have it.”

Slipping the heavy silver chain back over his head, Karryl let the pendant rest on the front of his tunic, and waited for Symon’s opinion. The little magician clasped his hands together and tucked them under his chin.

First he took another long hard look at the pendant, then at Karryl, and then back at the pendant. “Did she tell you who it came from?”

The blank look on the face of his apprentice gave him his answer. “No matter. You’ll find out eventually. I’m rather surprised that you’ve been given it so soon, considering the fact that you haven’t even taken your first tests yet. Well, I’m glad that you have it, but I suggest that you put it away safely for now, rather than wear it.

“After you’ve taken your tests and hopefully passed, then I will explain its attributes more fully. It may seem a simple thing but there are certain factors to consider.” His eyes twinkled as he wagged a finger at Karryl. “Now, put it away, then perhaps we can try and find that book again.”

Karryl frowned, and took a long look at the pendant. “I’d rather not. Begging your pardon, but Detelia must have had a reason for giving it me, wherever it came from. I think I was meant to be wearing it, so that’s what I’ll do.”

Noting the determined glint in the eyes of his apprentice, Symon nodded. “Your decision entirely. Just bear in mind that, should you lose it, the consequences could be exceedingly dire.”

Karryl sighed, and after a long wistful look at the pendant, stood up and wandered into his room. When he came back Symon was up on the stepladder again, peering at scrolls and small stacks of manuscripts wrapped in soft leather.

As he reached for a scroll which had been pushed to the back of the shelf, he almost overbalanced as Karryl suddenly called up. “It’s not on that shelf ! I remember now. It’s a thin black book on the next shelf down. It’s wedged between two other big books and there’s no title on the cover or the spine!”

Symon looked down and gave Karryl a slightly irritated look. Moving one step down the ladder, he slowly ran a finger along the row of books before stopping and easing out a slim dark-bound volume that was indeed, wedged tightly in between two much larger ones.

Opening the slender book at the first page, he silently read a few words before carefully closing it and handing it down to Karryl. “At last! D’you know, I’d completely forgotten I had that. I don’t even remember where I got it from, or when.”

Karryl took the book to his chair by the fire, and began to read aloud the words which had been copied by an obviously gifted scribe, possibly hundreds of years before Karryl was born. He continued to read as Symon sat down opposite him, and after a couple of pages, closed the book.”Is that what I was saying in my sleep?”

Symon steepled his fingers, and looked across them from under his bushy eye-brows. “I’m almost certain it was. You seem to have mastered the accent too, but you’d have to ask Kimi. He’s a native Ingali and, being of royal blood, has learnt the ancient tongue.”

Karryl leaned forward. “Something struck me as rather odd when Mordas introduced him.” He grinned. “Apart from the tattoos, that is. When she said his name I understood what it meant. It was as if I’d done an instant translation in my head. Isn’t that strange?”

Symon nodded, still looking across his steepled fingers. “So what does it mean?”

Karryl gave him a long look. “Companion of eagles.”

Symon said nothing, simply sat staring into the fire while Karryl returned to the book containing the centuries old Ingalian saga. Symon observed him from the corner of his eye, noting he seemed to be reading the ancient language with little or no difficulty. “Have you heard the language spoken?”

Karryl looked up, and placed the book across his knees. “Only when Kimi and Mordas were saying all those …” He stopped, his eyes widening. “How can I remember that? I was unconscious wasn’t I?”

Symon nodded. “Indeed you were, but perhaps not so deeply as we first thought. I’m not familiar with the casting which Mordas and Kimi made over you. All I know is that it was intended to keep you stable and to stop you falling deeper than you already were. Perhaps you were close enough to the surface of your consciousness for the words they were saying to register, and so stir something in your memory.”

His young apprentice got up from his chair, and walked over to the window. Pulling back the curtain, he stood for some time looking out at the steadily tumbling snow, before turning and sitting down on the window seat, an unusually grave expression on his face. He leaned forward, head bowed, his hands clasped between spread knees, his gaze fixed on a point just in front of his toes. He sat like that for quite a while before eventually lifting his head and looking along the room to where Symon sat puffing at his pipe and calmly watching him.

Karryl’s voice was troubled. “Something is happening that I don’t understand.” Seemingly satisfied to let him continue uninterrupted, Symon offered no response, but it was clear from the slight smile hovering at the corners of his mouth, that he was listening.

Either unwilling or unable to meet Symon’s gaze, Karryl looked down at his toes again and began slowly wringing his hands. “I can remember things.”

Symon decided a little prompt was in order. “What kind of things?”