Chapter 3

On one hand, the boarding house was the best place Gennady had ever lived.

The food was good—and plentiful. He shared a room with three other boys, but there was more room—private room—for himself than ever before. There were no drunkards waving their fists as they crashed through the rooms, no savage beatings for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time ... in many ways, it was perfect. He never wanted to leave.

But, on the other hand, it was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

Gennady had never learnt to read, let alone write. The thought of learning to write so he could send letters to Primrose had died when he’d realised she couldn’t read either. He’d never thought he might be ignorant until he’d left the village, seen a far wider world and discovered—too late—that he was woefully unprepared. The villagers hadn’t prepared him for studying reading and writing, let alone magic. Even the more complex forms of arithmetic were beyond him.

It didn’t take him long to discover just how far behind he truly was. Lady Flower and her staff were patient, but Gennady rapidly grew frustrated as they helped him work his way through hundreds of exercises in the hopes some of it would stick. He’d always had a good memory—he’d needed one, as he’d never been able to write anything down—yet it wasn’t good enough. Other students came and went, but Gennady felt as if he wasn’t getting anywhere. The frustration burnt at his mind as he memorised thousands of letters and sigils, remembering what each one meant without being able to modify them to suit himself. He could—and he did—learn by rote, but it proved impossible to make the jump to actually understand what he was being taught.

He was tempted, more than he cared to admit, to simply run away. It wouldn’t be hard to leave. The boarding house wasn’t a prison. He’d spent enough time exploring Dragon’s Den to be sure he could get out of town if he wished. But where would he go? The magic pulsed within him—Lady Flower had taught him a handful of exercises to control it—but he didn’t know how to use it. Not yet. He couldn’t go home until he did. Primrose would reject him if he wasn’t a sorcerer. And Hogarth and his cronies would kill him. Gennady still had nightmares about their last meeting.

“I just don’t understand,” he confessed, after two months in the boarding house. “It just doesn’t make sense!”

“You’re lacking the basics,” Lady Flower said, calmly. “And until you master those, you can’t jump ahead.”

Gennady looked at the walls. There were a handful of ancient textbooks on the shelves, each packed with knowledge ... knowledge he couldn’t access because he couldn’t read. His own journal was empty, mocking him. He could copy a paragraph word for word, like a common scribe, reproducing the words without actually being able to comprehend it. It was frustrating as hell. He knew it was just a matter of time before he got kicked out, yet ... it just refused to click.

“I don’t know,” he said. He stared at her, wildly. “Is there no way to teach me through magic?”

Lady Flower’s lips thinned. Gennady felt his heart sink. He’d seen that expression before and it always meant trouble. Lady Flower had no qualms about smacking his hands or his arse with a ruler, if she felt he was being deliberately thick-headed or malicious. The other students whined and moaned about it, as if it was the worst thing in the world ... Gennady knew, better than any of them, that there were worse things. His body was so used to pain he could shrug off something that would leave his fellows crying like babies and begging for mercy. It wasn’t something he intended to tell them.

“Not in the sense you mean,” she said, finally. “Yes, I could cast compulsion spells to make you learn. But they wouldn’t really make you absorb the knowledge. And ... there are potions that are supposed to improve your wits or sharpen your memory ...”

“They sound ideal,” Gennady said, wistfully.

“You’re not stupid,” Lady Flower told him. “You have a very good memory. Your problem is a lack of comprehension. There’s no magic I can do to aid with that.”

Gennady looked down at his slate. The words mocked him. He knew what they were supposed to say, but ... he didn’t, not really. The words had meaning, yet ... collectively, they had a different meaning. He felt his heart sink, once again, as he parsed them one by one. They seemed to contradict each other.

“You know what the words mean,” Lady Flower said. “You just have to learn to put them together.”

She stood, leaving Gennady to his work. He barely noticed when she left. He was too busy trying to parse the sentences. The writing was as crisp and clear as he could have hoped, yet understanding was denied him. He felt his head pound as the dinner bell rang. They wouldn’t let him stay forever, not if he couldn’t learn to read and write. They’d kick him out, and then ... and then what? He’d been too frightened to ask.

He forced himself to put the slate aside and walk to the dining room. The cook was a pleasant woman, yet ... he found it hard to like her. She was massively overweight, a sign she was eating more than her fair share of food. He knew, intellectually, that the cook wasn’t stealing from the rest of the household, but it was hard to believe. She ladled out a huge bowl of stew and potatoes, made a comment he barely heard and pointed him at a chair. Gennady ate slowly, trying to think. His headache was growing worse.

It makes no sense, he thought, desperately. His thoughts ran in circles. It just makes no sense.

He caught sight of his own reflection as he finished his meal and stood to pass the tray back to the cook. He looked ... better, he supposed, but still out of place. They’d given him new clothes and trimmed his hair and yet ... his ankle twanged in pain, a dull reminder that they hadn’t bothered to do anything about his clubfoot. It was hard not to resent it, not when he knew he was stronger than any of the other boarders. He’d been comparing himself to Hogarth and his fellows for so long, it had never occurred to him that he might be stronger than a city dweller. It was just a shame that his fellow boarders had magic too.

The thought mocked him as he donned his robe and headed downstairs to the door. The afternoons were put aside for free study, but he’d been told he could walk and clear his head if he wanted. He’d enjoyed exploring the town, once he’d figured out how to move around without getting lost. The town—it was hard to believe there were larger cities out there—was fun, even if one didn’t have money. And yet ... he was alone. He wasn’t part of the city’s population.

And not a student magician, not yet, he mused, as he walked through the muddy street. He’d been cautioned not to walk too close to the buildings. The locals had a habit of throwing the contents of their chamberpots out the windows and anyone unlucky enough to get drenched would be laughed at by everyone else. Where do I belong?

He felt a stab of pain as he spotted a handful of chattering student magicians heading towards the brothel. He wasn’t one of them, not yet. He was careful to give them a wide berth, remembering the horror stories the boarders had shared about pranks played by students on unsuspecting—and defenseless—townsfolk. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Magicians might turn people into frogs rather than beating them up, he thought, but the principle was the same. The strong picked on the weak, who had to grin and bear it. He promised himself, once again, that he’d be one of the strong. The magic pulsed within him, reminding him that he had yet to learn. He needed to understand what he was doing.

I need to find a shortcut, he thought. But how?

The wind changed, blowing an icy gust into his face. Gennady set himself against it and kept walking, even as the streets rapidly cleared. The weather was dangerously unpredictable this close to the magic school, although no one understood why. Gennady suspected the magicians were doing it deliberately, constantly reminding the townsfolk that they could wipe the entire town off the map if they stepped out of line. Bullies always bullied, just to ensure their victims never lost their fear. Weakness invited attack. His fists clenched at the thought. He’d never be weak again.

He turned and made his way back to the boarding house as the temperature continued to fall. He was used to cold, but ... he knew to take winter seriously, even though it was supposed to be early summer. A pair of giggling girls ran past him, one sporting a third eye on her forehead. A prank? Or something she’d done to herself? He didn’t know. Another girl followed, shouting words Primrose would never say. Gennady got out of her way fast. The local women were different and many of them had magic. They had different ideas of how they should behave.

Hogarth wouldn’t last a day here, Gennady thought, as he passed the brothel and walked back into the boarding house. He’d be blasted to smithereens or turned into a snail and crushed within the day.

“Gennady,” Lilly said. The secretary gave him a cold look. “Report to Master Hathaway. He has something for you.”

“Yes, My Lady,” Gennady said. Lilly was at the bottom of the hierarchy, in the boarding house, but he’d always been afraid of her. “Did he say what?”

“No.” Lilly shrugged. “But I’d hurry if I were you.”

Gennady nodded, took off his coat and rushed up the stairs. It wasn’t fair. Master Hathaway hadn’t toldGennady he’d be coming, had he? No, he hadn’t. And yet, Gennady was going to get the blame. He was sure of it. He’d probably been meant to stay in the bedroom or the classroom and wait, even though he’d had no reason to think anyone was coming. It just wasn’t fair.

Master Hathaway looked up as Gennady entered his office, then nodded curtly. He was a tall dark-skinned man, the darkest person Gennady had ever seen. There were quite a few townsfolk who didn’t look anything like Gennady himself, but ... Master Hathaway was the strangest human. The demihumans were even stranger. Gennady had never even heard of a gorgon until he came face to face with a man who had snakes for hair.

“Lady Flower informs me that you are having problems translating your understanding of the words into understanding of complete sentences,” Master Hathaway said. “Is that correct?”

“Yes, My Lord.” Gennady shivered. This was it. He was going to be booted out of the house and sent home in disgrace. “I just can’t put them together.”

“Some people are better at abstract reasoning than practical stuff,” Master Hathaway said. He didn’t sound angry. “Others are more inclined towards practical matters. Your upbringing may lead you to be one of them. I’ve often found your people to be ruthlessly practical.”

“No one is greater than the all,” Gennady quoted, bitterly. It was an old folk saying, one that would have meant more to him if he hadn’t been on the receiving end too many times. It was funny how people had no difficulty suggesting that someone else be selfless, while reserving the right to be selfish themselves. “I don’t want to go home.”

“I quite understand.” Master Hathaway pointed to a chair. “Bring that over here, then sit down.”

Gennady obeyed, watching numbly as Master Hathaway produced a set of tiles and placed them on the desk. “Your problem is that you don’t see a connection between what you read and what it means. Don’t take it too personally. I had the same problem myself. You don’t see meaning and thus you don’t see the pattern behind it.”

“Yes, My Lord.” Gennady hesitated, unsure what he was being told. “How did you overcome it?”

“I learnt the meaning,” Master Hathaway said. He shuffled the tiles, then smiled. “Let’s see how well you do now.”

The exercise seemed foolish at first, Gennady discovered. It was hard to pretend, in many ways, that the tiles really were what they represented. His upbringing didn’t leave much room for flights of fancy, let alone imagination. And yet, as it clicked, he found himself finally seeing the pattern behind the letters and words. The sentences might be cumbersome—Master Hathaway pointed out that sorcerers rarely used one word where ten would do—but they made sense. And the more he worked on it, the more sense they made.

He found himself smiling as the dinner bell rang, again. He’d been so occupied with his work that he hadn’t realised how quickly time was passing. Normally, it dragged. Now ... his smile grew wider as he contemplated the books on the shelves. Their secrets were within his grasp, now and forever. He could unlock them at will.

“You did well,” Master Hathaway said. “Would you like a reward?”

Gennady blinked. A reward? He’d never had a reward before, not even when he’d picked more mushrooms than anyone else. Punishments, sure. Rewards ... a flicker of suspicion shot through his mind. A reward might be a punishment in disguise or ... or simply snatched away, the moment the giver regretted giving. He was scared to clutch at the promise, fearing that it might be a trap ...

“Yes, My Lord,” he said, carefully.

Master Hathaway smiled. “I’m going to teach you a very basic spell,” he said. “Watch and learn.”

He held up a hand and muttered a handful of words under his breath. Gennady sensed a flicker of magic—and his own magic, responding to it—as a surge of ... something flashed past him. The walls lit up with an eerie shimmering light, which faded into the background, leaving only a handful of ... he swallowed as he turned to see glowing light pulsing around the doorknobs. The magic called to him, but—at the same time—it pushed him away. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“It’s beautiful,” he breathed. “What is it?”

“It’s a spell to detect magic,” Master Hathaway said. The remaining glows faded into nothingness. “You will learn to sense magic, as time goes on, but ... you may find it useful to be able to spot magic without walking into the field and getting stung. It’s quite easy to hide a transfiguration hex on a floor, keyed to trigger when someone puts their foot on it. By the time they sense the magic, it’s too late.”

Gennady swallowed, hard. “That happens?”

“Students practice their magic on each other,” Master Hathaway said, dryly. “You know what they do here? People enchanted? People humiliated? It’s worse in school. Believe me, students are jockeying for position all the time. You’ll have to fight to maintain your boundaries if you want to get anywhere in life. Believe me ...”

“I believe you,” Gennady said. “Teach me the spell.”

“Yes, My Lord,” Master Hathaway said, with heavy sarcasm. “Right away, My Lord.”

Gennady flushed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do that to the tutors at school or you won’t be sitting comfortably for years,” Master Hathaway said, dryly. “Listen carefully.”

Gennady listened, mouthing the words as he sensed the magic building and shaping itself around them. The glow flared up, then faded away before he could make out the spells surrounding the room. He knew where they were, but he couldn’t tell what they were. One of them was probably designed to keep intruders out. The others ... he couldn’t tell. They were just ... there.

“We’ll be covering how to take spells apart to study later,” Master Hathaway said. He was watching Gennady’s spellcasting with some amusement. “It’s a rare magician who can untangle and rewrite spells on the fly.”

Gennady cast the spell again and again, grinning to himself as the walls glowed with light. It was a pointless light show, yet ... it was his. He was casting the spell. It was his spell, his magic, his ... his everything. Power bubbled around him, through him. It was all his.

“Don’t work yourself too hard,” Master Hathaway advised. The bell rang again, louder this time. “Go eat. Stuff yourself. Tell the cook to give you an extra portion if you need it. And then go straight to bed. I want you here bright and early tomorrow morning.”

Gennady stood and bowed. He’d done it. He’d learnt how to read! He knew ... he knew it wouldn’t be easy, even now, but he’d taken a first step towards becoming a powerful magician. He smiled as he headed out the door, his power crackling around him. His head started to hurt, again, but he ignored it. He had power. For the first time in his life, he had power. Real power. No one would ever be able to humiliate him again. He’d be a man of significance when he returned home. He had power ...

And he loved it.

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