Bonemaker

Chapter One, Part One

"Yes."

"He's raised and spun the air and fire globes, with some difficulty. Water and glass he can raise but not spin, and wood he can't even raise."

"What about metal and stone?"

"We haven't even tried it yet."

"Gah," Lawlee said. "That is pretty dismal."

Together, they watched the boy below. He was noticeably bigger than the other students--his apprentice robes, the color of dried paprika, were tight across the chest, short in the ankles and wrists. The trim on them had faded, and was beginning to unravel. The beginnings of a beard shadowed his chin.

As the two Masters watched, the boy spread his hands over his table and began to chant the first syllables of the whetwork charms. Otrang watched the performance with idle interest--his hand form was good, his words neither too sharp nor too flat. He had a fine voice for the charm-singing, commanding and deep.

The seven small globes, laid out in a careful line on a scrap of black velvet in front of him, shuddered, rippled. So far, so good. Otrang found himself truly hoping the boy did it this time, did it well, could be moved on, with no further trouble, to the right levels with the rest of his age group.

The boy continued his chant, the nonsense syllables the mages had constructed to aid concentration in such things. So faa kee lo, faa sin tuu lo. Ka min, ka min. Ka min.

Slowly, the globe containing air rose, shuddered again, began to spin.

"Good," Otrang found himself murmuring. "Keep it up, boy. Keep it up."

The fire globe, a wisp of flame magically preserved inside, rose more slowly. It hesitated. The boy didn't falter or stop in his incantation, and the globe spun.

The water globe rose. Slowly, it began to spin, the water inside sloshing slightly. Otrang saw, for perhaps the first time, a faint smile curve the boy's thin lips.

"That's it," Otrang murmured. "Just keep going."

Ki mah see loh. Ki fa lah so. Ki mah ki mah ki mah ki.

The chant was perfect. His tone was iron, pitch perfect and unbreakable. Otrang found himself a little caught up with it, whispering the chants he had learned fifty years ago as though he too were a nervous apprentice.

The glass globe rose. The boy's hands flickered deftly through the whetwork motions--some of the other students had stopped their own work to watch him, eyes wide. They all knew how hard he had been trying, how desperate he was for success.

How good he was--or should be.

The mastery in his voice and motions was complete, far beyond a mage twice his years. What, then, was missing? What held him back?

Slowly--so slowly as to be almost imperceptible--the glass globe began to spin.

"Yes!" cried Otrang, pumping a gnarled fist in the air.

Lawlee glared at him. "Honestly," he hissed. "Don't distract him!"

Kah ri mah so. Gi rah koh so. Gi rah gi rah, si rah, si kah. Ki mah kah mi ki mah so ri. Ka la ka sah. Ka la koh si.