A word to my readers

Posted on April 5, 2020 by Brian Bixby

As some of you might know, this blog was comatose for a few years. Life and, sadly, death got in its way. Readership dwindled away to nothing. And most of the comments I got were spam.

I appreciate those of you who have come back, or have visited to stop and read, since I began Magician’s Apprentice in response to the current dreary and deadly crisis. I hope I provide you with a little bit of entertainment on a daily basis. And seeing so many come by to check the blog out has been heartening. Thank you.

And in a few minutes, time to get up the next chapter . . .

“Femme lisant,” painted c. 1870 by Jean-Baptiste Camille Corot (1796 – 1875)

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Magician’s Apprentice Chapter XVI

Posted on April 4, 2020 by Brian Bixby

The story so far: The Earl of Haulloran’s men tried to apprehend Tollon, apprentice to Court Magician Sarton. Sarton’s slave Mia assaulted the earl’s men. (If you want more background, follow this link to read the whole story so far.) Now read on . . .

We are running (well, fast walking, and even that hurts) through the streets of the city, and I realize which way we’re going. I come to a stop. “We need to turn around, Mia. This is taking us away from the palace.”

Mia has two facial expressions when she’s talking to me: loving and determined. I see the latter now. She says, “No, this is the right way. For all we know, the palace guard has also been instructed to apprehend you. I need to get you somewhere safe. Now, move it!”

Can’t gainsay Mia. Even if I could, it would do no use. I don’t have my walking stick anymore. Mia broke it beating down the third of Haulloran’s men. So I am walking with a limp that is rapidly getting worse.

I don’t even recognize the part of the city we’re in. It’s way off the main roads. Mia takes me down a few narrow alleys. And then she stops at a door, and raps loudly on it with what I presume is a specific pattern of knocks.

The door opens just a bit. A dark, curly-haired man looks out. Mia steps up, sticks her foot in the door, and then says something in a low voice I can’t quite catch. The man’s eyes go wide, he opens up the door, and we scoot in. He closes it behind him.

He turns to Mia. “Are you being actively pursued?”

Mia shakes her head. “Back at the Great Market. Shook them.”

The man looks uneasily at me. He turns again to Mia. “I have a room upstairs.”

Mia smiles. “Fourth floor. You will need to help me with my master. His left leg is injured.”

I start to object, but Mia switches to “determined look” again and says to me, “If you do not willingly accept our help, I will force you to do so, master.”

What can I say?

Credit: Wikipedia/Yari/Ben Husmann

We climb, which is to say the man and Mia bear most of my weight while I gingerly try not to use my left leg on the stairs. We make it up two flights to the third floor, which looks like the attic. And then the man pulls down a set of stairs, steeper than any of the others, and we climb up into the actual attic of this building, a well-furnished room with a bed, a library, and a pantry. There’s even a skylight.

The man says, “He’ll be safe here for a while. Name? Who’s after him?”

Mia jumps right in before I can say anything. “Tollon, apprentice to Court Magician Sarton. The Earl of Haulloran sent men to bring him in for interrogation. We don’t know exactly why.”

“And you were wise enough not to stick around and ask.” The man looks grim. “You have a plan?”

“Keep him here,” Mia gestures toward me. “I will contact his master, who will decide what to do next. You will be directly compensated.”

“Good to know, considering the risks I’m taking,” the man says, with an unfavorable glance at me. He heads down the stair.

Once he’s out of earshot, Mia says to me, “Just stay here, master. Don’t ask the man any questions about himself. He’ll take care of you. I will inform Sarton what has happened.”

Mia turns to go, but I grab her by the shoulder. Despite what I fear, she does not stop me, but turns back and gives me her usual loving gaze. “Yes, master?”

“How do you know about this place? Why is this man willing to do what you ask?”

Mia replies, “Is it not the job of every slave to protect their master? I would be a bad slave if I did not have the means to do so. Now, you must let me go, master. The sooner I leave, the sooner I can bring rescue.”

I let go. Mia turns, goes down the stairs, and then the stairs rise up and close off the passage in the floor. I try stepping on this door in the floor. It does not yield. There is no obvious way to unlatch it. I’m stuck here.

(To be continued . . .)

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Magician’s Apprentice Chapter XV

Posted on April 3, 2020 by Brian Bixby

The story so far: Thinking he betrayed Paviara, her friends have beat up Tollon. Tollon finds himself being cared for by Mia, Lady Vorana’s ex-slave, with whom he had what might politely be described as a traumatic experience. Now read on . . .

It’s difficult for Tollon not to think of the small and delicate Mia as anything but a fairy, except when she forcefully disobeys him!

I don’t know how I would have got through the next five days without Mia. I don’t know how I did get through them with her. She was there, all the time, taking care of my every need (save one). She read to me, books on magic when I was feeling well, fiction when I was not. She was absolutely ruthless in restraining me or disobeying me if she thought I was being wrong-headed. And I had to endure tormenting visions of her much of the time, things we did under Lady Vorana’s control, visions of passion and visions of torture. I couldn’t tell you which were worse, under the circumstances.

But what really got to me was her attitude. She considered herself to be of no value. Her willingness to let me kill her, once I recovered, was just an extreme example.

So one day I have her get Sarton, and kick her out of the room while I speak to him. “Mia is driving me crazy,” I announce.

Sarton jumps to the wrong conclusion. “Still troubled by visions?”

I correct him. (It’s a rare event, that I can do it and that I dare do it.) “Yeah, but that’s not it. It’s her attitude. She acts like her feelings have no value. I feel like a heel asking her to do anything. But I still can’t do much myself, so I have to.”

Sarton glances about the room. We are in the old washroom, next to the storeroom, where he had a bed set up for me when I was brought in as a bloody mess. He finally returns to looking at me. “Vorana bought Mia as an infant. She’s been a slave all her life. Vorana trained her to think like a perfect slave. You having a problem with slavery, Tollon? You ever look at a slave with any concern before this?”

“No,” I admit with annoyance. And then I add, “But I will now.”

Sarton snorts in disbelief.

And then I think of something. “If she thinks like a perfect slave, how is it she can defy me? She’s even put a muzzle on me, twice.” And that after I specifically told her not to.

Sarton snorts again. “I bought her, Tollon. She’s my slave. And I told her that she should do whatever is necessary to restore your health, regardless of what you say.” He stands up. And leaves behind one last caution as he walks to the door. “Don’t mistake obedience for lack of will or judgment, Tollon. Vorana might have trained Mia to be a slave, but Vorana also hates stupid people. Mia is used to using her own judgment to carry out her orders.”

Exactly how much I find out after five days. Sarton pronounces me healed, except for residual damage to my left leg, which means I’ll have to use a walking stick for a few days. He orders me to go out and get some fresh air. And he orders Mia to escort me. “Having a slave accompany you raises your status in the eyes of others to something more befitting the apprentice to the Court Magician,” he tells me. “Besides, you’re still recovering. Who will take care of you if you faint?” And with a laugh, he leaves me in Mia’s custody. She, of course, has her orders from Sarton, and will not disobey them. I’m stuck with her, as if I need a nursemaid.

We get out of the palace, go into town, and stroll through the Great Market. I get a number of ill looks, some smirks, and a few people spitting in my direction, but nothing serious. We sit down at a food tent for a meal of mediocre beer and smoked fish. I’m finding Mia’s company a lot less objectionable than I thought I would. It’s kind of nice to have a servant (she’s Sarton’s slave, not mine!) at one’s beck and call. Even if she is so quiet and passive. Especially since it appears I have very few friends remaining.

Then the trouble begins. While we are finishing up, four men in the Earl of Haulloran’s livery show up. Their leader approaches me and says, “Come on, you. You’ve got an appointment with the Earl of Haulloran, and I would not want to be in your shoes.”

Mia is on my left, this servant on my right. I start to stand up, and she shoves me down as she stands up herself. In a firm voice, she says, “My master is convalescing. Tell your master to request a meeting when my master feels better.”

Haulloran’s servants laugh. The leader says, “Go away, girl, this does not concern you.” And then he reaches out to grab me by my collar.

In one swift motion, Mia snatches up my walking stick and smashes him in the face with it. And while he’s clutching at his face, she kicks him off balance and he goes flying to the ground.

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Magician’s Apprentice Chapter XIV

Posted on April 2, 2020 by Brian Bixby

The story so far: After Lady Vorana’s spell led Tollon to have a fling with another woman, Paviara decided she did not ever want to see Tollon again. Tollon went to see her anyhow. Her friends beat him into unconsciousness. Now read on . . .

Everything hurts. Even my eyelids. I suspect I have imaginary parts that hurt.

I open my eyes. Everything is blurry. There is someone in the room. I try to talk, but my throat is dry.

Whoever it is comes over, wets my lips with a cloth. A feminine voice says, “Water?” I nod. I drink the water offered from a cup.

My eyes begin to focus. The woman who gave me the water is hovering over me, a look of concern in her face.

Her face: it’s Mia’s. And the next thing I know, I’m screaming and trying to get away. I can’t move. It’s Mia! Got to get away from her. It’s Mia! I yell for Sarton, I yell for Paviara, I even yell for Lady Vorana, I’m so rattled. It’s Mia!

All of a sudden, I’m hit with a calming spell. Never experienced one before, but I’ve seen Sarton use one. The person immediately drops out of whatever panic they were in, and can’t get upset while the spell lasts.

Sure enough, Sarton is there, over me. He looks unhappy. “What is this, boy?”

I nod my head at Mia. “It’s Mia.” I don’t try to sound alarmed. I can’t.

Sarton looks back over his shoulder at her, and then faces back to me. “Why, so it is. You didn’t expect me to nurse you, did you?”

I try to say something, but I’m completely adrift. Doesn’t he understand?

But he does. Sarton speaks over his shoulder, “Mia, leave us for a moment.” He waits until she closes the door to the room and then turns back to me. He looks as if he’s amused and tired at once. “Your trip to see your lady friend did not work out well. You recall that?”

I nod. “Up to a point.”

“Good. I can dispense with the calming spell.” He snaps his fingers. I feel the calming spell go away. Sarton explains, “You were badly hurt. I’ll give you the details some other time. I used some spells to fix you up. And then I bought Mia from Vorana to serve as your nurse.”

I try to smack my head with my hand, find I can’t move it. “My arm?”

“Broken, healing. Both of them. And one leg.”

“Oh.” I get back to the point. “I can’t have Mia here. She was part of what Vorana did to me. You said it yourself, I’d have no control.” I can hear the panic in my voice.

Sarton sits back. He shakes his head slowly. “Then it’s time you learned to develop some. You’re going to be a magician, Tollon. If a little slip of a creature like Mia can scare you, you’ll never make it.” He leans forward, pats my head. “You’re barely able to move. If you can’t control yourself in this situation, you’ll never be able to do it in any situation.” He leans forward, and whispers, “Besides, she idolizes you. You should have no problems handling her.” He smiles, stands up, and says, “She knows how to read. Don’t be bashful about pursuing your studies while you recuperate.” And then he just leaves.

Florence Nightingale was praised for her work as a nurse. Mia? Tollon’s not so sure.

Mia comes in. She comes to my bedside. She tells me, “Sarton says I am to serve you. I know my feelings don’t matter, but I am pleased.” And she looks it. More than that. I’ve seen that look on other women’s faces. She’s in love with me. She goes on, “He suggests I begin by giving you a sponge bath over all of your body.”

I don’t really consider what that means at first. Partly it’s because I’m preoccupied by trying to suppress erotic memories of what I did with Mia under Lady Vorana’s “encouragement,” with only some success. Partly because I’m scared I’ll do something horrible, even though, rationally, I know I’m in no condition to do much of anything. Partly it’s because I’m appalled that Mia has to keep replacing the water from all the blood she is washing off of me. And then she moves to lift the gown I’m wearing, and I realize that she means to clean every part of my body. I say, “Ah, Mia, I’d really rather you left that for me to do.” Particularly in the state I’m in, thanks to those memories.

She looks at me curiously. She nods. She gets up. She goes over to a counter where she has laid out her equipment. She comes back, stands up by my head, and in one quick motion put some sort of muzzle on me. I try to yell, but can barely make a sound. I try to complain, to yell. I can’t. Mia ignores what sounds I make. And without another word, she sets to work.

Since I hit puberty, I’ve never had a woman fiddling around with my genitals except in sex. I want to die in embarrassment. And yet, to my surprise, Mia is quick, thorough, and neither makes any sexual comments nor engages in any sexual behavior.

When she’s finished, and dried me off, and covered me up again, she comes back to the head of the bed and pulls off the muzzle. “There,” she says. “You’re clean. What would you like me to do next, master?”

I glare at her. “Don’t you ever put a muzzle on me again!”

“My apologies, master,” Mia says. And then her voice turns severe. “You are injured and ill. You do not know what is good for you. I will not allow you to interfere in your own recovery. Muzzling you forced you to accept my services. Do not make it necessary for me to use more serious forms of restraint on you.”

And then her voice returns to its usual softness. “Once you have recovered, if you decide I acted inappropriately, you may have me killed.” She says this with a smile.

I am just stunned, and bewildered. I have no words to say to that.

(To be continued . . .)

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Magician’s Apprentice Chapter XIII

Posted on April 1, 2020 by Brian Bixby

The story so far: Tollon loves Paviara. Paviara used to love Tollon. Now she won’t speak to him. What did our apprentice magician do wrong? Read on . . .

“She doesn’t want to see or speak to you anymore.”

Sarton’s words are like a punch in the stomach, and the head, and a few other places besides. “What? Why?” is all I can cry out.

Sarton looks pityingly on me across the dining table. “In the time between when you left this place and came back needing my help, did you have a particularly lengthy or realistic vision?”

I try to think back. “I might have. It was really getting hard to tell.”

“Well, on at least one occasion you were acting it out with a young woman of, shall we say, notorious reputation, who got a great deal more than she bargained for,” Sarton explains. “I believe the term is ‘rough play.’”

I have only one question. “Who? You don’t happen to have a name, do you?”

Sarton nods. “I even had her brought here to question, to see if her story was true. She’s called Elfra, Stagga’s daughter.”

No doubt Elfra is a sweetheart, on her own terms

I drop my head into my hands. I want to cry. Elfra. I couldn’t have made a worse choice. It’s not that she’s bedded a lot of servants. She has. But so what? She likes sex. Who doesn’t? No, the problem is that Elfra is the kiss-and-tell type. Very, very much so. Oh, and added bonus: she and Paviara hate each other. I do not know why, but they do.

I look up. I have one hope. “Have you seen Paviara?”

“Indeed, Tollon, I have,” Sarton says in a funereal voice. “She came here to let me know . . . well, she strung together a long list of vulgar names, including a few I’ve never heard before, but presume from her tone were not meant in praise of your character.”

One last possibility. “Did you try to talk to her?”

Sarton actually has the nerve to chuckle. “I’ve been married five times, boy. I can tell the difference between a woman who’s been injured and is looking for an apology, and one who’s been severely injured and would rather never deal with that person again. Your Paviara is right now in the latter category. If you know her well, how do you think she feels?”

Like I’m lower than dog turd, I imagine. Still, I can explain it to her. I can tell her that I was bewitched. I can tell her Sarton will back me up.

I decide. I stand up. I say to Sarton, “Since I can go out now, I think it’s time I did.”

Sarton looks uncertain. “If you’re planning to do what I think you’re planning to do, it’s a mistake.”

“Are you going to stop me?” I ask.

“No, any more than I was going to try to explain to your girl.”

Not exactly a ringing endorsement. But I have to do this.

I get only as far as the servants’ stairs before I get accosted by someone I know. Rasmin gives me a slap on the back. “I hear you’re handy with a belt,” he says with a laugh.

“What do you mean?” I ask in an irritated voice.

Rasmin is both embarrassed and amused. “Oh, you know . . . some people like that sort of thing.”

I’m about to explain that I don’t. And then I recall that while I was under Vorana’s control, whips were involved at one point. Inwardly I cringe. This is even worse than I thought.

I brush by Rasmin. And two dozen others I encounter. I endure a number of shouts about Elfra and belts. I finally make it to the Palace Kitchen.

I make a beeline for Paviara. She turns and sees me coming. She screams. Paviara is screaming at me! But I can explain!

Someone punches me in the side. I turn to push him off, and I get hit from the other side. Something solid (a rolling pin?) smashes into my back. Another. I trip. Something breaks on my head. There’s blood on the floor. I go sprawling. I try to curl up, to protect myself. I remember Sarton gave me a spell to hurt people who hurt me. I’m being kicked. How did that spell go?

Somewhere along the line, I lose consciousness.

(To be continued . . . if Tollon regains consciousness!)

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Magician’s Apprentice Chapter XII

Posted on March 31, 2020 by Brian Bixby

The story so far: Ill-used by a spell cast by Lady Vorana, Tollon is buckling down to learn some real magic from Court Magician Sarton. But the damage Lady Vorana inflicted upon Tollon has yet to be fully reckoned. Now read on . . .

Sarton as an absent-minded old fogey could be difficult. Sarton as a determined instructor is downright merciless. Or at least it feels that way to me.

I’m officially locked into his workroom until he decides I’m mostly over what Lady Vorana did to me. And he throws books at me. Books on magical theory. Books of spells. For all I know, there’s a book in that pile on magical rock hunting.

“Read, read, read,” he urges me. “You’ll learn a bit, be confused by more, tie up your mind, and be worn out by the end of the day.”

If only it were this easy!

So I’m reading. Sarton refuses to tell me in what order to read things. “Every magician must learn to organize his craft according to his own way of thinking,” he lectures me. There are times reading these books I doubt I have a way of thinking, let alone that there is one in the books.

I’m beginning to catch on, though. Sarton comes and quizzes me on what I’ve read, forcing me to think about it. He pokes and prods and I’ve actually yelled at him a few times in frustration. But I come away with ideas to investigate. And that, I’m sure, is what he intends.

One good thing about this is that I’m eating better. Since Sarton won’t let me out, he’s ordering food from the Royal Masters’ Dining Hall for both of us. They even have holaisia. I haven’t had holaisia since I left home. It’s a luxury here. I had forgotten how much I missed it at first when I came here.

The bad thing is that I can’t communicate with Paviara, let alone see her. It’s not just her company I miss. She was planning to help me steal some dragon’s teeth from Lady Gwella. I don’t know if she’s actually done anything about that, or, worse yet, been caught by Lady Gwella. Sarton won’t even entertain my sending her a message.

Maybe it’s just as well. Sarton tells me that until I get over the troubling visions, it’s not safe for me to be with any woman. The feelings I have in the visions would overwhelm me. I wouldn’t be able to control my behavior. “It’s not as if you’re used to practicing self-control that way,” Sarton drily concludes. Easy for you to say, old man.

I take that back. I’m realizing I don’t know Sarton at all. The man I’m dealing with now is not the old fogey I’ve known for a year. And I’m only now learning what he does with much of his time.

Sarton observes. A surprising amount of the magic he tries and uses is to observe what’s going on in the world. It’s how he knew about Paviara and me. Not that he knows everything. He missed the Earl of Haulloran getting the queen pregnant.

I ask him about that. “One can’t look for what one isn’t expecting, or isn’t interested in,” is his response. “Knowledge is one of the cheapest and most useful forms of power. But it’s not a passive tool, Tollon. One has to use it, extend it, recognize what you don’t know, accept that some things aren’t worth bothering about. Whom the queen beds is not a priority for me to know. Whom my apprentice beds is.”

I blush out of embarrassment. Thanks for the reminder. I have to wonder just how much you saw. But I’m taking your lessons to heart, Sarton. Because I know enough to ask an important question. “But what about the earl’s wife, Lady Gwella? Isn’t she your rival?” Everyone knows Lady Gwella is out for power, power for herself.

“Is she my rival?” Sarton appears amused by the idea. “You no doubt believe that Gwella wants to be Court Magician. She does. She wants to be queen. She wants to be ruler of the world, with a harem of princes for her lovers, and untold wealth in her treasury.” Sarton shakes his head. “That doesn’t make her my rival, Tollon. She may think so. I know better. Someday you’ll understand why. And on that day, you’ll have finished your apprenticeship. Now, get back to reading!”

This is how life goes, for five days. I sit in Sarton’s library and read. I come out to eat, to take care of my body, to sleep. We talk. Sarton does his best to make me answer my own questions. I contemplate ways of killing him, only briefly. And the visions I have, of what Lady Vorana made me do, slowly begin to fade. I manage to sleep through an entire night without waking up out of a deeply disturbing dream.

I tell Sarton this over breakfast. He nods. He doesn’t smile. He says to me, “Good. You should get out today. But don’t go see your girl, boy. She doesn’t want to see or speak to you anymore.”

(To be continued!)

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Magician’s Apprentice Chapter XI

Posted on March 30, 2020 by Brian Bixby

The story so far: Tollon, apprentice to Court Magician Sarton, was ensorcelled and forced to act at the bidding of Lady Vorana. And he’s suffering flashbacks. (If you want to read all the previous chapters, go here.) Now read on . . .

It’s just after noon the next day that I stagger into Sarton’s workshop, feeling utterly defeated and beleaguered by devils. I make it to my desk, sit down in my chair, and try not to close my eyes. I’m bone tired, but I don’t need another dream or vision destroying my sanity again so soon.

Sarton must have heard me come in, because he appears only moments later, sits down in his chair facing me, and asks, “It’s bad?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think I can cope. Every so often, it’s as if my vision shifts, and every woman I see looks like Vorana or Mia. I can’t sleep for more than a little bit before I wake up out of a nightmare. I’m not even sure what’s a dream and what’s reality anymore.” I look up at Sarton. “Those dreams? I did those things? I felt that way?”

Sarton nods. “And how do you feel when you have these experiences?”

I struggle for words. “It’s like I’m overcome by my feelings.” I don’t want to talk about this, really, but I have to or I’ll die. “Lust. Rage. Cruelty. I can’t handle it.” I drop my head. I don’t even want to think of how I feel when these things happen to me.

I hear Sarton say, “That sounds about right. Vorana tends to bring out those feelings in people. And you couldn’t protect yourself.”

He is so calm, I look up and give him a hard stare as I lash out at him. “I’m supposed to be a magician’s apprentice. You’re supposed to be my master. You are supposed to protect me! Why haven’t you taught me how to protect myself against anything like this?”

“BECAUSE YOU HAVEN’T BEEN WORTH IT, BOY!” Sarton’s voice is louder and harsher than I’ve ever heard it. We both recoil in our seats, probably equally shocked.

Sarton is the first to recover. He leans forward, a concerned look on his face. “Listen to me, Tollon, now if never before or ever again. I took you on because you were bright and resourceful. But I didn’t realize what it would be like for a young man to come from that wretched pasture you called home to a place like this. You’ve spent the entire year as my apprentice just trying to enjoy every delight the palace and city has to offer. Nothing’s meant anything to you, not your studies, not your pleasures, probably not even your girl.

“There was no point in teaching you more than a few spells while you’ve been like that. Magic shapes people who use it, Tollon. A magician has to be able to fight back, to shape magic before it shapes him into something he doesn’t want to be. But you didn’t seem to want to be anything, from moment to moment. I made the mistake of teaching magic to someone much like that, a long time ago. I vowed never to make that mistake again.”

Sarton stops talking, still looking intently at me. I figure I have to say something. “So I’m dismissed?”

That earns me a snort from Sarton. “Hardly. Why would I get rid of my apprentice when he’s finally shown he’s worth training?”

“I don’t understand.” And I don’t.

Sarton is dead serious. “Think of what’s happened to you. Vorana made you do things you normally wouldn’t do. For instance, she made you feel uncontrollable lust. That’s something many a young lad thinks he does want to feel. But you saw what it did to you, and you don’t want that. That’s why remembering what she did to you is giving you the horrors. You’re learning something important about yourself. There are things you could possibly be, feel, and do that you might enjoy at some level but which you do not want to do.  There’s actually a core to you, boy, some bits of character and values you cherish, something that will fight back against the magic you’ll have to learn.” He leans back in his seat and relaxes a bit, before adding, “And that puts you above Vorana, now and forever, no matter what she did to you.”

I think about what Sarton has said. And I draw a conclusion. “Lady Vorana, was she the one you trained who let magic warp her?”

Sarton nods and offers me a big smile. “That’s the bright boy I took on. Yes, Vorana wanted to be taught, and I was in love. She was passionate and willful. Magic made her a slave to her passions, and unwilling to brook opposition. Mind you, she still has some scruples. She won’t take something unless she can offer something in return. That much of the old Vorana is left.” Sarton shrugs. “It’s not much.”

“So now what?” I ask.

“Now?” Sarton’s smile evaporates into a determined look. “Now it’s time to teach you some real magic.”

END PART ONE

(Part Two will begin tomorrow.)

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Magician’s Apprentice Chapter X

Posted on March 29, 2020 by Brian Bixby

The story so far: Tollon, apprentice to Court Magician Sarton, found himself bespelled and drugged by Sarton’s ex-wife, Lady Vorana. She obviously doesn’t mean him any good. On the other hand, he is a charming fellow. (If you want to catch up on the entire story, go here.) Now read on . . .

I wake up. I’m still in the tent where Lady Vorana was. But she, the table, Mia, the other furnishings of the tent, they are all gone. All that is left is a lantern, which is the sole source of light in the tent. And it’s otherwise so dark that it can’t still be day out. How long have I been asleep? Or whatever it was that happened to me?

I try to remember what happened. I took the second sip of wine. Lady Vorana told me to stand up and follow her. And then it was like I lost all power of rational thought as waves of raw emotion erupted in my brain with frightening intensity.

My memories of everything that happened after are very confused. I’m not sure the human mind is made to remember exactly what we are doing when we have only strong emotions, no intellect. And that’s all I was experiencing, apparently. Experiencing with Vorana and Mia.

I have to shut down thinking about it. It’s too disturbing.

I shake my head and sit up. I check my wallet and bag. Everything is intact. Me, I’m not so sure about. I grab the lantern and head for the door.

I’m out the door. It’s twilight out. Good, I’m not out past curfew. I turn to look at the tent, to see what it looks like. There is no tent there. In fact, there is no land there. That’s the Unswondus Canal where the tent was. More magic, clearly.

I’m not going to get anything done here. So I make my way back to the palace, have my usual unpleasant encounter with the guards, and make a beeline for Sarton’s workshop. If he’s been waiting for the phoenix feathers all day, he is going to be enraged at the delay. Even though it is not my fault.

Sarton is just closing up. He’s coming out the door. I begin to compose an apology to him, but I don’t get a chance to say it. A torrent of words burst out of me, beyond my control, repeating what Lady Vorana told me about the assassination plot.

Sarton at first is baffled. And then he drags me back into the workshop, sits me down, and makes me tell him everything. Well, everything about the assassination plot. I leave the rest out of it.

How Tollon felt at that moment.
(Painted by August Natterer (1868 – 1933))

Once I’ve told him often enough that he’s understood me, it’s as if I’m suddenly drained of energy. I sit back in my chair and close my eyes. And almost immediately jerk them open. Because in the moment my eyes were closed, it was as if I were reliving one of those memories I’m trying not to recall.

Sarton is looking at me, a bit puzzled. “What’s the matter with you, Tollon?”

I shrug. “Tired, I guess. Lapsed into a bad dream.”

Sarton still isn’t satisfied, but he switches the subject. “You got the phoenix feathers?”

I grab my bag, open it, hand it over to him. “Seven of the best.”

That pleases him, for a moment. Then he looks at me quite narrowly. “Vorana doesn’t do things without exacting a price. I would have expected her to take a phoenix feather. So what did she take from you?”

I try to think how to explain what happened, but can’t think of a way to put it that isn’t embarrassing. So I fudge. “I don’t remember very well.”

Sarton’s face turns grave. “She offered you wine.”

I nod.

“Are your memories of what happened afterward clear or confused? Truly now, Tollon.”

“Confused,” I say with some relief. Sarton knows what happened. I hope he tells me!

“Good.” Sarton is looking me straight in the eye. “If they were clear, you’d never escape Vorana’s influence over you. Confused memories mean you’ll eventually be yourself again. Now listen to me, Tollon, man to man: avoid your girl for a few days. And don’t panic if you find yourself having disturbing visions. They will pass.”

“What kind of disturbing visions? I ask.

“Visions of things you did, memories, my boy. I’m sorry I can’t put it any more gently. It doesn’t matter if she made you do those things, you actually did them. And you’re going to find them very troubling, even the ones that would normally be enjoyable.

“Now, that’s an experience no one should have to deal with, as part of a job. So you get the evening off. Tomorrow, too. Go back to your room, or do whatever you want to do. Don’t let the visions disturb you. And if it gets too much for you, come back here and knock on the door. I’ll come get you.”

From Sarton, this is almost an unprecedented level of concern. So I thank him, tell him I will be careful, and leave.

I’m fine until I reach the servants’ dining hall.

(To be continued . . .)

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Magician’s Apprentice Chapter IX

Posted on March 28, 2020 by Brian Bixby

The story so far: Tollon, apprentice to Court Magician Sarton, has gone to the market to get some phoenix feathers for his master. While there, he is ensorcelled by a powerful magician acting through a girl. (You can catch up on all the previous chapters here.) Now read on . . .

I’m still under Lady Vorana’s spell, whatever “still” means when I have no sense of time. With nothing else to do, I try to figure out what else her appearance here tells me. Well, she hasn’t aged much, if at all. And since they must have divorced decades ago, she’s one of those age-defying witches. That’s consistent with her ability to mesmerize me through another person. Both require a lot of power. And Sarton hasn’t said anything about her, so presumably he doesn’t know she’s here. But the converse is definitely not true, else she’d not know who I am.

Abruptly, I am back to normal. I’m in a large tent, presumably still in the Great Market. The girl is standing beside Lady Vorana, who is dressed entirely in black.

I take some of that back. I’m not entirely normal. I can’t move any body part voluntarily. The woman comes over to me, strokes my chin with her finger. “So you’re Sarton’s apprentice. You’re a cute one. Maybe I’ll keep you.” She turns away, walks back to where she was standing, puts her arm around the girl. She looks at me with amusement. “Is Sarton into boys these days?”

I can talk. “No, Lady Vorana. At least not with me.” Always be careful with what you say around a witch.

“What a pity,” she says with evident humor. “Because someone wants Sarton dead, and wants you to do the deed. And it would be all the more piquant if you were his lover.”

The smile departs from Lady Vorana’s face. She turns to the girl. “Get us some wine.” To me, she says, “Take a seat. We have things to discuss once the wine is poured.”

I can move. So I take a seat at the table she’s indicated and wait. There is no point in irritating this woman. Just keep calm, keep quiet, and look for a way to satisfy her and put an end to this meeting.

The girl comes back with wine and glasses, sets them out for each, and pours. I’m paying attention to the girl now, more than before, and can sense the girl is under some sort of control. Presumably, she’s a slave of Vorana’s.

I hear an irritated cough from Lady Vorana. She’s looking at me with disapproval. “Mind your business, apprentice,” she says in a severe voice. “You know nothing about Mia.” She waits until Mia has finished pouring her wine, lifts her glass, and gestures that I should do the same.

Be careful accepting drink from a witch!

I take a sip. It’s a very good wine. In fact, it tastes like a very fortified wine. I put it down after just one sip. I can’t believe it, but I’m already feeling drunk.

Lady Vorana is smiling at me. It’s a knowing smile. It means me little good. She says, “I see you enjoy the wine. It’s a very good wine, a . . . magical wine, you might say. So listen carefully, apprentice. I was offered a considerable sum of money to arrange Sarton’s death at your hands. The man said he came from the Earl of Haulloran. Not being of a trusting disposition, I tried to use a truth spell to verify that. The man died before he could say another word. When you see Sarton, you will tell him exactly what I just told you.”

I nod.

Lady Vorana says, “What did Sarton tell you about me?”

Despite myself, I hear myself say, “You use people.”

Lady Vorana’s smile widens. “He’s right, you know. Take the wine you’ve just been drinking. One sip dulls the will, making you passive and suggestible. Two sips? You’ll have no thoughts of your own. You’ll feel only what I tell you to feel, think only what I tell you to think, do only what I tell you to do, without any question, without any doubt, without even the slightest qualm”

She’s going to enslave me. I need to get out of here, now. I start to rise up, oh, so slowly. And then I hear Vorana say, “Sit down, apprentice,” and I sit down.

I know I have to escape, now. And yet I can’t think of any way to do it that doesn’t involve standing up, and I’ve just been told to sit down. I’m trapped. Again.

Lady Vorana is enjoying this. “You look frightened, apprentice. There’s no need for that. I’m not going to hurt you. Well, not much. You’re cute. Do you like me?”

I know it’s the wrong thing to say, but “No.”

She looks a trifle less happy, but continues. “What about Mia? I rescued her, you know. She was an idiot child who was abandoned by her parents. She’s sweet. Do you think you could love her?”

I think of Paviara. “No.”

Lady Vorana sighs. “No matter. What you think is of no importance. It’s time for you to take another sip of wine.”

I do.

(To be continued . . .)

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Magician’s Apprentice Chapter VIII

Posted on March 27, 2020 by Brian Bixby

The story so far: Tollon, apprentice to the Court Magician, is running errands for his master while trying to avoid the intrigues of court, the hazards of being a slight but attractive man, and still getting in time with his beloved, Paviara. (You can read the previous chapters here.) Now read on . . .

Get Sarton phoenix feathers. Dragons at least are indigenous, even if they’ve been driven back into the mountains. Phoenix feathers come from some very distant land where the bird lives, and dies, and lives, and, well, you get the idea. Some of the stories are not true. There is more than one phoenix, and they reproduce sexually, which is to say couples go up in a ball of flame together. I’m told it’s quite spectacular. Supposedly our method of executing witches with a fire was modeled on it. That, at least, I’ve seen. Amazing what kerosene can do.

Fortunately, the phoenix has been domesticated, or so I hear. There’s usually a supply of feathers, admittedly never very large, in the Great Market. And I remembered to get Sarton to write a requisition slip for the funds I’ll need. So first stop is the Royal Treasury.

In their usual stingy fashion, the Royal Treasury doesn’t hand over the money until they’ve asked me about fifteen times who I am and what it’s for. (Tollon of Velgard, and none of your business, unless you want Sarton to turn you into a toad.)

And then I’m off to the Great Market, which is wedged between town and the river. It’s a huge, open-air market. Goods come right off the docks along the river. Farmers come in from the country and set up their booths. Various swindlers set up their booths to fleece the unwary. And wandering through the market, bards play their instruments and sing epic songs of old. Some of them even sound more melodious than cats.

The marketplace is not just a commercial establishment, but a social space as well

A trip to the Great Market always means a good meal to me. And armed as I am with fresh silver from the Royal Treasury, I soon conclude my business, getting seven good phoenix feathers at a decent price. Decent price means I can splurge a bit on lunch.

I’d noticed a young woman, well, really just a girl, watching me while I bought the feathers. She was shorter even than me, and looked as if she’d barely begun the transition into womanhood. Nice tightly curled green hair on tan skin, though. That’s not a combination that usually looks good, but on her, young as she was, it was pretty.

Now as I am thinking about where to go for a good meal, she accosts me. “Kind sir, I know a place that serves meals fit for such a gentleman such as yourself. I could even serve you myself.”

Immediately I am sorry I have to deal with her at all. A child sold into slavery, clearly, selling her services and her body, and at that young age. I try to be polite as I try to shake her off. “Thanks, but I have pressing business elsewhere.”

“My Lord of Tyznar Heights,” she says to me. That surprises me. I turn to take another good look at her. I look into her eyes, and I realize to my horror that there are another pair of eyes behind hers. I’m being bespelled, and by someone quite powerful. And there is not a thing I can do to stop it.

Sarton may be old and forgetful, of changeable humor, and not always the best master, but he’s not stupid. He told me once, “Being a magician is difficult. It’s not just learning the means. One must master the self. Never let yourself blind you to what is happening to you.”

This is one of those times I have to put those words to use. All I see is eyes. I don’t know what’s happening to my body. Nothing good, I suspect. So I concentrate on trying to see what those eyes are. What color are they? Gray. Male or female? The make-up says female. Skin tone? Pale-gray. The rest of the face? I can see it if I strain. I don’t know it. But I can describe it. I’ll know this one when I see her. Whether I can do anything about it, well, that’s another story.

I try feeling what’s happening to my body. I can’t properly feel it, but I know it’s there. It’s moving, I presume walking.

Something in my brain shifts, and I realize just whose face I’m seeing. It’s Lady Vorana, Sarton’s second wife. He’s had five of them. Two, he tells me, are dead. One is traveling and may not return in my lifetime. And I should avoid the other two if I ever meet them. One of those two is Vorana.

I recall his precise words. “Vorana is a selfish voluptuary. She gives nothing away for free. She will use you as she sees fit. Your best bet, if you run into her, is to say little, make a deal with her as quickly as possible, and then get away from her.” It’s good advice. Unfortunately, I am not in any position to follow it.

(To be continued . . .)

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