Gavin lay on the bed, gaping at Marcus. “I…how…is there any way to learn how we are related?”
“We have a few different methods available to us, but in my view, the ‘how’ is not nearly as important as the fact that we are. Over the years, it’s been said my greatest flaw is that I put too much faith and trust in family, but since I know we’re blood, there are things I will teach you I would never mention to another soul, things I feel you will need to know and understand.”
Gavin nodded, saying, “I see.”
“Ovir, will you stand as witness?” Marcus asked.
The old priest smiled and nodded once, as he said, “Of course, old friend.”
“With the Royal Priest of Valthon to serve as witness,” Marcus said, his tone formal, “I hereby take Gavin Cross as my apprentice…as was in the old ways. Further, as we have unassailable proof of his blood relation to me, I hereby name Gavin Cross to be my full heir, with all the rights, responsibilities, and privileges thereof.”
Gavin stared wide-eyed at the old wizard, almost gaping. “Are you sure you want to do that? I mean, you know nothing about me.”
“I know you are my blood, however that may have happened. Besides, an old friend vouched for you,” Marcus said. “Do you feel up to leaving?”
Gavin nodded. “I think so. Where are we going?”
“The only place to train a wizard is the College of the Arcane, in the center of the city. Besides, I think we’ve abused Ovir’s hospitality enough.”
Chapter 7
The markets of Tel Mivar occupied a large swath of territory around the center of the city, where the College of the Arcane was located. There were eight markets, each with their own specific functions: northwest market, north-central market, northeast market, east-central market, southeast, south-central, southwest, and west-central markets. While there was mostly an order to which shops were in which markets, the occasional oddity did exist…such as the rare book dealer of the south-central market nestled in with the brothels and taverns that made their money off the docks.
If one possessed sufficient determination, almost anything could be found in the markets of Tel Mivar. Trade-ships from Vushaar (a human kingdom to the south), the halfling and gnome lands far across the sea to the west, and various ports along the western coast of Tel all off-loaded goods in the capital city. The only other port city with markets to rival Tel Mivar was Kyndrath, the primary port and shipping-head for the Minotaur lands beyond the gnomes and halflings.
Occupying a little over fifty acres at the very center of Tel Mivar stood the College of the Arcane. While there were various basic schools throughout the world where one could learn minor magics, anyone who desired sufficient mastery of the Art to be called an arcanist traveled to the College for study and training. Four massive obelisks rose high above a slate-gray, crenelated wall a short distance off the corners of a tower, and they served as the residences of the students studying at the College. The tower, almost small and squat in comparison to the four obelisks around it, looked every inch the classic square-ish keep with crenelated battlements and stood not quite half the height of the obelisks. This keep held the classrooms, the Chamber of the Council of Magisters, laboratories, the most extensive library of works on the arcane in the known world, rooms for visiting arcanists, and suites for the magisters when the Council was in session, and it was known as the Tower of the Council.
Gavin looked-almost gawked-at the city around them, while Marcus walked slowly by his side, and Kiri walked two paces behind him off his right shoulder. The streets were paved with a smooth stone Gavin couldn’t identify, and there were wide sidewalks for pedestrians. Marcus, however, seemed to ignore the convention of using the sidewalks, and for whatever reason, the drovers and horsemen made way for the old wizard. Gavin assumed it had something to do with the old man’s black robes.
“Wow,” Gavin whispered as they broke past the many stalls of the north market. “That is…that is…I’ve never seen anything like it.”
A slate-gray, crenelated wall made of a stone Gavin didn’t recognize surrounded the College grounds, and there was only one gate, facing due north.
“This is the most amazing…” Gavin said as he ran his hand over the surface of the College’s wall. “How was it made?”
Marcus chuckled, and since Gavin was focused on the wall, he missed the old wizard’s smile of pride. “Kirloth and his apprentices raised the wall and obelisks from the earth, forming and shaping them with the Art. No mortal tool has ever touched them. The Tower of the Council had been the keep of a local warlord who was quite willing to give up his territory for the construction of the city.”
“Kirloth…” Gavin said, his voice trailing off. “Hmmm…sounds sort of imposing.”
“He was acknowledged as the greatest master of the Art in his day. Would-be arcanists risked life and limb to seek him out and beg him to train them in the ways of the Art. When the rebellion against the evil gods arose, the leaders of the Army of Valthon approached him to lead the arcanist contingent. They say he faced Milthas alone during the siege of the elf-god’s fortress in Arundel. Well, not quite alone…after all, Valthon imparted just enough divine power for Kirloth and Milthas to be on even terms.”
“How does one go about learning the Art?” Gavin asked as they walked toward the gates of the College.
Marcus shrugged. “Learning the Art isn’t something for which one can set a specific process. With mages, it is, but we’ll discuss wizardry…since we’re both wizards. Wizardry is as much a part of the wizard as it is a thing of the Art; the same spell from two different wizards might look or sound different but will always feel the same.”
“Feel? I’m not sure I understand.”
“All wizards perceive the use of the Art within a certain radius that is based upon the strength of that wizard’s power. For instance, a minor wizard might have problems noticing a spell from the next room, whereas I can sense a simple light spell across the city.”
By that time, they had reached the gates of the College, and Gavin saw two people stood at the gate, one on each side. They wore brown, plain robes, and the young woman on the western side of the gate wore a silver medallion that rested over her heart. He also noticed that, while managing not to move a hair from her post, the young woman seemed to flinch away from the pair of men.
The two gate attendants hurriedly opened the gates without even a challenge, and Marcus led his apprentice onto the College’s grounds. Once they were mostly out of earshot from the gate, Marcus turned to Gavin as they walked.
“Did you notice the young woman at the gate? How she reacted to you?”
“I thought it was you,” Gavin said.
“Oh, no, my young man,” Marcus replied, a sly grin curling one corner of his lips. “From me, she sensed an old man comfortable in his power. You are a raging storm that sears everything around you.” Marcus fell silent a moment. “Hmmm…the more I think about it, it seems to me your first lesson should be constructing your own shroud.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It never hurts for others to underestimate you,” Marcus replied as he opened one of the double doors they now faced. “It can save you trouble or allow you the element of surprise when trouble is inevitable. But we can discuss all this later; let’s get you settled in.”
An open staircase occupied the center of the tower, and Marcus led Gavin up six flights of stairs before he stepped into a hallway. Marcus turned right and led Gavin down that hallway to the second door on the left and stopped. Unlike every other door Gavin had seen so far, the door in front of Marcus did not possess a traditional latch. Where every other door had a latch handle and keyhole, this door had only a handle and a metal plate.