Chapter Text
It should have been a simple errand, one I have done plenty of times before. A day's riding into the town, a night in the temple, then go to the library, hand over and bring the books, maybe steal a few while doing so, then head back to the monastery, another day of solitary riding through the gorge. The monks have taken me along on these trips for many years, and since I was a bit older I have been allowed to go by myself. I always liked coming along before, but I absolutely loved coming on my own now. I couldn't show it, of course, so I feigned reluctance, which made some of the monks to advocate even more for me to do the job.
Everything went well for a while. I left the monastery on the back of the grey horse, finally breathing in freely the cool, pine-scented air of the forest. The bag with the books was strapped to my back, along with the list written by the high priest to the town librarian. The forest was quiet, only with the rare sounds of a bird or an animal. I moved more slowly between the high walls of the gorge, carefully leading the horse around the fallen rocks in the bed of the stream. But later, on the open plain, leaving the mountains behind me, with only the river roaring on my left and an endless band of forest stretching out to the right, I took the horse into a gallop at last. The wind swept back the locks of brown hair from my face, fluttered my cloak wildly, and drowned out all other noises except the pounding of my horse's hooves. I galloped until I felt the horse getting tired under me (he was used to agricultural work, long, steady, but slow), and then I moved on at a comfortable pace. The sun was setting when I turned in at the foot of a hill, behind which the walls of the town could be seen in the distance.
It was totally dark when I arrived at the gates. If I hadn't had the scroll with the high priest's seal and signature, they probably wouldn't have let me in. This way, the guard sullenly opened the gate. The night was still far away from the town, the streets crowded with people on their way home, doing their last errand or heading to a pub. I walked my way through the narrow, winding streets, now familiar to me, to the temple in the heart of the city.
The master of the temple never really liked me. He was called something like Hull of Gull or Rull, I never could remember, so I just called him Dull in my mind. "Something's not right with this boy," he muttered every time when I came here before with one of the monks, mostly with Fhearnan, "something I really don't like". I couldn't tell him he could keep what he liked and what he didn't to himself, so I mostly just glared at him, while Fhearnan did the talking. We haven't talked much more even since I started coming here alone. I knocked, he opened the door, I handed over the letter from Fhearnan, he read it with a frown, then let me in and led me down to the chambers. The chambers I got were in a decidedly worse condition than those he used to give to Fhearnan.
"Thank you", I said anyway. He nodded, and left me alone.
Everything was still fine the next morning. I got dressed, strapped the books up on my back, thanked Dull for the poor breakfast (much poorer than what he would have given Fheranan), then headed to the library.
The librarian liked me, which was a nice change compared to most people. She was an incredibly old woman, her hair snow white, her skin full of wrinkles, but her back still straight, showing her full height, still taller than me. I think maybe I was unable to hide my fascination with books, and she was unable to dislike someone who she shared a passion with. I felt really bad for stealing from her library, but I still did it, after exchanging the letters and the books sent and asked for from the monastery.
Everything went still well as I was walking back to the temple, with the new books strapped to my back, sent to the monastery for copying or for renovation, along with the money for the services.
That's when I entered the market. It was the usual, weekly market of the town, lots of vendors, counters full of wares, and colours, smells, customers everywhere. I wandered between the counters, looking probably with quite big eyes at the abundance of the merchandise. It was a fairly wealthy town, with enough well-fed rural magicians to easily maintain safety and prosperity, while I was living in a monastery tucked away in the mountain, secluded, led by strict and ascetic monks, who lived for prayer and for work and for being bored. Pushing my way through the crowd, I found myself in front of the bookseller's stand. It was a wrong decision, being there. I didn't have any money, just the coins from the librarian, and those I had to give to Fhearnan.
There were magicians among the customers. A younger woman had just purchased a small volume bound in lightly coloured linen, and from the quick glance I could cast at the cover, I guessed it was some potion book with recipes for medical purposes. The man behind the stand was selling all kinds of books, small or big or simple or so ornate that the decoration must have cost a fortune itself, brand new books and - and then, looking at a pile of older volumes, I saw a copy of Forgotten Legends , a thick collection of old stories, bound in green leather, and I just knew that I definitely have to get it.
It was a bad idea. So bad. But even as a child I always wanted to read this book, since the day I flipped through the pages once, sitting under a desk, hiding, with the book from a forbidden shelf in my lap. I was completely blown away by the illustrations, some of them huge and beautiful and like you're glimpsing into another world, and some of them sad and gruesome and painful to even look at. But I had no money. And, even more, you couldn't just buy any book about magic. Books were highly valued, and to purchase or lend one from a library, you had to be able to prove that you are a sufficiently trained magician to be allowed to own and read it. Officially, I wasn't even a magician, let alone trained at all.
I took a deep breath and flicked a finger. There was some disturbance at the other end of the stand, a few books falling to the paved ground. The loud crowd of the customers tried to pull back in a hurry, people stepping on each other's feet, trying to catch and protect the books, looking around, bewildered.
I quietly pulled the Forgotten Legends out of the pile, slipped it under my cloak, and was gone.
At least, I wanted to be gone, really wanted, but someone grabbed my wrist and held it in a steel-hard grip, making me unable to escape. It was bad enough, but it got definitely worse when my gaze travelled from the strong and elegant fingers gripping my wrist to an arm wrapped in a black jacket and up to the most handsome face I had ever seen.
"How dare you, boy?" he growled, an angry frown over his dark eyes.
That "boy" felt quite offensive. Yes, he was older than me, by at least ten years (or a hundred; with a magician, you could never really tell), but still. I wasn’t a child.
And it could still get worse. I thought he was going to make me return the book and call the city guard on me, but instead, taking advantage of the confusion around the bookseller, he forcefully dragged me away until we reached a narrow, deserted side street.
"Let me go!" I tried to yank my wrist out of his grip, but it was as if he hadn't even felt it.
"Using magic for stealing," he hissed in my face, voice tight with anger.
"Let me go," I repeated.
"No," he said briefly, and while still holding me adamantly, he reached into his inside pocket and took out a vial full of some golden powder. My eyes widened, and, hurriedly scanning his clothes, I realised he was wearing the uniform of the Council, with a burgundy badge on his chest, depicting the Torch of Enlightenment, the ancient symbol of the Council: a torch ablaze with magical fire, representing the Council's pursuit of knowledge, enlightenment, and the responsible use of magical power. He was a member of the Council, probably someone from high rank. I felt my stomach drop.
"Have you ever travelled by Auric Dust?" he asked.
'I can't." I turned away, trying to free myself with renewed strength. "I'm not a magician."
"Don't lie to me. You are radiating magic."
"I'm telling you, I'm not a magician. Let me go!"
"You are going to stand in front of the Council for this," he announced, opening the vial, and dipping one finger into the fine, golden dust. He pulled me closer in a violent tug, and smeared some of the powder on my forehead, in a horizontal line. "As you first travel by Dust, don't be alarmed if you feel dizzy or nauseous. But I highly recommend that you stop tugging on my hand, because if I let you go right in the middle of the trip, you'd end up lost in nothingness. Understood?" His gaze was cold and non-forgiving.
I had all these terrible visions about standing before the Council, but the truth is that before that they just threw me in jail and seemed to forget about me for days. I sat on the cold stone in my tiny, cold cell, and tried to get rid of my thoughts. The monks, waiting for my return, and slowly realising that I'm not gonna arrive. Maybe a few of them would be even relieved - not everyone supported the high priest's decision to let me stay in the monastery, ten years ago, and probably even some of the supporters have changed their minds since then. But what will happen in front of the Council? Is stealing a book really such a big problem? I could definitely get into even bigger trouble, if certain questions arise.
They asked me a lot of things before tossing me into this cell, but I answered nothing. They said something like “maybe a few days in a cell would change your mind,” and then they locked me in, even though I said “it won’t change my mind, you idiots”.
I tried to escape, once, and I even managed to get out of my cell and around a few guards, but I didn't have an actual plan for what to do when I finally, inevitably, met them, and when this happened, they brought me back to my cell, reinforcing the guards. .
A few days later a guard with a bored face led me to the Council Chamber. There were maybe two dozen men and women, sitting high up, in a raised platform forming half a circle. I could see the man who caught me in the market, sitting high up on my right, and then he rose up, and told the dear assembled Council Members about my crimes.
It was loud. I thought there would be calm, measured and cold discussions, dispassionate decisions about my fate, but it seemed the Council Members were completely outraged by my actions. I slowly realised that not the stealing of the book, and not even the foolishly stupid attempt at escape was their real problem.
"In the middle of a town market, full of magical and non-magical people!" shrieked a tall and bony, white-faced man with long, matt grey hair.
"It was the simplest of spells." I really didn't understand what was the big deal.
"Using magic for law-breaking, that is what forced magicians to live in darkness and suffer for centuries!" he shouted. "Using our privileged power for deception, fraud ans petty theft!"
"Well, yes, me stealing a book, that's gonna cause magicians to live in darkness for another few centuries, sure," I nodded.
It was a mistake, which I realised quickly. The shouting broke out again, and the Head of the Council, a (seemingly) middle aged woman named Ashmore, let it unfold for a while.
Later, they sent me out of the Chamber. The bored-faced guard stood by me, and I wondered whether under that bored expression he was a skilled magical fighter, or I'm not that big of a threat, and he was just a mediocre magician who is actually bored to death by his job. We had to wait for an eternity, so if not so anxious about my foreboding future, I would have bored myself to death too.
"The Council has made its decision," said Ashmore, her steady voice filling the whole Chamber, when I stood once again before them. "Twenty five councillors are present today, in the hearing and trial of William Alden, who was accused of misuse of magic and the theft of a valuable and confidential book. The pursuer is Councillor Ellis Locke, responsible for Magical Artefact Authentication. In this solemn moment, let us take a moment to reflect on the principles that guide us.” What? Now? I stood from one foot to the other, looking up at their faces. Most of them didn’t seem to be happy. I realised now that Locke seemed to be one of the youngest among them. Now he looked at me with a contemplative, curious face. “We are the guardians of magic, the stewards of its extraordinary powers. As individuals chosen by fate to possess this gift, it is incumbent upon us to exercise it with the utmost care and restraint. We must strive for balance, for magic unbounded can sow chaos and destruction." It was hard not to roll my eyes, but, beginning to fear that in the end they would happen to sentence me to death, I managed to keep my face still, with a hopefully polite expression. "William Alden, please step forward."
A did, leaving the bored guard a few paces behind me. My legs felt a little weak.
"It wasn't an easy task, reaching a settlement in your case. Please listen to the details. Straton," she gestured to the scribe sitting at the end of the platform, "you may."
The scribe was a young magician, maybe a few years older than me. He cleared his throat, then started to read a painfully long and detailed description of my actions and the Council's opinions about it. They also stated that I was uncooperative and withholding information about myself, even though I had said things I really didn't want to. When they asked about my age, I made a very quick calculation: magicians until the age of 21 must attend the Academy, the Council's school for magical youth. If I said a number under 21, the sentence would be less severe, but they will send me to the Academy. Over 21 the verdict could be more heavy, but maybe I could walk away earlier. I said 21, and the scribe now read it aloud, along with every other information (not much) which they had about me. Even believing I'm 21, they still considered me quite young: magicians lived longer than non-magical people. They knew I never attended the Academy, which was suspicious enough (but not the subject of this trial). The scribe went on to detail my heinous deeds at the town market, and they even included that I was disrespectful toward Locke (who didn't even state his name that day), then he continued with my absurd idea of escaping from the Council's prison. I felt the top of my cheeks turning red, hearing about my poor attempt in this cool, dispassionate voice.
Then he reached the end, and there was silence in the chamber, for a long time, longer than it could be possibly comfortable for anyone.
"And," I heard my voice, too small in the big chamber, knowing that I shouldn't speak without being asked, not in front of all these people looking at me with frowns and disapproving looks, "what is the decision?"
Ashmore gave me a reproachful stare, while a few other Councillors murmured angrily around her.
"You have to make a decision," she said at last. "You are untrained, behind with years in your magical education. Your actions were irresponsible, unbecoming and shameful. Still, we are making you an offer that others, much older and much more qualified, are struggling for." There was a little discontent grumbling around her, and I knew, whatever this offer might be, that not everyone agreed with it. "We are not blind, and we see the potential in a young man, even when he makes embarrassingly wrong decisions. So, our first suggestion: as punishment for your actions, you could be sentenced for a public flogging, here in the Citadel, before the Council and the assembled magicians."
I had to swallow.
"And the other option?"
"You can take an oath to become an apprentice of one of our Councillors. Apprenticeship traditionally lasts for nine years, and requires serious, diligent, dedicated work and study."
It was clear on the faces who supported this idea and who did not. I wondered how these few people convince the others. Indeed, it was unheard of - even I, living as far away from the Council as I could, knew that becoming an apprentice takes years of learning even after the Academy, and only a few, the most ambitious, go and try for it. I was totally unfit for an apprentice.
"I see," I said, carefully. "How many lashes? If I chose the first option."
Something flickered through Ashmore's strict face, something I could not make any sense of.
"A hundred," she said.
I stared at her.
"You can choose," she added casually.
It was unbelievable. I didn't exactly know what a flogging looked like, but I knew very well that with a whip cruel enough, you could kill a grown man with a hundred lashes. I stared at them, the solemn, angry, disapproving, thoughtful faces high up on the platform, cold and unfamiliar, and suddenly I felt very lonely.
"I take the second option, then" I said quietly, but my voice still echoed in the huge chamber. I let my head hang, and put my hands behind my back, after all the monks had a lot of work in teaching me self-discipline. "I gratefully thank the Council for the opportunity."
"Very well," said Ashmore, a bit smugly. "Your new master, Councilor Locke, will familiarise you with the details."