Reyr the Gold (Dragonwall Series # 2)

Chapter 5 - The Society

She opened her mouth to speak, then decided against it.

"The king filled me in—late last night, I might add—so no need to explain. Let us jump to the point. As a result of Cyrus's Gift, you now possess magical abilities. I have no experience with Gifts, and there is little written about them, so we must proceed with caution.

"In the king's court, Saffra mentioned her vision and that you have an important part to play in the war to come. What part? Who can tell? Perhaps not even Saffra. However, I believe we can begin a special training regimen at an advanced pace, and from there we might get your magic where it needs to be.

"From this day forward, you will be a Mage-in-training until you either choose to become an apprentice or take your exams."

She gazed at him, too tongue-tied to speak.

"Your training will cover everything from diction, cantrips, incants, and incantations with Mage Targa, to brews with Mage Sepia, history and magical theory with Mage Joren, and everything in between with me. There are other Magoi who teach here but they cover advanced topics. We will not dive into those quite yet."

"I see."

Marcel smiled, reassuring in the way he gazed at her, almost as if he knew how overwhelmed she was. "With the others—Mage Joren, Mage Sepia, and Mage Targa—your training will be regimented. With me, it will not be. Our time together will be devoted to better understanding your strange curiosities.

"Now, let us move on to your training schedule. You will report to me every morning after breakfast. Do not be late." He arched an eyebrow at her, as if he knew she wasn't a morning person. "When you arrive, we will spend our time studying the mystifying aspects of the world, including your capabilities. Thereafter, I will direct you to either Mage Joren or Mage Sepia. They will work with you privately, which is rather unusual: our students generally work together. After the mid-day meal, you are to report to Mage Targa. For that portion of training, you will join other students. You will each be at different levels in your training, so do the best that you can. The second half of the afternoon is your time. I recommend you use it to study."

Mage Targa. Mage Joren. Mage Sepia. She began repeating the names of each Mage in her mind and the lessons they taught, trying to keep everything straight.

"Mage Targa has an excellent mastery of the old language, as you will discover. It is especially important for you develop the correct habits of diction when using magic, but more on that later. Targa is a fine teacher. Do you know where to find him?"

She shook her head.

"Well enough. Why not go see him now? The morning is nearly over anyway. No point in sending you to Joren or Sepia. Targa's study is located out that door"—he pointed at the door she came in through—"and to the right, four doors down the corridor. Think you can find your way?"

She nodded, pretending to keep up.

"Good. Go and see him. When you have finished, stop by to see me again." Marcel rose, so she followed.

When she left, she thanked him profusely. She was almost reluctant to leave his easy presence. The idea of meeting more of the Society's Magoi was nerve-wracking.

Moments later she found herself standing in front of another closed door, and once more, she was too overwhelmed to knock. This time her mind was further saturated. She took a deep breath and tapped on the door. Shortly thereafter it opened. She found herself face to face with Mage Targa. He was a thin man, bald, with bold eyebrows and dark eyes. His face was solemn to look at—a direct opposite of Grand Mage Marcel's. The only thing they had in common was their drab attire.

"Mage Targa?"

"Yes. Who is asking?" He studied her with a narrowed gaze.

"Oh, I'm Claire." She extended her hand. He did not take it. Instead his dark eyebrows rose briefly in recognition, then his face went back to its previous expression. She lowered her hand and began to explain the reason for her visit. "The Grand Mage sent me to meet you. I'm to begin my lessons today."

"Fine, all right," he acknowledged, sounding slightly reluctant. He moved aside and bid her to enter.

His study was different from what she had expected. It was much smaller, and far emptier than the Grand Mage's. Everything about it was dark and uninviting and she disliked it immediately.

"Sit," he commanded, motioning to the chair opposite the sofa upon which he sat. She followed his instructions. "First things first, let us go over some ground rules."

"Oh—of—of course." This meeting was already going poorly.

"I take my class very seriously. I expect you to attend daily and treat your lessons with the utmost regard."

She eagerly nodded.

"There are four other students aside from yourself. I demand that all of my students get along and behave maturely, no matter what." His gaze narrowed once more. "Everyone is treated the same, so there will be no exceptions made for you despite your...status." His tone and attitude were crisp.

"Class will commence after the midday meal each day except rest days. We meet in the royal library, so I do not expect you to dally on your way from the dining hall." He paused for a moment. "Each day we will practice the words necessary to perform magic. The pronunciations can be challenging, as the language is not like our own. I expect you to study and practice diligently. You will be tested. There! I believe that covers everything. Do you have any questions for me?"

Her heart pounded in fear. What could she possibly want to ask such a frightening person? "Should I bring anything to our lessons?" It was the only question that came to mind.

"Yes, occasionally you need to take notes, so quill and parchment should be fine."

She exhaled, half expecting him to yell at her.

"No other questions?" he asked. She shook her head. "Very well then. I will see you after the meal."

"Thank you, Mage Targa." She quickly rose and left his chambers. What a terrifying man he was!

Before she returned to her quarters, she made sure to stop by Grand Mage Marcel's quarters, just as he had instructed. When she told him of her supply requirement for Mage Targa, he gave her some writing materials, which included a feathered quill (she had never used one before), an ink pot, and parchment.

"I suggest you pick up some supplies in the city when you have a chance," he said. "The market by the docks has a number of booths with a unique selection if you are looking for something inexpensive or exotic."

She had yet to visit the market. At least now she could petition Reyr with a good reason.

"See you tomorrow, Lady Claire." Grand Mage Marcel ushered her from his room.

She rushed back to her quarters to prepare for her afternoon lessons with Mage Targa. Perhaps if she worked hard enough, she might change his opinion of her, whatever that opinion happened to be. She had a feeling he was a hard man, and she worried that no matter how much she tried, he would never think highly of her. That alone created a new fear in the pit of her stomach. She had no idea what would happen. All she could do was wait to see what the afternoon would bring. 

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