interest my associate even more. They are always seeking likely candidates to join their ranks. Perhaps you might like to study formally? The magicians generally start students when they are younger than you, but I daresay it’s not too late.”
The blood drained from my face. “I ... I don’t know, sir.”
“Think well on it, child. Penwick’s magicians live a good life. Surely better than the one you were born to, or the one you appear to have almost been thrust into.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” He leaned his head back in the chair and let out a sigh. “I have something of a reputation for finding those who make good magicians. Perhaps one could say I have a feel for them.”
I didn’t think I would ever fall asleep that night. I was sure Zhantar knew I hadn’t been entirely truthful, but what choice did I have? And asking me to think about becoming a magician! Things were getting over my head, and I wished that I’d never come here. The food, the clothes, and my beautiful room were all well enough, but the pitfalls that now gaped before me were deep and dangerous enough to ruin everything. What if this magician I was to meet tomorrow sensed my maejic? What if, somehow, the truth were discovered? If that happened, I’d be tried and executed, just as the king had tried to do to my brother. It would be ironic to meet my death in the dragon fighting pit.
But perhaps my fears were for naught. Perhaps Zhantar took my tales at face value. Even if he did believe me—and with my guilty conscience, I thought that doubtful—there was still the matter of the meeting tomorrow. This would be no simple village magician; Erno gathered the most powerful ones in the land to his court.
When I did sleep that night, it was fitful and uneasy. I didn’t have any of the strange dreams I’d had the nights before, but when morning finally came, I didn’t feel rested. After what felt like a full night of anxious thought, I was still no nearer to having a plan.
Nilla, as always, brought my breakfast, and while I ate it, she laid out a pair of black trousers and a long-sleeved grey tunic. Once I’d changed and she’d helped me with my hair again, I paced the room. The books were gone, though I couldn’t have concentrated on reading anyway. My thoughts were as unproductive as my motion: unceasing but accomplishing nothing.
When I answered the knock that finally came, it was neither Nilla nor Zhantar who stood there. It was a man I’d never seen before, tall and broad-shouldered and muscular. Dressed in a silver and black uniform, he looked more like a guard than a servant.
“You’re to follow me, miss.” His voice was deep, and though his tone and manner were deferential, they didn’t reassure me.
I followed him down the corridor and the stairs. He stopped before a closed door that I’d not been through yet. Instead of opening it, he knocked, then motioned for me to stand before it. He left me and disappeared through another doorway.
My heart was in my throat, beating so fast I felt lightheaded. Fear pulsed through me, and I seriously considered making a dash for the entrance. Then the door swung open, and Zhantar stood there smiling down on me and extending a hand to draw me into the room. I forced my feet to follow.
This room was utterly terrifying in its grandeur. The hand-carved furniture was ornate, upholstered in black satin and red velvet. Two chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their crystal drops catching the sunlight and scattering rainbow colors everywhere. The beautiful marble fireplace had to be the biggest one I’d ever seen.
I noticed all this at a mere glance, because the figure standing near one of the sofas held my attention. His black tunic and trousers had been tailored to show off his physique, while his black boots looked both expensive and new. And he wore a black cloak thrown back over one shoulder but with the hood up and his face lost in its shadows.
A hand on my
The blood drained from my face. “I ... I don’t know, sir.”
“Think well on it, child. Penwick’s magicians live a good life. Surely better than the one you were born to, or the one you appear to have almost been thrust into.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” He leaned his head back in the chair and let out a sigh. “I have something of a reputation for finding those who make good magicians. Perhaps one could say I have a feel for them.”
I didn’t think I would ever fall asleep that night. I was sure Zhantar knew I hadn’t been entirely truthful, but what choice did I have? And asking me to think about becoming a magician! Things were getting over my head, and I wished that I’d never come here. The food, the clothes, and my beautiful room were all well enough, but the pitfalls that now gaped before me were deep and dangerous enough to ruin everything. What if this magician I was to meet tomorrow sensed my maejic? What if, somehow, the truth were discovered? If that happened, I’d be tried and executed, just as the king had tried to do to my brother. It would be ironic to meet my death in the dragon fighting pit.
But perhaps my fears were for naught. Perhaps Zhantar took my tales at face value. Even if he did believe me—and with my guilty conscience, I thought that doubtful—there was still the matter of the meeting tomorrow. This would be no simple village magician; Erno gathered the most powerful ones in the land to his court.
When I did sleep that night, it was fitful and uneasy. I didn’t have any of the strange dreams I’d had the nights before, but when morning finally came, I didn’t feel rested. After what felt like a full night of anxious thought, I was still no nearer to having a plan.
Nilla, as always, brought my breakfast, and while I ate it, she laid out a pair of black trousers and a long-sleeved grey tunic. Once I’d changed and she’d helped me with my hair again, I paced the room. The books were gone, though I couldn’t have concentrated on reading anyway. My thoughts were as unproductive as my motion: unceasing but accomplishing nothing.
When I answered the knock that finally came, it was neither Nilla nor Zhantar who stood there. It was a man I’d never seen before, tall and broad-shouldered and muscular. Dressed in a silver and black uniform, he looked more like a guard than a servant.
“You’re to follow me, miss.” His voice was deep, and though his tone and manner were deferential, they didn’t reassure me.
I followed him down the corridor and the stairs. He stopped before a closed door that I’d not been through yet. Instead of opening it, he knocked, then motioned for me to stand before it. He left me and disappeared through another doorway.
My heart was in my throat, beating so fast I felt lightheaded. Fear pulsed through me, and I seriously considered making a dash for the entrance. Then the door swung open, and Zhantar stood there smiling down on me and extending a hand to draw me into the room. I forced my feet to follow.
This room was utterly terrifying in its grandeur. The hand-carved furniture was ornate, upholstered in black satin and red velvet. Two chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their crystal drops catching the sunlight and scattering rainbow colors everywhere. The beautiful marble fireplace had to be the biggest one I’d ever seen.
I noticed all this at a mere glance, because the figure standing near one of the sofas held my attention. His black tunic and trousers had been tailored to show off his physique, while his black boots looked both expensive and new. And he wore a black cloak thrown back over one shoulder but with the hood up and his face lost in its shadows.
A hand on my
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