Alderamon shook his head. “Boy, I am no Guildmaster, no member of the inner circles, if there truly are any inner circles.”
“But you’re a wizard, a member of the Guild!”
“Well, yes...”
“Can’t you help out a fellow wizard, then?”
“It’s not my problem, lad; why should I burden myself? The Guild has done little enough for me over the years, and you’ve done nothing for me at all.”
“I’d do anything I can for you, in exchange for being taught more spells, but what is there that I can do?”
“Nothing, that’s just the problem. I have an apprentice of my own coming next month, when she turns twelve, so I have no need for a student, particularly as you can’t be apprenticed at your age in any case. You have no way to pay me for food or shelter, let alone teaching you spells. We don’t do that, you know; a wizard’s spells are his stock in trade, and he’s not likely to give them out to the competition. I’ll trade spells on occasion, teach a fellow one of mine in exchange for learning one of his, but I don’t sell them and I certainly don’t teach them for free.” Seeing Tobas’ look of utter desolation, he tried to soften the blow by adding, “But you can stay here tonight; I can do that much for you, keep a roof over your head for one night and give you breakfast in the morning. When you’ve rested and had a good meal, the world will look better. Perhaps you can find someone on Wizard Street who will take pity on you.”
Tobas nodded in mute acceptance.
“All right, then. I’ll show you where you’ll sleep; I have an extra bed upstairs that my apprentice uses, when I have an apprentice. You’re probably weary from your travels and ready to sleep, aren’t you?”
Tobas nodded again and followed.
CHAPTER 7
Tobas spent the entire day after his arrival talking to wizard after wizard, up and down Wizard Street and all through the Wizards’ Quarter, which, despite the name, also included an incredible variety of other magicians, from warlocks to witches and priests to prestidigitators, seers, sorcerers, and soothsayers, demonologists and necromancers, scientists and ritual dancers.
It was one of the most frustrating and depressing days of his life. Every single wizard acknowledged that Tobas was indeed a true compatriot and member of the Guild, and that he had had amazingly bad luck in having Roggit die when he did, and every single wizard refused to consider teaching him anything at all. His age, obviously well over thirteen, immediately ruled out the possibility of an actual apprenticeship, and his complete lack of money or negotiable skills ruled out any possibility of buying lessons.
And no wizard in all of Ethshar of the Spices gave away trade secrets for free, not even to acknowledged compatriots and fellow Guild members.
Alderamon had been exactly right.
“Listen,” one very sincere young woman had told him after rejecting his desperate offer of a months’ servitude for a single useful spell, since she could get apprentices, why bother with a bondsman? “Why don’t you just forget about being a wizard for now? Go out and make your fortune at something else, then come back and buy spells. All of us can use money, despite what some of these hypocrites may have told you; if we didn’t need money, we wouldn’t be running shops here, would we? You won’t see any really powerful wizards around the Wizards’ Quarter, you know, they can afford better. So go and get rich and you can come back and laugh at us all. Don’t tell anyone you’re a wizard; keep the Combustion a secret, for emergencies. Any spell can be useful if used cleverly, and there are plenty of opportunities for a brave young man.”
“I don’t think I’m particularly brave,” Tobas answered doubtfully.
“Well, a clever young man, then; brains are better than brawn, anyway.”
“But I don’t know how to make my fortune at anything else! I’ve never learned to fight, or farm, or sail, or anything!”
“Well, you’ll have to find something; because, Tobas, you are simply not going to get anywhere as a wizard here in Ethshar. Go up to Shiphaven Market and sign up with one of the recruiters there, that’ll get you started.”
“If it doesn’t get me killed,” Tobas replied under his breath. More audibly, he thanked the wizard for her advice and politely took his leave.
That had been midafternoon; by dusk he was convinced he would need to find some sort of work immediately, even if it meant leaving the city. When the torches and lanterns in front of the shops began to be extinguished or allowed to die, around midnight, he could see no alternative but Shiphaven Market. He had not eaten since Alderamon’s generous breakfast; his feet were tired, and his knuckles sore from rapping on so many doors.
The thing that amazed him, however, was that he had covered less than half the wizards in the area. The competition for magical business here, he decided, would be much too fierce for him, even if he did pick up a few more spells.
He remembered the shipmasters and the dethroned princess and shuddered slightly at the thought of signing up with someone like that, with no clear guarantees of just what might be involved.
He had little choice, however. Reluctantly, he turned north on Arena Street and set out for Shiphaven Market.
Not surprisingly, given his unfamiliarity with the city, he got lost no fewer than three times on the way and in the hours between midnight and dawn there were very few passersby he could ask for directions.
Eventually, however, he arrived at his destination, only to find it empty and deserted, hardly surprising, as dawn was still more than two hours off. He settled down in a doorway to wait.
He was shaken roughly awake and sat up, blinking.
“What in Hell are you doing sleeping there? Don’t you know that’s against the law? If you haven’t got any place of your own, you go sleep on Wall Street with the other beggars, you don’t sleep here! We don’t allow vagrants on the city streets.” The red-kilted soldier glared down at him, his left hand on his hip and his right on the hilt of his sword.
“Oh...” Tobas managed, “I must have dozed off.” Thinking as best he could under the circumstances, he added, “I’m meeting a recruiter here.”
“What kind of a recruiter?” the soldier asked suspiciously. “For the Guards?”
“Ah, no,” Tobas said, hoping desperately that the soldier would not be offended by a lack of interest in a military career. “From the Small Kingdoms.” He was not actually sure what sort of recruiter he would choose, but that seemed reasonable.
“One of those, ha? That’s trouble enough, I’d say, without my adding to it. Suit yourself, boy. But if I catch you sleeping in the streets of Shiphaven again, I’ll flog you half to death and then turn you over to the slavers, this is a respectable neighborhood.”
“Yes, sir,” Tobas agreed immediately.
“I should turn you over to the slavers now, you know; that’s the penalty for vagrancy. Even a foreigner should know that.”
“But I just dozed off! I wasn’t really sleeping here!” Tobas spoke before the significance of that “foreigner” could sink in.
“All right, boy, I said I should, not that I will. You can go, but I’ll keep an eye on you, and you better be telling the truth about waiting for a recruiter.”
Tobas nodded desperately, praying that the man hadn’t recognized his Pirate Town accent. The soldier seemed satisfied. He stepped back and allowed the Freelander to get to his feet.
Beyond the soldier, Tobas could see that the sky was gray with the approaching dawn and that already a few men, and one woman, the princess he had seen almost two days before, were standing here and there about the square, waiting for potential customers. Eager to be rid of the soldier, Tobas headed directly for the nearest, a middle-aged man in green-dyed deerskin.