Lebuin schooled his look to appear interested and worried, as anyone in a testing situation would be.
Magus Andros was also watching the effects. When the energies had stabilized, he nodded. “This is very interesting, very interesting indeed. I am surprised you held the construct together as it was when Magus Cune attacked. The only poor mark from today is that you failed to notice Magus Cune until he purposefully got your attention. Still, this was an excellent test, with a remarkable defense and an extraordinary construction. I presume the council members will be as impressed as I am.” Patting the clasp, he added, “I shall have to take this construct with me to show them. I’ll return it to you, along with their ruling, later tonight. I don’t think it is too far out of line to congratulate you now, Lebuin. You should have your archive token with you, unless you want to use this.”
Lebuin’s thoughts spun fast.
He liked it! I passed! After today, I can choose my own lines of work. After all this time, I am finally a Journeyman Mage.
Turning and walking out through the portal, Magus Andros shook his head, looking back at Lebuin. “Only you would put so much effort into creating a device to keep yourself dry, clean, and at a comfortable temperature. Most would have tried to make a protective shield with this formula, given the tasks ahead.”
Lebuin’s thoughts were so far distracted by the compliments and his achievement of Journeyman Mage status that he didn’t even register Magus Andros’ parting comment.
I need to change before anyone sees this mess on my sleeve.
Checking the hall, he hurried out and moved like a ghost towards his rooms. Oddly, the corridors were empty.
I wonder what time it is. I know construction takes time, but most of the work was already finished. I thought I’d be done before sunset. This feels more like late night.
He reached his room without seeing anyone but servants. Stepping into the small chamber, he moved to the second of his two wooden armoires. Pulling a key from his pouch, he unlocked the brass-inlaid lock. The doors swung open on their well-oiled hinges without a sound. Inside were four cabinets, two large drawers on the bottom, and a full-length silver mirror attached to the inside of the left door.
Seeing his reflection in the mirror, he shook his head. He was marginally above average height at 5’11”. His dark green eyes looked tired, and his normally pale skin looked a little whiter than usual. Without thinking, he took the brush and worked it through his sandy brown hair, fixing it to fall mostly on the right. His hair hung to just past his shoulders. Putting the brush down, he stripped off his clothes and threw all of them in the trash basket. With another glance at himself, he sighed.
I wish I wasn’t so skinny. Without clothes on, I look like a starved beggar.
He moved over to the water bowl. He warmed the water with magic before taking a hand towel and moistening it. As he scrubbed the wound, he saw it was pretty shallow. It still stung. He moved back over to the open armoire, pulling out a small vial of clear fluid. He dripped some on the wound, watching it bubble a pinkish-white. Wiping the foam from his arm with the wet cloth, he then took another vial with an oily pink fluid, which he opened and drank, placing the empty vial and cap in a special basket on the desk for such items. The warmth spread through his system quickly. He watched as the wound on his arm closed, still bubbling. After a minute, he wiped it with the cloth again, removing all the foam and blood. The wound was gone, and no scar remained. He finished cleaning up.
Unlocking and opening the other armoire, he revealed two cross-sections of clothing hanging on bars, with another set of four drawers on the bottom and another full-length mirror. He examined the clothes and selected a sea blue shirt, matching loose trousers, and a sleeveless doublet of gray silk, with silver cording that would show off the shirt’s pleated sleeves. To that, he added riding boots that had never seen a horse, or even a dirty road. Pulling down the samite and ermine cloak, he put it on. He added a complementary blue ribbon to tie his hair back and nodded to himself in the mirror, satisfied.
A skeleton with large tired-looking green eyes, lovely sandy brown hair neatly parted, dressed as fine as any baron, stared back at him.
Why can’t I bulk out like my brother?
His brother was a real bull of a man, standing a full six feet tall and weighing in at two hundred pounds of pure muscle. Practically every girl in town swooned when he walked by. They barely acknowledged Lebuin’s presence, which was why he had started learning about fashion. By dressing with flair, he had managed to find a means to attract some attention from the ladies. Of course, it turned into more than a means to meet women. He truly loved his clothes and was immensely proud of his sense of style. He had broken up with his last girlfriend, because in spite of her amazing beauty, she refused to dress well in private favoring frumpy comfortable clothing, which drove Lebuin crazy.
It’s silly for Journeymen Magi to gift the Guild with a token of their making that is never used. Traditions can be so silly; it is a wonder we continue to uphold them.
Reaching to the top cabinet, he took out the crude artifact that he had selected to be his token long ago, when he had learned of the gift tradition. Until now, he hadn’t given it a second thought. It was a small silver ship fused to a piece of dark blue geode, which reminded him of his family. He had made it as part of his training in artifact creation. It contained a simple incantation that caused the crystal to glow, making it beautiful at night. Putting the glowing ship into his pouch, he closed the doors and relocked them.
He walked to the library in a slight haze. He could have ordered some food and dined in his room, but he truly lived in the library. Since the age of three, when he first entered the Guild, the library had been a place of comfort and enjoyment for him. He spent every spare minute there.
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Finding one of his favorite nooks empty, he sat down in the large comfortable chair. His thoughts roamed over the trials. The tests had been difficult, but the last one he would ever have to take was over. From then on, he was a Journeyman Mage, able to choose his own work and set his own path under the direction of no one other than himself.
He wasn’t worried about passing. The construct demonstrated techniques only few magi had ever mastered, such as the ability to bind and draw the energies necessary from anyone, so long as they were within a few feet. The other incantations were variations of the minor comfort formulas taught to every candidate to help them remain healthy, as well as provide safe practice for maintaining continuous incantation and energy channeling. Of course, he had added some nice twists, such as the self-adjusting temperature, which shifted between warming and cooling as needed, strengthening the dirt repellent to the point that the protected cloth would remain sterile. It caused all the effects to spread out enough that a medium-length cloak would provide the protection to the entire body.
A servant silently placed a glass of wine on the table next to him. As the man started to move away, Lebuin pulled his attention to the present and raised his hand. The servant stopped. “Do you require anything, sir?”
“Yes. Bring me some fresh-cooked meat, cheeses, fruit, and a full loaf of bread. Also, bring me a bottle of sharre.”
“Hello, mighty Master Magus Lebuin.” As the servant moved away, a sandy yellow head of hair appeared, leaning into the nook’s entry, accompanied by the sarcastic greeting.
Lebuin laughed and gestured at the adjacent chair. “Hello, Finnba. Sit down.”
Finnba said, “Am I now only an apprentice to be ordered around, Sir Magus Lebuin?” He plopped down in the chair, smiling.
Lebuin took in his friend’s appearance, noting that he was still wearing the same leather slippers, old soft brown pants, patched gray linen shirt, and tired, loose, sleeveless green cotton doublet he always favored. He shook his head, thinking, The man has no sense of style. I wish I could get him to wear some of those nice outfits I gave him. I can’t believe he dresses like this even when we go out in the city.
“You’ll be taking the examination yourself pretty soon. Then we’ll be able to speak more like equals. But don’t forget I will still have seniority over you.”
“You’ll have seniority over me forever. Of course, a year’s difference won’t mean much after ten years or so. I bet I am promoted to a higher position than you before too long.”
“You can have your bureaucratic office. You always were a quill boy. Also, you might be only a year younger than I, but I entered the Guild a full five years before you did.”
“Ah, yes. Well, we can’t all come from fabulously rich merchant families with noble-house relations. Besides, you are only one year ahead of me in training. Don’t forget you had to grow up a bit first.”
Lebuin didn’t comment on that; it was an old jibe. His family was wealthy and owned many ships, and yes, his cousin had married some remote relative to a barony. His mother had died giving birth to his sister. He was so excited to see his baby sister for the first time that lights danced around the room. Lebuin was three years old. His shocked father had called the Guild for help, unsure of how to deal with a magical son so young. The Guild had taken control of him, and he had grown up in that Guildhouse. He visited, and was visited by, his large family, but although he loved his father and siblings, he only ever felt at home there in the Guild.
He knew he was unique in his abilities and powers. In fact, he was extremely proud of how much power he had to control. Every so often, someone was born with magical abilities from the start. Those people usually became great wizards. As one of those unique people, Lebuin knew that his early training had been more about controlling him than teaching him how to use his powers. His first eight years at the Guild had been spent in a private wing, being taught individually by two instructors at a time. He was never allowed to play with the other children alone. He recalled that many of the others had avoided him out of jealousy, and he long ago decided he didn’t need them, either. So he learned to live in solitude, which became a theme for his time there. Even after he had learned enough control over his emotions and powers to be moved in amongst the normal students, he was shunned by his peers. He had ignored everyone else, staying in the library, reading and researching when not required to be in classes. Only Finnba had managed to get to know him and become a friend.
He had spent so much time at the Guild with Magi and Journeymen that initially the Guild had skipped his introductory training, thinking he had already gotten it. It was discovered in his third year of training that he had not learned some of the anchoring techniques, so he had been put with the entry-level classes just as he was starting on his fourth year.
The teachers rotated so much that he didn’t repeat anything. And he was grateful for the restart, because it gave him the knowledge that there were numerous points of view to magic. I liked the repeat lessons. They were not boring, because the other instructor brought an entirely different view to the lessons, giving me a better grasp of magic than others. Perhaps when I am more respected, I might recommend making that repeat loop part of the normal training for most, even though it would add three years to the training time.
“Is Magus Cune really so smashed up that you can’t recognize him?”
Finnba’s question brought Lebuin back to the present. “What? No. He did smash his nose pretty badly and bled a lot from it.”
“Huh. I figured the rumors were a bit exaggerated.”
“Rumors? Really, there are rumors already? We finished the exams not more than a mark ago.”
“Are you daft? You know a mark is ancient history in rumor time.”
“No, I just can’t believe I am the subject of one.”
“You mean again. Well, of course, you are. When someone manages to blow a full Magus out of their construction trial without losing the construct, people are going to talk.”
Rolling his eyes, Lebuin looked closer at his friend.
He isn’t exaggerating. That is really what they are saying. How could a full Magus spread such an exaggeration? Maybe it was the servants. Cune is going to be impossible to avoid after this. I’ll have to find some way to distract him from seeking vengeance.
“I didn’t blow him out of my test. I made a hole for him to fall into. He knocked himself out on the floor, falling into it.”
“Seriously? Oh, that is so much better.” Finnba’s eyes brightened with humor. “Tell me what happened.”
A servant brought in a platter of food with two glasses and an open bottle of sharre. The food was set on the table between the two magicians, and wine was poured. Lebuin barely noticed the servant’s activity as he started eating and related to Finnba the events and Magus Andros’s comments.
After the story, and unsurprisingly, the bottle of sharre was empty, Finnba stood up. “Well, I’m off to set some rumors straight. This is far more entertaining than the whole flamboyant Magi battle described to me.”
Lebuin pointed at his friend, laughing. “Don’t blow it too far out of proportion. I still have to deal with Magus Cune for many years.”
Smiling, Finnba gave him a fake shocked look. “Blow it out of proportion? Me? I only tell the precise truth, especially when it is far more entertaining than some silly yarn.”
Lebuin leaned back and closed his eyes. How can such great success be tied to so much trouble?
He did not notice the servant clean the meal's detritus.