Dakon glanced at Narvelan, who smiled. “Of course.”
“Naturally,” Narvelan replied.
Werrin smiled. “Then let’s go strip a few well-meaning magicians of their delusions and see if they don’t flee back to Imardin.”
He walked past them to the door, then paused and looked over his shoulder. “Though you can be sure the king would send them scurrying back again,” he added. “If it weren’t for some firm and sensible advice, he’d be here himself. Sabin wants the chance to whip us into some semblance of a cohesive army before the king comes out to lead us.”
“He does, does he?” Narvelan said.
“Yes.” Werrin looked at Dakon. “So there’s going to be a lot of instruction required in our new fighting techniques.”
Dakon sighed in mock despair. “I knew I shouldn’t have agreed so quickly. There had to be a catch somewhere.”
Werrin turned back to the door. “Don’t worry. You’ll have plenty of assistants. I’ll make sure of it. My only concern is that the Sachakans won’t give us any time for preparation. Sabin thinks they may have left the road to avoid being caught between us and our reinforcements. But he believes they will only roam about in the farms and villages of Noven ley long enough to gather more strength before heading towards Imardin. We need to be ready to stop them.”
In a large walled courtyard behind one of the grander houses in Calia, twelve apprentices had separated into six pairs. Each was taking turns practising the trick of sending magic to another. Only small amounts of magic were being channelled, and to make the exercise more interesting Dakon had them knocking broken tiles off the top of the back wall.
Leaning against the side of the courtyard entrance, Jayan sighed. Only three magicians had volunteered to teach Ardalen’s method to the magicians and apprentices who had arrived the day before. It made what should have been a fast exercise into a day-long task.
They’d taught the magicians in the morning easily enough. In the afternoon they’d tackled the apprentices. Unfortunately, many of the magicians had resisted having their apprentices taught by other magicians. Dakon had told Jayan that though he’d managed to convince most of them of the benefits, a few had only agreed to it when Sabin had pointed out that the apprentices’ families might not look favourably on their sons and daughters dying in battle for the lack of training that had been offered to all.
The apprentices had not been easy to teach, however. Some of them had barely begun their training and two hadn’t even achieved full control of their powers yet.
After an inexperienced one burned the young man he was trying to send magic through by mistake, Dakon had decided to rearrange the three groups by splitting them based on experience: one group of those who had been only recently apprenticed, one for those who had been training for a few years, and one for those close to being granted their independence. Dakon, assisted by Jayan, had chosen the inexperienced group to teach, and it had taken a lot longer than the others.
Jayan had found teaching both frustrating and rewarding. It depended on the apprentice. Some were attentive and talented. Some were not. The former were gratifying to instruct, but he also found that if he managed to encourage – or bully – one of the latter into grasping something it was also very satisfying.
I always thought I’d put off taking on an apprentice for as long as possible, but I can see now there are benefits – other than the obvious one of gaining power.
The inexperienced apprentices ranged in age from twelve – much younger than the usual age for apprenticeship – to eighteen. He suspected the older ones had been chosen because their masters preferred to teach someone less gifted from their own family than someone more gifted from outside.
One of the apprentices giving power to another yelped, then turned to regard the other pairs suspiciously. A young woman – the only one in the group and one of two who had arrived with the reinforcements – tried to hide her smirk, but her victim obviously knew her well enough to guess where the attack had come from. Jayan assumed she’d let loose a strike in his direction that was only powerful enough to sting. The victim and the apprentice he was giving power to exchanged a look, then scowled.
Jayan glanced at Dakon. His master was watching the tiles flying off the top of the wall, and probably hadn’t noticed.
There was a low laugh of triumph, this time from the companion of the previous victim. A moment later the girl yelped. She turned to glare at the pair. Seeing the look of anger and calculation in her eyes, Jayan decided it was time to intervene.
Before he had a chance to speak, a messenger hurried into the courtyard and spoke quietly to Dakon, who nodded. As the messenger left again Dakon turned to face the group.
“That will be enough, I think. You all seem to have grasped it now. If you have a chance, practise what you’ve learned, but only use small amounts of power. You may return to your masters.” He walked towards the courtyard entrance, smiling ruefully as he passed Jayan. “Another meeting. Will you tell Tessia, when she returns?”
“Of course.”
The apprentices had gathered into one group to chat, and as Dakon left they started towards the entrance. All nodded to Jayan as they passed through. The last was the young woman. She was, he guessed, two or three years younger than him. A good-looking girl, but by the way she smiled at him it was clear she was well aware of it.
“Master Jayan, isn’t it? I hear you were at the battle in Tecurren,” she said, regarding him from under long eyelashes.
“Apprentice Jayan,” he corrected her. “And yes, I was there.”
As she tipped her head to one side and smiled at him again, he felt an unexpected wave of annoyance and disgust. He knew that look. He’d encountered enough female magicians to know when one was sizing him up.
“What was it like?” Her eyes widened. “It must have been so scary.”
“We knew we outnumbered them and would probably win.” He shrugged.
Moving to the entrance, she looked outside. The alley was empty. “Look. They’ve not bothered to wait for me. Escort me to the meeting hall?” She hooked a hand around his elbow. “You can tell me all about the battle on the way.”
He took her hand and removed it from the crook of his arm, then let it go.
Her eyes flashed with anger, but then her expression softened again and she nodded as if chastised. “That was too forward of me. I am just trying to be friendly.”
“Are you?” he asked, before he could stop himself.
She frowned. “Of course. What else would I be doing?”
He shook his head. “We’re at war, not a party. This is not the city. Not the place for... for flirting and looking for a husband. Or lover.”
She rolled her eyes. “I know that, but—”
“And there are other young women here. Younger, less experienced women. Do you realise how your ‘friendliness’ may affect them? How it may encourage young male apprentices to think all female magicians are . . . available? Or older magicians to assume women are too foolish and distractable to make good magicians?”
Her eyes went wide with astonishment. Her mouth opened, then closed again. Then her eyes narrowed and she spoke through gritted teeth.
“You are assuming too much, Apprentice Jayan.”
She lifted her chin and stalked out of the courtyard. Then she stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Young men will always entertain stupid ideas about women, no matter how demure or friendly they are. You’ve just proved that yourself. Before laying blame, take a good look at yourself. You might be surprised to find who is the foolish, distractable one.”
Then she strode away.
Drawing in a deep breath, Jayan sighed. The anger that had risen at her flirting ebbed too quickly, leaving him feeling ashamed of his outburst.