James Galloway - The Tower of Sorcery

A lone figure stood on a balcony high in the tower that rose over the main keep. Ashen skin took on a ghostly pallor in the light of the two risen moons and the Skybands, almost luminous in its colorlessness. Black hair contrasted the ghostly skin blaringly, long, thick hair that was kept neat, clean, and tied back away from the thin, emotionless face. A face that made most people cringe or step back unconsciously. He was a tall man, tall and almost cadaverously thin, wearing a simple gray robe that was kept scrupulously clean and neat. The robe did not billow in the stiff wind. The man's hair did not so much as flow, even as the wind howled around him. Behind the man was a tall, burly Dal wearing a mail shirt under a breastplate. The man's iron gray hair was cut short, as was his beard, and a wicked scar ran down his left cheek. Beside him was a slender woman wearing a black robe and cloak, with a hood pulled over her face to conceal it from the light that made her dark clothes a silhouette against the fire burning in the fireplace behind the trio.

"The Sorcerers have recovered the Were-cat, Master Kravon," the large Dal told him in a voice as gravelly as his appearance, a voice like the mountain stone. "More to the point, he went back to them."

"Indeed," the man in the gray robe said in a cold, neutral voice. "I expected as much. That one is full of surprises."

"We can still remove him, Lord Kravon," the woman said in a calm voice.

"As efficiently as before?" Kravon asked in a monotone, glancing over his shoulder. "All your prior attempts have done is to warn the katzh-dashi that we are aware of their prize."

"Luck, Lord Kravon," the woman said in a slightly ruffled voice, smoothing her cloak's hem uncounsiously, then settling her hood deeper over her face. "We very nearly had him, more than once, but blind luck favors fools."

"Fool," he chuckled grimly. "Naive, yes. Inexperienced, yes. But not a fool. Never that. You underestimate our opponent, my dear. And his allies. They are guarding him. Even now, they are preparing to raise the ancient ward that surrounds their Tower. With it raised, the magic of the Wizards will not be able to penetrate, and the Were-cat will be safely contained on the grounds."

"My magic will still be quite effective, Lord Kravon," the woman said confidently.

"Yes, but what will you do with it?" he asked, turning around and regarding her with eyes that were as cold as the grave. Eyes that gave children nightmares. "Should you attempt to eliminate the Were-cat, you will most certainly be found out. And my eyes and ears within the katzh-dashi will be removed. Our other agents in the Tower would have no way to get their information to us. At this stage in the game, that is not acceptable.

"The katzh-dashi are a force to be reckoned with, my dear. You, of all people, should be aware of that. Their magic is strong, and they know what to do with it. They know what is at stake, and they primp and ready the Were-cat for his role in the game." He chuckled again, a sound like steel sliding across steel. "And the Were-cat is not the only one that can play the role. The Selani, and the Wikuni, they are as much a danger to us as he is. The poor creatures. If they only knew what it was they were being prepared for."

"From the sound of your voice, my Lord, you have a plan," the Dal said. "I stand ready to carry out your orders."

"Yes, Bral, in a moment," he said, turning back around, staring up into the brilliant starry sky. "The Were-cat," he said quietly, "is a Weavespinner. An Ancient. My dear, I believe you understand exactly what that means."

"Aye, my lord," she said grimly. "He holds power over the All."

"We cannot allow that to come to pass," he said. "We must strike at him now , before he learns what power he holds, and how to wield it."

"But my Lord," she said, "if they raise the ward, they are putting him out of our reach."

"Ah, yes," he agreed. "But that only protects him from those who are outside ."

"I understand, my Lord," the woman said with a bow of her head. "I'll gather up the people I'll need."

"The katzh-dashi are very much caught up in tradition and custom," Kravon mused to himself. "They'll put the Were-cat through their normal Initiate, and teach him at only a slightly faster rate than usual. Because even they do not know exactly how to go about training him in arts that were lost eons ago. That works in our favor." He turned and looked at the woman. "I want him dead before he weaves his first spell, my dear," he commanded in a clear voice. "Every time he touches the Weave, he presents more of a danger to us. There is no place in our plans for him."

"I will see to it, my Lord," she said confidently. "I already have a most delicious plan in mind, one that presents no danger to our own people."

Kravon nodded. "Just get it done, my dear," he said. "Now go. You must be back at the Tower before daybreak." She curtsied gracefully to him, then turned and walked away. "Bral," Kravon called after the woman left the room.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Bring Semoa to me," he said. "I am confident that our puppet will do her best, but I will not gamble on her success. It is time for Jegojah."

Bral's rocky face blanched. "The Doomwalker?" he gasped. "My Lord, is that entirely wise?"

"Wise or not, it is necessary," he said. "And you would do well not to second guess my decisions, General."

"Never, my Lord," he said in swift and sincere humility. "I only struggle to understand what's obviously over my head."

"To seek wisdom does you credit, Bral," he said. "But remember that all men have limitations."

"Aye, my Lord," Bral said in meek contrition. "I will bring Semoa to you."

Kravon nodded. "Quickly, General, quickly. Time is passing."

After a very good night's sleep, Tarrin arose the next morning curiously expectant, and a bit eager. It was surprising to him to think that he was eager to get into the business of learning Sorcery, but he was. He had only touched that power once, in cat form, and even now the memory of it was veiled by the long rides he had spent in cat form. The only thing he remembered about it was the feeling of the power inside of him, around him, and then feeling it rush out of him in such a flood that he felt drained. He wanted to know more about it, know how he had done it, how it worked.

It was a subject that was kept in the strictest confidence in the Novitiate. Novices were not taught a whit of Sorcery, nor were even the most funadamental aspects of it taught, nor were the books or manuscripts that went into any detail kept where a Novice could reach. All of that was saved for the Initiate. From what he already knew, the first rides of the Initiate were more classroom instruction and history, but it was the history of the katzh-dashi and formal education on the fundamentals of magic. After that was completed, then the Initiates would be paired with Sorcerers, and they would start learning Sorcery first-hand. The Initiate was again unlike the Novitiate in that it had no formal structure after the learning began. An Initiate was deemed graduated when he satisfied the Sorcerers that he was competent. That could take months, it could take years. It depended entirely upon the individual's aptitude and desire to learn. After the Initiate was complete, the full-fledged individual had the option of joining the katzh-dashi , or going their own way. Entry into the katzh-dashi wasn't a requirement, but the Sorcerers weren't about to let people out there run around with the gift unless they had formal training in how to control it.

And once you were in the Initiate, you didn't get out until the Tower was done with you. No Initiate had ever run away from the Tower that had not been captured or killed.