Kayetan

Yoszovar, 4 years before the Rise

“Now, what does one need to fixate a spell onto a growing object?” Master Iacopor looks at Elrick, and it's all I can do to not smirk at the shade of pink Elrick’s cheeks suddenly become. True, the answer to this question can be quite elaborate and it is a difficult thing to do. And growing plants are less predictable than the sponges we used to practice on at school. But he should have known branches and leaves can burst out in any direction. The latest jungle in his study should not have arisen. I lean in a bit closer — I don’t want to miss what’ll happen next.

“Er…” Elrick starts, but he doesn’t make it past that initial time buyer. There's a polite knock on the door, and Iacopor opens it with a simple flick of his wrist. Haenar bows before entering. “I’m so sorry to disturb you, Master, but there’s an urgent message for you.”

Master Iacopor raises an eyebrow, and all I can think about is that we really should get the Message Screen up and running soon, and that it might be useful to have it make a distinctive noise or something to let the users know they’ve received a message. That would make the screen even more efficient. I will propose that as soon as I have the chance.

Master Iacopor reads the note that Haenar gave him and frowns — a frown I know and that means something’s amiss. I cautiously lean forward, trying to read Master Iacopor’s expression in more detail.

“Something’s wrong with a Council member,” Master Iacopor announces without taking his eyes off the note. “We need to go there at once.”

“Right now?” Elrick asks.

“That is what at once tends to mean, Elrick,” Master Iacopor snaps.

I can almost feel my fellow Masterling relax in knowing this means a delay from being scolded for not knowing his basic Magic stuff well enough. The brightness in his voice is annoying — Master Iacopor should leave him here to write an essay on how to get a spell to cling to a moving object. Maybe that will jog his memory enough to give a fluent answer as soon as Master Iacopor asks him again — or rather, a way to fix whatever had gone wrong in his room. This time, I haven’t been around to save Elrick’s ass — something I do way too often. It's probably a good thing Elrick's incompetence finally shows, and an even better thing that I had absolutely nothing to do with it.

Not that I ever do, but now it's even clearer. I’ve spent all day with Master Iacopor, sending messages back and forth over a long distance — half the city of Yoszovar — and every message was received loud and clear. Lord Maletti was there to watch and he’s even tried sending something himself, a bad joke that only the man himself chuckled about — even ten minutes later, he’d burst into some sort of giggling fit as he apparently remembered it again.

The Lord is a peculiar man, but he is generous too. He has financed the two Message Screens I’m still perfecting with the Master, and I know Master Iacopor has already secured funds for the next step in our experiments: building a system to link payments with messaging, and also finding a way for the sender not to have to come up with a short title by himself. It would be amazing to make the Message Screens smart and independent, so they can make their own decisions and have the messages all optimized for their goal.

But all of those thoughts will have to wait. Right now, Master Iacopor’s lips have thinned to a straight line and his eyes wander the room shortly, as if he's thinking about which of the devices that are on display here might be worth the trouble of bringing them along.

That’s the next thing to look into. The Magic behind my safe will probably bend quite nicely into larger containers with multiple access points all over the known world. Such an invention would make the world a completely different place — if I can make it work for living things, travel could be reduced to stepping into a closet on one end and walking out of another closet located half a continent away. Oh, life would change forever.

This is the stuff of my dreams, both literally and figuratively, and I can’t help but think that this thing that demands our attention right now might be a crucial step toward making all of them real. All of them. Including Melena.

She's avoiding me — which is as painful as it is meaningful. Because she looks at me. When she thinks nobody is paying attention to her, she looks at me in a way that makes my heart flutter and my breath hitch. There's a connection, and I know she feels it too. That’s why she’s sometimes so eager to leave a room when I’m in it, or so quick to leave after dinner. She doesn’t trust herself around me. It’s too difficult. I can’t say that I’m proud of the way that makes me grin — also only when I’m certain nobody’s looking at me — but I do.

And I understand her, and in my mind, I promise her it will only be a matter of time.

Master Iacopor hurries through the hallway as if his cloak were on fire, Elrick scurries after him like a shadow. Haenar follows behind, close to me.

“Do you know what the message read?” I whisper.

Haenar shakes his head. “Private matters. But I’ve never seen somebody so pale deliver a message, nor have I seen the Master leave the house so swiftly.”

I nod. “Thank you, Haenar. You’re amazing.”

That remark brings up a little smile in the servant.

“No, I mean it,” I say. “You’ve been nothing but kind and helpful since I arrived. I’m in your debt.”

“It’s my job.”

“No, You take it further than you have to. I want to acknowledge that.”

Now, Haenar’s smile widens. “Thank you, Masterling Kayetan.”

“Carriage!” Master Iacopor shouts from the front door. Elrick moves in to follow the Master close behind, and I speed up my steps. There's no way I’ll delay the party.

Of course, the need to hurry is quite ridiculous. Even if the coachman were a Mage, getting a carriage with four horses ready to go requires some time — and this coachman clearly isn’t a Mage in any way, shape, or form. Master Iacopor is pacing up and down the driveway, his eyes focused on the horizon. He nearly jumps when the carriage finally arrives, and ushers us in as if we’re the reason he’s had to wait so long for the carriage to arrive. Once inside, he taps the ceiling so hard I'm surprised the Master doesn’t show any signs of pain. The splinters I see falling from the wood must be my imagination — it couldn’t possibly be that a carriage owned by the Vorvalus family is shabby — I don’t think I’ve ever been in a carriage as beautiful as this.

But, could it be…

I frown and look around, feeling for any traces of Magic.

I find plenty.

Ah. I press my lips together for just a moment, and I’m not sure if it’s sympathy or disbelief that’s trickling into my heart. Maybe both. When Eilyn told me about Ralonda’s dress, I’d shrugged it off as a one-time thing. And the tailor seemed eager to help us, so any money shortage hasn’t extended that far just yet. But I can sense a bit of desperation in the state of this carriage, and the realization that looks can be deceiving dawns on me. Nobody will notice the truth — as long as Master Iacopor doesn’t let other Mages in. Elrick and I will keep silent, of course. Master-Masterling confidentiality is one of our highest values.

I study Master Iacopor as he’s staring out of the window. His concern for his colleague moves me, and combined with these newfound suspicions about possible money issues, I feel as if I truly see the man behind the Master for the first time. I take in a deep breath and suppress a shiver. Master Iacopor is just human. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll be open to me courting Melena in time.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

I wonder what she’s doing right now. Maybe she’s painting — I’ve seen her fingers covered with tiny specks of color around dinnertime, and Haenar let it slip once that she likes to indulge in it. Maybe one day I can ask her to paint the wonderful patterns of Magic. That would be amazing, and my heart flutters at the thought of her working alongside me, close enough to simply reach out and touch her.

Not that I would. Or could, rather. She’s still off-limits, at least for now. But who knows, one day… I take a deep breath.

“What do you think could have happened?” Elrick asks. “Did the note say anything?”

Master Iacopor mumbles “No,” and a little tendon in his jaw protrudes. I’ve never seen him this tense before.

“Who are we going to…” My voice falters. See? Help? Rescue…?

“Master Bockayah,” he says, and I can’t help it that my eyes widen. I don’t know him personally, but he’s famous — an amazing and powerful Mage. He’s personally responsible for the lighting in the streets of Yoszovar, and if I remember correctly, he’s also had a hand in diverting the warm water streams from their source in the middle of town — where the small settlement of Yoszovar once sprouted — to the bathhouse. What could have happened? We’re not healers, so I wonder if this emergency is of a Magical nature. Why would one call on Master Iacopor if there’s anything else going on but Magic that’s flown off the handle?

My eyes grow even wider, but I cannot assume some Magical accident happened. I surely don’t want to insult anyone, and the idea of Master Bockaya having a Magical hiccup is preposterous anyway. So I keep silent and try not to let my thoughts wander too far. I don’t know what’s going on, no use in getting ahead of myself.

Yet I find myself bracing for the worst.

Beside me, Elrick has turned pale. I look at him, but he won’t look back. His throat is bobbing, and his nerves are almost palpable. Focussing on my breath, just like they taught us to do before using Magic, I try to let go. I fear I’ll need a clear mind.

We don’t have to wait long. Before I know it, the carriage slows down and the tension inside is ramped up because of Master Iacopor’s stressed energy. We stop in front of a big mansion. The door is open and two men stand beside it — they look like guards, though they’re not in uniform. One of them immediately steps toward Master Iaocopor when he gets out of the carriage. “This way, please,” he says, and Master Iacopor follows him.

Elrick and I exchange a look, and then we tag along also, passing the man who remained at the door. His face is a grim mask and I wonder what we’ll find in there.

The first thing I see is a trail of blood. Somebody is carefully putting something furry into a box and… Is that a cat? Or what’s left of it — it seems the unfortunate animal has been ripped to pieces. Now that I get closer, I can see the tufts of fur on the floor, wet with sticky red liquid.

The hairs at the back of my neck stand on end.

Master Iacopor looks at the cat and then, at the floor. He asks the question that must be on all of our minds. “What happened here?”

“We were hoping you could tell us,” the man says. His hair has got a bit of a copper glow in it — he must have ancestors from some other place than Yoszovar. A band around his arm says he’s some high-ranking officer for Yoszovar’s bailiff force.

“And Master Bockaya?”

The officer gives Master Iacopor a look that sends shivers down my spine. “Barely hanging on,” he says, almost reluctantly. “He’s tried to protect himself, but whatever this was, it has gotten to him good.”

“Some kind of wild animal?” Master Iacopor asks.

“Nothing natural.” The way the bailiff says it gives me the chills. I can sense it. There’s Magic in the air. Familiar, yet at the same time there’s a weird touch to it. I’ve never sensed anything like this before, and it makes me feel a bit queasy.

“Have you caught it?” Master Iacopor asks.

The man purses his lips and my stomach drops. Whatever did this, is still around somewhere.

“Did it flee?” I ask, and both Master Iacopor and the other man turn around, as if they’re surprised Elrick and I are even here. For a few heartbeats, everything goes quiet. Then, Master Iacopor turns to the officer. “Well?”

“We haven’t located it yet.”

“What?” Master Iacopor starts. “There’s some kind of monster loose on the streets of Yoszovar and you—”

“We’re looking, of course. Could have gone anywhere, there are two dozen men on the lookout. Finding this… thing is high on our priority list. But right now, Master Bockaya needs Magical tending to. It seems like there’s a spell—”

“Gardant.” Another man steps out into the hallway, his face serious as he addresses the officer. He’s about as Yoszovarian as one can get, black hair, bronze skin and green eyes, the latter filled with panic. “Quickly,” he says.

The officer and Master Iacopor dart off and I follow, Elrick in tow. The room we enter looks like a warzone. Not a single piece of furniture is upright or undamaged. Books are strewn across the floor and Master Iacopor kneels at something. The officer stands next to him, his mouth taut and his pose one of self-imposed restraint.

And then I see it. A man is on the floor, bathing in a pool of blood. Grey hair, skin as pale as old parchment, a huge nose almost cut in half by what must have been something razor sharp. Blood is cascading from several wounds, but from the cut on his nose it’s simply streaming. He’s breathing shallowly, making a wheezing sound that’s only audible now that I step closer, though I don’t really want to.

“Yalt,” Master Iacopor softly says. “What happened?”

The reply is almost inaudible, and I remain too far away to make out the words that are spoken. I daren’t get nearer, the atmosphere in here is one of imminent death, and the memories of sitting on my knees next to my father uttering his last words to me from right where he fell down, too weak to get up from the fever, almost knocks the air out of me. I cannot show my own emotional struggle here, I need to divert my mind.

Elrick just stands there, pale as parchment, looking like he might throw up any minute. I can’t think of anything to say to him, so I do what I think is best; look for clues.

What seems like giant claws have scratched the surface of a writing desk. Splinters are strewn all around it. There’s a spellbook on the floor between the splinters and without thinking, I pick it up. Spellbooks are the most valuable possessions for any Mage; if I were Master Bockaya, I’d want my life work to be safe too. In hopes of finding a clue inside, I rummage through it for the latest entry. I find it, and the blood splattered all over the page makes me wince.

The spell has nothing to do with monsters, though — it’s about making roof tiles not only repel water but retain it in some way as well, so that the liquid can be used for bathing or washing the dishes. I think he was coming up to a point where he wanted to harness the sun’s warmth to warm it up, and I love the way he’s been thinking this through. It gets my brain humming and I can feel the ideas start to form in the back of my head, until I’m yanked out of my daydream by a scream.

Somebody else yells a command, and then there’s a loud bang and a high-pitched screech coming from outside. It sounds as if it’s not from this world. Vicious and… big. Incredibly big. The shouting outside turns frantic and I cannot help but step closer to Elrick, though he won’t be of much help if anything were to crash in here. Prepared for anything, I ready my tongue for Dawnt, the ancient word for freeze or stop, so I can at least try and do something when all hell breaks loose in here. Something crashes into the wall, but save for some falling dust, nothing happens just yet. Another bang and the screeching stops abruptly, leaving a deafening silence filled with nothing but my thumping heartbeat.

I’m surprised I didn’t pee my pants. Next to me, Elrick is panting. Without as much as a word, we inch closer to Master Iacopor. I’m still clinging to my defense strategy, but the screaming has come to an end and all I can hear is somebody laughing quite maniacally — the laughter of a man having looked death in the eye and escaped.

Whatever that was, it must be dead now. But was it alone?

I turn to ask Master Bockaya, which is a stupid thing to since he’s barely able to speak, and the look of him is heartwrenching at best. His silk cape and shirt have been shredded to pieces and blood has soaked the fine fabric that once must have been a vibrant green. The red seems ever so dark against it, and it still shimmers, as far as I can tell. He needs help — and fast too. It seems to me his life is all but dripping from him.

Somebody runs inside. “We got it, sir!” he yells. “It’s dead.”

“What was it?” the officer demands.

“Giant… rat…” A weak voice says. It’s Bockaya. “Came out...”

“Spare your breath, Yalt. You can tell the story when—”

Master Bockaya doesn’t seem to be aware of Master Iacopor’s presence, his face is one of pure horror. “Came out of nowhere. Killed mister Snookums. Tried to kill me.”

“Save your energy. You can tell us all of this as soon as the Healers have done their work on you.”

“I…” Master Bockaya starts, but I think Master Iacopor is staring him down so he drops the effort. He’s so pale, I have to look away before his face is replaced by my memories.

“Have the Healers been called in?” Master Iacopor asks the officer.

“I thought the Magic might need to be resolved first.”

Master Iacopor lets out a huff. “Send for them.”

I know I shouldn’t, and I avoid looking directly at his face, but my gaze keeps being drawn to the Mage on the floor. There’s something odd about him — and I don’t mean the fact that he seems to be more blood than anything else. I swallow. What if he still dies from the injuries that giant rat’s caused him?

But there’s something else. I’ve been in a room with dying people before, I’ve experienced it firsthand. This is different. There’s Magic involved, a twisted sort of Magic. I’m not sure… Master Bockaya’s eyes fall shut and his breath becomes shallow.

And then I see it. The golden hue emanating from Master Bockaya’s body, as if his soul is leaving him.

I’ve seen it before.

With Melena.