The crowd bubbled with excitement and Zeek hated it. Rows of young men and women waited in their finest clothes alongside family members, expectantly watching the horizon. Priests of light fidgeted with their white robes, patting down invisible wrinkles. The village chief muttered orders to helpers to triple check the food and wine. Old ladies swept the cobblestones, bending down between skyward glances to pick up errant pieces of straw.

     Zeek was stuck next to a tall young man, about eighteen years old, who wore a fine green linen vest. The scent of tuberose perfume was so overpowering Zeek pinched his nose and waved his hand. Penelope, an auburn-haired young woman beside the finely dressed youth, noticed and raised an eyebrow.

     Zeek winked, chuckling when she scrunched her nose and slanted her eyes before looking away. He felt a nudge in his ribs. The short fat woman next to him clicked her tongue and gave him a stern look. Her face had the only wrinkles in the crowd, and her snow-white hair outlined a barely concealed scowl.

     “What?” he mumbled.

     “Just behave today,” she said.

     “Granny, when have I ever caused you trouble?” he whispered with a half-smirk visible only to the old crone.

     “One day, Zeek. Just don’t be yourself for one day and let the mages test you…And tuck in your shirt.” Zeek obliged, shoving the loose flaps of cloth into his pants then sticking his hands back in his pockets. A few strands of long brown hair fell in front of his green eyes, and he blew them away as he grinned at the old woman.

     “They’ll be too distracted by your beauty to notice me, Granny.” The old woman caught herself laughing, which she quickly turned into a cough, before looking back at him.

     “I know that look. Just one day. That’s all I’m asking.” Zeek nodded and returned to staring at the road leading out of town. Murmurs and hushed conversation permeated the crowd as a team of horses appeared at the edge of view. A pair of knights in chainmail led the procession of two wooden carriages, a pair of glossy-coated bay horses pulling each one. In the back, a few more knights followed, their helmets shifting side to side as they scanned the forest for threats.

     The village chief shushed the crowd as the visitors rode through the main gate and into the town square. The knights hitched their horses to the side of a stage sitting in the center of the plaza and approached the chief. The crowd was too far back to hear the conversation but whispering returned as the knights in the back opened the front carriage. Zeek noticed the symbol carved into the side, a shield with a lightning bolt through it. The symbol of the kingdom’s mages.

     Two men emerged in pale rust-colored robes, a golden version of the symbol sewn onto their chests. The older man, with short white hair and a scholarly face, held a small chest in his arms. The other was a middle-aged man with black hair and a bushy unibrow. Zeek held back a snicker as he stared at the V-shaped brow, which gave the man a resting half-scowl. The two mages walked onto the stage and placed the chest on a table, then took their seats nearby as the village chief addressed the crowd.

     “Thank you all for coming today. As you know, it is customary for the kingdom to send mages from the royal academy to test for new recruits once every three years. It is a great honor for one of our own to be chosen, so please give them your full attention.” The chief bowed to the older mage and held out his hands, inviting him to begin. The older man opened the chest as the chief left the stage.

     “Fellow citizens of Numera. My name is Archibald Finn, and I have been tasked by his majesty to conduct testing in your village this cycle. The law states every person between the ages of fifteen to eighteen must be tested once. Failure to appear for a test is punishable by imprisonment.” Archibald removed a metal bowl and phial filled with murky white liquid from the chest. He poured the liquid into the bowl and held it up to the crowd.

     “Inside this bowl is a type of compound sensitive to magic. To complete the test, please line up next to the stage and come up one at a time. Place both hands on the bowl and wait. If you are a mage, the liquid will glow.” The crowd gasped as a bright light radiated from the bowl, visible even with the sun near its peak.

     “Anyone who is capable will return to the academy with us and your families will be given ten gold pieces as a reward. We ask that you refrain from any outbursts. We only find a handful of mages per year, but this liquid is precious.” The crowd gasped again. Even Zeek’s mouth dropped. The wealthy families around the village earned one gold piece a year at most. He rolled his eyes when he saw the greedy gleam in Granny’s. “I’m not really your kid,“ he whispered.

    She kicked his leg. “You owe me eighteen years of rent.”

    The village youth lined up next to the stage, a few dozen in all. Zeek was the worst dressed of them, but that was expected. Granny was a midwife who sold herbs, and she wasn’t really his grandma. She just had a soft heart and took care of him. Zeek slinked through the crowd, taking the last spot in line.

    In truth, he found the whole process amusing. The baby-faced first boy on stage had just turned fifteen. Zeek couldn’t help but giggle when the boy raised the bowl above his head and closed his eyes. Pudge-face was clenching his jaw so tight his little face was turning red. Nothing happened. The awkward silence broke when Archibald patted him on the back and directed him off the stage, the boy’s chubby cheeks facing the ground in despair.

    A few failures later, the strapping young man in the green vest strode onto the stage. He gazed at the crowd, fisted hands resting confidently on his hips, doing his best impression of a hero. He grasped the bowl between his meaty hands, holding it at his waist so all could see. He nearly jumped when he turned the bowl, from nervously twitching, and the sun reflected off the surface. The old mage wiggled his fingers and caught the bowl before the liquid fell out. The crowd gawked as it floated back down to the table.

    “It glowed!” the young man shouted, but the same dejected look appeared on his face as Archibald shook his head. “That was just the sun, young fellow.” Zeek snickered again, loud enough to make the girl in front of him turn around.

    “Oh, grow up,” she growled. Zeek’s face became placid as her eyes landed on him and he raised an eyebrow. “Quiet, Penny, this is very serious. I’m trying to concentrate.” She harrumphed and turned back towards the event. The line continued to filter on and off the stage. Failure after failure kept the crowd silent as the last few young people stepped forward. No one else matched the drama of the first testers.

    After an hour, only Penny and Zeek were left. She walked onto the stage, patting down her blue cotton dress as she approached the bowl, and gently placed her hands on each side. The crowd was leaning in each time another person was tested, and Zeek could see a few praying to the Goddess of Light. He recognized Penny’s family near the front of the crowd, holding hands as they stared at her. It was very…wholesome?

    The bowl began to glow.

    Archibald smiled as the anxious crowd burst into cheers and whoops. Zeek was close enough to hear the old mage speak. “What’s your name?”

    “Penelope Redfer, sir,” she replied.

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    “Rejoice! A mage is born in the village of Hake!” Archibald shouted as he ushered Penny to the back of the stage. The crowd went wild as she waved to the villagers from behind the two mages. Her parents were smiling as tears dripped down their faces. Their neighbors were hugging them and yelling congratulations. The chief stood at the front of the crowd with his chest puffed out as the priests raised their hands to the heavens and sang hymns of thanks to the Goddess.

    Zeek rolled his eyes.

    Archibald waved Zeek forward, ignored by the rest of the village. No one except Granny—who didn’t look nervous—watched the stage. The others were too caught up in Penny’s success. And if Zeek was honest with himself, nobody here besides Granny really liked him. Growing up as the village troublemaker, with no real family, made him worth less than the livestock.

    He ignored the merriment below and walked up to the bowl, placing a hand on each side. Better to get this over with, he thought. A moment later, the liquid began to glow. Archibald smiled as the light grew brighter and brighter.

    Then the bowl began to shake.

    Zeek set it down quickly and backed away as the old mage wiggled his fingers, trying to get the liquid under control. A few of the villagers noticed and pointed as the crowd grew quiet. The liquid suddenly rose from the bowl and swirled into a ball. The unibrow mage was wiggling his fingers now too and muttering something to Archibald. Both had a confused look on their faces.

    In seconds the liquid took the shape of a book and solidified. The murky white turned into aged brown leather and Zeek watched as the pages of the tome flipped rapidly from cover to back. The book slammed shut and hovered across the stage, floating in front of Zeek. The cover was blank except for a circular black symbol worn into the surface—a row of sharp fangs pinched into an inhuman sneer below two hollow eyes with no irises. Zeek snatched the book out of the air before looking around.

    No one was watching him. The crowd and the mages were staring at the bowl and the air where the liquid used to be. Did none of them see the book? Zeek wasn’t sure, so he did the only thing he could think of at that moment. He threw it off the back of the stage and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

    No one reacted until Archibald approached him.

    “Rejoice! A mage is born in the village of Hake!” he shouted. There was markedly less cheering this time. In fact, people just went back to congratulating Penny’s family. Even the priests were shouting her name. Only Granny smiled as she walked towards the stage.

    “What’s your name?” Archibald asked.

    “Zeek.”

    “Last name?”

    “Don’t have one. Am I responsible for the liquid?”

    Archibald chuckled as he leaned towards Zeek. “It’s not actually worth much. We just tell people that so they don’t throw the bowl every time they fail. Now go back and stand with Penelope, we’ll talk to you after the ceremony.”

    Zeek stood at the back and waited near Penny, who pretended to ignore him. Actually…she seemed even more annoyed he was near her. Archibald ended the ceremony quickly as the chief motioned for people to bring out tables and food. It was customary to have a feast if mages were found in the village. For most people, it was a rare occasion to enjoy the festivities. And custom dictated the visiting mages would pay, so people drank heavier than normal.

    Zeek and Penny talked to the mages before the festivities began. They weren’t given many details; just told they’d be attending the royal academy for three years then be assigned service in the kingdom for six. They’d be released to take other posts once their service was completed, but they would have to swear fealty to the kingdom. Zeek didn’t like the sound of that, but he kept it to himself. The rest of the day Zeek and Penny waited, separately of course, as the villagers completed preparations.

    A few hours later, Zeek sat next to Granny at the end of a table with the chief, Penny, and the mages. The knights sat amongst the villagers and told tales of the battles they’d fought. Helpers moved between tables with jugs of wine and ale while some of the village women worked the kitchen in the chief’s house.

    Bread, game, and fish covered each table. A parade of people gathered around Penny’s family, proffering words of encouragement. A few men had brought instruments to play a jig or two and some of the younger villagers were dancing in a clear area of the plaza. It was a warm night and few people kept their sobriety as the party carried on.

    Not many people approached the mages, and none spoke to Zeek. Granny had the same satisfied look on her face he saw earlier. She was probably daydreaming about the gold again. As the villagers moved between the dancing area and the tables, Zeek was left sitting by himself beside the mages. Unibrow mage was falling asleep in his chair, and Zeek thought he saw a bit of drool drip from his mouth. He leaned over to talk to Archibald.

    “Sir, what happened with the liquid earlier?”

    Archibald took a sip of his wine before answering. “Strange things can happen if someone’s particularly sensitive to magic.”

    “What’s that mean for me?” Zeek wondered.

    “It just means you have high potential. I wouldn’t think about it too much. You still have to study and learn spells the same as everyone else. Where did your family go?” Archibald asked, noticing Granny wasn’t sitting nearby anymore.

    “She isn’t really my family. I grew up here as an orphan and she took care of me. She probably went home, she hates crowds.”

    “Hah, I bet she’s about my age. I can appreciate wanting peace and quiet.”

    “Sir, did you drop a book earlier?” Zeek asked.

    Archibald tilted his head quizzically. “A book? No, we didn’t bring any from the carriage. Why do you ask?”

    “I saw one sitting around the stage earlier. I thought it might be a book of magic.”

    Archibald laughed. “Definitely not a book of magic. We can’t remove those from the royal academy. They’re too precious. Stop worrying about magic tonight. It’s all you’ll think of for the next nine years. Go enjoy yourself before we leave tomorrow. Just be here at sunrise.”

    Zeek nodded and left the table. He avoided the crowd and went through the deserted town. Leaving the busy plaza and the cobbled streets behind, he wandered through the town gate and down a dirt path jutting off the main thoroughfare. Zeek walked slowly, admiring the clear night sky as he made his way to a meadow. The ground curved into a round hill with a lone oak tree standing at the top. He saw a short stout figure sitting under the tree with their legs spread out. Zeek walked up the hill, wading through the half-grown flax.

    “Are you the fairy of Evan’s Hill? My granny told me stories about you,” he called.

    Granny cackled as she patted the ground next to her. “Come here, kid.”

    Zeek sat next to her and leaned back against the trunk. They were both silent for a moment, staring at the stars, before Zeek broke the peacefulness.

    “Granny?”

    “Yes?”

    “The city will be an expensive place to live,” he replied. The tone of his voice had an exaggerated coyness she’d heard many times before.

    “Hope you find a good job.”

    “Granny, I need a bit of money to get started, can you help me out?”

    “Granny’s poor, child, you’ll have to make your own way,” she said solemnly.

    “Granny, I can hear the gold coins jingling when you breathe.”

    “Those are my decrepit old bones.”

    “Are your bones worth any money, Granny?”

    “I hope you never change, Zeek,” she chuckled as she handed him a pouch.

    “But Granny, you called me a scoundrel just last week,” he quipped as he opened the pouch. It was the full ten gold coins. Zeek grew quiet as the old woman watched him. He took out two coins and handed it back to her.

    “Tax refund,“ she joked as she pushed the pouch away.

    “It’s too much, Granny. You need it.”

    The old woman stood up slowly, using the tree as a crutch while she got to her feet. She was so short her head barely stood above Zeek while he sat on the ground. She ignored his outstretched hand and leaned over, planting a kiss on his cheek.

    “Bring me back some good stories from the capital, my little scoundrel,” she said softly.

    Zeek watched her walk from the meadow back into the forest. A tear slipped down his cheek as he gazed into the night sky. He wiped his nose on his sleeve and grabbed the pack Granny left him. It was old and worn, the same one she used when she went hunting herbs in the forest. It held a change of clothes, a bit of paper and charcoal, a canteen, and some bread she’d clearly stolen from the feast. Zeek smiled as he placed the pouch of gold inside.

    He woke up under the tree at dawn.