The Melaki Chronicle (5 page)

The wizard was of the fifth ward only, as Melaki, and he had
just given instructions on how to find the sixth ward instructor. He must have
been peeved.

Her study was just a study. It was tidy, but two shelves sat
stacked with books and scrolls. She was a charming-looking woman with long
silver hair showing fading remnants of black. Her skin was smooth and her eyes
sharp. The only thing that held back a flirtatious smile from his face was the
severe line of her mouth. Smiles rarely visited that face.

“Melaki, is it?” Rashilla said.

“Yes, wizard.”

“Rashilla is fine. We are a little looser in formality here
in the upper wards. But as you will.”

He nodded.

“Sit there.” Her finger stabbed to a chair.

He did.

She pulled parchments together and arranged them neatly in a
stack, clearing her desk. She closed them in a leather wrap and tied the strap
loosely. She got up and shifted the bundle neatly into a space its size on the
shelf behind her. “I understand you passed all five wards at once?”

“I did.”

“How did you do this?” She sat back down.

“I had plenty of instruction--”

“Yes, you did. No one has ever worn senior initiate's robes
for so long as you.” The stab of her eyes said she doubted and disapproved.

“I think I must have had a block of some sort in my mind.
Perhaps a fear of failure.”

“And you do not now, obviously. Well, then. The sixth ward
is a deeper focus of the first ward.”

“I have to learn them all over again?” He shifted in his
chair. It was his right to ask what he would and even refuse further
instruction if he desired.

“No.” Her word was sharp. “Light to darkness, lifting to
pushing, and warding of the physical to warding of the mystical.”

Melaki was interested, despite himself. His eyebrows must
have shown it. He leaned forward.

She nodded, slowly. “You can make a light, but have you
thought about making darkness?”

“No... I--”

“This is the beginning of your instruction. What is
darkness?”

He figured she meant the schooling term. “The absence of
light?”

“No. Not this kind. Not that your answer is wrong otherwise.
This darkness you will learn is a force. It is as liquid in the air, ink if you
will, sucking all light from within it and even drawing and dimming light from
around it. Watch.” She lit a candle and placed it on a chair between her desk
and the window. The candle lit little as the daylight from the window
illuminated the room. Then she began muttering to the spirits.

He felt his skin crawl as if alive with fleas. But there
were no fleas in the Altanlean Empire. Not a one. Wizards made sure of it for
some reason.

A dimming of the candle at first made him think it was going
out.

“Watch the spirit manipulation and learn this first of the
sixth ward,” she said.

He blinked. Instruction in the first ward had required
months of instruction before the first demonstrations of magic occurred. But
had she not said the sixth ward was a deeper focus?

I do not have to sit in a class for months learning this?
He leaned forward, and delved her manipulation. She glanced at him as he tapped
into her magic to watch. The delving sickened him, as usual. He hated watching
the manipulation of spirits. He felt it was evil. Wrong.

She whispered, coaxing, using her hands to give shape to her
manipulation. The candle's light did not go out. It was swallowed. He could see
an outline of the flame in the sudden darkness about it, and then that was
gone, too.

He watched with the hunger to learn as she spun her
manipulation deeper and deeper. The ball of blackness began to grow. It looked
almost solid.

He thought he could duplicate it. Ideas of patterns formed
in his mind.

“Watch the light from the window,” she said.

He looked and blinked again. Then he rubbed his eyes. Was he
still sleepy? The light entering from the window appeared to stretch somehow,
as if being pulled into the inky blackness that roiled around the chair.

With a wave and a whisper, she dismissed the blackness.
Light appeared to rush in, as water would into an empty cup forcefully
submerged.

“Do you believe you could do this?” she said.

That was a trap. One had to believe to accomplish anything
with magic.

“Of course.”

“A standard initiate's answer.” Her tone accused him of not
understanding.

He gave her a sideways glare.

She ignored the look. “Try it.”

“The same as you? Around the candle?”

She nodded. “As big as you can manage. As fast as you can
manage. I will delve.”

Having any Imperium wizard delving his magic was a danger.
But he had thought about this overnight. He would try a trick with her that was
as pure a gamble as a throw of the dice. He would have to control two magics at
once, but he had done so the previous day.

He reached within and began weaving two patterns in his
mind. One was a sucking of light into blackness and the other he made evil and
full of presence.
That ought to satisfy her. I hope.

Darkness blossomed around the candle. He continued forming
the patterns and threw some more into the darkness.

“Is that all you can manage? Oh--” Rashilla gasped.

He opened his eyes, making sure to keep whispering nonsense
that sounded like incantations to the spirit realm. But he was encased in
blackness. He could almost feel it on his skin. It was still expanding.

Shouts came from nearby rooms.

“Release it,” she said.

He concentrated, feeling her tapped into his magic. He
needed to reverse the formation while maintaining the evil one so it appeared
he was invoking the spirits.

He grunted. He had never tried that before. The idea seemed
as difficult as rolling his eyes in different directions. But he maintained the
one while forcing his mind to reverse the other.

“I said release it.” A note of urgency was in her voice.

The shouts outside were louder and someone pounded on her
door, then entered.

He accelerated the reversal and the inky darkness spun down
to nothing around the candle.

The room was silent for three heartbeats.

Rashilla stared at him, irritated, but not accusing. His
ruse had worked.

“What is this? The initiate who passed all five wards?” A
bearded wizard strode into the room.

“Indeed,” Rashilla said.

“I have never seen the likes. Your students normally do not
produce darkness beyond the chair.”

She stood abruptly. “Did you see the darkness outside this
room?”

“It entered my study and into the next.”

“Few can do such a thing,” she said.

“He just did.”

“My thanks to you, Akaso.”

The wizard shook his head and left, closing the door.

She frowned down at him, hands on her hips. “I see we can
move along to the next, pushing. Somehow I think you will be testing before the
end of the day.”

“Is that unusual?”

She squinted at him, but seemed satisfied he was not being
sarcastic. “Yes, training for the upper wards is very fast. All of the basics
are known. But usually we spend a day or two practicing and refining. If I am
to believe my delving, you need no refinement of your focus. You just need to
be shown.”

He said nothing.

“I would scarcely believe it in a strong student. But I
especially cannot grasp how this can be with your historic failure in passing
the basic Rukha.”

“But I did pass.”

She nodded, chewing on the inside of her lip. “Very well.”
She sat back down at her desk. “Pushing.”

*  *  *

Melaki settled into a chair at The Swaggering Swine. The
polished wooden walls were a comfort, as was the small fire.

“Line them up?” Erilyn said. She cocked her hips and looked
at him with a weary eye.

“No, one is good. Please.” He placed a silver half-imperial
down.

She snatched it and was gone as fast.

He blew out a breath and regarded the extra trim on his
sleeve. Black and gold intertwined in a thin thread above his broad gold
embroidery.

He had passed the sixth ward in one day. But he was
exhausted. He would not have been able to pass all of the first five wards
being so closely scrutinized. Apparently, fast though it was for all who
entered the upper wards, the testing was more rigorous. At the end, making a
shield against magic, he had to overlay it with the appearance of spiritwork.
That had required three patterns in his mind and had drained him so fast he
felt as weary as when he had passed the five wards the previous day.

He had to form the imitation of spirit use – the oily, evil
feel to cover his magic. He had to produce a magical shield, which he found
easy enough, but draining. Then he had to form a pattern that conveyed a
particular look and feel in the delves of those watching that his shield was
indeed a spirit. Seven wizards of the tenth ward delved and judged him. He had
passed, barely. A few of the wizards frowned but gave their assent.

“Melaki, my friend,” said Domo.

“I'm not buying your drink today.”

“I should hope not. I pissed out a glowing blue stream last
night.”

He laughed. His magic light was in the cup, not the drink.
His friend was teasing him.

“Is there something different about your robe?” Domo waved
his cup in the air.

“No, it's still black.”

Erilyn swished by, placing down his mead and snatching
Domo's cup from his hand.

“She knows me,” he said.

Melaki grunted.

“You look tired.”

“Your powers of observation are amazing.”

Domo wagged a finger. “You can not fool me.”

“More testing. And more tomorrow. I can not wait to fall
headfirst into bed after this drink.”

“Oh,” he said. His voice took on a tone as of someone
talking about the stink of a dungheap. “More of that, eh?”

“Yes, more. They assume I'll be able to pass all the rest of
the wards in the next four days.”

“You do not agree?”

“I do not know if I want to.”

Domo looked at him as if his face was glowing with blue
magical light. “Are you witless?”

He could not tell Domo – no, not even Domo – that he feared
progressing only to be found out. The frowns today had worried him. What if
tomorrow they delved deeper, or more thoroughly, or whatever? He had no
experience in delving his own magic, it was not something one could do. What
did they see? Did they perceive his patterns imitating spirit use as real?
Something new? A different flavor of spirit? They had frowned. Why the frowns?

Did they think he was using a more powerful personal spirit
and were jealous? Did they assume he knew more of the spirit magic and was
withholding knowledge from them? But what he knew of the Rukha and the wizards
spoke of supreme arrogance. They would believe they knew all there was to know
about magic and spirits.

If they had suspected him of faking spirit usage, he would
have been executed already by now.

So why the frowns? What did they see in their delving?

“No, I am not witless. That is precisely my problem.”

Domo shook his head. “I do not understand you.”

“I do not understand myself , either.”

Later that night, he fell face-first onto his bed in his new
rooms. Two plain rooms, dark brown walls and black floor tiling felt much more
comfortable than his single white initiate's room. The first room was a study,
such as Rashilla's. All wizards of the fifth ward and above had similar rooms.

But he would not be decorating it or furnishing it. He left
in seven days.

He fell into a deep sleep and dreamed of being chased.

Melaki wanted to hide. If he could find a hole, he could
hide for the day and escape on the morrow on their ship to the Northlands.

Today was his day of testing for the tenth ward. He did not
want to risk it. Not only would he be delved, of that he was not very
concerned, but he would be expected to summon and contain a demon.

That will not be happening.

He refused to even imagine doing so as he could not just
summon up a demon using his own magic, no matter how masked, without being
tainted by the experience. Some things he just refused to do. Demon-magic was
evil; he felt it. He would not compromise.

The wizards of the tenth ward had other ideas. Amazed at his
progress, though it had not been without difficulty, they demanded he complete
the tenth ward as such potential could not be wasted in their eyes. They would
see him through it until he wore the full robes of the most prestigious class
of wizards on the planet.

I do not want it. Not if it involves summoning demons.

A peremptory knock on his door was followed by the entry of
Abisin and Headmistress Renta. The slight swirl of their slender robes was as
demanding as the knock.

What was she doing here? She has no more control over me.

“I did not give you permission--” he said.

“We will enter as we will and see you to the testing for the
tenth ward,” Abisin bit off.

“I will not.”

“I told you he was a failure,” Renta said. Her sneer crawled
up her cheek and most definitely reached her eyes.

“I thought you were here to help me, Renta.” A look of
annoyance wavered across the Elet's features.

Melaki walked into his front room. It was still bare, except
for a few knapsacks of gear for tomorrow. “I have the say--”

“Nonsense,” Abisin said. He glared at Renta before
continuing. “Your ability to complete the tenth ward is not even a matter of
debate--”

“I do not want to complete the tenth ward and I have the
right--”

“See?” hissed Renta. “He should have been executed.”

“Headmistress, contain yourself--” Annoyance flared more
firmly on the Elet's face.

“No, Abisin, look at him. He lacks the strength. He has no
inner will. He should never have been--”

Elet Abisin grabbed her by the shoulder and arm and escorted
her from the room.

Melaki heaved a sigh of relief.

He looked at his gear. Could he slip out? Early? Stay at the
inn? Stay with Domo? He did not have much coin left after buying supplies kept
well-packed in his third leather pack. Inside were quills, ink, two sheaves of
parchment, and two leather bindings. Included was enough cheap parchment for
notes and ideas.

He began picking up his packs.

Another knock on the door, but this time softer.

He said nothing. He finished shouldering his bags and opened
the door.

Rashilla was there, stunning in her black robes and silver
hair. Her face was neutral. “I understand you do not want to be tested, but--”

“I not only do not want to, I refuse.”

“Why?” She entered the room by force of intensity.

He retreated a few steps.

Would a lie work with her? Certainly not the truth. The
partial truth?

“Why?” she said again. She shut the door behind her as if to
indicate their conversation would remain private.

Would it?

He sighed. “I have no interest in demons.”

She tilted her head ever so slightly.

“I have been here almost three years,” he said. “I have
passed all nine of the first wards in just seven days. No one before has done
it--”

“Indeed. No one has. But your passing has not been without
difficulty. The eighth ward--”

“And anything to do with healing, yes, I know. So allow me
to refuse--”

“Unconscionable,” she said. “You have it within you to be
among the ranks of the most powerful wizards--”

“Rashilla. I do not seek glory or honor or power. I seek
escape.”

“Escape? Explain.” She still used her air of command as if
teaching a pupil a new ward.

“I was an initiate for too long. I ache to be away. To be
done.”

“Your testing for the tenth will not take--”

“But I do not wish it.”

She fell silent.

“Sometimes people are different. Even wizards.”

“But--”

“Let me go. There will be other initiates who can do what I
do and better.” His vision of the coming destruction of the Altanlean Empire
went unmentioned. Had Abisin related the details of his involvement in Melaki's
fifth ward testing?

She folded her arms. “We do not leave things such as this
undone. All of us involved in the testing know you can pass the tenth--”

“But I do not desire it.”

“You do not make sense.”

“Perhaps that is why I should not be tested.”

“Your will is strong.”

Tell that to the Headmistress and I'll slip away during
the argument that follows.

She shook her head. “I thought to persuade you--”

“Your desire to see me succeed is a sentiment and gesture I
will not forget.” He stepped forward and gave her a one-arm hug. She smelled
good and her frame was soft and frail in his arms.

She stiffened in shock.

He ignored it and stepped back. “I will not return.”

He moved around her and she watched him go.

Fear followed him.

With every step he took, he expected the Rukha and wizard's
area to erupt in action calling for his seizure.

“Are you going for testing?” Agak said.

He looked back at the wizard of the third ward. “No, I am
not.”

An eyebrow twitched on the wizard's face and a small quirk
of one side of his mouth said he was pleased Melaki would not attain the final
and most coveted rank in less time it took Agak to reach the first ward.

Melaki was sure he was the object of jeers and scorn. He had
heard some of them. Some claimed he was the worst wizard ever, for having taken
almost three years to attain the first ward and failing six times. All passed
within a year and a half and none ever failed more than twice. Some claimed he
could be positioned among the most powerful. Some laughed at his difficulties
with healing – considered the easiest of wards. Some thought he was too strong.
Others too weak. He wanted no more of it.

He growled at Agak's leer.

The sudden intensity of Melaki's frustration wiped the look
from the lower wizard's face in an instant. Agak gulped.

But Melaki was not itching for a fight, he was itching for
escape. He turned and stalked off.

Agak called to him. “I will be informing the headmistress of
your refusal--”

Melaki turned his head, still walking. “Silence, dog.”

Agak could inform the headmistress all he wanted; Melaki did
not care.

“There you are,” Talin said.

He had about collided with the tenth ward wizard again, as
he had just a week before when wearing initiate's robes.

“Yes, here I am.”

“The boat leaves tomorrow morning--”

“I am aware. I am leaving here, though.”

“Not testing for the tenth ward?” His voice was curious.

“No. I refuse. It is my choice.”

Talin nodded, appearing happier.

Swine. You just do not want competition. Pathetic.

“Well, then. I shall see you onboard tomorrow.” The smile
was satisfied and arrogant.

At least he will not give me trouble.

But the fear hounded him all the way out the gates.
Initiates jeered him. Wizards in the lower wards scorned him. Those of the
tenth ward queried him and met his refusal with confusion.

Being outside the gate of the Rukha gave him some relief.
Some. He would likely not feel relief until he was on the boat to the
Northlands.

*  *  *

Melaki boarded the sleek runner in the darkness of night
just before the brightening of morning. He held aloft a blue ball of light and
walked across the plank.

The ship was typical of Altanlean passage. It could hold a
dozen passengers with horses and cargo. Its tall, triangular sail speared up
into the sky fifteen paces to its tip.

Other passengers were boarding, too.

The tough sailor at the plank nodded at the names, recalling
from memory. No one who was not on the First Charter tried to get on.

He was shown to his bunk. It certainly could not be called a
room. But on a boat, space was at a premium. The door to his room was about as
wide as his shoulders and the room itself only twice as wide as the door. The
bunk was so slim that his arm would dangle off if he laid flat. A stool and a
small shelf for writing were the only other furnishings. Above his bunk was a
shelf. He stored his packs up there.

Talin leaned in. “I will be harnessing weather first. You
can watch.” He said it as if Melaki still needed instruction.

He grunted. Although he did not want to give Talin the
satisfaction of his presence on the deck, he did not want to stay cooped into
this room the whole voyage.

The upper deck was a slow bustle of preparation. The crew
knew their tasks and performed them with little direction.

“Two up,” said the captain. His voice was quiet, but carried
in the brightening mist of morning. He was a blocky man, squat and bearded. His
head was shaved bald.

A smaller sail was raised and Melaki felt Talin begin to
work weather magic.

The crew busied themselves coiling the mooring ropes.
Everything was accomplished with almost no noise.

The boat began to move and the captain spun the wheel.

Looking out to the dock, he spied three figures watching the
departure. Watching him. Elet Abisin was there, arms folded, frowning.
Frustration radiated from him. Wizard of the tenth rank Rashilla was there,
head tilted, standing still. Curiosity radiated from her. Headmistress Renta
was there, pacing back and forth, wearing a scowl. Irritation radiated from
her.

He slowly shook his head so that all three could see it –
his message to each.

Rashilla lowered her head and turned to leave. Her figure
moved into the mist and out of sight.

The other two stayed until the boat was far enough out that
they could no longer see each other.

Had Rashilla come to watch his departure due to the same
frustration as Abisin? Had she come because she had suspicions about his magic?
Had she come because his hug had awakened something in her she ignored?

He never saw any of them again.

*  *  *

Melaki twisted off his bunk.

The knock came again.

“Yes. Yes.” he opened the small door.

A crewmember was there. He spoke quietly. “Master Talin asks
you to relieve him.”

He rubbed his face. “Very well.” He lowered the wick on the
lamp to almost nothing and left his room. He passed the center table of crew
off their shift. They were dicing and drinking from small mugs.

Looks like fun. “Maybe I will join you later.”

Those at the table had been talking quietly. The sounds of
their cups settling back to the table were making more noise than their voices.
But all noise died. Eyes looked back and forth and then regarded him and his
robes.

He shook his head and left them behind.

Climbing the steps to the upper deck, the bright refraction
from the waters above told him it was late in the day. Had Talin worked magic
for this long? He still felt the oily workings around him.

They ceased. The strong wind died down to a steady wind.

“Make your magic.”

“Speed the ship along?”

“Of course,” Talin said. His sneer was not hatred but
arrogance.

How was I supposed to know? I've never been a wizard on a
ship before.
He frowned.

“Are you having problems?” Talin leaned in. His eyebrow rose
on his forehead.

“No.” He formed the oily pattern in his mind first.

Talin straightened, satisfied, but waiting. “Be quick. We
have a reputation to uphold.

He glanced at the captain. The man was watching him, also
waiting.

Melaki sighed and did something different. He remembered the
weather draining him fast. If he was expected to help the ship for as long as
Talin did, he doubted he would be able to do it. He doubted he could even
perform weather for half of what Talin did. He formed a different pattern in
his mind, summoning.

“What are you doing? Bring wind.” Talin said.

He ignored the other wizard. He drew his hands in, helping
shape the pattern, strengthening it. Slowly, he walked past the captain.

Both were looking at him with shock. A wizard casting seldom
ever moved.

Walking was difficult, but not distracting. Stopping at the
aft rail, he drew in his arms as if he was drawing in a rope. He muttered
beneath his breath, not in incantation as they suspected, but in the focusing
of his pattern. He felt it then.

“Melaki, I do not know what you are doing, but on ships we
bring wind, or strengthen it.” Talin was annoyed.

The captain stayed silent behind him.

A whale breached close astern and blew. Then there was a
gentle bump. And then another. The ship began gaining speed.

“By the gods.” The captain gripped the wheel and shook his
head. “Pushed by a whale.”

Talin's face went from annoyed, to shocked, to thoughtful.

Melaki turned towards them. “I can maintain this longer.”

The wizard nodded at the explanation and appeared satisfied.
“The captain will tell you when to stop.”

“Aye,” said the man.

Melaki maintained the charm easily for the next several
hours. He released the oily pattern shortly after Talin disappeared belowdecks.
It was risky to do so, but he breathed easier not having to concentrate on two
patterns and there really was little reason for anyone to delve his magic
unless one was testing or learning.