Chapter 31: In Which Big Hopes Die Hard

It was one of the hottest days in the year. The windows were all welcomingly open, but no breeze was attracted into the Grand Master's study. The air was moist and heavy making everything feel dirty and clammy. Auran city was as flat as a board and the wind that came from the sea was blocked by the buildings. Only the sea's humidity was what was left when the sea-air passed through the entire city and reached the palace.

Sighing, Marning wiped the sweat from his forehead with his already moist handkerchief.

Shwort bustled in looking miraculously refreshed, tidy and dry; apparently the summer weather was too impractical to affect practical people. "Grand Master, Prince Joaquin is here to see you."

Marning straightened in his seat as his eyebrows shot up. It was a rare occasion indeed for the prince to have anything to say to the Grand Master, even more so without a prior appointment. He surveyed the mess on his desk, piles upon piles of everything that represented a magician: scrolls, papers, books, broken pens and quills, candle stubs – and that was not to speak of the ink stains everywhere. The mess was comfortable, for Marning knew more or less where everything was and it made his large and slightly foreboding study just a little cosier.

But it wasn't very accommodating when you wished to make a royal impression. He would have much preferred to see the prince in his audience chamber. Though now that couldn't be helped. He shook his head at the mess on his desk, which duly disappeared with very little ceremony, leaving his large mahogany desk completely bare.

No, that wasn't right either. A pile of papers reappeared, along with a pen and a couple of books. He opened one of the books in the middle and scattered the papers in front of him before he smiled at Shwort. "All right, call him in."

Shwort bowed and, moving in his erect, swift and silent way, vanished from the room. A moment later Prince Joaquin appeared, and the Grand Master rose to his feet. The boy – a boy to Marning, Joaquin was in his thirties – had his father's blue eyes and his father's mane of untameable thick curly hair. But there the resemblance between the prince and his father ended. If Daphour was The Bull then Joaquin was perhaps The Beetle. He was a gentle and timid man with very little charisma and even less backbone. Despite his father's heavy hand and constant attempts to make a proper man out of the prince, he remained as gentle and as kind as an old maid.

It was not that kind-heartedness and gentleness were bad qualities in a ruler; it only served as a problem when those were the only qualities. That was why even though Joaquin's sudden marriage had been an unpleasant surprise to Daphour, the King had come to accept it, if only because such a move had proven that Joaquin owned a cunning brain.

Marning bowed at him and he returned a bow to the Grand Master, a polite smile on his face. He was looking as thin as a magician after months of study and his face was pale with large shadows underneath his eyes.

"Your Highness." The Grand Master gestured toward one of the high-backed chairs across from his desk. "Please, have a seat. If you don't mind me saying, you look dreadful."

"That wouldn't be surprising," the prince said, taking a seat, "I feel dreadful."

"How is Lady Pergam? I hear she's taken ill again." Marning had particular interest in the prince's wife. Although he couldn't be sure, if she was actually a Wielder whatever disease she had couldn't be normal.

"That's precisely why I've come to see you, Grand Master," the prince said, his face looking drawn. "Angelique has never been ill before. She's a very strong girl."

Marning rubbed his chin, fixing Joaquin with a hard stare. "In that case, after her brother's death..." He hesitated, wondering, not for the first time, how much information Angelique shared with her royal husband. "She had not been ill?"

"She had been given daily doses of poison. Lady Orinda took the guise of a concerned friend at the King's bidding and tended Angelique in her grief."

"And thus Lady Orinda unwittingly found her death," Marning said. Cooper had always said that it was dangerous that female Wielders barely received recognition and could never become magicians. Afraid to be discriminated against, wishing to blend into society, Angelique had buried her gods-given gift.

"Grand Master," the prince looked distressed, "she is dying. She keeps fighting, but her strength is waning."

"I will arrange for someone to look in on her." Even if the Grand Master had an abundance of time, which he certainly didn't with the Tournament so near, it would be best to send someone who specialises in medicine and healing magic.

"It has to be you; it has to be kept secret."

The Grand Master grunted, why was it that thinking about this issue made an unpleasant sensation run up his spine? Somehow, he couldn't even bring himself to ask about the prince's son. "I will come tomorrow, then," he said after a moment's silence. "I will bring my apprentices with me. You can trust them, they will keep her secret."

The Prince nodded, his gaze travelling to the floor – were those tears gleaming in his eyes? "She doesn't deserve this," he muttered, "she's been through too much."

"Prince Joaquin," Marning said sternly, it was hard for any adult to see a grown boy behave so childishly, "you are the Crown Prince, you must hold your head high. She doesn't need your pity."

Joaquin rose to his feet, his face becoming instantly blank and bowed to the Grand Master. "Thank you for your help, I will look forward to seeing you tomorrow."

He looked as if he would storm out, though there was no anger in his walk and he closed the door gently behind him. Marning swatted the air in front of his nose, bringing back the mess to occupy his desk. He rubbed his face with both his hands and sighed deeply. He was far too troubled already to be able to wrap his mind around yet another pressing issue. Why did a young Wielder's illness feel like a national crisis?

Why did this have to happen now when there were other, worse, more serious matters at hand? He sneaked a glance at the clock on the wall; it would soon be time for his lesson with Rat. He still believed in the boy's talent; it was greater than any other he could find.

But it wasn't enough.

Rat wasn't quite the same as his father. He was too much a boy, too much a person, not enough a magician. The Grand Master had begun doubting himself – would he really be able to make Rat into a War-Magician?

With a knot in his stomach and heavy limbs, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, he rose and left his study.

***

They practiced outside on days like these in the palace guard's practice arena near the barracks. The guards who were off-duty would gather on the outside of fence and watch. Marning did not mind making Rat the guards' afternoon entertainment. The boy had managed somehow to make friends and develop admirers among the guards, and this public appearance also taught him to exercise control over his magic. But there had been times when the Grand Master wished that there were fewer witnesses to these sessions. It was outright embarrassing to have so many people see their quarrels. Rat had matured somewhat over time, though there were still days when something or another would trigger the boy's blazing temper.

Rat was late in arriving. His face was pale and his eyes were baggy as if he had not had enough sleep. One look at him was enough to know that today would provide the royal guard with the not-so-magical type of entertainment.

"Good afternoon, Rat," Marning said. Normally, he would scold him for being late, but the darkness of Rat's mood flowed off him in shadowy waves, making the bright summer afternoon seem gloomy.

Rat said nothing; he lifted his chin up and regarded Marning with cold brown eyes. The Grand Master cleared his throat. "Well now, if you are ready, I will summon your opponent."

"I'll do it," Rat said quietly, his voice unnervingly dangerous.

"If you won't be properly challenged," The Grand Master said sharply. "You will never be ready for a true duel."

"I can challenge myself," he replied crossly. There was raging fire in the boy's gaze – Marning frowned, what on earth happened to make him this way?

"I think it would be best if today you practiced control over your emotions.," the Grand Master said. "As you are now, you will show them weakness. They might succeed in stealing your life."

Rat said nothing in reply; he merely stepped into the centre of the practice arena and stamped his foot on the soft dirt before jumping back. A complicated diagram appeared on the ground in glowing red, the lines shifting about until they formed the correct runes, capturing and summoning the opponent.

A red-skinned Creature rose out of the ground. It was not particularly impressive nor particularly beautiful. It had eight filmy pink wings and two tooth-filled mouths. Its four legs were made entirely of long sharp claws and it had no tail.

The large Creatures seemed rather frightening, but in truth, they were often slow and weak in magic, often easier to defeat. This one blinked two intelligent beady brown eyes at Rat, tilting it's horned head to the side to examine him.

"What are you?" it asked in a voice that was like the hissing of a flame.

Rat said nothing and struck out at the Creature from behind. He used the sky as a mirror for his spell, attacking from an angle that should have been surprising, but wasn't enough. The Creature was faster to react than any human could be, as if it were expecting such violence in reply to its question. The spell ran right through it as if it were not actually there, and headed toward the boy. Rat beat it into the ground, sending up a cloud of dust that hid him form sight.

When the dust settled, Rat was gone. The Creature spread its many wings and rose into the air, its brown eyes looking disinterestedly at its new surroundings. But something unseen hit its side, sending it back to the ground. It rolled in the dust and quickly stood again. It opened its mouth, sprouting out a red flame. Rat flashed back into sight, landing on the ground in time to avoid the flame.

"You hide the golden threads of your life well," the Creature said, sounding thoughtful. "What are you?" it asked again. Rat did not pause to reply; he leapt aside, catching hold of the Creature's shadow and jumping into it.

The creature rose into the air, detaching itself from its shadow that took another form entirely. A long and slender form, less reptile-like, more human like. The red creature winked out of sight, leaving only the peculiar shadow on the arena.

For a long moment, nothing happened. The shadow remained dark and unmoving. Marning started forward, his heart in his throat. There had been many close calls before, but the better Rat became, the more dangerous his opponents were. The guards who were watching from over the fence all rose to their feet and craned their necks trying to see what the Grand Master would do next.

A small creature with thin gold skin suddenly materialised at the edge of the shadow. It had extremely long limbs compared to the size of its body and its head consisted mostly of its two large brown eyes. "Ate him," it said with nonchalant triumph. It spoke through a small round black hole that opened and closed between its eyes. It looked at the sun, its brown eyes bored. "Yum."

The Creatures of the mountains had so many shapes and tendencies that it was impossible to name them all. Almost all of them were dangerous to mankind, almost all of them preferred to dine on Wielders. Because of their attraction to magic – and their ability to use it – it was a simple matter to summon them. Though it was always a dangerous gamble, there was no way of knowing what Creature would arrive.

Marning's face was grim as he stepped forward to face the Creature.

An arm suddenly burst out from the creature's torso. The arm was almost as large as the creature's entire body. Rat's hand felt about the ground, his fingers searching for something to hold onto. When he could find nothing but dirt, a foot and then a leg burst out from between the creature's eyes where its small mouth had been. Rat's leg swung about and kicked the air until the creature couldn't hold its weight any longer and toppled to the side. The arm pulled and the leg pushed, dragging the creature's face across the dirt until the thing reached the fence, the guards who had been laughing and hooting backed away at once. The hand caught hold of the fence and began pulling. Slowly, slowly, Rat's shoulder appeared, followed by his head, his other shoulder and arm, his chest, his stomach, until all of Rat managed to struggle out from within the little Creature.

– that stood whole and undamaged, regarding the boy with emotionless eyes. Rat's eyes were equally empty. They looked at the Creature for a moment and then moved to the Creature's shadow that remained as it was at the centre of the arena.

Marning slapped his forehead. It had taken some of Rat's life and was hiding it in its shadow.

Rat and the Creature stared at one another for a long while, neither moving a muscle.

Then, at the same instant, the creature and Rat both blinked out of sight and materialised over the shadow that suddenly shrank to the size of an ant.

Rat grasped the creature by the throat with one hand and scooped up its shadow in the other, popping it into his mouth and swallowing.

The creature melted into golden-brown paste, Rat yelped and jumped back, holding out his left hand as large purple welts appeared on the skin. When the Creature began to reassemble itself, Marning stepped forward, banishing it to the mountains once more.

The boy fought back tears of pain as he stared at his burnt hand, his face growing deathly pale while he concentrated on cooling down the welts. Marning leaned forward, passing his palm back and forth over Rat's left hand.

"You foolish boy. Do you call that magic?" The welts slowly began to subside. Rat was unmistakably green now; it was remarkable that he was still standing. "Heaven and earth, what were you thinking? Do you jump into every shadow you see?"

Rat let go of his wrist in order to clasp his hand over his mouth to stop himself from vomiting. That creature's shadow that he swallowed was sure to give him indigestion and an even worse mood, but Marning couldn't let what happened pass by quietly.

"You're not enough of a magician, boy," the Grand Master continued. "You put too much trust in your body and not enough in magic. If you keep this up, you won't have much of a body left by the Tournament."

"Oh, come off it old man," the boy croaked hoarsely. "I had it under control."

"Control?! Is that what you call control?"

"I haven't seen you defeating any monsters lately," he breathed out poisonously, his green face becoming slightly pink with anger. Marning looked at him and said nothing. Rat pulled his hand away from the Grand Master glaring furiously at him.

"I'm doing the best I can," he yelled, "but it's never good enough. You're always scolding me, always telling me off, always dissatisfied. Well, why don't you try to teach me something for a change? Or can't you?"

Marning continued to stare. "Calm yourself boy, do you want to scar your hand?"

"I can heal it myself," he snapped.

"Rat," the Grand Master said patiently.

"I've always wondered," Rat cut him off furiously, "if you're so high and mighty, why don't you compete in the Tournament yourself? Weren't you Cooper's teacher too? How could he have been so great and you so worthless?"

"Rat," Marning said calmly.

"No, I've really had it this time," he bellowed, "I've had it with this place, I've had it with War magic. I've been chasing my own tail for two years already, and it's proven nothing!" he kicked up dirt in his anger.

"Rat, calm down," Marning said quietly.

"Don't tell me to calm down!" he cried. "You can't tell me what to do. Not after you sacrifice me for this Tournament, not after you work me to the bone but always stand behind me, breathing down my neck with that frowning face as if the world is about to end."

"Rat," Marning said, unable to meet the boy's eyes. He felt unbearably old, as if his life's length suddenly had real substance and was resting against his spine

The boy's face was crimson now, his veins bulging in his neck. The afternoon became dark and chilly as magic sizzled in the air. No one wanted to be near a powerful Wielder in such a dangerous mood; even the guards had quietly backed away, preferring their safety over juicy entertainment. "You don't have to pretend," his voice was now frightfully quiet. "You're fooling no one. I know that you're worried that you were wrong about – "

"You're right," Marning cut him off. "I can't teach you what I myself cannot do," he said softly, "I'm a fraud, an imposter, a fake teacher. I have taught nothing to my most important pupil. Cooper came to me young, but he already seemed to know it all."

When Marning gazed at the boy, he was occupied with looking at his burnt hand and seemed strangely embarrassed. "You will just have to be your own teacher," he said. "You will just have to teach yourself to be as great as your father."

"He isn't my father," Rat replied automatically, his voice lacking conviction. He continued looking at his hand before he turned on his heel and stormed away. The argument had lost its fuel, but it had not yet been resolved. Nevertheless, Marning was wise enough not to follow the boy.

Or maybe, as absurd as it was, he was ashamed to face him. He shoved back that thought with a heavy sigh.