The Wizard Test Read online

  The cook began to babble. It was a plot, a dastardly plot to disgrace him in the eyes of the esteemed master-of-the-household, may the Lady strike him mute if he lied. The cook wrung his hands, blinking in the brilliant light at Ameen’s still form.

  Ameen said nothing.

  The cook begged his excellency for one more chance. The cook would catch the ones who had committed this outrage in his kitchen and wring the truth from them. Ameen said nothing.

  The cook fell to his knees and bowed to the ground. The cook spoke of his aged mother who depended on his salary and would be thrown into the street to starve if he had no job. The cook heard a whoop of stifled laughter and looked up sharply. His eyes finally adjusted to the light.

  Ameen said nothing. Ameen couldn’t say anything, because Ameen wasn’t there.

  With a snarl of rage the cook reached up and tore the white-clad dummy from the threads that suspended it in the doorway.

  Shrieking with laughter, Dayven and Vadeen burst from their hiding place and raced for the street. Snatching up a knife, the cook followed.

  Chapter 9

  “I think he’s gaining,” Dayven puffed. “Who’d have thought … he’d chase us this far?”

  “He’s pretty mad,” Vadeen agreed, sprinting along beside him. “When we get to the next alley … you go in. I’ll lead him into … bazaar and lose him. Meet me back at the zondar. We’ll talk to the Endaffi together. Goes easier on you … if you confess first.”

  “But what if—”

  “Now!” Vadeen shoved him into an alley and ran on, down the street to the bazaar. “Hey, pudding gut!” Dayven heard him call. “Come on, potbelly, the race is to the swift!”

  Dayven sprinted down the alley to a pile of grain bags and crouched behind them. The cook ran past the entrance. With a sigh of relief, Dayven turned to continue down the alley and out, but a high wall blocked his way. There was no way out. Dayven turned to run back to the street and saw the cook peer around the corner.

  Heart hammering, he ducked behind the sacks and listened to the cook’s footsteps come down the alley.

  Why had he let Vadeen talk him into this? His best hope was to hide. In the dim light his robe might be mistaken for one of the sacks — by a man three-quarters blind. The footsteps came closer.

  I am not here, said Dayven desperately, in the silence of his mind. He pulled his hood over his head and leaned into the pile of sacks, feeling the roughness of the cloth against his face. He reached out and felt it with his thoughts, with his power.

  I am part of the sack. I am covered by it. Dayven built a shield of power in his mind. It looked like a sack. Cowering behind it, he melted himself into the pile of grain.

  The footsteps walked past him. A furious curse from the end of the alley made him risk a glance. The cook was glaring at a board that leaned against the wall. Dayven might have used it to climb over, if he’d had time.

  The cook turned and stamped out of the alley, cursing under his breath. Dayven saw the knife and hid his face again, but the cook passed him without hesitation.

  Dayven waited several minutes before he let the shield of power fade. Standing, he looked at the grain sacks and then at his robe. They didn’t look at all alike.

  He stared at the sacks for a long time; then he went back to the zondar to find Vadeen.

  Vadeen was nowhere to be found. By midafternoon Dayven was so worried he went to Endaffi Jeman.

  “The cook had a knife,” he finished his long explanation. His palms were damp and he wiped them on his robe. “If he went on to the bazaar, he might have caught Vadeen and … and…”

  “If you’re trying to suggest that Vadeen is likely to appear in the stew this evening,” said the Endaffi dryly, “allow me to set your mind at ease. Our unfortunate cook has been the victim of many student pranks, and yes, has even chased his tormentors with a knife, but I assure you, whatever the provocation, he won’t use it.”

  “Then where’s Vadeen?”

  “I have no idea,” said the Endaffi. “But since I made you responsible for keeping him out of trouble, I suggest you find him and bring him to me. To speed your search, let me point out that the longer I wait, the longer I’ll have to think up an appropriate punishment for you both.”

  Dayven swallowed. “I’ll find him, Endaffi.”

  “I would if I were you,” said the Endaffi. “Soon.”

  The sun was setting and Vadeen was still missing. Dayven had looked everywhere Vadeen had taken him in Damishaff. Now he slumped on his bed in their room, defeated, cradling his cocoon in his hands.

  It was comforting to stretch his mind out to that small spark of life. It was transforming itself, but he couldn’t tell how; he could only sense the existence of the change. He wished, with an intensity that frightened him, that he could know it completely.

  He hadn’t found Reddick today either. The preparations for their prank had interfered with Dayven’s plan to follow the wizard last night. What was his tutor doing now? An idea sprang into his mind. He had considered using scrying to spy on Reddick, but he feared that the wizard might be able to sense it. Could he find Vadeen that way? Dayven closed his eyes and thought about Vadeen. Then he released the power so it welled slowly through his being and concentrated on Vadeen with all his might.

  Nothing happened.

  Had he done it wrong? Frowning faintly, Dayven thought of Soren instead. The vision formed instantly.

  Soren was sitting on his bed, polishing a breastplate. The rest of the armor was scattered on the floor at his feet; it looked new. Then Soren reached for the polish pot, and the sun flashed on the silver whistle hanging around his neck.

  Soren had made Guardian! He would lead a troop in the coming battle, and Dayven could ride with him as his Watcherlad. They had planned it that way, just weeks ago, but now Dayven felt only distant pleasure at the prospect, not blazing excitement — as if it was someone else’s destiny and he was just a spectator. Cold twisted his guts.

  “Hey.” Someone shook his shoulder gently and the vision faded. Dayven looked up into Reddick’s worried face. “You’d better not make a habit of that, kid. It’s not polite to watch people when they don’t know you’re there. I didn’t know you knew how.”

  Hugging himself against the lingering chill of fear, Dayven explained, quickly, and then explained why it was so urgent that he find Vadeen. “I don’t understand why I can’t see him at all, when I see Soren so easily.”

  “That’s simple. You don’t know Vadeen as well as you know Soren.”

  “I do know Vadeen,” Dayven protested. “I was with him just this morning.”

  “But do you know his essence?” Reddick asked. “His inner being that makes him different from everyone else in the world?”

  “I guess not.”

  “That’s what you need in order to scry for someone. Unless you can distinguish their essence, you haven’t got a chance.”

  “Then you couldn’t find Vadeen for me?”

  “Nope.” Reddick shook his head. “Only great wizards can scry for someone they don’t know. Sometimes the greatest can even scry someone’s future, though it’s not very reliable. But it does invade people’s privacy, so you should watch how you use it. I’m not saying you were wrong this time, but in the future be careful — it’s an easy gift to abuse.”

  “I wasn’t trying to spy on him,” said Dayven indignantly. “Besides, I thought wizards didn’t have any rules.”

  “It’s not about rules,” said Reddick. “It’s about thinking things through before you act. Don’t you ever do things you wouldn’t want someone else to see? Not because they’re wrong, just because they’re private?”

  “Of course. Everyone does.”

  “Exactly,” said Reddick. “But you don’t have to worry about getting in trouble for not finding Vadeen, or for your stunt with the cook. That’s what I came to tell you. We’re leaving tomorrow.”

  Dayven’s jaw dropped. “But we’ve only been here a few d
ays! I—”

  “You’ve had a chance to observe the Cenzar training. I’ve found out what I need to know about their army. I need to see one more person tonight, then we can go. Jeman will be there; I’ll tell him you’re no longer part of the zondar, so you can stop fretting.” Reddick stood and turned toward the door.

  They couldn’t leave yet — Dayven had no idea what Reddick had done! Stall for time. But what… “But what about Vadeen? I have to send him to the Endaffi as soon as I can or he’ll be in even more trouble.”

  “So figure out where he is,” said Reddick. “You may not know his essence, but he’s your friend. What would keep him from meeting you like he said he would? Just because you’ve got magic, doesn’t mean you get to put your brain out to pasture.”

  Then he left. Left to finish his real mission, whatever it was. Dayven had thought they’d spend weeks in Damishaff! He was sure Reddick said that, or at least implied it. Deliberately? He couldn’t follow Reddick now without getting caught, but perhaps tonight he could sneak out — find this mysterious meeting, find out what that deceitful wizard had been up to.

  Meanwhile, he had to find Vadeen. For a deceitful wizard, Reddick gave good advice. Once he thought about it, Dayven knew exactly where Vadeen would be.

  Chapter 10

  “Steady, Nikkar. Steady, girl.” Vadeen’s voice soothing the laboring mare was the first thing Dayven heard in the deserted stable. He made his way toward the pool of light that surrounded the stall at one end.

  “Vadeen,” he called softly. “You have to come now. The Endaffi is furious.”

  “Dayven, where is the master-of-horse?” All Vadeen’s attention was on the mare, who lay on her side, her glossy hide dark with sweat. Sweat stains marked Vadeen’s brilliant gold shirt, and the smudges on his rolled-up sleeves looked like blood. “This is taking too long. The colt’s twisted in the womb and can’t come out. He’ll have to be turned.”

  The mare’s muscles contracted and she grunted, panting with pain and effort.

  “I thought I should check on Nikkar before I went to meet you. I could tell the foal was coming. I looked for the master-of-horse, but I couldn’t find him. He’s not in the zondar. I sent the night-groom to look in town, but that was hours ago and he hasn’t come back.”

  The mare grunted again, hooves thrashing in the straw.

  Vadeen ran his hands over her swollen body. “We can’t wait any longer,” he said softly. “Hold her head, Dayven. Talk to her. Keep her quiet. I’m going to turn the colt.”

  So Dayven sat by the mare’s head, gentling her with his voice and his hands, and watched his friend’s sure movements until the tiny, slippery foal squirted into Vadeen’s arms.

  A rush of bright blood followed it.

  Vadeen paled. “It’s too much,” he whispered. “I know it’s too much.”

  Another rush of blood dyed the straw and soaked the mare’s tail.

  “She’s bleeding inside. Oh Lady, I don’t know what to do. I waited too long. Where is the master-of-horse!”

  Dayven stroked down the mare’s damp neck and over her shoulders to her belly. She was quiet now, ominously quiet.

  To guard and defend those weaker than himself was a Guardian’s first rule — surely that included this weary creature? Magic flowed through Dayven’s hands. His mind found the torn flesh inside her and he willed his power to work, feeling the blood loss slow as the mare’s weary body found its way back to wholeness.

  When the job was finished he opened his eyes and gave the mare a final pat.

  Vadeen stared at him in awe. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I never wanted to be anything but a rashief. But I see now that it must be wonderful to be a wizard, too.”

  “It is,” said Dayven. “It would be.” The joy of it cut like a knife — renouncing that joy would be the hardest test. But at least he hadn’t altered anyone’s destiny with magic. Except, perhaps, his own.

  “What do you mean? What’s wrong?”

  The mare stood shakily and nuzzled the shivering foal.

  “Come,” said Vadeen, taking Dayven’s arm and pulling him from the stall. “They’ll be better alone now.”

  They watched through the rails as the mare licked her foal dry. Vadeen waited patiently.

  “I’m not going to be a wizard,” Dayven finally confessed. “I promised my cousin I’d come back and become a Guardian once I’d … ah…”

  “Observed our fighting skills,” Vadeen finished calmly.

  “You know about that?”

  “Of course. Your friend Reddick talked to the master-of-arms. He pointed out that it would give us a chance to learn about Tharn fighting skills as well.”

  “Fate curse him,” said Dayven. “We were right not to trust him. And I’ve failed.”

  “How?”

  “Learning about your fighting techniques was only part of what I was supposed to do,” Dayven told him furiously. “The other part was to keep an eye on Reddick. Lord Enar doesn’t trust the wizards.”

  “He’d be a fool if he did. I don’t mean to insult you, but the wizards… No one trusts them. If I were your Lord Enar, and was sending a wizard to the enemy camp, I’d send someone to watch him. But are you sure the wizards are helping us? They’ve been allowed to visit our city, to do healing here, for nearly a century, but they’ve never helped us fight before. If they were doing it now surely there’d be rumors, and if there were a rumor, I’d hear it. Besides, who’d choose Reddick for such a mission?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Vadeen shrugged. “I like your tutor, Dayven, but… He’s been in the city before. He … well, he isn’t a very sober person. I’m sure your people have nothing to fear from him.”

  Dayven decided that his doubts about Reddick’s drinking were too complicated to explain. “Maybe we don’t, but I was supposed to find out for sure. And I’ve failed,” Dayven repeated bitterly. “We’re leaving tomorrow. He’s at his last meeting right now. I have no idea what he’s been doing and no time to find out.”

  “There is tonight. Do you know where this meeting is?” Vadeen’s eyes sparkled with mischief — an all-too-familiar expression. It set hope and dread warring in Dayven’s heart.

  “No,” said Dayven. “I thought about that, but all I know it that Endaffi Jeman’s going to be there.”

  “Then they’re probably in the Endaffi’s private study. I know just how to spy on it; I have frequently had to concern myself with what was said in the Endaffi’s study.”

  Dayven stared at his friend. “You’d help me spy on your own people?”

  Vadeen looked unusually serious. “If I thought you’d hear anything but gossip between old friends, I wouldn’t. But I owe you for saving Nikkar, so we’ll go to this meeting and make certain that Reddick is not a conspirator. Then you can go home with your mission accomplished, and your mind at peace, and not get into trouble.”

  “That reminds me,” said Dayven. “You’re already in trouble. Just tell me where to go. I don’t want you involved if I get caught.”

  “I,” said Vadeen, with the return of his usual reckless good cheer, “am in so much trouble that it won’t matter if I get caught. I might as well take advantage of it. I wouldn’t have missed the look on the cook’s face for the world. Come on, let me get cleaned up and I’ll take you to the meeting.”

  With a slithering scrape, Dayven slid quietly down the shingles to kneel beside Vadeen. They had reached the roof from the top of a tree so high it made Dayven’s palms clammy to remember it. Now, crawling down the roof edge after his friend, he managed to stay calm by the simple trick of never looking down.

  Vadeen stopped and gestured below them. Reddick’s voice came clearly from the open window beneath their feet.

  “…don’t need to worry about the boy,” he said. “I’ve seen to it that he knows nothing of importance.”

  “But he was sent as a spy.” It was a strange voice, deep and harsh. “He may have succeeded in learning more than you th
ink. I say we kill him.”

  Dayven’s knees went weak and he gripped the stone tighter, straining to hear.

  “No chance,” said Reddick firmly. “By the fates, Arrod, the kid’s my apprentice! You—”

  “If I might propose a compromise,” Endaffi Jeman interrupted. “Dayven could stay in the zondar. We would keep him from escaping, but we would also keep him safe.”

  “No,” said Reddick. “For one thing, most of the zondar will be in the war. Besides, he has to come back with me. Haven’t you been listening? He was sent to spy on me as much as on you — maybe more. If I come back without him they won’t believe a word I say. And my convincing Enar to bring his army out from behind the walls and fight you on the plain is the best chance you have of winning.”

  Dayven gasped.

  “What was that?” said the one they called Arrod. Chairs scraped across the floor, and Dayven’s heart lurched into his throat. As their footsteps neared the window, he and Vadeen flattened against the stone. Dayven found himself covered with a shield of power; he’d thrown it up without even thinking about it.

  “I don’t see anything.” It was Reddick, right below them.

  “Gentlemen,” said the Endaffi. “I assure you it is impossible to overhear a conversation in this room. The walls are more than a foot thick and we are five stories from the ground. If the guard outside the door was overpowered we would hear it.”

  Dayven felt the familiar tingle of magic being used and a wave of power brushed the surface of his shield. He sank his mind into the stone beneath him and blanked his thoughts. The searching touch did not return.

  “What about the roof?” Arrod asked.

  “General, a mountain goat would have trouble climbing to that roof. Perhaps it was a bird you heard. In any case, I think Reddick is right. If he is to be believed, Dayven must return with him.”

  “And if the boy says he’s not to be trusted, what then?”