14
LESSON ONE
“Time!” Wizard Fenworth entered the room lined with bookcases and stood with his hands folded over his beard.
Just minutes before, the wizard had hushed their excited chatter and banished them to a library.
“Lessons first,” he’d said, quelling their desire to go over the spine-tingling details of the night before.
All the occupants of the room raised their heads from the books they held and stared at Fenworth. Librettowit looked annoyed. Excitement quickly registered on Toopka’s and Regidor’s faces, a bit of wariness on Dar’s and Bardon’s. Kale tried to touch the wizard’s mind to see if she could pick up a clue as to what he meant.
“Tut-tut, Kale.” He shook his head at her.
She looked down, slightly embarrassed but unrepentant. He’s not really mad at me.
She heard his distinctive chuckle in her mind and looked up to see him wink in her direction. She smiled back.
Fenworth clapped his hands together and then rubbed them together vigorously. “What do you say? Shall we begin?”
Librettowit cleared his throat. “That depends, Fenworth. What is it you propose to begin? Preparations for noonmeal? A quest? The laundry? Research into the geographical structure of Mount Kordenavis?”
The wizard frowned. “At times, Wit, you are entirely too frivolous for a librarian. I refer to the apprenticeship, of course.”
“Of course.” The tumanhofer nodded and returned his attention to his book.
“Kale, Regidor, come.” The wizard grabbed the edge of his cloak and swirled it around him, turning in place. “Toopka and Bardon, you may accompany us.”
Toopka sprang to her feet, tossing her small book on the table in front of Regidor.
Bardon slowly stood. “I’m not a prospect for wizardry, sir. I’ve no talent.”
“No sense?”
“No sir. I said no talent.”
“No talent! No sense! Nonsense. Come, my boy. You may observe.”
Bardon closed his book, Knights in Service, and placed it carefully on Librettowit’s table.
“On your feet, Kale, Regidor. We depart.”
They followed Wizard Fenworth onto the wide branches serving as walkways around his tree castle. They had to trot to keep up with the old man’s long, purposeful stride. He led them to the front door and into the common room.
Kale leaned against the doorjamb and watched Fenworth, Toopka, Bardon, and Regidor. Bardon had immediately settled in one of the chairs in the sitting area. Regidor balanced on his toes, his attention riveted on the wizard. The wizard stood next to the worn kitchen table, patting his long beard. Toopka hopped onto a three-legged stool, put her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. Her eyes were glued to the old wizard. Clearly, she thought this would be more interesting than Regidor’s lessons on reading.
“Regidor,” Fenworth commanded, “get us a bowl big enough to put our little doneel in.”
Toopka’s eyes widened, and she sat up straight, placing her hands demurely in her lap.
“Our first lesson in wizardry”—Fenworth looked purposely at Regidor and then at Kale—“will be transforming existing material supplied by Wulder into a different form.”
Toopka slid off her seat and edged toward the door.
“Stay, my little Toopka.” Fenworth bestowed upon her his most charming smile. “You will be needed.”
Toopka shook her head warily. “Librettowit’s gonna help me write my letters.”
“You told Regidor at breakfast you had learned them all.”
Toopka gulped, took a step closer to the door, and nodded. “All the capitals.” Her bobbing head stopped midmotion and became side-to-side denial. “I’m not doing very well with the small ones.”
Fenworth gestured for her to return to her seat. “Time enough for that later. You’ll learn a bit here, being in the thick of things.”
Fenworth perched on a high wooden stool and folded his arms into the sleeves of his loose silken robe. His face twitched in annoyance, and he brought out one hand. A gray mouse dangled by its tail from his long fingers. He leaned over, set the animal on the floor, and waved his hand in a wide circle over the cowering creature. “Begone!”
The mouse scurried away.
Fenworth resumed his posture on the stool, with his arms crossed and hidden in his robe. The color of the fabric shifted from red to orange to purple and settled in a blue darker than the evening sky. A myriad of twinkling stars dotted the robe. A few pinpoints of light dusted his shoulders, but as the material flowed to the ground, the stardust grew more dense until the hem glowed brightly with starshine.
“We will need,” said the wizard in solemn tones, “the fine powder ground from the annual grasses of the class of Triticum. And three ova of Gallus domesticus.”
Regidor narrowed his eyes. “We need flour and three eggs.”
Kale listened as Fenworth gave convoluted instructions and watched Regidor assemble the ingredients for an ordinary cake. She had seen women in River Away bake just such a cake.
Sighing, she relaxed against the frame of the door and let her gaze roam the room. Bardon soon picked up a book and didn’t even pretend to be interested in the cooking class. Regidor nodded seriously at Fenworth when given instructions, then winked at the doneel child at every chance. Kale moved quietly into the room and sat beside Toopka.
“He was just fooling.” Toopka gave her a toothy grin. “I’m not going to be part of the cake.”
Kale nodded. She couldn’t see that this baking had any wizardry to it. She watched all the more carefully to see how Wizard Fenworth might surprise them with a twist of magic in the making of one two-layered round cake. Nothing but the extravagant names he gave for ordinary baking powder, butter, sugar, and vanilla was any different from the way any marione mistress put together a cake for Sunday dinner.
While the cake baked in the old oven, Kale, Toopka, Wizard Fenworth, and Regidor sat around the table playing benders.
Toopka’s cards kept falling out of her hands. Regidor patiently helped her sort them and get them back in order.
“She’s won,” he said as he again helped rearrange her hand. “She has each of the seven high races and two wizards.”
“Two wizards, you say?” Fenworth rubbed the beard at his chin. “An excess. One wizard suffices for almost any task. Kale, take the cakes out and let them cool.”
The wizard rose from the table and put the cards back on the shelf. Standing over the cakes, he rubbed his hands together.
“Shall we have mallow or cream frosting?”
“Chocolate!” squealed Toopka.
“Very well.” He went over and sat in his large cushioned chair, nodding to Dar and Librettowit as they entered. “Dar, be a good fellow and teach them how to make frosting.”
Soon the wizard was snoring as the group around the table measured and stirred.
“Do we get to eat it when we finish?” asked Toopka.
“Of course we do,” said Regidor.
Librettowit shook his head. “Maybe not.”
Both Toopka and Regidor stopped to stare at the tumanhofer, disbelief written clearly on their young faces.
Librettowit cleared his throat. “Remember Fenworth said we had company and more company coming. He could intend this for our guests when they arrive.”
Toopka leaned across the table, eyes bright and a grin touching her black lips. “Who’s coming?”
Librettowit cast a sidelong glance at the sleeping wizard and lowered his voice. “He hasn’t said, but it stands to reason that if you’re about to embark on a dangerous quest, Paladin would send warriors.”
Bardon dropped his book in his lap and sat up with a jerk.
Fenworth’s snores ceased abruptly. Without opening his eyes, he spoke. “Supposition. What need have we of Paladin’s warriors? We have a wizard, two apprentice wizards, two strong, able men, and a librarian.”
“Not me,” objected Librettowit loudly. “Count me out. I’m staying with the books and the comfort of home. I’m not going questing.”
Kale remembered the fiasco of their attempt to create and control a tornado. The creating part had gone all right, but nothing afterward had gone as planned. “Pardon me, Wizard Fenworth, but I think your two apprentices are inexperienced.”
“Nonsense!” Fenworth stood, stretched, and turned to the table. He came across the room and stood, patting his beard. “Tut-tut, you have no confidence in yourselves. You’ve already had your first lesson in wizardry.”
Toopka’s face folded into a fierce scowl. “Baking a cake is wizardry?”
“Oh dear, oh dear, I see you don’t fully comprehend.”
“It’s just a cake,” said Toopka. Her words directly reflected Kale’s thoughts.
“Harrumph. Toopka, when you turn and look at the counter, what do you say then, dear little doneel?”
All eyes shifted to the plain wooden counter along the kitchen wall. There sat another cake, the exact duplicate of the one they had just made.
Fenworth’s eyes twinkled as he watched the expressions on their faces. “And then there’s the cake on the table in front of Bardon.”
Again, everyone in the room turned as one to see a third cake, which had appeared out of nowhere.
Regidor harrumphed. “That still doesn’t mean Kale and I can make cakes appear all around the room.”
“It doesn’t?” Fenworth tilted his gray head to one side as if considering the matter. He stood that way for almost a minute, long enough for a vine to shoot out a tendril from his beard. “Are you sure, Regidor?” He considered the young meech dragon. “Have you tried?”
Regidor’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. He shook his head slowly.
Fenworth clapped his hands together, a smile breaking across his wrinkled face. “That does it, then. You must try. Tut-tut. Can’t say you can’t until you’ve tried. Kale, come here and stand next to Regidor.”
Kale hurried across the room and stood shoulder to shoulder with her fellow apprentice.
Now he’s going to teach us! She grinned at Dar across the room.
“Close your eyes, both of you,” commanded Fenworth. “Picture in your mind the milk and eggs being stirred into the flour and baking powder.
“A batter forms. Since this is one of Wulder’s principles, there is nothing you can do to stop this particular combination from turning into cake batter.”
Kale heard Bardon come to stand behind her. She inhaled the citrus smell of another o’rant. All her people carried the same tart fragrance.
Do all my people have an innate ability to perform wizardry? Could Bardon be an apprentice too?
“Tut-tut, your mind is wandering, Kale.”
Kale squelched the annoyance she felt. Bardon’s presence had distracted her. She paid strict attention to Wizard Fenworth’s deep, rough voice.
“Imagine pouring the mixture into pans and placing them in the oven. Yes, yes, that’s right. The heat causes the batter to rise and solidify, another handy edict from Wulder.
“Think, think, children. What comes next? Oh dear, oh dear, don’t jump ahead to the frosting, Regidor. Cool your cake.”
Kale heard Bardon expel a breath of air and felt the hair on the back of her head stir.
I will not let that bothersome lehman get me in trouble. I will pay attention to my teacher.
“Wizardry is all a matter of appreciating Wulder’s creation, taking the time to understand the intricacies of the universe and then applying that knowledge. Quite simple, really.
“Slowly, slowly, step by step. Wulder has established what will go together and what will not. You are merely following His directions.”
Toopka’s high-pitched squeal pierced the room. “Oh! Look! Look!”
Kale opened her eyes. Two more cakes sat on the table beside the first.
“Excellent!” Fenworth beamed and clapped his hands. “Enough wizard’s cake for company, I should say. Unless Paladin sends us more than one urohm.”