A Crucible of Souls (Book One of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (5 page)

He turned it a few times, still not believing it was his.

Thank you,

he stammered.

You could have kept it and I wouldn’t have known.


Ha! You know we wouldn’t do that.

Delife took the wrapping, string and cloth from him and placed them on the table.

The bone ring looks to be a poor copy of a
trinket
. I fear it is worthless, most likely of sentimental value to your mother. The
trinket
, though… the origin and function of yours is unknown to us, despite extensive and exhaustive examination using
crafting.
However, as you know from your lessons, this is not unusual. One of the symbols is a variation of the symbol we use nowadays for ‘shelter’, but we are uncertain if it means the same thing. Be careful with it, Caldan. Keep it on your person at all times and preferably out of sight. Possessing
trinkets
has been the cause of many troubles, thefts and deaths.

Nodding, Caldan turned the ring on his finger, feeling the details on the surface as he pushed it around and around, touching to make sure it was real. The bone ring he slipped into his pocket.

Should I wear it?


Goodness, no. It’s far too valuable to leave in plain sight. Hide it somewhere until you can work out a better solution. Perhaps a chain around your neck would suffice?

Caldan nodded.

This still doesn’t explain why you want me to leave the monastery for the empire.


No,

replied Delife.

It doesn’t. What we know, and part of what your mother found out, is that the emperor values talented people. Once they are in his service it is hard for them to leave, and it seems your family had some valuable talents.


You think my mother… no, my grandparents were killed because they left the emperor’s service?


It’s a possibility. One of many.

Joesal cleared his throat and sat up straighter.

It is not unknown for generations of a family to remain in the emperor’s service, those of unusual talent, that is. Your mother and now you have shown an aptitude for
crafting.
I would imagine that the empire wouldn’t take lightly to losing a valuable resource. Perhaps the emperor’s agents would track them down and ask them to return, and perhaps others would be interested as well. Who could say?

Caldan pondered the master’s words, nodding slowly. Though he found it hard to believe anyone would kill someone who simply refused to work for them, he had heard of appalling incidents occurring on the mainland.


So,

he said,

you think someone might come after me as well? Should I go into hiding?

With a sigh, Rastar rubbed the back of his neck.

It didn’t help your parents, and we think it wouldn’t help you, either. You have been safe here while growing up, but if anyone is keeping track of your family then they might know you exist. A boy is no threat to anyone, but a gown man with a talent for sorcery is another story.


So that’s it?

asked Caldan.

A few weeks, maybe a month, then I have to leave?


We can’t protect you if someone comes looking for you.


And I wouldn’t want to put you in danger after all that you’ve done for me.

Delife pushed the brown paper envelopes across the table towards Caldan.

We can offer you a fine set of references and a small amount of silver ducats to help you along. You know, I remember when I went off into the world as a youngster…


Yes, thank you, Delife,

interrupted Rastar.

I am sure Caldan will want to question you later about your travels. There is much he needs to think about and to do in the next few weeks before setting out. We can discuss more at a later date, once he has mulled over what we have told him. It is a great deal to take in.


Well, thank you for your kindness,

Caldan replied, scooping up the reference letters.

I have to go. As you said, there is much I have to think about.

Delife stood and offered a hand to shake.

We wish you all the best, young man. Despite the circumstances, I know this experience will benefit you greatly.

Caldan glared at the offered hand and then softened. He had known these monks most of his life. He reached across the table and grasped Delife’s hand briefly but firmly. He left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

 

Chapter Three

 

Caldan woke suddenly, his bare chest heaving and covered in sweat. He felt like a fish out of water, gasping for breath. A trickle ran from his brow and into his open mouth. The salty taste helped anchor him back to reality. With heavy breaths, he heaved himself up for a moment and then fell back, lacking the strength to stay upright. He shook his head to clear the feeling of dread that remained from the nightmare.

Even after so many years, time had not faded the memories of that day. Fire and blood. Ten years since he came home to find flames consuming their house. The front door was wide open and through the doorway we could see both his parents and his sister inside, lying on the floor, motionless. Try as he might to reach them, the heat was too much; he couldn’t even get close to the opening. He remembered crying, the smoke, a metallic smell.

He doubted he’d ever forget that day.

 

Late afternoon light shone crimson through the window, giving it a strange appearance, as if the light filtered through a pall of smoke. From Caldan’s position on the bed, hands clasped under his head, there wasn’t much to see. He had dwelt in this room for the last ten years. Sparse furnishings and a lack of personal belongings marked the chamber as somewhere he lived but definitely not a home. The only obvious personal memento was a figure of the Wayfarer carved from smoky quartz on the window ledge. He had purchased the carving a while ago on a whim from one of the more expensive purveyors of Dominion figures in the city. It had stood by the window gathering dust and watching him ever since. Though now he had his family’s
trinket
, safely tucked away in one of his shoes at the bottom of the wardrobe, along with the bone ring. He didn’t want to carry it with him until he could secure it with a chain, as the masters had suggested.

He closed his eyes and thought of the first day he had arrived at the monastery, too young, shattered by the loss of his family. The place had felt strange, so unlike his life back then. It seemed bizarre that, after becoming accustomed to it, he thought the place stranger and stranger, the people different.

He trembled as another hot flush ran through his body, followed by a chill, and his arm hairs stood on end. He hadn’t felt well the last few days, and the flushes seemed to be getting worse.

He stood up suddenly then dropped back onto the bed, overcome with dizziness. His body ached, and his stomach growled. Over the last month he always felt hungry and had to eat every few hours. And, most peculiarly, he wanted to eat a lot of green leafy vegetables and cheese. He wondered if that was a result of stress as well, but with the exercise he had been doing, the extra food looked to have gone into muscle rather than fat. A few of the monks had commented he’d put on more muscle, the blade master included.

Not too much more,

he had said with a grin.

Or else we might have to start training you with a broadsword!

The gathering was tonight, and after the day he’d had he didn’t feel like going anymore, but he had given Jemma his word.

He rose and stumbled to the wardrobe, opened the door and rummaged through the pile of odds and ends at the bottom, struggling to find what he was looking for. He pulled out a leather pouch containing a drug and herb mixture, a remedy for headaches and body pains.

Undoing the ties, he licked a finger and dipped it into the pouch. Rubbing the mixture onto his tongue, he grimaced at the bitter taste. A small amount to get him through the night. Too little and he might as well have not bothered, but too much and he would appear befuddled.

Still feeling unwell, he stood and reached into the wardrobe, pulling out his outfit for the night. He started to choose a somber set of clothes but relented with the shirt, knowing he should at least try to have some fun. He slipped on dark charcoal-gray pants and black leather boots with plain iron buckles. Hesitating for a moment, he pulled on a cream colored shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons. Not normally concerned with his appearance, he nevertheless felt he needed to make a display this evening, if only to show the masters they had not upset him, and for Jemma’s sake.

With quick efficient movements, he washed his face and hands using a rough cloth and a bowl of tepid water. The flushes had passed and the medicine had calmed him nicely. He dried off with a clean towel and dressed. The shirt was tighter than when he had tried it on a few months ago. He must be having a late growth spurt. If this kept on, soon most of his clothes wouldn’t fit.

A bell tolled outside, signaling the start of the evening hours. It was time to leave for the gathering, which was to be held in the citadel by the sea outside the monastery.

 

Caldan took the stairs two at a time and paused at the top to look around at a square. To his right the beach started, and to his left there was a paved road along the water’s edge.

An obsidian statue of Lady Misterin, one of the island’s first settlers stood in a fountain at the center of the square. Stylishly garbed in seaweed, in one hand she held a conch shell from which spouted fresh water piped from an underground spring.

Sidling up to the statue, Caldan touched the water running over Lady Misterin’s bare feet for luck, splashed some across his face and continued on down the paved road.

A short time later he paused at the top of the flight of stone steps that led down into the hall where the student’s social gatherings were held. Brought up in families of wealth, they were no strangers to parties and late nights of revelry, though the monks took a dim view of such things. Too privileged to realize the opportunity they were squandering, he told himself. Most of them would learn far less than they should. He wondered why the monastery let them get away with it. Probably because the students brought in enough ducats for the monks to survive.

Over the years an uneasy truce had evolved, and the students were allowed to gather and let off steam, as long as they did not allow anything to get out of hand. The monks permitted the students to gather in rooms in the citadel, away from the monastery and close to where guards could keep an eye on them.

Located in one wing of the citadel, the hall had arched openings leading onto a balcony, which overlooked a garden. Tapestries and painted wall hangings covered two walls, many depicting scenes from history that had made past governors of the Island of Eremite famous: the finding of the ancients’ caverns, the staying of the volcanic eruption, and a game of Dominion between masters in progress. Oil lanterns suspended from the ceiling provided a warm yellow glow, and strings of seasonal flowers were pinned to the walls, giving the atmosphere a faint, sweet fragrance. Aligned with the center of each wall were tables laden with food and refreshments, and a stage had been set up in a corner, where a quartet of musicians played a popular tune while their female singer sat quietly to the side until she was required to perform later. The musicians were a luxury and must have been hired by one of the wealthier students.

Not recognizing anyone he knew well — but seeing plenty of people he didn’t want to run into — Caldan stepped down the flight of stairs to the bottom, where he helped himself to a glass of fruit punch. He took a hefty swallow, gagged on the sweetness, and returned to the drinks table where he added wine and took another sip. This time it was palatable, if only just.

A pale face framed by a shock of fair hair appeared in front of him. Yasmin. Dressed up for the party, she wore a low-cut dress made from a sheer material which left little to the imagination. Caldan reddened and looked away. He thought it likely she wouldn’t be able to wear that dress on the mainland under her parents’ supervision.


Caldan, how lovely to see you here tonight.

Her voice was too smooth for him, and he wondered what she was up to.

A pleasure to see you as well, Yasmin,

he replied.

Is Jemma with you?

He made a show of peering over her head, as if looking for her friend.


Very amusing. But we both know your humor tries to hide the truth.

Caldan looked at her sharply, his gaze trying to penetrate her smug exterior.

And what truth is that?


I’m not blind, as you may have noticed. And neither are most people.

She sighed and touched his arm gently.

Jemma is my friend and I know her better than most. Your thoughts are as plain as the sun.


You’re mistaken. She cares for me no more than a friend does. Anyway, why do you care so much?


I don’t want to see her hurt any more than you do. And some people would look unkindly if things progressed further. You two have been spending far too much time together and it has been noticed.

Caldan snorted but she continued.

I have heard as well that you may not be with us for much longer.

Caldan stared at her in amazement.

How… What I do is no concern of anyone’s. And what Jemma does is her business as well.

If Yasmin knows, then all the students probably do as well. Most will be glad to see the back of me.


Unless she could get hurt, and then it’s her friend’s responsibility to ensure that doesn’t happen.

He couldn’t believe what she’d just said. She wasn’t being subtle.

I know you’re trying to protect her, but Jemma is her own person and can make up her mind about what she wants. But… because I value her friendship, I’m not about to ruin anything by doing something that would hurt her. Especially since I’m leaving soon. I’d like to know how you found out already?


A friend told me.

She shrugged.

Still, it’s good you are leaving. For her sake.

She gave him a wave of her fingers.

Bye. Try not to get into too much trouble.

He stood there seething while she weaved away through the throng.
She’s right,
he realized.

Flustered and uneasy as he was with crowds, he nevertheless decided to make something of the evening. He needed to take his mind off everything that had happened in the last few weeks.

Moving around a couple of students who both had a drink in each hand and were in some sort of competition, he spied Jemma over by a wall, surrounded, as usual, by her friends. She caught his eye, took a moment to excuse herself from the group, and hurried over to greet him. She was dressed in close-fitting black pants with a tight black shirt, and wore a fine silver necklace and bracelet.


Hello, Caldan. Would you care to dance?

She nodded towards the space in the hall in front of the musicians, where a few couples were already dancing. Surprised, Caldan could only nod his agreement.

She clasped his hand with hers and led him over to the dance floor. Several people stared at them as they passed, no doubt offended by his presence and startled by his companion. Unflattering comments were audible, no doubt pitched to be heard by those around them.


…never would have guessed…


…don’t understand why she would lower herself…

Ignoring the narrow-minded people, Caldan tried to concentrate on having a good time, although trying to concentrate meant it was hard to relax. Then the music stopped.


Great timing,

said Jemma. The musicians had finished a particular piece and started tuning their instruments before beginning the next song. She took both of his hands in hers and leaned in close.


I hope your dancing skills are adequate,

she whispered in his ear.


They should suffice. I can do a few things well.

He gave a short laugh.

Anyway, enough flirting, the music is about to start!

And with that the musicians struck the opening few chords of a lively tune, to which Caldan and Jemma struggled for a few moments with their inexperienced dancing but managed not to step on each other’s toes during the first few verses.

A few songs later, Caldan realized he was having the best night of his life. An attractive girl wanted to dance with him, someone who, despite their differences, had become a firm friend.

He didn’t want to leave early, as he’d thought he would. Becoming breathless, they both agreed to take a break and have some refreshments. As Caldan acquired two glasses of wine, Jemma excused herself to freshen up. Hot and sweaty from the dancing, Caldan told her to meet him outside, where the fresh air should cool them off.

He pushed his way through the press of bodies and out onto the balcony, where the crowd thinned out. A breeze blew across his head, drying the sheen of sweat and offering relief after his exertions. He leant on the balustrade, looked out over the moonlit garden, and relaxed, taking a sip from his glass. A few souls were wandering amongst the trees and bushes, mostly couples, he noted enviously. One man stopped to pick a flower, which he placed in his companion’s hair. Her soft laugh of delight reached Caldan on the wind.

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