“Other than the natural’s power developing spontaneously, and that it is usually stronger than the average magician’s, there is no difference. Most magicians’ ability is discovered when they are tested at a young age, then developed with the help of another magician. If any of those magicians are naturals, we’d never know because their power never gets the chance to develop without assistance. For magical ability to surface with no intervention, it must be strong, but ultimately that strength will not matter much. Higher magic adds to a magician’s natural ability, so in the end it’s how many apprentices a magician has taken power from, and how many times, that dictates his strength, not his natural ability.”
“So you don’t usually know a person has magical ability until you test them?” Veran asked.
Dakon shook his head. “And magic does not favour rich or poor, powerful or humble. Anybody you pass on the road could be a latent magician.”
“So why don’t you teach them?” Lasia asked. “Surely having more magicians would make Kyralia better able to defend itself.”
“Who would teach them? There aren’t enough magicians to teach all the latent magicians among the rich, let alone commoners as well.”
“You might not want to teach all of them, anyway,” Veran added, his expression thoughtful. “I’m sure you consider character when you select an apprentice, even if he or she is from a powerful family.” He glanced at Tessia. “When you have a choice, of course.”
Dakon smiled. “You are right. Fortunately Tessia is of excellent character and I’m sure will be a pleasure to teach.”
Everyone looked at Tessia. Jayan saw her face flush and she dropped her gaze.
“I’m sure she will be,” Lasia said. “She has been a great help to her father.” She looked at Dakon. “What does being a source for a magician involve?”
Watching Dakon, Jayan saw the humour in the magician’s eyes vanish, though he remained smiling.
“I can’t give you details, of course, as higher magic is a secret shared only between magicians. I can tell you it is a quick, cooperative ritual. Magic is transferred from apprentice to magician, and stored by the magician.”
“This giving of power is the only payment Tessia makes in exchange for apprenticeship?”
“Yes, and as you can imagine it is more than payment enough. By the time an apprentice is ready to become a magician, he or she will have made their master many hundreds of times stronger than he would be without their help. Of course, we aren’t usually hundreds of times stronger by then, because we will have used that power in the meantime, but it does allow us to do many things.”
“Why don’t magicians have several apprentices?” Tessia asked.
“Then they would have even more power.”
“Because it would take even longer to train each of them,” Dakon replied. “One magician has only so much time to spend teaching, and we have an obligation to instruct our apprentices well and thoroughly. Remember, most of our apprentices come from powerful families who can influence whether or not we are given well-paid work to do, or remain the lords of our leys. We don’t usually want to annoy them.” He paused and grimaced. “And I think having several apprentices, no matter how well I taught them, would make me feel too much like a Sachakan magician, with a crowd of slaves to abuse.” He looked at Jayan. “No, I much prefer the Kyralian method of mutual respect and benefits.”
The others nodded in agreement. Dakon looked at each of them in turn. “Any more questions?”
Tessia shifted in her seat, attracting his attention.
“Yes?” he asked.
She looked at her father, then flushed again. “Can magic be used to heal?”
Dakon gave her a knowing smile. “Only by helping in the physical tasks of healing work. It can move, hold, warm or sear. It can provide constriction in place of a pulse binder and I’ve even heard of it being used to jolt a heart into beating after it stopped. But it cannot assist the body to actually heal. The body must do that itself.”
Tessia nodded, and Jayan thought he detected disappointment in her eyes. I’m surprised she’s still interested in healing, now that she has magic to learn.
“On the other hand, it might be possible and we just haven’t discovered how yet,” Dakon added. Tessia looked at him, her expression thoughtful. “I don’t think we should ever stop trying.”
Jayan looked at Dakon in surprise. He’s actually encouraging her. What point is there in that?
As he watched, Tessia’s shoulders relaxed and she gave Dakon a smile of gratitude. It occurred to Jayan then that Dakon might only be making the transition easier for her by holding out the promise of something familiar in the strange new world she was entering. Something to interest her.
But surely he didn’t have to. Surely she was as excited to be learning magic as any new apprentice. The thought that she might not be sent a thin ripple of anger through him. That would be incredibly ungrateful, both to the natural luck that has given her such a chance, and to Lord Dakon for taking her on. He found himself scowling and quickly relaxed his face. Once she begins to use magic, and realises how wonderful it is, she’ll soon put her old life behind her. Healing will be nothing in comparison.
Immensely tall trees surrounded Hanara. He looked up. The straight, narrow trunks swayed, slow and heavy, in winds high above their heads. A warning cry. One began to fall. Someone screamed as it broke through the branches of neighbouring trees and slammed onto the forest floor, splinters from where the axes hadn’t quite cut through the trunk flying through the air. The screaming continued. He rushed in. Branches parted, and he saw. A slave – his friend – pinned to the ground, his legs crushed. The other slaves ignored the injured man and his screams, and set to work cutting.
Hanara jolted awake. For a moment he blinked at the darkness. The air smelled wrong.
Kyralia, he remembered. I’m in Kyralia, in the house of a magician. I’m hurt. Must heal quickly so Takado doesn’t kill me when he comes back. He closed his eyes.
He was cutting and shaping wood. He loved how it peeled away under the blade. Once you understood the patterns of the grain, how it resisted some cuts and welcomed others, it was easy work. All the information you needed was there, written in the grain. He imagined reading was the same.
He heard the timber master come up behind him to watch. He couldn’t see the man, but he knew who it was. If he stopped to look, the man would whip him, so he kept working. Perhaps if Hanara demonstrated how he could read the wood, the man would teach him how to do the decorative work on the mansion rather than making palings for the slave-house fences.
A few more cuts and the paling was done. It was perfect, too good for a mere slave fence. He turned to show the timber master.
It wasn’t the timber master standing behind him. It was Ashaki Takado. Hanara froze, his heart suddenly beating wildly, then dropped to the ground. The magician, owner of the house and slaves and forest and fields, stepped close and ordered Hanara to stand up, then stared into his face. Hanara lowered his eyes. The magician grabbed his jaw and lifted it, his gaze boring into Hanara’s. But the magician’s gaze didn’t meet Hanara’s. It went beyond. Inside. Takado’s eyes blazed.
Then the master was gone. The plank was removed from Hanara’s hand and he was taken away from the slave yard. His arms hurt. The world whirled around him. Looking down, he saw that his skin was criss-crossed by countless scars and new bleeding cuts. Takado was looming over him, laughing.
Are you a good slave? he asked. Are you? He raised an arm, in his hands a glittering curved blade...