Труди Канаван - The Magician’s Apprentice

The truth was, Jayan hadn’t wanted to go out and meet them. He was not sure why. I don’t dislike Tessia or her family personally. Nor do I particularly like them, or want to gain their favour. It was more important, he had decided, that he spend his time studying than being sociable. The sooner he became a magician the more time Tessia would have from Dakon, after all.

It wasn’t as if she was from some important and powerful family that he might want to establish and maintain friendly relations with. She wasn’t a land servant or crafter’s daughter, thankfully, but she wasn’t a woman of influence or connections either. Becoming a magician would elevate her, but it wouldn’t make her the equal of other magicians.

Which is why this is unfair on Dakon. He won’t be gaining any of the good connections or favours owed from training her as he did by taking on my training... except, perhaps, respect for what might be seen as an admirable act of charity. If not that, then sympathy for having to obey the law on naturals.

Would people be as sympathetic towards Tessia? With no influential or wealthy family behind her, she would hardly attract much favour among the powerful men and women of Kyralia. It was unlikely that the king or anyone else would give her any important position or task to perform. Without such a wage or work she’d never make much of an income. All this would not make her a desirable wife, so she wasn’t going to attract a husband of influence or wealth either.

She might, with hard work and time, gain a few allies and friends, and slowly prove herself worthy of work with a decent income. And someone might marry her hoping her offspring would prove magically strong.

But neither would ever happen if she stayed in isolated Mandryn.

Another option came to Jayan’s mind, then. There were cases in history of apprentices who did not become higher magicians. She could choose to remain in service to Dakon, giving him magical strength, and in return he would give her a place to live and possibly a small sum to live on after he died.

Jayan felt an unexpected sympathy for her then. She probably had no idea where her natural powers were going to lead her. She could become trapped in a social limbo, caught between the advantages of magic and its inescapable limitations.

At the bottom of the stairs it was a short walk down a corridor to the dining room. Entering, Jayan was amused at the relief he felt on seeing Lord Dakon wearing the same style of dress as he. Dakon’s robe was black with fine stitchwork. The magician was standing with his guests. He looked up and acknowledged Jayan with a nod as he finished what he was saying to Veran’s family.

Healer Veran wore a simple tunic and trousers typical of the local men, but made of a finer cloth. His wife – what is her name? – wore a plain dark blue tunic dress that did nothing to make her look womanly. Tessia’s dress was almost as ugly, its severity tempered only because it was a more appealing dark red. The young woman’s necklace, though simple, also relieved some of the unflattering impact of her garb.

Dakon now gestured to Jayan. “This is my apprentice, Jayan of Drayn. Jayan, you know Healer Veran. This is his wife, Lasia. And this is Tessia, your new fellow apprentice.”

Jayan made a short, polite bow. “Welcome, Apprentice Tessia,” he said. “Healer Veran, Lasia. A pleasure to have your company tonight.”

Dakon smiled approvingly then directed the guests to their seats. Lasia and Tessia started in surprise as a gong positioned on a side table rang.

Soon the room filled with servants carrying plates and bowls, jugs and glasses. A generous spread of food covered the table. Dakon picked up a pair of carving knives and began to slice the meat for his guests.

The kitchen servants had done a fine job, Jayan noted. As Dakon sliced through a glistening roll of roasted, golden skin he revealed many-layered circles of different meats and vegetables. Once he had finished he urged his guests to help themselves, then turned to a larger haunch of enka. Ribbons of dark marin fruit syrup oozed from within the rare meat. Next, he expertly chopped up cakes made of different root vegetables, layered to form decorative patterns when cut, and quartered juicy yellow and green cabbas stuffed with a frothy herbed mix of bread and eggs.

This is such a strange tradition , Jayan mused. I wonder if it was introduced by the Sachakans, or harks back to an earlier age in Kyralia . It’s supposed to be a demonstration of humility from the host, but I suspect it’s really meant to show off his prowess with knives.

Dakon certainly gave the impression of being well practised, which was surprising considering how rarely he gave formal dinners. Watching his master closely, Jayan decided the man actually enjoyed the task. He wondered if this love of chopping things up would surface should Dakon ever find himself in a fight.

At last Dakon had finished. Conversation as they ate was sporadic and concerned the quality of local and imported produce, the weather and other general topics. Jayan glanced at Tessia now and then. She was not pretty, he decided, but neither was she ugly. Young women in the ley were likely to be either slim and hard-muscled from work, or buxom and generous like some of the Residence’s house servants or crafters’ wives. Tessia was neither skinny or curvaceous, as far as he could tell.

She did not speak, just listened and watched Lord Dakon with obvious restrained curiosity. The magician might have noticed this, as he began to ask her direct questions.

“If there is anything any of you wish to know,” he said as the meal ended, “be it about magic or magicians or apprenticeship, please ask. I will do my best to answer.”

The healer and his family exchanged glances. Veran opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and looked at Tessia.

“I think my daughter’s questions should come first, since she is the one who is to learn magic.”

Tessia smiled faintly at her father, then frowned as she gathered her thoughts.

“Where does the body generate magic?” she asked. “Is it stored in the brain or the heart?”

Dakon chuckled. “Ah, that is a question asked often and never properly answered. I believe the source is the brain, but there are some who are convinced it comes from the heart. Since the brain generates thoughts, and the heart emotions, it makes more sense that magic comes from the brain. Magic responds to our mental command and control. We have little control of what we feel – though we can control how we act in response to our feelings. If magic responded to emotion we’d have no control of it at all.”

Tessia leaned forward. “So... how does the body generate magic?”

“An even greater mystery,” Dakon told her. “Some believe that it is the result of friction caused by all the rhythms in the body: blood pulsing through pulse paths, breath through the lungs.”

Tessia frowned. “Does that mean people with magical ability have a faster pulse and breathing rate?”

“No,” Veran answered for Dakon. “But since some substances create friction more easily than others, perhaps a magician’s blood is different somehow and more able to create friction.” He shrugged. “It is a strange idea, and one my father didn’t think much of.”

“Nor of the theory of the stars,” Dakon said, smiling. “

Even less so,” Veran agreed, chuckling. “Which almost lost him his membership of the Healers’ Guild.”

“How so?” Jayan asked, noticing that everyone wore the same knowing smile. Either losing membership of the Healers’ Guild wasn’t as grave a downfall as he’d thought, or there was more to this story.

Dakon looked at Jayan. “Healer Berin declared that the timing of the stars and seasons had no bearing on health, illness and death, but was only useful as an excuse for healers to fall back on when incompetent.”