Thread Slivers (Golden Threads Trilogy), page 4
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.
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 likely achievement of Journeyman 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 very 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 fine 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.
Looking at himself in the mirror, he shook his head. He was marginally above average height at five feet, eleven inches. 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 fell to just past his shoulders. Putting the brush down, he stripped off his clothes and threw all of them in the trash basket. Looking back 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 actually 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 fully, placing the empty vial and cap in a special basket on the desk for just such items. The warmth spread through his system quickly. He watched as the wound on his arm slowly closed, still bubbling slightly. 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 the other armoire revealed two cross-sections of clothes hanging on bars, with another set of four drawers on the bottom, as well as another full-length silver mirror. He examined the clothes and selected a sea-blue shirt, matching loose trousers, and a fine sleeveless doublet of grey silk, with silver cording that would show off the shirt’s pleated sleeves. To this he added riding boots which had never seen a horse — or a dirty road, for that matter. Pulling down the samite and ermine cloak, he put it on and admired the results in the mirror.
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? he wondered again. 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 paying attention to fashion. By dressing with clear fashion sense, he had managed to find a means to attract some attention from the ladies. Of course now it was more than a means to attract the ladies. He truly loved his clothes, and was immensely proud of his fashion sense. In fact he had broken up with his last girlfriend because, in spite of her amazing beauty, she refused to dress well in private, which drove Lebuin crazy. I really wished she wouldn’t just wear those frumpy old clothes at home all the time.
He added a complementary blue ribbon to tie his hair back and nodded to himself in the mirror, satisfied. It’s silly for journeymen to gift the Guild with a token that is never used. Traditions can be so silly; it is a wonder we continue to uphold them. Still, reaching to the top cabinet he took out the crude artifact that he had selected long ago to be his token, when he had learned that all journeymen gift a trinket of their own making to the Guild. He hadn’t given it a second thought since. 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 so that the crystal glowed slightly, making it very beautiful at night. Putting the glowing ship into his pouch, he closed the doors and carefully relocked them.
He walked to the library slowly and 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.
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 now the very last test he would ever have to take was over. From now on he was a Journeyman Magus, able to choose his own work, able to set his own path, under the direction of no one except 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 all 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 back and forth between warming and cooling as needed; strengthening the dirt repellent to the point that the protected cloth would remain sterile; and causing 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, fresh fruit, and a full loaf of bread. Also, bring me 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 very sarcastic greeting.
Lebuin laughed and gestured at the adjacent chair. “Hello, Finnba. Sit down.”
Finnba said mockingly, “Am I now only an apprentice to be ordered around, SIR Magus Lebuin?” He plopped down in the indicated 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 me, 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 this very Guildhouse. He visited, and was visited, by his large family but although he loved his father and siblings, he only ever felt at home here 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 very start. These people usually became great wizards. As one of these 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 kids alone. He recalled that many of the other kids 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 of his emotions and powers to be moved in amongst the normal students, he was shunned by his peers. He had mostly 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 Journeyman 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 actually 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. Thankfully, the teachers rotated so much that he didn’t actually repeat anything specifically. In fact he was grateful for the restart, because it gave him the knowledge that there were in fact numerous points of view to magic. I liked the repeat lessons — they were not boring because the different 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. Of course, it would add three years to the training time.
“Is Magus Cune really so smashed up 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 before it stopped.”
“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 totally 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 a bottle of sharre already opened. The food was set on the table between the two magicians, and the wine was poured. Lebuin barely noticed, but did start eating as he related to Finnba the events and Magus Andros’s comments.
After the story, and when, 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 fully. “Don’t blow it too far out of proportion. I still have to deal with Magus Cune for many, 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.” With that he stepped out of the nook.
Hunger satisfied and mind clear from the talk, Lebuin considered what to do next. He stood and stretched. He needed to do something while waiting for the council’s decision. He walked over to the window and looked out on the south street. Leaning comfortably against the sill, he slowly drank from his still full glass of sharre and watched the people two stories below moving back and forth on the road. It was interesting to imagine what each person was like, what they did, and what they might be up to, although it wasn’t hard as most were sailors, workers or peasants.
Lebuin was just about to go to his room when he noticed a rather graceful lady walking down the street past the Guild. What really caught his eye was the smooth flow of her calf-length cloak, with its rust colored, fur-trimmed collar matched perfectly to the dusky, almost black-red cloth. The hood pulled fully over her head was of the same material, but lined with a dark grey fur which set off the entire look. It was an unexpectedly elegant but functional cloak. Safely out of her line of sight, he watched her moving past, enjoying the flow of her movements and the shifting of the cloak. She wasn’t someone he had seen before, he was sure of that. That flowing movement was very unique, especially in this city of hard-walking, jostling dock workers and merchants.
Just as she was directly across the street from him, passing the narrow alley, someone hidden in the shadows grabbed her violently and threw her to the ground, out of the light. Lebuin yelped in surprise and stood up to get a better view. In the near-perfect darkness he couldn’t see the assailant or the lady. He immediately, almost unconsciously, invoked another long-practiced incantation to enhance night vision. His vision instantly became far better than an owl’s and sharper than a hawk’s. Everything about the scene below became crisp and clear.
The lady was totally helpless, face down four feet into the alley. The man attacking her was kneeling on her back with one knee, his other leg braced to hold her in place. He had her right arm twisted cruelly up and behind, being held by both his arm and knee. The attacker pulled a glass vial from a pouch and was concentrating on opening the stopper with his thumb and forefinger. Something else bothered Lebuin; his vision slid from the man’s cloak, and the cloak itself appeared to merge with the dark shadows on the pavement making it impossible to tell where the cloak stopped and the shadow began, even with his enhanced vision. This was not an ordinary mugger or rapist.
Lebuin was preparing one of the few offensive incantations he knew when the totally unexpected happened. The lady bent herself backwards, practically in half, kicking the assailant off of her back. Lebuin was so shocked all he could do was stand and stare with his mouth open like a fresh-faced school boy. Her attacker, caught off-guard, landed badly in a heap, his cloak making half of his body seem to be missing as if he was some kind of creature crawling out of the shadows themselves.
Lebuin stared dumbfounded, incantation totally forgotten, as the lady continued the back-folding motion completely over her head. She pushed off with her free hand, snapping over to end up standing in an attack posture facing the villain. Her cloak spread out behind her from the motion like some silly romantic bard’s tale. The villain started to stand, the effect not unlike a demon dragging itself into reality from the shadows. The lady, unfazed, took a step towards him and then jumped sideways directly over him. As she passed over him she caught him in a neck hold, braced by her other arm, which must have been screaming in pain from the abuse it had just endured. Her weight, motion, and hold did their job efficiently, obviously breaking the man’s neck.
She stood over the body for a moment and then grabbed it by the boots and dragged it further into the alley. Lebuin was still trying to come to grips with a brutal attack being turned totally on end by this amazing woman. She efficiently stripped him of a belt, a pouch, and for some reason even his boots. However, she left the cloak. She then moved back to the alley entrance and glanced nervously around. With no one really looking, she stepped back onto the main street. She pulled her hood — now soiled with alley grime — back up to cover her dirty elegant oval face and continued walking in the direction of the docks.
Lebuin watched her go and then looked back at the body in the alleyway to confirm what he’d just seen. There was a pouch still on the body and it was smoking. Within moments the body was completely consumed in a strange green fire that didn’t burn up so much as in. A minute later both fire and body were gone. All that remained was the cloak and a black charred spot on the alley floor in the shape of a body. The cloak still faded into the shadows. If it wasn’t for the impossible shadow it caused it would have been totally invisible.
Lebuin glanced around; he was still alone in his safe library nook. He reached up and unlatched the window. Cautiously swinging it open so as to not make noise, he cast another incantation. He watched the street, picking a moment when no one was looking, and then reached his mind out to that cloak. With a perceptible reluctance the shadows released their cousin and the cloak flew rapidly to the open window and his waiting hand. Once he had it in his hand he let it dangle loosely outside the window as he extended his incantation for dust and dirt repellence to it. Ashes, dirt, and slime fell from it to the grounds below. Once it was clean, Lebuin pulled it inside and closed the window. In the library light it was a very fine, dark-gray silk cloak with a hood. Lebuin looked it over closely and smiled. He even liked the color. Folding the cloak into a neat packet, he started back towards his room.
