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Authors: Larry Kollar
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barge?”
“Father will hire a cart to take us and our baggage to the Conclave. It’s at the Great Keep, along the seacoast.”
“Huh. Why couldn’t we just take another boat, then?”
“The coast is rocky, and the keep has no docks,” said Bailar. “It was positioned for defense, not trade. As Sura said, you’ll see.”
Mik had little time to wonder about the keep at first, trying to see everything, a sweaty hand gripping Sura’s in the hired wagon. Bailar rode up front with the driver, leaving the apprentices to keep each other company with the baggage in back. Sura watched Mik, stifling laughter at his grunted exclamations and jerky movements, as he tried to take in each new wonder. The air was muggy and hot, but Mik barely noticed.
After many starts and stops, they turned onto the Royal Highway. Through Queensport, the road was a grand boulevard, lined with stately buildings and gnarled old trees. Their wagon joined a throng of other traffic, often slowing to a stop. Drivers shouted greetings, friendly and otherwise, at each other during the stops. Pedestrians walked between the stopped vehicles, leaving Mik wondering if walking would be faster. This one stretch of road had more horses than his aunt had cattle; Mik was amazed that there were this many horses in the world. In Lacota, or even Exidy, a horse was a sign of wealth. Many folk used oxen or donkeys to pull their carts, but some shouldered their own burdens.
The keep that housed the Conclave loomed in the distance, growing larger as they approached. The city and its traffic thinned out and kept its distance from the keep, leaving them to cross a great clearing in the last mile. Towers leapt into the sky, above walls that seemed nearly as high as the river bank below their home. Now Mik had eyes only for the keep; he turned kneeling in the luggage to watch it rise before them.
Sura giggled at Mik’s gaping regard. For her, this had been a part of her life, every High Summer, as long as she could remember. For the daughter of a sorcerer, many things that were normal to her were wondrous or frightening to folk. What if I’d grown up among folk? she thought, then tried to see the keep through Mik’s eyes.
“It’s a marvel,” she said.
He looked at her, wide-eyed. “And we’ll be living in it for two weeks. What will it be like?”
“I’m not sure. I was an attendant before. We played together, and helped in the kitchen.” She laughed. “All the cooks wanted me to help them!”
Bailar turned. “In my youth, it was a fine thing to be an apprentice at the Gathering. There was work to do, of course, but there were also games, pranks, and rivalries. And lasting friendships. It is much the same now. There are other things, but as first-year apprentices you won’t have to worry about those.”
Mik looked at Sura. “If someone told me a year ago that I’d be ‘prenticed to a sorcerer, and all this—and you… sometimes, I wonder if it’s all a dream. Ow! What was that for?” He rubbed his arm where Sura pinched him.
“You’re still here, so you’re not dreaming. Right?”
Mik did not answer. He was gaping at the massive portal, looking up and around as they passed through the thick wall.
• • •
“Bailar the Blue, of Exidy. Two apprentices: Sura sam Bailar, Mik sim Mikhile—Mik Dragonrider.”
The scribe looked up. “Two? Fortune has smiled upon you, Bailar.” He looked at the nervous apprentices. “Both first-year?”
“Yes, both. Sura was my attendant all these years. But now she is my apprentice.”
“This is the—ah. Come forward, apprentices.” The scribe straightened as Bailar ushered his charges forward. “Apprentices: you are charged this day to comport yourselves in such a manner, that you may be a credit to both your mentor and the Conclave. Make a serious study of all that is put to you during this time, and you shall leave this place as better sorcerers. Will you do this?”
“We will,” they both
“Father will hire a cart to take us and our baggage to the Conclave. It’s at the Great Keep, along the seacoast.”
“Huh. Why couldn’t we just take another boat, then?”
“The coast is rocky, and the keep has no docks,” said Bailar. “It was positioned for defense, not trade. As Sura said, you’ll see.”
Mik had little time to wonder about the keep at first, trying to see everything, a sweaty hand gripping Sura’s in the hired wagon. Bailar rode up front with the driver, leaving the apprentices to keep each other company with the baggage in back. Sura watched Mik, stifling laughter at his grunted exclamations and jerky movements, as he tried to take in each new wonder. The air was muggy and hot, but Mik barely noticed.
After many starts and stops, they turned onto the Royal Highway. Through Queensport, the road was a grand boulevard, lined with stately buildings and gnarled old trees. Their wagon joined a throng of other traffic, often slowing to a stop. Drivers shouted greetings, friendly and otherwise, at each other during the stops. Pedestrians walked between the stopped vehicles, leaving Mik wondering if walking would be faster. This one stretch of road had more horses than his aunt had cattle; Mik was amazed that there were this many horses in the world. In Lacota, or even Exidy, a horse was a sign of wealth. Many folk used oxen or donkeys to pull their carts, but some shouldered their own burdens.
The keep that housed the Conclave loomed in the distance, growing larger as they approached. The city and its traffic thinned out and kept its distance from the keep, leaving them to cross a great clearing in the last mile. Towers leapt into the sky, above walls that seemed nearly as high as the river bank below their home. Now Mik had eyes only for the keep; he turned kneeling in the luggage to watch it rise before them.
Sura giggled at Mik’s gaping regard. For her, this had been a part of her life, every High Summer, as long as she could remember. For the daughter of a sorcerer, many things that were normal to her were wondrous or frightening to folk. What if I’d grown up among folk? she thought, then tried to see the keep through Mik’s eyes.
“It’s a marvel,” she said.
He looked at her, wide-eyed. “And we’ll be living in it for two weeks. What will it be like?”
“I’m not sure. I was an attendant before. We played together, and helped in the kitchen.” She laughed. “All the cooks wanted me to help them!”
Bailar turned. “In my youth, it was a fine thing to be an apprentice at the Gathering. There was work to do, of course, but there were also games, pranks, and rivalries. And lasting friendships. It is much the same now. There are other things, but as first-year apprentices you won’t have to worry about those.”
Mik looked at Sura. “If someone told me a year ago that I’d be ‘prenticed to a sorcerer, and all this—and you… sometimes, I wonder if it’s all a dream. Ow! What was that for?” He rubbed his arm where Sura pinched him.
“You’re still here, so you’re not dreaming. Right?”
Mik did not answer. He was gaping at the massive portal, looking up and around as they passed through the thick wall.
• • •
“Bailar the Blue, of Exidy. Two apprentices: Sura sam Bailar, Mik sim Mikhile—Mik Dragonrider.”
The scribe looked up. “Two? Fortune has smiled upon you, Bailar.” He looked at the nervous apprentices. “Both first-year?”
“Yes, both. Sura was my attendant all these years. But now she is my apprentice.”
“This is the—ah. Come forward, apprentices.” The scribe straightened as Bailar ushered his charges forward. “Apprentices: you are charged this day to comport yourselves in such a manner, that you may be a credit to both your mentor and the Conclave. Make a serious study of all that is put to you during this time, and you shall leave this place as better sorcerers. Will you do this?”
“We will,” they both
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