The Young Magician

CHAPTER THREE

The stables of the Burning Oak were as clean and organised as his uncle’s were dirty and disorderly. The floor was spotlessly clean and the half-dozen horses stabled there were all well bred, with fine posture and gleaming coats-not like the ragged nags he had always groomed before. Beside the entrance, he found a small room with a proper bed and a shelf above it and a chest for keeping his belongings in. The drawers were all hanging out as if the last stableboy had left in an almighty hurry, with one stocking still lying on the floor. The room had a door he could close and was not at all draughty like the stall his uncle had given him-it was like a real room.

Samuel was putting his new clothes carefully into the drawers when a knock came at the door and Mr Kelvin entered, his hands clasped together in front of him.

‘Please forgive me for seeming a little absent-minded at times,’ he said, smiling down, ‘I do have a lot on my mind at the moment. What is your name, young man?’

‘Samuel, Sir.’

‘Very well, Samuel. Breakfast is served at seven, lunch at noon and dinner at seven. Yours will be given to you at the kitchen door and you should bring it back to your room to finish. Our guests demand the highest privacy and so you should not bother them in the slightest. You may not wander around inside the inn, but you are free to roam the gardens as you choose. Also, you strictly cannot leave the grounds without my approval and most important of all-should you learn or see anything that could be considered…well, let’s say, should you learn or see anything at all, you should not speak of it to anyone. Is that understood?’

‘Yes, Mr Kelvin,’ Samuel responded with a gulp.

Mr Kelvin smiled then. ‘Excellent! Here is your first month’s pay in advance.’ And he handed Samuel his coins and promptly turned and left, leaving Samuel grinning into his palms with glee.

It took Samuel several days to adjust himself to his new environment, with the long-nosed and ever-brooding servant, Kans, helping him begrudgingly whenever he had a question. Samuel quickly learned the most surprising thing about the Burning Oak-everyone there wore entirely black clothes without exception and there were no women at all. Unlike the men of the town, very few of them sported beards or long hair, seeming to focus fastidiously on keeping themselves well groomed, having everything combed and tucked into place. Most came and went wearing an entirely black cloak that covered black shirt and black trousers, so that they looked very mysterious, and they spoke little, although they were usually polite and well spoken when he did manage to wrestle some words out of them. Samuel was instructed to leave them be and not to bother them, which he thought was fine, because the few times he had tried speaking with the men, they had stared at him intensely-as if there was some bizarre object growing from the side of his head. They would always say very little and then find some excuse to send him away again.

There was always much work to be done at the Burning Oak, yet Samuel found the experience very rewarding. He actually took pleasure in keeping the stable neat and the horses well groomed and fed. The guests of the inn came and went day and night, so that he was often woken at all hours. But they were always polite and patient with Samuel when he struggled with the saddles and harnesses, even helping him when he faltered, which was quite often at first, for many of these horses were tall-great mountains of muscle compared to the stubborn ponies he was used to.

Samuel was sometimes given time in the afternoons to do as he wished and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he found himself with more time than he knew what to do with. Kans, somehow knowing when he was scaling the walls or adventuring within the branches of a tree, would scurry out from the inn and tell him off, saying how such conduct was intolerable. Unruly behaviour was scowled upon by the inn and its guests and so Samuel was forbidden to make noise or do anything that might disturb their thoughts. For a boy such as he, this meant anything remotely enjoyable.

Samuel had found a small box of chalk hidden away in the back of the stable and he pushed a few short pieces into his pocket. That afternoon, he sat by the furthest wall in the garden and drew simple pictures with his chalk on the smooth paving stones at the wall’s base. He thought it such a harmless thing, as he could always rub the marks away with his sleeve, but he was always wary of the guests, lest he should somehow disturb them. He drew people and animals and beasts that he had heard of; battles and castles and rivers and moats. Finally, as the afternoon sun waned and his hands and sleeves were white with chalk, Samuel lay beside his drawings and looked up at the sky. He had not been allowed from the confines of the inn for all his time here so far. He could often hear wagons and people passing by just beyond the wall, and longed to be away from the quiet, strange, black-clothed men and experience the colours and smells and sights and sensations of the town and the market place. Most of all, he missed Jessicah and her reassurance. He did not have to fear a beating from his uncle here, but neither did he have any friends to talk with. Along with the boredom, he found himself feeling terribly lonely.

As his thoughts turned to Jessicah, Samuel sat up and began dragging his chalk once more across the stones. He was surprised to look down and find that he had scrawled some letters and decided to see what words he could remember. He wrote ball and boy and dog and bone. He wrote three whole columns of the words he could remember, and then he began on the numbers, progressing from one to twenty, before a voice called his name from afar, and Samuel was up, scuffing quickly at the markings with his feet before running back to the stable.

Another guest had arrived and Samuel was summoned to care for the horse he had arrived on. Kans came to help him check the animal over and the rest of the afternoon was taken up with a list of chores that Kans had produced from thin air. As Samuel swept and brushed and polished and tidied, he scowled at the pointy-nosed man from afar.

The months, at first slow, had been passing very quickly and Samuel now felt quite proficient at his job. He had found the perfect balance of busyness that kept Kans satisfied and also allowed Samuel free time to rest or do as he pleased. The guests often commented on his good work and he was pleased when they did so. Although he was now firmly set in a daily routine, something unusual began happening in the odd hours of the night. Samuel found himself often waking for no apparent reason. He would lie there, staring at the roof, unable to return to sleep for some time. Perhaps he was catching a cold. He had not been ill since leaving the filthy stall he had slept in at his uncle’s. This room was like a real room in a real house, all cosy and comfortable. It was the most pleasant room he could imagine, with a soft bed and drawers and everything he could want for. His life seemed ever-changing, but at last it was changing for the better.

Samuel was bursting with excitement when he was finally given an errand to run to the market. The cook at the Burning Oak was simply known as Cook, and she was chiefly responsible for ordering the food and wine to be consumed, but on this particular day, she had finished all her supplies of some particular spice, so Samuel had been sent to fetch some more. She had given him a note with exactly what to buy, and how much, so he could not possibly make any mistakes. He had been surprised, at first, to learn there was a woman in the Burning Oak, but then Samuel supposed that she was just a worker, the same as he was. She was actually quite friendly and very talkative, so Samuel found himself often lingering outside the kitchen door or helping her in the kitchen with the peeling and cutting of vegetables.

Naturally, upon being set free back into the town, Samuel went directly to his uncle’s inn and, peeping through the door, managed to get Jessicah’s attention. She nearly cried out with glee at seeing him and they dashed out into the street together while he told her all the news and what he had been up to.

‘How are Aunt and Uncle?’ Samuel asked at one point.

‘The same,’ she replied. ‘They were so angry the day you left. They had to pay ten crowns to those guards. It’s probably best you did go, because I’m sure Father would have thrown you out. But the next day, someone came in and gave my father a black eye. He thinks that you put someone up to it, somehow. Oh, I didn’t know what had happened to you, Samuel. I’m so glad to see you!’

He told her all about his new job and the strange people and the beautiful garden. After a time, he realised he had been away far too long and so he kissed her on the cheek and rushed off to find the merchant described on his note, promising to visit when he could. It was by no means enough time with Jessicah, but if he was tardy during his first time out from the Burning Oak, they would be far less likely to let him out again soon, so he hurried on with his errand as quickly as he could.

As he hastened back with the large jar of odorous spice firmly under one arm, Samuel was surprised to find Mr Joshua waiting for him on the side of Darmour Street. There was a boy with him that Samuel had played kick-ball with many times. His name was Fennian and he was a year or two younger than Samuel-a strangely quiet boy.

‘Hello, Samuel,’ Mr Joshua greeted him warmly. ‘I believe you know Fennian. He’s doing a bit of work for me now.’

‘Good morning, Mr Joshua,’ Samuel returned. ‘Hi, Fennian.’ The other boy raised his hand in greeting without any hint of interest.

‘How are your new employers treating you?’ Mr Joshua asked.

‘Wonderfully. Of course, there’s lots of work, but they treat me very well.’

‘Good…good,’ Mr Joshua mused. ‘So…can you tell me anything of interest?’

‘Only a few names, I’m sorry, Mr Joshua. I’m not allowed to talk to the men there and I’m not allowed inside the inn, either.’

‘Well, names will do for now, but you’ll have to give me something else eventually. Do you have a list?’

‘In my head,’ Samuel said slyly and Mr Joshua laughed. ‘Let’s see. Mr Kelvin is the boss. He’s always there. And so is Kans, his servant and Cook; she’s the cook. The others are never there for very long at all. Mr Reese, Mr Castle and Mr Finnius Ickle all left together last week. Mr Wren came and left on the very same day, in an awful hurry, and now we have Mr Giles, Mr Geoffries and Mr Copperpot, a man called Malcolm Sloan and some other man whose name I don’t know yet; all staying for at least a week.’

Mr Joshua was very pleased. ‘Just a few names, indeed! You’re a very bright lad, Samuel. That Mr Wren fellow interests me greatly and a few other names help, as well. Keep trying to get more information and I’ll contact you soon. Find somewhere safe for this,’ and he gave Samuel three crowns. ‘You can’t come and see me, so you may need a little money.’

With that, he turned and left, with Fennian dragging his feet behind. Samuel had to run as hard as he could to get back in good time but, when he did, Cook was quite surprised to see him so soon. Apparently, the last stablehand was always much slower and took all day to run even the simplest errand. Cook seemed very pleased. Samuel smiled, making a mental note to take his time in future.

Samuel was kneeling in a flowerbed, pulling up weeds by the roots according to the precise instructions from Kans. A small pile of plucked weeds was forming beside him and he was working quite carefully, yet somehow he had become dirty from head to toe. He was having a busy day so far, with Kans giving him many a chore in the gardens, stating that he had much to do inside, himself. Samuel was always itching with curiosity to see inside the inn. Except for that first day, Samuel had set not a single toe on the finely polished floorboards inside, save for helping Cook in her kitchen.

Samuel wondered who the people of the Burning Oak really were. The brightness around them marked them apart from other people, even more so than their drab clothing habit. It seemed to be a sign of something different, something special and it made him more and more curious all the time. He planned to ask some questions and try to learn something of the truth, but it would not be easy getting answers out of any of these elusive guests.

Footsteps beside him suddenly caught his attention and he looked up to discern the figure-its face a black silhouette against the bright glare of the sun.

‘Hello, Samuel,’ said the man. It was Mr Kelvin. He bobbed down to squat beside Samuel. ‘You’re getting very dirty, indeed, my son.’ Samuel shrugged at this and wiped his running nose with his arm. ‘I was walking in the garden this morning when I noticed some of your chalk-marks by the wall over there and I realised I’ve been irresponsible in ignoring your education. The last lad here was much older than you, and admittedly quite a dense boy, but I think you have potential that should not be wasted. You do fine work in the stables. I think you should be rewarded beyond mere board, lodgings and your wage. An education is far more valuable than any of these things.’

Samuel realised his sums and pictures, drawn time after time on the same spot, had been making a mess. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Kelvin,’ he said hastily. ‘I’ll wash it off at once.’

He leapt up, but Mr Kelvin raised a solemn hand.

‘No, my boy,’ he reassured. ‘I don’t mind that, but I think I’ll get you some paper and a writing set, so that you don’t have to sprawl yourself out in the garden and I shall begin teaching you to read, write and calculate some sums, myself. I have some free time on occasion. Would you like that?’

Samuel was not sure. His father had always been in favour of education and Samuel did enjoy it, but he had spoken little to Mr Kelvin and was not sure if he would enjoy such tutoring. Most grown-ups, after all, had little patience for youth. Then again, he supposed, he could always find a way to stop once he started. He nodded to Mr Kelvin.

A smile beamed across Mr Kelvin’s sober brow. ‘Very good. After you finish here, go wash yourself, then fetch some dinner from Cook and I’ll come and see you. It’s a shame you cannot come to my study,’ he said, half to himself, ‘but we do what we can, don’t we? Goodbye, Samuel.’

With that, Mr Kelvin stood up and turned away, strolling in his usual unhurried manner back towards the inn, his black cloak hem just floating above the path.

Samuel was polishing a saddle by lamplight at the back of the stables, when Mr Kelvin appeared at the doorway, carrying an armful of rolled papers.

‘Ah, Samuel,’ he called, smiling and observing the walls around him. ‘What a wonderful job you’ve made of this old stable. Everything in its place! Come, let us begin.’

Samuel carefully latched the lid back onto the jar of varnish and followed Mr Kelvin into his room. Mr Kelvin was looking the place over.

‘This will never do,’ he remarked, shaking his head. ‘I’ll arrange tomorrow for a study desk. We can’t have you writing on your lap.’

Mr Kelvin sat down upon Samuel’s bed and laid out the papers. He drew out a thin book, a small black jar and a feather that had been tucked inside his shirt and laid them out carefully. Samuel sat next to him.

‘This,’ Mr Kelvin began, pointing to the jar, ‘is an inkwell. The ink is very strong, so beware not to spill it or there will be a stubborn stain, indeed.’ Mr Kelvin carefully unscrewed the tiny cap from the jar and dipped the pointed end of the feather in it. ‘You dip the quill, like so, with just enough ink on the nib and then you are ready to write. It’s much better than dusty old chalk.’

He unrolled a piece of paper beside them on the bed and, holding it with one hand, drew a single short line; the number one, Samuel thought.

‘This will never do,’ Mr Kelvin muttered to himself, perturbed by the difficulties of writing upon a mattress. ‘Tomorrow night I will show you properly, but tonight, I guess this will have to do. Now, once you have written what you will, or the ink is exhausted, you blot the parchment thus, or it will run.’ He demonstrated by patting the ink with a small piece of blotting paper.

Samuel had seen all this before in Mr Joshua’s office, but he was intrigued with the precision and care that Mr Kelvin took. Samuel had only written with chalk or a charcoal marker before. He twitched with excitement.

‘Now, Samuel. What do we have here?’

Samuel examined the writing paper. ‘A number one?’

Mr Kelvin smiled and nodded. ‘Very good, Samuel. Number one. It is the smallest number that can be, for before that, there is no single thing. It is the beginning number. All things must begin somewhere, and this is our beginning. Before number one-there is nothing.’

Samuel was mystified by his comments, but then remembered something Jessicah had told him. ‘But what about zero?’ Samuel asked. ‘You can have zero crowns, can’t you? — even half a crown? I learnt that before from my cousin.’

‘Can you?’ Mr Kelvin asked. ‘Go get me zero sheep, zero ships or zero apples? You cannot, for less than one of anything does not exist, except in our minds as a concept-for there is only something, or a lack of something. You cannot cut a nothing in half and have half a nothing. If you cut an apple in half, your mind tells you that you have half an apple. In reality, you have one apple half. You can never have less than one something, or you have nothing.’

Samuel was now very confused.

Mr Kelvin smiled. ‘Let me try another example. Of course, you can have a half-crown or a half a bucket of water, but again, these are only our own concepts. Our minds attempt to simplify the world around us so we can better understand it. A half-crown is only called a half-crown for that is what it is worth and, not too long ago, it actually was a crown that was cut in half. Now, we actually have a coin with a half-crown value. Tomorrow, try to think of anything you can find that is not a whole thing, or itself comprised of many, one things.’ Samuel was still lost and the more Mr Kelvin tried explaining, the worse it became. ‘One is the only real number. The others are merely for our convenience.’ Mr Kelvin finally realised he was talking above the boy’s head and changed his tack. ‘I’m sorry. These concepts are for future days. Now, Samuel, I would like you to make me a one. I know it is a simple task for you, but the beginning is always a good place to start. That was actually the point I was trying to make before I so terribly digressed.’

He handed the quill to Samuel who carefully dipped the end into the inkwell and withdrew it again. A great blob of black fluid hung from its tip.

Mr Kelvin drew a small rag from his pocket. ‘Now, that is far too much. It will puddle on the parchment and ruin everything.’ He took the quill from Samuel, wiped it, and then handed it back. ‘Try again.’

Samuel did and this time Mr Kelvin nodded approvingly. Samuel put the nib to the paper and dragged out a line. The nib scratched loudly against the grain of the paper and the line resembled a wobbly twig. Samuel was not happy with it at all. He could do far better with his chalk on the stones.

‘That’s fine for a first attempt, Samuel,’ Mr Kelvin lauded, smiling. ‘Only practice is needed. Experience is the greatest teacher. I can instruct you, but only you can learn, and practice, proper practice, is the surest way to learn.’

Samuel wished Mr Kelvin would talk more simply. The man could not finish with yes or no, but insisted on tacking a whole lecture to the end of every sentence.

Mr Kelvin stood. ‘I will leave these with you, Samuel.’

‘Is that all?’ Samuel asked.

‘Probably too much. Practise your ones. Get used to the feel of the pen on the parchment. Fill about three pages for tonight and tomorrow we shall do more.’

‘Thank you, Mr Kelvin,’ Samuel said. ‘What is this book?’ he asked, holding the small object up. It bore a single stylised word on the cover that Samuel could not recognise.

‘It is a lesson book. It says introduction. You may browse through it if you like, but don’t read too much for now or it will only confuse you.’

Samuel placed it back down. ‘Thank you.’

Mr Kelvin nodded and turned from the room. Pausing in the doorway, Mr Kelvin stood a moment and looked back at Samuel. He peered in at the boy, as if trying to perceive some tiny detail, just as he had done on that first day. Samuel tried to ignore the man staring in at him and looked down at his paper. When he looked up again, Mr Kelvin was gone, with his boots sounding on the stable floor and then crunching out into the yard towards the main building, softer and softer until they became too distant to hear.

Samuel was excited to use his new quill. He at once spread the parchment out on the floor and placed some objects on the corners to hold it flat: his shoes, a horseshoe and a couple of stones. He held his lower lip between his teeth as he carefully scratched out a page of ones. He often had to try and blot up a terrible mess or wipe the ink-laden quill. When he was done, he examined his creation. The page seemed scrawled with flattened, skinny slugs. The next page was not nearly so much fun and, by the last, his ones were terrible, as it had become somewhat tiresome. This learning was not as much fun as he expected. With Jessicah, it was always giggles and games.

Having become bored, Samuel screwed the cap back onto the inkwell and rolled over, facing the roof. He picked up the lesson book and turned to the first page. It seemed aged, for the words were faded and the pages well bent. It bore only a number one and below it was ‘one’ spelt out and below that was a picture of an apple. The second page had number two with ‘two’ written below that and two apples. It continued in that manner with numbers and apples up to twenty apples. By then, the page was filled with apples and Samuel realised how much simpler it was to draw a twenty than to draw all those apples. Samuel was confident up to the twelfth page, for he had practised counting to twelve often, but above that, it took him longer. He tried opening to a page and covering the number before he could recognise it, and then counted all the apples, comparing his answer. It usually took a few times to get the numbers in correct order and he had particular trouble with eighteen and nineteen. Finally, he became tired, blew out his lamp and crawled beneath his covers, with numbers and apples fading from his eyes.

Samuel saw nothing of Mr Kelvin all the next day until, shortly after dinner, he and Kans came grunting into the stable, struggling with a desk between them. Samuel quickly tidied a spot in his room as they shoved it in though the doorway and over into the corner.

‘Thank you, Kans,’ Mr Kelvin puffed, wiping his brow.

Kans turned and walked out wordlessly, not looking very happy at all.

‘Now, you can put your writing things on here and have somewhere proper to work,’ Mr Kelvin explained.

Samuel did so and by then, Kans had reappeared with a small chair. After pushing it beneath the desk, he again stalked away, grumbling loudly so as to be well heard.

‘How did you fare last night?’ Mr Kelvin asked.

‘Not too bad, I suppose,’ Samuel answered and unfolded the papers for Mr Kelvin’s nodding inspection.

‘You supposed correctly, Samuel. They are not too bad at all. Did you read the book?’

Samuel nodded. ‘I can manage up to twenty…almost.’

‘Show me,’ Mr Kelvin requested.

Samuel began rattling off numbers one by one until he reached sixteen. After that, he had to think a little bit before the next came to him. He knew he had done it correctly when there was nothing left but twenty to say.

‘Twenty!’ he said with glee.

‘Very good, Samuel,’ Mr Kelvin said. ‘But what about thirteen?’

Samuel froze. Had he forgotten thirteen? He must have. He had ignored it in his haste. ‘Oh,’ he said with shame.

‘Don’t worry. You did very well. You have nearly mastered counting.’

‘Aren’t there a lot more numbers, Mr Kelvin?’

Mr Kelvin laughed aloud. ‘Of course, but you don’t need to say them all one by one to know them. It’s all very repetitive. After tonight, you will see. I have the next book.’ He patted his pocket. ‘Now, I would like you to write up to twenty for me. Take your time. I will help you.’

Samuel prepared his quill and then began to write. He was amazed when his very first number, one, was straight and true.

‘I couldn’t do it that well last night,’ Samuel noted.

‘Practice,’ Mr Kelvin repeated, echoing his words from the night before. ‘Practice is certainly important but, once you become tired, it no longer serves its purpose. Every stroke you made last night would have been better than the last, but the fact that your mind and body were both tiring made them appear even worse. Now that you are no longer tired, you can do it with ease. Now, keep going.’

Samuel continued writing and was happy to finally reach twenty. Mr Kelvin had to coach him at a few points, but he finally had it right.

‘Now, Samuel. You have twenty of these apples on your bed and I give another one. What is twenty and one?’

Samuel knew that easily. ‘Twenty-one.’

‘And one more? What would twenty and two be?’

‘Twenty and two is twenty-two?’

‘Now, continue.’

Samuel surprised himself by counting all the way to twenty-nine, but then he baulked.

‘Thirty,’ Mr Kelvin instructed. ‘What is thirty and one?’

‘Thirty-one?’

‘Correct. Continue.’

Samuel went on until, ‘forty?’ he guessed.

A great smile covered Mr Kelvin’s face. ‘Here I was thinking you needed tutoring when you know all this already. It only has to be coaxed out of you. Do you see the pattern?’

Samuel nodded. ‘You just push the numbers together and say what they are.’

‘That’s very good, but addition is only the very first step in arithmetic. Numbers have endless ways of being combined. Tomorrow, we begin subtraction.’

‘Is that all for tonight?’ Samuel asked with disappointment.

‘Oh, no,’ Mr Kelvin said, shaking his head. ‘Tonight, I want to see what you can spell. Read this for me.’

He drew the next book from his pocket and handed it to Samuel. This one had a chart on the first page, showing all the numbers from one up to one hundred: ten rows of ten numbers. The next page had a picture of a ball and ‘ball’ was written beneath it. Mr Kelvin was ecstatic when Samuel flipped each page and read the words out without hesitation. His practice with Jessicah had prepared him for most of the simple words that seemed to be common, but a few were unfamiliar and Mr Kelvin helped him sound them out. The last page had a short story regarding a boy, a ball and a dog. With Mr Kelvin’s assistance, it took only a short time to read from beginning to end and Samuel was ecstatic with himself.

Lessons continued each evening like that. Sometimes, Mr Kelvin would send Kans to deliver some instructions and a lesson book, as he was busy inside the inn, and Samuel was soon gathering quite a bookshelf upon his desk and regarding the first few in his collection with contempt at their simplicity. He wished his father could see him now and see all that he had learned. How Father would have smiled.

It was one very sunny afternoon after he had swept out the stables and was gathering up the rubbish that Samuel noticed several loose shingles on the rooftop. He hopped onto the edge of the great big water barrel beside the stable and pulled himself up onto the stable roofing. As he was pushing the shingles back into place, Samuel saw he had a clear view through a window into a large room of the inn. He looked closer, for he noted at once that it was a curious room. There were half-burned candles placed at intervals all over the floor. There was no bed, nor furniture of any description in the room. It was completely empty except for the strange scatterings of candles. Perplexed, Samuel finished his work and wondered what the strange, empty room was used for.

Late that same night, Samuel awoke. He did not wake with a sudden frightful start, as he did whenever he dreamed of the tall man in his doorway, but rather he had simply opened his eyes as if it was morning. Pins and needles danced madly up and down his arms as if he had been sleeping on them. It was dark, but pale moonlight streamed in through the window. He finally sat up and drank from the pitcher beside his bed, then rubbed at his arms to try dispelling the tickling. Wiping his moist lips, Samuel listened for any noises that may have awoken him. The horses were quiet and from the stable came only those occasional clanks and rattles caused by the soft breeze. He got up and peered from his room down the length of the stable. A long brown nose turned towards him and gave a snort. Looking behind, out through the stable doorway, he could see that the grounds were dark and empty. He checked the stalls one by one to see if there was anything strange, but the horses all seemed quiet and content, so Samuel decided to step outside. The sky was clear and moonlit, with only a few pale wisps of clouds clinging to the starry heights. Samuel yawned, stretching his arms out wide and curling his back, then scratched at his head.

As he opened his eyes again, something drew his attention towards the inn and he noticed a soft light shining from the small window he had found earlier that day. It seemed strange that someone should be awake so late, for it was surely only an hour or two before dawn. Samuel’s curiosity then had the better of him. He went around to the stable side and hopped on top of the barrel, hitching himself up onto the roof. He clambered carefully along the shingles until he could peer across into the window.

Someone was inside. He was lighting all the candles one by one. It was Mr Copperpot, Samuel finally realised, as the man glanced around. When all of the candles were lit, he sat in the middle of the room, crossed his legs and waited. Some time had passed, with Samuel still watching on, when Mr Copperpot straightened his legs out before him and bent his head down until his chin met his knees. He proceeded to go through a number of such strange motions, before squatting right in the middle of the room, where he remained still for some time. Soon, he began moving his hands up and down rhythmically and taking great loud, hissing breaths that Samuel could easily hear from his vantage point. It was no wonder that he was woken with all that noise.

As he did this, Samuel could see the man’s natural shine bloom and intensify and become much more tangible than before. It changed from a vague aura to a distinct fabric of colours made of very many fine and interweaving threads that were ever sliding and rippling. It was the most amazing thing that Samuel had ever seen.

Finally, Mr Copperpot sat down again, crossed his legs and remained completely still for a good time as his glowing surround returned to its normal complacent state. The man then extinguished the candles one by one and silently left the room. Samuel was intrigued, but now felt strangely overcome with exhaustion. He climbed carefully back down from the roof and returned to his bed.

Samuel thought about the strange event all the next day. He peered closely at his own hands and wondered why it was that he could only see the glow around other people and not himself. No one ever talked about the glow much and Samuel was beginning to think that most people could not really see it at all; they just talked as if they could.

‘Can you see my glow?’ Samuel asked Kans as the man was helping him carry in bags of dry feed. Samuel carried the smaller tins of expensive butter-yeast, from which he had been instructed to put a pinch in each horse’s feed to makes its coat shiny and healthy.

‘What nonsense are you talking about, boy?’ Kans asked in his standard intolerant manner.

Samuel placed the tins he carried upon the stack in the storeroom and decided not to continue the conversation with the man any further. He preferred to talk with Kans as little as possible. The balding man peered sidelong at him for the rest of the morning, but said nothing.

‘Does everyone have a light around them?’ Samuel asked of Mr Kelvin as they hovered over pages of sums that evening.

Mr Kelvin seemed to start, but then took the spectacles from his face and sat back in his chair, looking thoughtful. One of the two narrow arms that held his spectacles in place went absent-mindedly into his mouth and he sucked on it. It was a habit that he had developed since beginning Samuel’s tutoring. After a thoughtful moment, he spoke. ‘That’s an interesting and often discussed question, Samuel. All things are composed of and filled with energy, like the warmth you feel on your skin on a sunny day. That’s one form of energy. There are many others that we have discovered and examined or merely theorised upon. It is too complicated to discuss with you now, but energy is always moving; that’s why we call it energy, I suppose. Are you following me?’ Samuel nodded. He thought he did, just a little bit. ‘Good. Now, energy in one place can often affect energy in another place without actually touching it. It’s all to do with harmony and frequencies, but I’ll tell you about those another day.’ Mr Kelvin withdrew his spectacles and let them dangle loosely from his fingers as he quickly thought to himself. ‘Oh, here.’

He thrust his hand into one of his deep pockets and rummaged around until he withdrew a fistful of tiny objects. He poked through the lint and tiny pebbles that were amongst the other curious little objects there until he found what he sought and popped it on the desk before Samuel.

‘Look closely,’ Mr Kelvin instructed.

Samuel did, and saw a small, dark stone of squarish proportions. Stuck to it were several tiny black grains. Mr Kelvin used an edge of paper to knock the grains from the stone. As they fell away and struck the desk, they immediately sprang back and stuck onto the stone. Samuel was astonished.

‘The stone has become magnetised,’ Mr Kelvin informed. ‘The grains are attracted to it because of their metallic properties. Now observe.’

Mr Kelvin then pulled the grains off with his fingers and dropped them onto a thin piece of paper. He then held the paper up and, with his other hand, held the stone to its underside. As he slid the stone up and down under the paper, the tiny grains raced along, following the trail of the stone.

‘See, the energy passes between the two objects without their direct contact. This is influence over distance. The energy that exists in our bodies, although it is very different, can often affect other objects similarly, such as the space closely surrounding us. Each person has a natural sphere of influence that surrounds them. It is merely a side effect of our existence. Like the ripples that surround a pebble dropped into a still pool, so our existence affects our environment.’

‘Can you see my energy, Mr Kelvin?’ Samuel asked eagerly.

‘Oh, no,’ he laughed, ‘but I’m sure you have some. This particular energy is invisible to the human eye. Some have been said to have the gift of such sight, but they were among myths and legend. Now, enough of such talk. We must finish this division before we completely forget where we are.’ Mr Kelvin began to sort the papers he had disturbed for his demonstration. ‘Now where were we?’ he asked of himself.

That same night, Samuel again awoke and again climbed up onto the stable roof, feeling sure that the tickling in his bones had some meaning. Sure enough, the room was again lit. Mr Geoffries and Mr Copperpot both were there, sitting with legs crossed, completely still except for the matching, rhythmical motion of their chests. The energy that surrounded each man grew and spun with each deep breath, pulsing out and intermingling with the other’s. Samuel fell asleep watching them, and only awoke sometime later when he nearly rolled off the roof. Samuel looked up, but the room was again empty and dark and the night was cold around him. People did have an energy around them and only then did the realisation sink into him that he alone, perhaps of all the people in the world, could see it. He had some unique ability that no one else would even believe. As Samuel crept back into his bed, his skin was bristling with goosebumps, but the cold of night had nothing to do with them.

It was some time later when a new rider entered the guesthouse. As expected, he was wearing the same black clothes that the guests were always draped in. He rode his horse directly to the stables and quickly dismounted, ignoring Samuel and rushing inside the inn. Most curious of all was his dark skin. It was not black like ink, as it was said some people were, but he looked tanned, as if he had been working in the sun for hours every day. It was rare to see skin of such a deep colour. After that, there was no sign of the man for the entire day and Mr Kelvin did not even send word of his lesson that evening, which made Samuel think that something important must be happening inside.

Samuel was wide awake all night, filled with some unexplained excitement, when some peculiar sounds from the inn brought him scuttling once more up onto his roof. From his position opposite the window, Samuel found the candles already lit, and the tanned man was moving about and shouting in some form of crazed or drunken dance. He was shouting and throwing his brown arms and legs about, turning circles and dropping to his knees, only to spring up and jump away again. His glow was unlike anything Samuel had ever seen before. Each set of motions set it spinning and pulsing like a nest of angry wasps, a flurry of dazzling lights. The man performed an amazing set of leaps, especially impressive considering the lankiness of his limbs, and then, without warning, stopped dead still and calmly sat down. He crossed his legs and closed his eyes and it took some time for Samuel to realise that nothing else was going to happen. The aura that surrounded the man slowed and steadied, but it remained strong and vital, greater than when Samuel had first seen him in the room. Samuel was curious and, as he dropped from the roof and went to his room, he pondered the man’s movements. He put his face up to the tiny magnetic stone that Mr Kelvin had left for him and pulled the grains from its surface, watching them snap back. He did it a few times, never ceasing to be amazed by the wondrous reaction, before slipping into bed and soon falling asleep.

The tanned man came to Samuel early the next day and asked with a calm voice for his horse to be readied. He was patient and pleasant and his black cloak was of a fine material, which led Samuel to think that he was an important man. Samuel even thought his features looked familiar, as if he had seen him somewhere before, but, even with such a striking colour to him, Samuel could not remember precisely where.

‘Excuse me, Sir?’ Samuel asked.

The man was startled for a moment, as if he had become lost in his thoughts and had forgotten Samuel was there. ‘Yes? What is it?’ There was some kind of accent in his words that was very different to the local folk.

‘Excuse my curiosity, but you seem very familiar to me. You remind me of someone I saw a long time ago. Have you ever been to Stable Waterford?’ Samuel asked.

‘Why, yes. I often pass through there,’ he replied, bearing a kind smile. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘When I lived there, I saw a man who looked much as you do, Sir, though perhaps much taller. He was dressed quite strangely in purple and he performed tricks in the market and he was dark skinned, just like you.’

The man laughed and he nodded. ‘Yes, that sounds like me, although I suspect it was some time ago. I have not grown much taller in recent years and so I think it is more likely that you have grown quite a bit. And fancy meeting you here! This is quite a surprise.’

‘Were you poor then?’ Samuel asked. ‘I remember everyone giving you some money. I thought you were a beggar.’

Again the man laughed. ‘You have a good memory, young friend. In some places, I must sometimes travel in disguise. Also, I enjoy entertaining the common folk. People look forward to seeing me and enjoy seeing my tricks as much as I enjoy performing them. I would enjoy talking with you more, but I must hurry. Perhaps, in the future, we can continue the matter. Are you finished?’

Samuel remembered himself and offered the reins to the man.

‘What is your name, young man?’ the tanned fellow asked. The lines and slight wrinkles on his face told Samuel that he must be a genuine and kind man, for his smiles had marked him forever, as scowls and worry often marked others.

‘Samuel, Sir.’

‘Well then, Samuel. I am Lomar,’ he added with a smile as he mounted his horse, ‘and I hope we can speak together again some day.’

Samuel nodded, and Lomar began away, urging his mount towards the front gate, which Kans was holding open impatiently. As he passed through, the lights around Lomar seemed to seethe about him and then they quelled themselves again as he passed out into the street.

When Samuel was next sent into town, he wandered around the markets until, as usually happened, he found Mr Joshua leaning against a wall and waiting for him. Somehow, the man always knew when Samuel was coming.

‘What news, young man?’ Mr Joshua asked.

‘Some nights, the men will sit in a candle-filled room for hours on end, and other nights they chant and shout and move around,’ Samuel said. Mr Joshua looked very interested. ‘It’s all very strange. And last night a man named Lomar came and he leapt around like this!’

Samuel began to re-enact Lomar’s actions, jumping to and fro, but Mr Joshua held up his hands. ‘Stop that!’ he hissed urgently, before slipping back into his usual calm composure. ‘Please, don’t attract attention. You can’t do these things in the open.’

Several passers-by were looking at Samuel curiously. Samuel did not understand, but he nodded dumbly. ‘And this morning,’ he continued, ‘he left in a real hurry.’ Mr Joshua was obviously pleased with the information. ‘And Mr Kelvin is teaching me some geometry.’

‘That’s wonderful, Samuel. Mr Kelvin is a good man to spend his time with you. An education is a valuable thing and knowledge is invaluable. I could have done with better schooling myself. Good work, Samuel. Try to come back within a week and tell me more about all this. It seems you are starting to get to the bottom of things.’

Mr Joshua gave Samuel some more coins before patting him on the back and disappearing into the tides of passing people. Samuel happily wandered towards the markets to finish his chores, jingling his weighty pocket. There was a dress that he knew Jessicah would just love.

The days always seemed fine and sunny at the Burning Oak. Of course, the winters had their share of rain, but Samuel always seemed to be catching himself looking up at the sky-clear and blue or filled with stars. He was never particularly hot or particularly cold and he had every comfort that he imagined he could need.

During one such fine day, Samuel was helping Mr Kelvin in the garden. Mr Kelvin seemed to have more free time than before and was enjoying getting on his hands and knees and doing some of the work himself, taking pride in his small, yet neat gardens all along the walls, and Samuel was happy for the company. He was a terribly nice man and Samuel had never heard an ill word cross his lips. He was always polite and considerate to everyone. He was not as good as Samuel remembered his own father being, and was not as friendly as Mr Joshua was-buying him presents and such-but he was certainly much, much better than Samuel’s uncle. Sometimes, Samuel wished he could have a whole afternoon free to himself so he could go and see Jessicah, or play with the boys in the streets, but Mr Kelvin always said that he was needed too much here and was not allowed to roam about in the town. The guests could need their horses at a moment’s notice and it would not do to keep them waiting. Samuel wondered why Kans could not ready their horses if they needed it. It took Samuel far longer by himself, often having to use the stepladder to fix and buckle all the saddlery. Most often the guests helped him anyway. He began to suspect that Mr Kelvin just did not want him talking to people in the town about the inn. Sometimes, it frustrated Samuel so much that he would tell Mr Joshua every little thing he could think of about the Burning Oak and its guests, even if it was only partly true. Mr Joshua, however, had a way of telling when Samuel was exaggerating, but Samuel was getting better and better at slipping small ‘untruths’ past Mr Joshua without him noticing. They were not big things-just little white lies and the odd exaggeration.

‘It sure is hot today, Mr Kelvin,’ Samuel said, throwing some weeds behind him.

Mr Kelvin wiped his brow with his dark sleeves and peered to the sky. ‘It is,’ he agreed. ‘The sun is very hot today, indeed.’

Samuel plucked several more weeds before pausing and, looking thoughtful, he said, ‘Now I have a good question for you, Mr Kelvin. What exactly is the sun?’

‘To my knowledge, no one has ever touched it to find out, but I suspect that it is a great ball of fire. It casts heat, throws light and is yellow, just like a flame, after all.’

‘If it is a fire, then what does it burn? Are there sticks inside?’

Mr Kelvin laughed. ‘No, Samuel, I think there are not. Or, if there are, they would have to be very big, or very many sticks indeed would be needed, for the sun is many, many times larger than the world on which we live.’

‘It doesn’t look very big,’ Samuel replied.

Mr Kelvin made a tiny gap between his fingers and peered through it at Samuel. ‘Look, Samuel, it appears that your head can fit between my fingers, but of course I know it is not so. The sun is merely very far away.’

‘It’s very high in the sky?’

‘So to speak, yes.’

‘And where does it go at night and where do the stars come from?’

Mr Kelvin chuckled and sighed. ‘It goes below the horizon to light the other lands of the world, where there are different peoples with different languages and cultures. The stars are always there, but they cannot always be seen.’

Samuel gawked up in awe, trying to spy the stars, but his eyes became watery and blurry and he had to look down.

‘Careful, Samuel,’ Mr Kelvin told him. ‘The sun is like truth: bright and beautiful, but dangerous to behold. Still, we all strive for knowledge even when we cannot understand what the answers will bring. It’s better to hold a knife when you face the Devils of Korda,’ he then quoted, but after a moment, he noticed Samuel’s confusion. ‘I’m sorry. I talk too much sometimes, don’t I? Don’t look at the sun, Samuel, or you will go blind,’ he finally explained.

Samuel was complete befuddled. He looked up once more and blinked at the glaring sun, before rubbing his eyes and looking blurrily at the gritty soil below, purple streaks marking his watery vision.

On the occasional night, Samuel still found himself waking up, as if automatically, and so would crawl up onto his stable roof to see what was happening inside the inn. Most often, the men would only be sitting still or walking about slowly and Samuel found himself longing for more men like Lomar, who would jump around and do more exciting things. When he was sure no one was watching, Samuel would close the stable doors and try the same movements that Lomar had made. He could only remember a few and so he made up the rest. He knew they were entirely wrong and foolish, but he had a desire to learn more and this was the closest he could manage. From then on, when he was awoken at night with the tingling in his bones, he would sit up on his bed and assume the same position that the men inside did. He took deep, full breaths and, at times, it felt calming and peaceful and he would often fall asleep in that position.

Lomar returned on occasion and Samuel was always greatly excited when he did. He was the one man who would sit and talk to Samuel, telling him stories of far-off lands and all the mythical fairy tales he had heard. He surprised Samuel by even offering to play a game of kick-ball and they stood opposite each other for hours, sending the ball between them. The other guests glared at Lomar as he did so, but Lomar did not seem to care what the others thought. He also delighted in showing Samuel all his best juggling tricks, making his small red balls vanish and reappear with a twist of his hand, and Samuel enjoyed seeing the tricks just as much, trying every time to discover how it was that Lomar did them. Lomar told of the strange ways and customs of foreign lands, but was ever evasive as to his reasons for travelling and of the other men of the inn. When Samuel’s questions became too direct, Lomar would only smile and look away or make some comment on the bees or flowers.

One fine and warm day, three new guests came to the Burning Oak Inn, two middle-aged men and another absolutely ancient one, all wrinkled and with barely a hair on his head, save his bushy white eyebrows and his wispy old beard. As they arrived, Kans hurriedly fetched out all the men currently staying from inside the inn. There was a great hubbub as Samuel was called to fetch the guests’ wagon from the front entrance and shut the great gates behind it. They all vanished inside as quickly as they had appeared and there was not a trace of anyone that night or the entire next day.

Not one person took their usual garden strolls and Cook said they barely even wanted their meals, calling for light snacks to be brought into the meeting from time to time. The place seemed desolate.

Finally, just before twilight of the next day, Mr Copperpot and Mr Sloan sent word to make ready their mounts, and they soon left, dressed not in their black robes, but instead in normal garments of brown and grey. They looked strange out of their usual garb and it made Samuel wonder what could be happening.

Samuel was awoken much earlier that night than usual, with pins and needles jabbing his whole body like skewers. He almost tripped over himself in his hurry to get onto the roof. He had not woken the previous night, but tonight he felt as if the air was rattling with excitement.

Peeping through the window, Samuel could see the old visitor sitting cross-legged on the floor and, one by one, all the candles in the room were igniting. There was no one near them; they each simply burst into flame in succession, as if by some trickery. Samuel was astonished and peered closer to try and spy any sign of someone ducking down and lighting them in secret, but there was none. They truly were lighting of their own accord and Samuel could barely believe it. He watched on with anticipation. If this was only the start, even more amazing things were sure to come. The soft hairs on his arms stood up like bristles.

The old man then began making broad, slow arm gestures and slowly, slowly stood to his feet. He stepped forward and began the same set of actions that Lomar had first performed, although much slower-as if he was in no hurry to complete his exercises before the long night was even through. Instead of jumping and spinning, he very slowly stepped and turned with effortless precision. His arms moved and made circles and arcs in the air; sometimes as if carrying huge objects; sometimes as if doing delicate finger-work. In some moments, it seemed as if he was struggling against great forces, pushing and striving to hold his ground; at other times, it seemed like he was weightless and about to sail up from the floor. With each movement, the old man’s aura blazed and grew like a bonfire in a gale; his every footstep and gesture trailed countless azure ribbons billowing in the wind. Samuel saw at once the many mistakes he had been making on his own and added as many corrections to memory as he could.

Eventually, the old man gathered himself back to his original position sitting on the floor. Samuel could hear the loud, hissing breathing the old man was making, as if each breath was as full and slow and complete as he could possibly manage. The energy around the man grew small again, wrapping tightly around his body and its intensity was astounding, almost blinding, making the old man at the core of the light appear as some form of silhouette by contrast. But all that paled into insignificance compared to what came next. Samuel’s eyes bulged with disbelief and he could not hold back a gasp as several soft balls of light bloomed into existence above the old man’s head. They were not formed from the same substance as the amazing, scintillating aura that surrounded him. They were real, visible lights like those of a lantern that any man or dog could see and they illuminated the room with a mystical, blue-hued glow. They hovered near the old man like curious butterflies, shedding their light all around. This was just like the magic from stories that Samuel had always imagined and he bit on the end of his thumb just to be sure he was not still dreaming.

The old man next pushed his palms together tightly and then, drawing them slowly apart, revealed that his hands were full of the same soft blue light. His hands shook as if the drawing was some great effort and required all his strength. His face was illuminated by the light and Samuel could see the exertion in the old man’s expression. Then the old man relaxed and his hands clapped sharply together, as if pulled together by a sudden evacuating force. The glow between them vanished, the floating lights disappeared and all the candles winked out at once. A grey silhouette then stood up and slowly left the room. If not for the white-hot aura around him, Samuel would not have seen the old man leave at all.

Samuel scampered from the roof and leapt into his bed, jittery with excitement, but somehow he could not keep the overpowering tide of sleep from taking him into its depths. He could not tell if he was having dreams or nightmares, for the images in his head were both fascinating and terrible. He dreamt of magic and monsters, of storms and oceans, of things from the skies and the deep. All throughout his dreams, he could hear a voice calling for someone over and over again, but the words were just on the verge of his recognition-and incomprehensible. A resounding thought burned into his mind and kept coming back to him through wake and slumber. There is magic!

When the dreams had finally quelled and subsided, he slept soundly and deeply for the rest of the night, as if worked to exhaustion from a month’s labour.

The next day, all the men of the inn were again strolling through the gardens, as always dressed in their usual black. Whether it was black shirt and trousers, black tunic, black cape, black cloak or long black robes, they forever seemed to be draped in the same monotonous garb.

The three new arrivals and Mr Kelvin were the only ones noticeably absent from the gardens. There had never been so many people strolling around at one time and they each walked with brisk excitement.

Samuel decided to talk to Mr Geoffries and Mr Sloan, but upon detecting his approach, they ceased their conversation and smiled politely. They were perfectly pleasant to him and asked him how he was but, sensing he was unwanted, Samuel wandered off again. As soon as he was beyond earshot, they launched back into their energetic discussion.

It was the same with the other men, until Samuel gave up and pulled himself into the low bough of his favourite climbing tree to sulk. He sat there, back against the trunk with his legs along the branch, until he spied the frantic form of Kans, whizzing from the inn towards the stable.

Samuel dropped down lightly from the branch and sped after the annoying man.

‘Oh, there you are, boy,’ Kans gasped, as Samuel entered the stables behind him. ‘I have no time to hunt after you. Ready the Grand Master’s wagon at once. He will be leaving shortly. And hurry up about it, won’t you?’

Kans then scooted past Samuel back towards the inn, all a fluster.

Grand Master? Samuel thought as he brought the two horses to the wagon outside. They were perfectly helpful animals and Samuel had no trouble readying the vehicle in a short space of time. When he was done, he climbed atop of it, released the braking lever and shook the reins up and down. The horses lurched forwards, pulling the wagon across the grass to where he stopped them with a steady pull of the reins just before the main entrance. He reapplied the brake, tethered the reins and dropped down beside the wagon, stroking the nearest animal’s sun-warmed coat as he waited. It whinnied and stamped at the ground with a hoof in expectation of some exercise.

After a timely spell, as Samuel began to feel the heat of the sun himself, the doors opened and Kans came rushing out, followed by an ever-patient Mr Kelvin, still in discussion with the aged visitor and his two companions. The men of the inn noticed the old man’s imminent departure and began to gather from across the gardens.

‘Is everything ready? Double-checked?’ Kans asked and began looking over Samuel’s work before even waiting for an answer, shaking anything that appeared remotely loose.

‘Well, this is goodbye,’ Mr Kelvin said to his guests as they reached the wagon. The two younger men each carried a number of bags, which they began to pile in the back of the wagon; their clothes and luggage, by the looks of it.

‘It has been good to see you again, young Peter,’ came the old man’s smooth voice. There was not a croak or waver to be heard. His words came out like warm honey, slow and deep. With surprising spryness, he lifted one leg to the step and hopped up into the seat. ‘I hope to be back before winter so we can continue our game. Be sure not to disturb the pieces,’ he said with a cheeky grin and a wave of one finger.’

Mr Kelvin laughed. ‘I’ll try. Have a good journey, Janus.’

The two younger men, still well aged by any measure, had finished with the bags and come to sit on either side of the old man.

The one closest to Samuel gathered up the reins. ‘Farewell,’ he called.

The small assembly of men all gave their farewells as the wagon groaned and pulled away. As the vehicle passed, Samuel spied the old man’s eyes flashing towards him from beneath a set of grey, woolly eyebrows-just for an instant. His eyes seemed so deep and blue and clear and knowing, and they locked onto Samuel like an eagle spotting its darting prey, watching him intently. Then, the moment had passed and the old man was again gazing forward, being jostled in his seat as he went. The horses’ shoes clip-clopped upon the stone path and the wagon exited through the main gates, held open by a low-bowing Kans. How he had managed to get over there so fast, Samuel did not know.

Mr Kelvin sighed and turned back into the inn, as did most of the others. A few returned to the gardens, although the sense of excitement had at once diminished. Before entering through the door to the inn, Mr Kelvin stopped and turned.

‘Samuel,’ he called.

Samuel was startled from his daydreaming. ‘Yes, Mr Kelvin?’

‘Don’t forget your lesson tonight. I’ll see you shortly after dinner.’

‘Thank you, Mr Kelvin,’ Samuel replied happily.

‘And don’t forget to scrub out the floors,’ Mr Kelvin added, before turning into the inn and pulling the door closed behind him.

Samuel’s mouth dropped. He had thought that with all the commotion, Mr Kelvin had forgotten about Samuel’s least favourite chore. He dragged his feet back to the stable and into the rear-most stall. He sighed wearily and reached up to get the largest scrubbing brush and bucket that hung there.

Over the nights that followed, Samuel practised everything he could remember the old man doing. Many of the movements still seemed improper and half-forgotten, so Samuel tried sitting cross-legged and breathing hard. Every minute or so, he would open one eye to see if the lights were there yet, but they never were. Each night, Samuel would try harder to recall the exact movements the old man had done, as all the sitting and breathing quickly grew stale. After a few nights, he thought he could remember about thirteen steps that he was sure were the same. A few in the middle and at the end still evaded his memory, but he was sure they were somewhere at the back of his mind and he would soon be able to figure out what they were…roughly.

When in the markets next, he even bought several cheap wax candles and set them in his room to practise with, but no amount of gesturing or jumping up and down would light them without the added help of a tinderbox. He would often pretend to himself that he had lit the candles with some magic, jumping up and lighting them quickly, before sneaking back to his place with feigned amazement at what he had done. It was quite fun the first few times, but served only to remind him of his failure.

Mr Kelvin first regarded Samuel’s candle-lined room questioningly, but for only a moment. He then sat beside Samuel and began the lesson without as much as a word about them. The night after, he carried a lantern with him and hung it from a vacant hook on the wall.

‘You only have to tell me if your room is too dull, Samuel. We don’t want you ruining your eyes,’ he told him and raised a curious eyebrow as Samuel chuckled.

After many weeks of vigilant practice, Samuel had his first incredible breakthrough. As he sat and breathed slowly with his palms tightly together, he forgot completely about making anything happen, and instead relaxed and enjoyed the soothing sensation that had somehow washed over him as he sat listening to his own soft breath and feeling the rise and fall of his chest. After some time, a line of goosebumps crept over his body, beginning at his wrists and running up his arms, over his chest and down to his ankles. The prickling sensation became almost too much to bear and Samuel burned to leap up and rub his limbs vigorously to reduce it.

Instead, and with considerable restraint, Samuel carefully peeked through one eye and was amazed to see a faint blue glow seeping from between his pressed fingers. It oozed out like some sort of shining water, dripping away in all directions before disappearing into nowhere. Samuel slowly brought his palms apart and for just a moment, there was a warm, glowing light nestled between his hands, before it flickered and vanished from existence with a tiny, soundless pop. Samuel yelled with excitement and jumped on his bed, hopping from one foot to another and giggling with glee. After a short period of jubilation, he calmed himself down and dropped back into the sitting position, his heart beating madly. He told himself to quieten down and concentrate and began again with the breathing exercises, but no matter how hard he tried long into the night, he could not repeat the feat.

He could summon no such light the next night, or the next, but Samuel could not bring himself to stop trying. The thought of the amazing light spurred him on with excitement. The very next night after that, Samuel again felt his body tingling and a familiar sensation filled his mind. His hands glowed intensely, so that his fingers showed red at their edges. Within his palms, the light existed, shining with a steady strength. Samuel realised that the secret was to keep this frame of mind and not let excitement or other distractions get in the way. He drew his palms apart some distance and the light remained there, forming itself into a spherical shape. He kept the tiny ball floating between his palms for a few minutes, until, with some alarm, he realised it was growing smaller. He tried and tried to make it grow back, but the more he tried, the more it died, until it flickered once, then again and finally vanished altogether for the rest of the evening.

The next morning, Samuel decided it was time to tell Mr Joshua of the astounding recent events, and so set out to find an excuse to go into town. He stepped into the kitchen, where Cook began eyeing him suspiciously as she cut up a bucket of greens, not saying a word.

‘Cook?’ Samuel asked.

‘What do you want?’ she asked. ‘Stop wriggling over my bench. I’ve nothing to give you until lunch.’

‘Oh, I don’t want anything. I was wondering if you had enough flour.’

Samuel edged around the kitchen, sliding open jars and peering into pots.

‘I’ve plenty of flour, thank you, Samuel,’ the sturdy woman replied. ‘Now keep your fingers out of my jars.’

‘How about peanuts? Or corn-or dried apricots? Are you sure there’s nothing I can get you from town?’

‘That’s it, is it?’ she said, sliding sliced carrots into a bowl with the back of her hand. ‘Needing an excuse, are you? Very well. I could use a bag of salt, now I think of it. Perhaps you could be so kind as to fetch some for me?’

‘I’d be happy to!’ Samuel said with delight.

‘Here’s some money,’ she said, handing him a few coins. ‘But don’t take too long or we’ll both be in for it when Mr Kelvin has to saddle his own horse.’

Samuel went to race out the door, when something caught his mind and he halted.

‘Cook?’ he asked and she looked up again. ‘Do you ever notice a light around people?’

‘No,’ she said bluntly. ‘Don’t be absurd.’

‘Don’t you ever see them glowing and shining?’

‘Only when they’re fairies-now get out and stop with your dreaming and leave me be. And don’t be up to any mischief in the town! Go do whatever it is you want to be doing, and I don’t want to hear anything about it or your fairies.’

Samuel laughed and left through the small kitchen door, running around the side of the inn. He pulled open one of the sturdy gates and then closed it behind him. The main road was filled with a good many people, carts and animals, all making their way along the busy highway into Stable Canthem. Samuel made sure the money was deep inside a pocket, for he knew the town had many a pick-pocket, and hurried after the throng of people.

‘You there! Boy!’ a voice called as Samuel trotted along.

Samuel stopped and waited for the puffing man. Perhaps it was one of Mr Joshua’s men.

‘Boy, you are the stableboy in that guest house, is that correct?’ the man asked as he pointed back towards the tall walls of the Burning Oak.

Samuel nodded.

‘How would you like to earn a half-crown?’ the man asked.

Samuel quickly decided this was not one of Mr Joshua’s men-he was far too cheap. ‘No, thank you, Sir,’ Samuel answered, and began to continue on his way.

‘Wait one moment. Perhaps…stop!’ cried the man, as Samuel turned and fled into the town past curious onlookers.

Samuel glanced over his shoulder, but the man was not following, only shaking his head and turning away. He may have been one of Mr Joshua’s men, but Samuel could not be told off just for being careful. He would also be in awful trouble if Mr Kelvin found him talking to anyone about the inn.

Samuel decided he would first like to see Jessicah and so he ran to the Three Toads Inn. He had to wait outside for some time until she came out to beat a rug on the banister. Samuel raced over to her, well-wary of her father.

‘Jessicah!’

‘Samuel,’ she cried with excitement. ‘How are you?’ And she placed a kiss on his cheek.

‘Very well. Let’s go!’

Jessicah looked over her shoulder for any sign of her parents, and then dropped her beater and skipped away with Samuel. They made for the river and sat on the grassy bank by an old willow, and sunned themselves and talked of each other’s events. Samuel noticed for the first time how different she was looking lately. She seemed to be filling out in all sorts of places-almost like a real girl.

Jessicah hung onto his every word as he told of the strange, robed men and the mysterious, magical things they did. She laughed when he claimed to be able to do the same magic and when she asked him to demonstrate, his head sagged, for he knew he could not.

‘But they dance around like this!’ he called, leaping to his feet and whirling around and throwing his hands about.

Jessicah giggled and giggled as Samuel frolicked before her by the waterside. It was only the sounds of talking that stopped him for, coming over the bank, was a group of local boys and at their head was a much larger, uglier boy whom Samuel had not seen in quite some time, but knew far too well. They all looked much older, uglier and meaner than before, but they still had the look of bullies. They splashed across the shallow river up to their knees and climbed the bank, making straight for Samuel and Jessicah with evil grins. Samuel was not about to turn into a coward and so he stood his ground with Jessicah beside him, clutching his arm tightly.

‘What are you doing?’ the big boy asked impolitely. The last time they had met, Samuel had been beaten badly, but much time had passed since then. Samuel was not about to let his pride take a beating again.

‘Talking,’ Samuel answered bluntly. ‘What do you want?’

‘Looked like you were dancing to me. I haven’t seen you for a long time, but I never forget a face. I do remember telling you that if I ever saw you again, I’d piss all over you. Did you forget it?’ the bully asked, dragging his nose across his sleeve. The boys were all grubby from playing in the dirt and one had dried blood under his nose. They were all eagerly awaiting some entertainment.

Samuel said nothing, but Jessicah was tugging desperately at the side of his shirt. ‘Samuel, let’s go,’ she was whispering to him.

‘You’re lucky I just pissed,’ said the bully with a grin. One of his companions did appear damp and off-spirited. ‘But I think I’m gonna have to beat you up in front of your girlfriend, anyway, just to teach you a lesson, so you had better run!’

The bully jumped forwards and threw his arms up, as if to frighten them, but Samuel stepped forward and smashed his fist up into the bully’s undefended nose. The collision of nose and knuckles jarred Samuel’s fist, surprising him, but the pain that contorted the big boy’s face was obviously far greater. The bully staggered back, clutching at his face and yelling in pain.

Samuel pushed Jessicah back. ‘Run home,’ he told her, and she did, turning and hurrying away, leaving Samuel facing a line of angry young boys.

‘Now we’re gonna have to kill you,’ the bully snorted, still holding his nose. ‘No one hits me!’ Blood ran through his fingers. He tried to sound menacing, but sounded more as if he had a bad cold.

The boys began scooping up river stones and moved to encircle Samuel. Samuel stood his ground and waited for their first move, for he knew he could not outrun them all. He watched closely as one boy drew his arm slowly back and then the missile came hurtling forth. Samuel stepped neatly to the side, but an awful pain bit him in the back of the head. He spun around in time to catch another stone with his face and was blinded by the pain. The boys all started laughing.

‘Stone him!’ the bully yelled and rocks began pelting Samuel from all directions.

Samuel dropped to the ground and covered his face with his hands as the boys all laughed at him, blasting him with stones. It only lasted a handful of moments, yet when they were done, Samuel had wet, salty blood in his eyes and his body rang with pain where the stones had struck bone. He climbed to his feet while the boys were still laughing and watched them groggily, defiantly. The boy closest to the bully scooped up one last rock, just to squeeze one last laugh from his mates. His throw was hard and true and it was aimed directly at Samuel’s face.

There was a ringing in Samuel’s ears and everything suddenly seemed to be moving at half-speed, getting slower. The bully was caught laughing with his eyes half-closed and his mouth wide open.

Samuel’s hand came up as the stone crawled through the air towards him and he plucked it from the very air as if it was hanging still. All Samuel could focus upon were all the boys’ laughing faces, as if they were frozen in time, deformed and twisted. It fired Samuel with contempt and hatred. It filled him with blazing venom.

Time flashed back to its normal rate as, with a grunt and all his might, he threw the stone back towards them. The stone narrowly missed the bully’s ear and whizzed past him so fast that it was halfway across the river before any of them could even turn their heads. It struck the slow river and flew up again with a great hiss and spray of water. They heard it strike a withered tree on the far bank with an almighty bang and a crack that echoed back towards them. Then, to the disbelief of them all, the tree shivered and shook and then toppled over, crashing down the bank and rolling into the river with a thunderous clatter.

The boys slowly turned gape-mouthed back to Samuel and then looked at each other blankly. The bully trembled, finally remembering to close his mouth, and looked wildly at his colleagues. Samuel thought the gang was about to flee, but his glimmer of anticipation was abruptly dispelled.

‘Get him!’ the big bully yelled, and with a cry all the boys charged in and leapt on top of Samuel.

Samuel immediately fell beneath their weight and grunted as their bodies piled on top of him. His head spun and his eyes fuzzed and he thought he was going to die, until, without warning, the bright sun was again in his eyes. A tall black silhouette was clubbing at the fleeing boys and shouting like a devil.

‘Be away with you, you little dastards!’ the voice shouted after them. A hand was offered and Samuel gingerly took it, being pulled to his giddy feet. ‘Not quick enough again, Samuel,’ the man spoke. ‘I saw you passing through the markets with your lady friend and thought I’d let you two be alone for a time, but when I saw her hurrying back in such a dither, I thought I had better come take a look. Lucky for you, I think.’ The man was Mr Joshua. ‘What an awful mess we’d both be in if I let you get injured or worse.’

Samuel nodded and tried to agree, but his throat would not make any sound. Mr Joshua tucked his cudgel again into his belt and led Samuel back towards the town.

‘Let’s see to these cuts,’ he said and took Samuel back into his office.

The men there regarded the beaten Samuel with a mix of curiosity, concern and laughter, although a scornful glance from Mr Joshua quickly stopped all that.

In his office, Mr Joshua cleaned the cuts and grazes himself and picked over Samuel until he was sure he had seen and treated every little sore.

‘I can’t have my best man killed so young now, can I?’ he said as he worked. Samuel shook his head. ‘So, what news do you have for me? Anything?’ Mr Joshua asked as Samuel, trembling, drank from the cup Mr Joshua offered him.

Samuel told of the many frantic comings and goings of the Burning Oak recently, and of the ancient-looking old man who stayed whom they called ‘Grand Master’. He told of the man who had offered him money and Mr Joshua cursed, saying it was no man of his, but some upstart trying to steal some of his business. Samuel even mentioned the lights around the old man’s head, and Mr Joshua nodded and looked concerned, but Samuel said nothing of his attempts to copy them.

‘Are these men devils, Mr Joshua? People say that only devils can use magic. But they seem so nice for devils.’

Mr Joshua laughed softly. ‘No, they’re not devils, as far as I know.’ His tone then became of a serious nature. ‘Don’t worry about the man who met you today. I think I know who he is and I’ll talk to him for you-let him know you don’t like to be bothered. Just keep doing as you have and one day you’ll be a rich man. There’s something special about you, Samuel. I’m sure of it.’

Samuel nodded and, with a pat on his back from Mr Joshua, he left and returned towards the Burning Oak, suddenly dreading his lecture from Kans upon taking so long. At least the cuts and bruises were evidence for his tardiness.

Samuel thought he would be too sore to get on the roof that night, but after unsuccessfully trying to make the light in his hands, Samuel could not resist. He clambered onto the roof when he saw the faint glow of the candles shining out the high window and waited for whomever it was-Mr Took, it turned out-to practise his movements.

Samuel hoped to find some clue as to what had happened to him on the river-bank. What strange power had filled him for that instant?

As Samuel watched on, entranced, a shout from below nearly brought him tumbling from the roof.

‘Samuel!’ Kans called from below. ‘Where are you, boy?’

The sound of Kans walking through the stable and calling his name continued until he came out into the yard again and began calling there. Samuel flattened himself to the tilted roof and lay perfectly still, in case Kans should look up. It was a bright night, after all, and Samuel suspected he was perfectly visible if someone should look directly towards him.

Kans eventually gave up his calling and returned around to the front of the main building. Samuel took advantage of the opportunity and shimmied down from the roof and scampered back into his room. He dived into his bed and waited to see if Kans would return.

‘There you are,’ Kans said, striding angrily into his room. ‘Where have you been?’

The boy sat up and tried his best to yawn and look tired. ‘Oh, I was relieving myself, Kans.’

Kans nodded. ‘Why are you dressed like that?’

Samuel looked at himself and had to subdue his panic. He was still in his grubby working clothes. ‘I…I was working late and was so tired, I must have forgotten to change.’

Kans scoffed and shook his head without any attempt to conceal his disdain for such behaviour. ‘Quickly, then. Get up and ready Mr Copperpot’s and Mr Sloan’s horses. They are leaving within the hour.’

Samuel nodded and leapt to work. He had the horses ready well within time, before the two men came rushing out and clambered onto their animals. They galloped out the front gates, barely pausing to give their goodbyes. Kans pushed the groaning gates closed behind them and then rushed back inside the inn.

Samuel returned to his room and changed into his more comfortable bedclothes. He crawled into his bed and closed his eyes tightly, hoping for a restful few hours’ sleep before dawn when his chores began again. He had no idea what was causing this recent stir amongst the men of the Burning Oak and his inability to find out was becoming more and more frustrating.

Weeks passed uneventfully after that night, with no further comings or goings and Samuel had plenty of spare time to spend with Jessicah, for Mr Kelvin had felt terribly guilty after Samuel’s beating and now allowed him to go to town three times a week.

Samuel spent every evening practising the movements and the breathing exercises he had learned. Most nights, he could get the glow between his hands and sometimes even send it floating away to dissipate against the wall with a slow, blue splash. It exhilarated Samuel to see the lights he could create, but he wished to know more, to be able to do more. He never dared to try and make the light during the day, only when he was sure it was late and he would not be discovered. He was sure he would be punished for spying on the men and learning their secrets. Perhaps they would even lock him up or do something terrible to him. When magic was involved, who knew what strange things the men could do?

‘Lomar?’ Samuel asked, as they both sat in the boughs of the Oldforth tree that stood amidst the gardens. ‘Do you believe in magic?’

‘Of course I do, Samuel,’ Lomar returned, raising a quizzical eye from his drawing. He had a charcoal marker in one hand and a piece of thick paper in the other, sketching a scene of the garden. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘You tell me all those stories of other lands and myths and fairies and goblins, yet I have never seen any of those things. Do they really exist, or are they just stories? Is there really such magic?’

Lomar balanced his implements beside him, next to the row of coloured chalks that wobbled on the branch, and thought a moment. ‘There is often a little truth, and a little mistruth, in everything that is said,’ he began. ‘What is true in one circumstance may be false in another. I have never seen fairies or goblins, but that is not to say they do not exist. I thought dwarves were mere tales until I first saw one with my own eyes. It is not unusual to see a small-person, as they prefer to be called, born to full-sized parents.’

‘How is that so?’ Samuel asked, curious.

‘It is just something that happens,’ Lomar replied with a bob of his shoulders. ‘Just as sometimes people are born with notable differences, some are born with unusually short stature, but they are normal people, just as you and I.’

‘Do they like to dig underground?’

‘Not overly, no,’ Lomar returned with amusement. ‘So you can see how a fable has been created from truth. There are, indeed, dwarves, but they do not congregate in underground cities and spend their lives whistling and digging for precious gems. I think, too, that many other legends have had some root in truth.’

‘And magic?’ Samuel asked persistently with a glint in his eye.

‘People sometimes like to discuss whether or not magic actually exists. You have seen my tricks, but that is not magic; it is merely a skill. My hands are adept at hiding things before the eye can notice. People cannot fly upon broom handles or turn others into toads, but, given practice, a man may accomplish tasks that seem absolute miracles to others. Using talents that others find rare, men may name themselves magicians and call what they do magic, but it is all an extension of natural gifts which they have finely honed.’

Samuel’s brow was furrowed. Lomar always answered with riddles and more questions. Samuel had seen magic and he knew it existed. He had even done some himself and thought he was getting quite good at it, too.

‘There are many magicians in the Turian Empire,’ Lomar added, having noted Samuel’s discontent and the boy then looked up with expectation. ‘Mostly, they are welcomed and openly accepted, but here, in Marlen, we are quite far from the great capital and people still hold age-old contempt for magic. The magicians that live here tend to keep to themselves.’

‘So there are magicians!’ Samuel spurted out with excitement and Lomar hushed him furiously with a wave of his hands. Finally, Samuel had managed to squeeze the admission out of someone! ‘Are you a magician?’ Samuel then asked, hoping for a continuation of his good luck.

‘You have seen my magic,’ Lomar returned with a grin, snatching up his brush and then making it vanish in his hands. ‘So, obviously, I must be. Now, enough of the matter. I want to finish this drawing before I lose the sun, for tomorrow I must leave once more.’

Samuel felt as disappointed as ever. Lomar had evaded him once again. One day, he would have his answer. These men were obviously all magicians. Only making them admit the fact was proving difficult. Creating lights and igniting candles was obviously magic and couldn’t be explained away as something else. No amount of twisting of words or slyness of tongue could dissuade Samuel of that. He only wondered what other amazing things they could do and how he could trick them into letting him know their secrets.

On one particular night, creating the glowing ball was especially easy and Samuel set it to rest just above his head, where, instinctively, he knew it would stay. He summoned several other such glow-balls and placed those beside the first, so that they cast a ghostly blue-white light over his room as they slowly bobbed up and down. Then, however, Samuel found it particularly hard to summon a fifth ball. He had never done so many before and he decided stubbornly that tonight would be the night to do it. He caught the sensation he needed in his mind and groped at it blindly with all his will. The sensation of magic was as slippery as soap in a washtub and he fumbled after the elusive feeling as best he could. Each time he nearly let it slip, he changed his approach slightly and pinpointed the energy once more. Finally, with an almost tangible click, Samuel found the mindset he needed and he knew the magic was coming. His hands vibrated with the resonance of his thoughts and he felt another glow-ball on the verge of manifestation. The other glow-balls blinked out and vanished without warning and Samuel chastised himself in the back of his mind for this, but he forced himself to keep his attention on the task at hand, else all his practice would be for naught.

A new light then began to creep from in-between Samuel’s slightly parted palms. There was a strange discomfort in Samuel’s head, but he ignored it, intent on perfecting this creation. The light grew in intensity until it had surpassed any previous attempt in size and strength. Still, however, Samuel could not coax it to become a self-sustaining ball. He kept pressing his efforts between his hands, and sweat dropped from his brow and sizzled into vapour as it touched the burning light he had summoned. An audible crackling and popping came from the air all around as if things were spontaneously coming into existence. Slowly, as Samuel shook with the strain, he managed to draw his hands apart and the light wobbled and spun on its own, finally settling into a well-formed sphere.

Samuel relaxed and wiped his face dry with his arm. He was sure he had never used so much effort before, and Samuel was completely pleased with himself. With a fingertip, he nudged the ball up above his head. He could feel that this ball was much stronger than the others. It would probably last all night long before fading away. He just hoped no one came before it did, for he had not yet discovered how to make his glow-balls disappear at will. They merely faded after a time or when they felt like it, so it seemed.

Strangely, the new glow-ball hovered back down from the ceiling and refused to be sent back up, no matter how Samuel coaxed it. He examined it closely with one eyebrow raised in curiosity. It was such a strange-looking glow-ball.

‘Oosoo ahn…’ came a long, dry whisper and Samuel nearly jumped out of his skin with fright.

Two dark circles appeared on the orb, followed by a third beneath, which smiled. The orb had a face! Two long, pale arms unfolded from the central mass, and a long, legless torso tapered down behind. Samuel was both curious and unsure and he stared at the thing with eyes wide. A long-fingered hand stretched out and touched Samuel on the shoulder. Its touch was needle-sharp and icy cold.

‘Oosoo ahn…’ again it called, soft and dry.

Samuel backed away, bumping into the wall, as the spirit began examining his room. It looked at his bed and his desk, pausing to view the notes that lay all over it, seeming to read them and smiling with satisfaction. It then noticed Samuel edging for the door and was at once on him, covering the distance between them in a heartbeat. It slapped his chest with its claw-like hand and knocked Samuel down without effort. In an instant, it was over him and gone out the door. Samuel was horrified, but leapt up in pursuit.

The spirit danced around the garden, disappearing into hollows, and moving around the inn at a frightening speed, as if investigating every cranny. It spied Samuel once more and raced towards him. Samuel ducked and covered his head with his hands, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. When he opened his eyes again, the spirit thing was nose to nose with him. It cocked its head sideways and repeated the words.

‘Oosoo ahn.’

In its outstretched claw, it held a handful of dirt. The pieces of soil ran between its bon,y white fingers and dropped to the ground as it cocked its head sideways and watched on as if fascinated.

‘Er…’ Samuel began to speak, but the spirit tossed the dirt down and turned its face to the starry sky, mouth agape in silent wonder.

It then shot away like an arrow and vanished into the darkness over the inn wall. The sound of the front door being unbolted sent Samuel scurrying back into the stables where the wide-eyed horses regarded him nervously. He leapt into his bed as voices came from outside. Footsteps approached the stable and a solid knock came at the door.

‘Samuel, are you awake?’ came the voice of Mr Kelvin.

‘Ah, yes, Mr Kelvin,’ Samuel replied, trying to sound tired, and Mr Kelvin opened the door and came in, bearing a lantern.

‘Did you hear anything just now?’ he asked, peering into the corners of Samuel’s room.

‘Why, yes, Mr Kelvin. Just now I thought I heard someone walking in the garden, but I thought it was one of the guests.’

Mr Kelvin nodded. ‘I thought I heard someone, too. Well, I’ll have Kans keep an eye out. Good night, Samuel.’

‘Good night, Mr Kelvin,’ he called after his employer.

Far off from the direction of the town came the faint noise of a woman’s scream. Samuel swallowed and hoped it had nothing to do with him.

Samuel did not dare practise for a long time. He felt that Mr Kelvin suspected him of something, and he was also petrified of a recurrence of the event with the frightful spirit. Samuel noticed that the guests threw occasional glances towards him as he worked, which he was sure they never did before. More than once, movement caught his eye and he thought he saw something, like smoke, vanishing around a corner. It could have been his imagination, but thoughts of the ghoulish spirit kept returning to him.

Samuel soon found himself unable to sleep and he craved to practise his movements and meditation with a hunger. His mind was a riddle of confusion and he found concentration on any task at hand difficult. Mr Kelvin was constantly finding errors in his studies. He awoke in the middle of one night to find a glow just fading from his hands, and a string of words still on his lips.

‘Sohm pad e`num-toh jio-toh varnay,’ he whispered to himself. Those had been the words he had been repeating in his sleep and those had been the words the old man, the Grand Master, had recited softly as he meditated. He had never heard them spoken aloud, but somehow he knew these words by heart, as if he had written them down and studied them.

Waking again and again, night after night, Samuel finally could not resist and sat up in his cot and closed his eyes and crossed his legs and the words sprang from his lips as naturally as the next breath. At first, he spoke them over and over again, repeating twice as he exhaled and then taking in a deep breath again. It was as if someone else was moving him like a puppet, yet it felt to him that this was exactly what he was supposed to be doing. His lips soon barely moved at all as the words echoed over and over seamlessly in his mind, until he lost all consciousness of himself and the words were all that remained. The universe and I; everything and nothing.

Kans dressed and walked down the wide hall to the kitchen, his footsteps echoing after him. After speaking briefly with Cook, who was well underway preparing breakfast for the Masters, he went about taking tea to Master Kelvin. Kans entered silently and, as usual, Master Kelvin was tangled up with only his bed sheets; the blankets being all on the floor. Kans placed the tray on the bedside table and carefully added the milk and sugar from the tiny pots, just as Master Kelvin preferred.

‘Master Kelvin,’ Kans called softly. ‘Master Kelvin, it’s time to wake up.’

With a snort, Master Kelvin opened his eyes and sat up. ‘What! Oh, good morning, Kans,’ he said as he oriented himself and began a great, gaping yawn.

‘Tea?’ Kans offered.

‘Oh, good. Yes, thank you,’ Master Kelvin replied, smacking his lips. He took the tea, blowing on it and sipping carefully.

Master Kelvin then did something quite curious, something he had not done before. He put his tea back down before finishing it and began getting dressed, oblivious to Kan’s presence. He seemed to be examining the air around him as if looking for an irritating insect.

‘Master Kelvin?’ Kans enquired, a little unsure of his master’s behaviour.

Master Kelvin looked about himself once more, but then stopped, as if coming upon a vital realisation. ‘Quickly!’ Master Kelvin instructed. ‘Go check on the guests.’

Kans hurried out, spurred on by Master Kelvin’s concern and, knocking on each Master’s door, made sure they were awake and readying themselves for the day. It took a few minutes and by the time Kans returned to Master Kelvin’s chamber, Master Kelvin was bursting out into the hall.

‘Well?’ he demanded brusquely.

‘They’re fine, Master Kelvin.’

Master Kelvin stopped still, thoughtful a moment. ‘Go check on the boy!’ he urged. ‘The boy, I say! See to Samuel!’

‘Yes, Master Kelvin!’ Kans declared and hurried down the polished hallway and out the great main doors, spurred on by Master Kelvin’s alarm.

Kans returned after a short time in an even greater hurry and with even greater alarm written clear across his face.

‘Master Kelvin!’ he called out. ‘Master Kelvin!’

All the Masters were gathered in the dining room, picking at their food, talking over each other and creating an excited hubbub.

‘Master Kelvin!’ Kans called again as he pushed his way into the room. ‘Master Kelvin, come quickly!’ he yelled.

The procession of black-clothed men scurried down the main steps and around the side of the building to the stable. Master Kelvin hurried in and threw open Samuel’s door without a pause. His own dismay was echoed by the gasps from those all pushing and clustered behind him in the doorway.

Samuel was sitting cross-legged-a scrawny and knobbly-kneed young scrap of a lad, caught at the turning of his youth- with his palms together and his eyes closed. He looked quite peaceful at first glance, but the obvious source of everyone’s surprise was the fact that he was floating halfway to the ceiling. The boy was bathed in a soft blue light that grew from all around him and cascaded up towards the ceiling, where it slowly splashed and dissipated. Samuel’s body glistened with sweat and shook dreadfully, as if beyond exhaustion, yet his face held utter bliss and contentment. His lips moved incessantly, muttering the words of some powerful mantra over and over again.

‘Oh, my,’ was all Master Kelvin could say.

Samuel opened his eyes. His body hurt as if he had done an extra hard day’s work and then, to finish, had thrown himself down a long flight of stairs. He was not in his own room, but instead found himself lying upon a large, soft bed with posts standing at each corner, within a finely polished timber bedchamber. It was still dark outside, but a small lamp was lit upon the wall, lending its soft, golden glow to the room.

He managed to sit up and pushed a pillow into the small of his back so he was resting against the bedhead. A low, hollow ringing droned in his skull and, along with the aching in his body, he thought he knew how his father must have felt on mornings after drinking.

Beside him, on a small bedside table, a glass and pitcher waited, so Samuel drank, refilled the glass and then drank again, quenching his parched, sore throat. His bedclothes had been removed and a neatly folded pair of his trousers and shirt waited on a chest next to a shining new set of boots. From the size of them, Samuel guessed they were meant for him.

There was a knocking at the door and Samuel groaned a feeble ‘come in’. The knob turned and Mr Kelvin came in quietly, almost cautiously. He drew a chair to the bedside and took a sip from the steaming mug in his hand, before setting it on the floor by his heel.

‘How are you, Samuel?’ he asked with concern.

‘I’m aching all over, Mr Kelvin,’ Samuel managed to moan back.

Mr Kelvin nodded and picked up his mug and sipped carefully from it before placing it down again. He peered long and thoughtfully out through the window into the still night. ‘Do you remember what happened three evenings ago?’

Samuel thought for a time and then his memory started coming back to him, although somewhat dimly. ‘The last thing I remember is checking on the horses and getting into bed. Why am I in here? Have I been sick?’

Mr Kelvin took another long, thoughtful sip. ‘We found you in a catatonic state. It seems you have learned more during your stay here than we would have guessed; much more than you should have.’

Samuel was surprised and did not know what to say. He had finally been discovered.

‘Have you been watching the guests?’ Mr Kelvin asked soberly.

Samuel nodded, feeling small.

‘You know it is forbidden to do so, for your own safety. It took hours to bring you back from the state you were in. If we had not been fortuitous in our efforts, you would have spent the rest of your life being fed pre-chewed food through a funnel.’ Samuel gulped and Mr Kelvin was again silent for a time. ‘Lomar suspected that you had learned something, but I dismissed the fact as the normal curiosity of a young boy. It now seems evident that you do, indeed, have some talent in the ways of magic. Such talent, now tapped, but raw and untrained as it is, can be very dangerous, indeed.’ He again paused and looked thoughtful for a moment, even slightly pursing his lips. ‘I think it is time you realised your potential and learned the ways of a magician.’

‘A magician?’ Samuel repeated, bewildered in his feeble state.

Mr Kelvin nodded. ‘Magic is no childhood story, such as frogfolk and badgermen. This is an inn for magicians, and all of us here, and everyone who ever sets foot within these walls, are magicians. We only allow common folk to enter when we haven’t the time to attend to something for ourselves, such as with Cook and yourself.’

‘Even Kans?’

‘Even Kans. It is my wish that you, too, should attend the School of Magic in Cintar. You’re about the right age and it would be a sorry waste if you did not at least try. But I reach too far ahead of us both. I will talk to you of this again tomorrow, for it is late and you need more sleep if your body is to recover from the strains it has suffered.’

‘Lomar told me there was no such thing as real magic,’ Samuel said.

‘In some ways, that is indeed true, but I think that Lomar was merely protecting you. It is not in most people’s interest to even know of the existence of magic, especially in these times. Even if he guessed you had some pre-disposition towards magic, it is not always easy for one to come to terms with that fact. It is not a whimsical ability as people think, but a challenging force which forever commands our mastery. It is a skill such as any, but one which is rarer than most and more powerful than any other in the right hands. Common folk find it awe-inspiring and therefore elevate the use of magic to levels of godlike or devil-like powers, but it is not really so. For us magicians, it is merely a matter of fact, like tying your bootlaces. It is, however, a great responsibility, for if magic were misused it could mean disaster for the common folk. Come now, get some rest. You will learn more soon enough-once you have recovered.’

Strangely, Samuel did feel suddenly tired again. For a moment, he thought he saw a tiny string of shining aura flicker out from Mr Kelvin towards him, but perhaps it was his tired mind playing tricks on him. He tried to mumble something, but his tongue was as heavy as his eyelids and neither would do as he wished. He felt hands lower him back onto the bed and the covers being pulled high up around his neck. Mr Kelvin then pushed his chair back and dimmed the lamp a little bit more and left the boy to his already deep sleep.

The sound of Kans fossicking around the room roused Samuel and, looking towards the window, he judged it to be very soon after sunrise. His muscles still ached, but he longed to stretch his legs and be out of that room. A ravenous hunger also had hold of him and Samuel could smell breakfast streaming in the partly open doorway. Kans departed at the sight of Samuel stirring and left the boy to himself, closing the door softly behind. Samuel sat up and felt all his muscles aching. He clambered slowly out of bed and stretched his arms up towards the feeling. Every muscle and fibre felt stiff and wiry, yet, beneath the soreness, there was also some excitement of being, as if he were a tightly-coiled spring ready to be released.

Closing the door behind him, Samuel in his new clothes and soft boots, found himself in the unfamiliar halls of the guesthouse. Kans’ tapping footsteps approached and the wiry man, looking as sullen as ever, waved his finger towards a large, double set of doors before striding off again from view. Samuel stepped over, his boots echoing in the polished hall and waited a moment. For some reason, he felt nervous, for he wasn’t sure what could be waiting for him on the other side. Taking a big breath, he pushed open the doors and entered. He found himself in a grand dining room, filled with talk and chatter and where Mr Kelvin and the guests were just beginning to breakfast from a table full of steaming and delicious-looking foods. They looked to Samuel with great interest and the excited talk only increased further.

‘Ah, sit down, please, Samuel!’ Mr Kelvin called. ‘You must be hungry and we are eager to speak with you. I trust you are feeling well?’

‘Yes. A bit stiff,’ Samuel replied, rubbing his arm just to emphasise his point. His stomach groaned from the smells that filled the room and he quickly filled an empty seat. Cook appeared and placed some steaming soup before him with a nod and a smile.

‘Samuel,’ she said in greeting, before hurrying back into the kitchen. Samuel plucked up his spoon and began scooping the soup into his mouth like a sailor bailing water from a sinking boat.

‘Now, Samuel,’ Mr Kelvin finally said after Samuel had finished his second bowl. The guests had been whispering and nodding towards Samuel throughout the meal. ‘When we found you, you were saying something, some powerful words. Tell us, how did you learn these words?’

Samuel bobbed his shoulders, still intent on finishing a large loaf that he had smothered in butter. ‘I watched sometimes through the window above the stable.’ Samuel had already decided to accept any punishment and was too hungry to be bothered telling any stories.

‘From the stable roof!’ one of the men exclaimed excitedly. ‘I often had the strangest of feelings that I was being watched.’

‘As did I,’ agreed another and there was much nodding.

‘And which words were you reciting?’ asked the first.

Again, Samuel bobbed his shoulders as he swallowed the last bit of crust and Mr Kelvin pushed the fruit bowl towards him.

‘I’d say the whole ordeal was subconsciously controlled,’ Mr Kelvin explained to the others. ‘He was probably sensing ethereal vibrations and he memorised the words subconsciously.’

‘Why it’s fantastic!’ one man exclaimed and they all nodded and agreed to each other once more.

‘But I can sense no talent in the boy,’ a newcomer declared. ‘And yet you say he was clearly several feet above the ground when you found him, and exuding power like there was no tomorrow?’

‘Yes,’ Mr Kelvin replied. ‘Several feet. And, as for his aura, I can’t explain why he does not emanate even the slightest hint of energy. I observed him the first day I met him and thought it was most curious. I only allowed him to stay because I thought he would be interesting to study. I was growing quite tired of every rogue in the town trying to get their spies through my door, but a curiosity like that was just too much to ignore.

‘You knew Mr Joshua sent me here?’ Samuel explained with surprise.

‘Oh, I have no idea of the workings of the town gangsters and scoundrels at any given moment, Samuel, but it is much simpler to let them put someone in here and feed them a little information as I choose, rather than have them cause more of a bother than it’s worth.’ Samuel was dumbfounded. ‘You obviously seemed to be working for one of the more successful groups or you would have disappeared much earlier-like your poor unfortunate predecessor. Now can you see why I didn’t want you wandering around in town? Now, we still have the question of your missing presence. Indeed, such a complete lack of an aura is more than just a curiosity. Even concealment spells can be detected under close enough scrutiny, but he has nothing. It’s truly perplexing.’

Men nodded.

‘Can he do something now for us?’ the doubting man asked, but Mr Kelvin threw him back a dark look.

‘The boy needs his rest and it would be better if he did not use magic until under the supervision of the teachers.’

‘So you truly intend to send him to the School of Magic-to become a magician?’ The man sounded truly incredulous. ‘He’s not even Turian!’

‘There are more students being accepted from the territories with every year. With need, we find we are forced to break from our old traditions-and I think this is actually one of the better changes.’

‘And don’t forget about the Grand Master!’ someone else piped up from the back.

The doubting man humphed and then crunched into a juicy apple.

Samuel’s ravenous hunger was beginning to abate as he finished his second banana, but the sight of such a delicious apple had him reaching for one himself.

‘Samuel?’ Mr Kelvin began to question. ‘Have you decided what you want to do?’

Samuel quickly swallowed his remaining mouthful. ‘Do you think I should become a magician, like you?’

‘Well,’ Mr Kelvin said with a chortle. ‘It takes a lifetime of study to reach our level of experience and you may never attain such skill, but you certainly have some potential, from what we have witnessed. I think it would be a great loss if you did not at least try. You can always return here if you find some problem.’

‘But how will I pay?’ Samuel asked. ‘I don’t have enough money to go to school.’

Again, Mr Kelvin laughed. ‘Oh, you don’t need money. The Order of Magicians is very wealthy and you will be given an allowance to study, be it somewhat humble. However, I think you will understand after a short time that magicians really have little use for money.’

Samuel considered and then agreed. He would actually get paid to go to school? And if he could always return here, then he had nothing really to lose.

‘Very good,’ Mr Kelvin declared. ‘Master Goodwin is leaving this very day for Cintar. Perhaps he can escort you.’

‘Can the boy ride?’ the younger, moustached Master Goodwin asked. Samuel had only seen him on one previous occasion and he seemed even more mysterious than the others, rarely speaking-even to the other guests.

When Samuel shook his head, Mr Kelvin said, ‘Then you may take a wagon and we will have it returned another time.’

Master Goodwin seemed somewhat displeased with the idea, but nodded in agreement.

‘Well then, Samuel. It is decided,’ Mr Kelvin spoke. Then to Master Goodwin he turned. ‘Go and tell Kans to ready a wagon.’

Samuel stood. ‘I can do it, Mr Kelvin.’

‘No, no, Samuel. You need your rest and, another thing-as you now have some knowledge of the Order of Magicians, you should call me Master Kelvin from this point on, as is my title.’

‘Yes, Master Kelvin, but I can do it,’ Samuel said, but Master Kelvin would hear nothing of it and set Kans to ready the wagon beside the stables.

Samuel spent the morning being questioned by the guests in the Burning Oak gardens, but he could not even begin to answer most of their questions. He told them of his success in summoning the glow-balls, but kept his terrible mistake with the strange spirit to himself. They even tried to convince him to summon some magic, against Master Kelvin’s wishes, but Samuel was adamant that he would not. He was not even sure he could.

‘Why is Cook not a magician?’ Samuel asked Master Took, who promptly burst out laughing.

‘Women cannot use magic, Samuel,’ he replied.

‘It’s not their nature,’ Master Gunthem added.

‘Why is she here?’ Samuel asked.

‘We have studies and duties to attend to, young Samuel,’ Master Copperpot answered. They were all crowding enthusiastically around him. ‘None of us has the time to prepare food all day. She is the niece of a mage and so we have no need to hide our true nature from her; though of course she doesn’t know our innermost secrets.’

‘What secrets?’ Samuel asked.

‘Ah, that would be telling,’ Copperpot returned mysteriously. ‘You will learn everything in good time at the place where you are going. Have patience. All good things come to those who wait.’

‘Why do magicians have to be so secret?’ Samuel asked.

‘We are the very bastions of the Empire,’ Copperpot explained, ‘Although we do not display ourselves openly and do not have direct contact with the people like the Emperor’s armies, we are still a symbol of the Empire’s might.’

‘The very Empire that conquered these lands,’ Master Gunthem put in.

‘Yes,’ Copperpot continued. ‘In Turia, we openly walk the streets, but here, far from the centre of civilisation, it is not wise for us to advertise our presence. In fact, worse than the fact we represent the Empire, is the fact that we represent magic itself. Magicians have been regarded very poorly in the past. In some regions, we would be in mortal danger if we revealed ourselves. We rarely go to such places, except when absolutely necessary and, even then, we must travel in disguise. The Emperor has been trying to change the old superstitions, but progress is slow and people do not change their ideas easily. We are only here to help people, but sometimes it can be very difficult to make them understand that.’

Samuel nodded. It seemed very complicated.

‘Tell us, Samuel. How did you start to use magic?’ Master Gunthem questioned.

‘Yes. Show us what you can do?’ Master Took asked once more and Mr Copperpot raised an intervening finger.

Master Kelvin’s calling brought a sigh of relief and Samuel hurried back to the inn, with the magicians all trailing behind and bickering with each other.

Kans brought the single-horsed wagon to the front and, with his few belongings and his purse carefully packed, Samuel received a firm handshake from Master Kelvin and each of the guests. It was strange to have men, who had barely granted Samuel more than a few words, now gripping his hand and shaking it like dear friends with beaming smiles.

Samuel finally hopped up beside Master Goodwin and they began away, passing through the gates past a grumpy, dirty-faced, Kans. As the wagon passed through, Samuel shouted his goodbyes and Kans’ face showed the slightest hint of a smile, as he promptly shut the gates behind them.

Just then, Samuel remembered Jessicah and Mr Joshua. In all the excitement, he had forgotten them entirely.

‘I’ll meet you at the bridge!’ Samuel blurted out to Master Goodwin and jumped down from the wagon before the man could utter any form of response. He was away and zigzagging his way through the town streets in a heartbeat.

He was panting and breathless by the time he came to the doors of the Three Toads Inn. A patron was just coming out, and Samuel spied Jessicah standing idly inside beside her father. He carefully eased the door open a crack and waited for his uncle to disappear into a back room, before darting in and dragging Jessicah out by the hand.

‘Samuel!’ she said. ‘It’s so good to see you!’

‘Yes, you too!’ he returned. ‘But I must go. I am going to Cintar to be a magician.’ She giggled at this. ‘Really!’ he reiterated. ‘I’m leaving now and I don’t know when I will be back.’

‘Oh, Samuel. That’s terrible!’

‘Don’t worry!’ he said confidently. ‘I’m sure I can come back soon and see you. I promise.’

‘Oh, Samuel,’ she said again and kissed him quickly on the cheek.

‘But I must go!’ he exclaimed. ‘Master Goodwin is waiting for me, and I must go see Mr Joshua and get my money!’

‘Goodbye, Samuel! I will miss you!’

‘Me, too! Goodbye, Jessicah!’ And with that Samuel was off again.

‘Hey, Samuel!’ called a familiar voice, as Samuel was crossing the market square. Samuel stopped and Fat Martin, a street boy Samuel knew well, came scampering up to him. ‘If you’re on your way to see Mr Joshua, I’d think twice!’

‘Why is that?’ Samuel asked.

‘Some trouble. The city guard are there.’

Samuel became worried. ‘I’ll be careful.’ And he sped off again.

On nearing Mr Joshua’s office, Samuel slowed to a walk and carefully peered down the narrow street. Two guards were waiting arms-folded by the entrance. Samuel was sure more were inside, but he could not guess as to what they were doing-nothing serious, he hoped. He was eager to get the savings that Mr Joshua had been keeping for him, but the guards left him no choice. He waited a painfully long time, but the guards barely moved a muscle the whole time. Samuel was forced to turn about and jog away to meet Master Goodwin. His money would have to wait until he returned to Stable Canthem. He had a little from his work at the Burning Oak, and Master Kelvin had said the school in Cintar would provide him with everything, but he still wanted his money. Mr Joshua had been a good employer and friend, so hopefully he would not be too angry at Samuel’s sudden departure and would keep the money for when he could return.

Master Goodwin was waiting patiently at the north bridge, which crossed the Mentine River. He did not ask a word when Samuel jumped up beside him and they set off at once. Samuel thought he should feel saddened that he could not say goodbye to Mr Joshua, but he was filled with such excitement at this new adventure.

At first, Samuel was excited with crossing new lands, but he soon discovered that one part of the highway was much the same as any other-dusty and featureless. It reminded him of his journey from Stable Waterford long ago; however, this time he was not fleeing from an abominable past, but headed for an exciting future. When he was a magician, he would surely learn to fly through the air and battle great dragons that rose hissing from the sea. The children in Stable Canthem had always talked of magic and the incredible things that magicians did. How exciting to think that, soon, he would be one of them. Then again, the guests at the Burning Oak were all magicians, and they were mostly grumpy old men. Samuel would be an adventurous magician, he was sure-not at all like them.

Master Goodwin told Samuel to call him Tulan, and it soon became evident that once Samuel got to know him, he was far friendlier and much more genuine than all the other magicians had been-except for Lomar, of course.

‘So, are all magicians called Master?’ Samuel asked.

‘Most are,’ Tulan answered with some amusement at the question. ‘It’s a title that the Magicians’ Council created many years ago to make us all feel better than the common folk. You start as an apprentice magician and become an Adept when you are almost ready. After a few years’ experience, you graduate and become a Master Magician. The titles are often changing and are not really important as far as I’m concerned. The Magicians’ Council is always fiddling and changing things without too particular a reason.’

‘So that’s not what they are supposed to do?’

Tulan snorted. ‘Not really, no. Politics, Samuel. Everything has politics-even magic. Once, I thought that magicians only did positive and wonderful things, but it turns out that we are governed by rules and bureaucracy as much as anyone-more so. There are too many greedy sods in the Order trying to squirm into positions of power. The Council is ever full of arguments and bickering. I couldn’t believe it at first, but that’s just the way of things. I try to ignore it as best I can. Sometimes, I’ve even considered leaving the Order altogether, but we can’t let such things get us down, can we?’ And he gave Samuel his most optimistic smile.

Samuel nodded. He had heard his father say similar things about the village leaders. People always seemed to complicate even the simplest of matters, having meetings and discussions and all sorts of arguments when none were really needed. Then something occurred to him. ‘What would you do if you left the Order?’

Tulan looked at him with genuine amusement. ‘There are some other groups I could join.’ He began to rattle off their names: ‘The Union of Modern Magicians, Rammel’s Spellcasters, The Magician’s Alliance…a few more. But they are really only token organisations and most only have a handful of members. The Order has the backing of the Emperor and is, therefore, the only one real association of magicians. The others are allowed to exist merely for the sake of appearances-places to put troublesome magicians where the Order can keep an eye on them and they can do little damage. No, the Order has its fair share of troubles and worries, but it is really the only way for a magician to exist in the Empire.’

Samuel nodded in understanding. ‘I didn’t know it was so difficult.’

‘Don’t worry, Samuel,’ Tulan said with a smile. ‘I should not worry you with such things at such a young age. My experiences have made me cynical, but you have your whole life in front of you. It seems you have a decent talent. I’m sure you will do your parents very proud.’ At that, Samuel’s face fell and, after a few moments, Tulan noticed his silence. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked the boy with concern.

‘My parents were killed.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, Samuel. I didn’t know. The world is a cruel and heartless place, despite its brief golden moments. I see now that you have discovered this already.’

Samuel nodded silently, then settled back into his seat and let the dusty countryside slowly rattle by.

After only a few more days, Tulan announced they were within the borders of Turia itself, seat of the Turian Empire and home to the Order of Magicians. The School of Magicians was located all the way in Cintar, the great capital, which would take them another two weeks to reach. Samuel could not believe it. He thought it could perhaps be a few more days, but another twoweeks? How could the land be so large? Master Kelvin had shown him maps of western Amandia, but the scale had never really occurred to him until now.

‘This is the slow way to travel, of course,’ Tulan informed him, gesturing to the wagon beneath them. ‘We could be a good way there by now if we were riding. They will probably teach you to ride in Cintar at some stage. It makes civilisation seem much more civilised when the towns with comfortable beds are not so far apart.’ Samuel nodded. ‘But I still enjoy taking my time occasionally-it reminds me of my childhood,’ Tulan added after a few moments silence. He had been scouring the open land with his blue clear eyes, watching the wind bend the reeds that sprouted tall along the roadside canals. ‘And it gives you time to think about things.’

They stayed at inns and occasionally at a magician’s guesthouse, similar to the Burning Oak. Tulan was obviously well travelled, as he knew these unmarked buildings from the others on sight. None had gardens as lovely as the Burning Oak, but all were lavish and splendid and they were afforded every comfort without any requirement to pay. Tulan wore his black trousers and dark, buttoned shirt as they travelled and the further they went, the more people seemed to recognise him for what he was, calling him Lord or Master and bowing before him.

‘I hate all this business,’ Tulan told Samuel. ‘They think we are nobles or saints of some kind. We’re no more worthy of their praise then the next man. Sometimes, I curse these clothes of black,’ he said, tugging at his clothing. ‘It’s true we heal the odd gimpy leg or cure the occasional bunion as we pass, but the Empire can’t hope to undo what it has done so easily. Don’t be surprised if someone throws a dead goat on our laps and expects me to heal it for them. Although, this close to Cintar we shouldn’t be bothered.’

‘Could you heal a dead goat?’ Samuel asked, in all seriousness.

Tulan laughed and shook his head. ‘Dead is dead, Samuel. Not even magic can cure that.’

‘Tell me more about magic,’ Samuel asked as the road led them through a series of wide, flat fields along a valley bottom. The hills all around had been tiered so as to be cultivated, making them all appear to be covered in great green steps. Samuel had long ago tired of looking at them and so instead he filled the time by launching another volley of questions towards his new friend. ‘Where does it come from and how does it work?’

‘Well, no one can say for sure,’ Tulan began, ‘but they tell me that magic is the underlying energy that comprises all things. If you know how, you can channel and make use of this energy, but it’s like everything; some of us have a natural talent and are better than others. My father sent me to be examined for talent when I was eight, not being able to support me himself. He was hoping I would prove useful with magic, and he was right. I manage to support him now he’s old and a little feeble.’

‘Can magicians marry then?’

Tulan looked sideways to Samuel with a questioning glance. ‘Magicians don’t marry, Samuel. Perhaps it’s the lifestyle or the study or something inherent in the magic itself, but magic dulls the greater emotions. Magicians can’t hate and can’t love-not to the full extent of common folk anyway. Something happens to the mind and body so that magicians stop thinking about the fairer sex in that particular way. And even if a magician wanted to have children, he couldn’t. Magicians simply cannot.’

‘That sounds awful.’

‘I suppose it’s a fair trade for the skills it grants us. Don’t worry, lad. Once it happens to you, you won’t notice any difference. It comes on slowly, but if you’re naturally talented with magic as it seems, you probably aren’t capable of having children already-that’s just the way of it. It does simplify the business a great deal and without the bother of families to deal with, we can do our work and studies without such hindrances. Admittedly, it does result in a lot of fairly boring old men not getting particularly fired-up or interested in much of anything. I sometimes suppose a woman or two in the Order would help to spice things up and make it more amusing-but that’s just not possible.’

Samuel mulled over the matter for a while until the solemn feeling left him. ‘Enough of that, then. Tell me more about magic!’ he asked.

Tulan looked thoughtful a moment, then began. ‘You like asking the simple ones, don’t you?’ Tulan stated with a sarcastic smile that peeped out from beneath his curling moustache. ‘Magic is both a skill that we practise and an energy that we can harvest from within our deepest selves. Magicians simply hone that ability as well as can be. Magic has garnered such a mystic tone simply because commoners cannot comprehend the link between cause and effect. It is invisible to them. They see us twiddle our fingers and then something happens, but they don’t understand the mental and physical effort that is required for such feats.

‘People once thought that the space between objects was filled with a void, but we now know that air fills those gaps, or how else would we breathe? We can use that knowledge to better ourselves-constructing windmills and sails and all manner of things that can help us. So it is with magic. One day, I believe everyone will use magic in their homes as everyone now brandishes fire. It is only the difficult step from fear and ignorance to understanding that is required.

‘Everyone could probably do some small magic if they tried although, as you’ve found out, it can be dangerous to play with magic without proper guidance. That is my misgiving with the Empire, Samuel. The Order has been created not to propagate magic, but to contain it. Instead of throwing light across the world, we gather the brightest sparks and keep them hidden away under blankets of black. We are windmills of fire, Samuel, made to unburden the world with our brilliance, but greed and jealousy have mucked up our cogs. It is such a pity. If my magic had not hardened my heart, I would probably weep.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Samuel said.

Tulan’s melancholy air fell away as he realised Samuel had been hanging on his every word. ‘Oh, no! I am sorry for you, my dear Samuel. It is unjust to burden you with my own bitter concerns. The old should not throw such worries upon the young. Please, forget what I have said. The world is a playground of opportunity for the young such as you. If you become a strong and wise magician, perhaps you can help to change these things of which I have spoken.’

‘So can you tell who is a powerful magician and who is not? Master Kelvin said I didn’t look like a magician at all.’

‘The magic in things is tangible, Samuel. It gives off vibrations. Not ordinary vibrations like this wagon is currently supplying to us in generous proportions; more like creases in the fabric of space and time. The more magic something contains, the more it resonates and can be detected. It’s just like listening carefully for a soft noise. Although, you can even see and hear and taste and feel magic once you know how, it’s not with your ears or your eyes or your body, but more with your mind-or spirit. In your case, it’s a mystery. I’ve tried several times since we left and I can’t even feel a hint of power within you. You don’t feel like a magician. You don’t feel like anything. If I turned my back, I would scarcely even know you were there, which is very strange for a magician like me. But don’t worry. I’m sure it’s commonplace and the teachers will find a way to explain it all to you.’

‘And what can I do with magic once I learn how?’

‘Ah, now that depends. It depends on your ability and your strength and where your talents lie. Some magicians are stronger in some areas. I’m good with divination. I can find minerals and detect the weather, and tell what kind of magic is where. I mostly help the Empire find its precious metals to mine-to keep its coffers filled. I can also tell you that if we don’t make the next village in the next hour we’ll get wet.’

Samuel looked up. The clouds were heavy and looming in from the west. ‘Even I can tell that!’ he declared with a laugh and Tulan looked at him seriously.

‘But do you know? Would you bet your life on it? Sometimes, I’m not always so sure, but right this moment, I know that it will rain before the hour is out. The strongest mages can even push their will into the skies and control the weather, not just read it; but unfortunately, I’m not so generously gifted.’

Samuel was in awe. It did rain as Tulan had foretold, hard and heavy, just as they made it to the next inn, and it set in for two days straight. It was still raining when Tulan, with a knowing wink, told Samuel to pack his things. Samuel stuffed his belongings into his bag, and, by the time they were downstairs, the sun was breaking through the clouds and the last glistening drops were dripping from the eaves. Scant moments later, they were once again bound for Cintar.