Read Online Magician by Raymond E. Feist - Free Book Online Page A

heavy frame to it and looked at the priest. “Boys,” said Kulgan, shaking his head. “You hold a festival, give them a badge of craft, and suddenly they expect to be men. But they’re still boys, and no matter how hard they try, they still act like boys, not men.” He took out his pipe and began filling it. “Magicians are considered young and inexperienced at thirty, but in all other crafts thirty would mark a man a journeyman or master, most likely readying his own son for the Choosing.” He put a taper to the coals still smouldering in Pug’s fire pot and lit his pipe.
    Tully nodded. “I understand, Kulgan. The priesthood also is an old man’s calling. At Pug’s age I still had thirteen years of being an acolyte before me.” The old priest leaned forward. “Kulgan, what of the boy’s problem?”
    â€œThe boy’s right, you know,” Kulgan stated flatly. “There is no explanation for why he cannot perform the skills I’ve tried to teach. The things he can do with scrolls and devices amaze me. The boy has such gifts for these things, I would have wagered he had the makings of a magician of mighty arts. But this inability to use his inner powers …”
    â€œDo you think you can find a solution?”
    â€œI hope so. I would hate to have to release him from apprenticeship. It would go harder on him than had I never chosen him.” His face showed his genuine concern. “It is confusing, Tully. I think you’ll agree he has the potential for a great talent. As soon as I saw him use the crystal in my hut that night, I knew for the first time in years I might have at last found my apprentice. When no master chose him, I knew fate had set our paths to cross. But there is something else inside that boy’s head, something I’ve never met before, something powerful. I don’t know what it is, Tully, but it rejects my exercises, as if they were somehow … not correct, or … ill suited to him. I don’t know if I can explain what I’ve encountered with Pug any better. There is no simple explanation for it.”
    â€œHave you thought about what the boy said?” asked the priest, a look of thoughtful concern on his face.
    â€œYou mean about my having been mistaken?”
    Tully nodded. Kulgan dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “Tully, you know as much about the nature of magic as I do, perhaps more. Your god is not called the God Who Brought Order for nothing. Your sect unraveled much about what orders this universe. Do you for one moment doubt the boy has talent?”
    â€œTalent, no. But his ability is the question for the moment.”
    â€œWell put, as usual. Well, then, have you any ideas? Should we make a cleric out of the boy, perhaps?”
    Tully sat back, a disapproving expression upon his face. “You know the priesthood is a calling, Kulgan,” he said stiffly.
    â€œPut your back down, Tully. I was making a joke.” He sighed. “Still, if he hasn’t the calling of a priest, nor the knack of a magician’s craft, what can we make of this natural ability of his?”
    Tully pondered the question in silence for a moment, then said, “Have you thought of the lost art?”
    Kulgan’s eyes widened. “That old legend?” Tully nodded. “I doubt there is a magician alive who at one time or another hasn’t reflected on the legend of the lost art. If it had existed, it would explain away many of the shortcomings of our craft.” Then he fixed Tully with a narrowed eye, showing his disapproval. “But legends are common enough. Turn up any rock on the beach and you’ll find one. I for one prefer to look for real answers to our shortcomings, not blame them on ancient superstitions.”
    Tully’s expression became stern and his tone scolding. “We of the temple do not count it legend, Kulgan! It is considered part of the