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quite alike. I am
capable of magic that those who follow their orders are not. But none
can say why.
    “Magicians deal in a different
sort of magic, and their practices are very different from our
practices in the temples Much of what they do, we cannot. It is they
who study the art of magic, seeking its nature and workings, but even
they cannot explain how magic works. They only know how to work it,
and pass that knowledge along to their students, as Kulgan is doing
with you.”
    “Trying to do with me, Father. I
think he may have misjudged me.”
    “I think not, Pug I have some
knowledge of these things, and since you have become Kulgan’s
pupil, I have felt the power growing in you Perhaps you will come to
it late, as others have, but I am sure you will find the proper
path.”
    Pug was not comforted. He didn’t
question the priest’s wisdom or his opinion, but he did feel he
could be mistaken “I hope you’re right, Father. I just
don’t understand what’s wrong with me.”
    “I think I know what’s
wrong,” came a voice from the door. Startled, Pug and Father
Tully turned to see Kulgan standing in the doorway. His blue eyes
were set in lines of concern, and his thick grey brows formed a V
over the bridge of his nose. Neither Pug nor Tully had heard the door
open. Kulgan hiked his long green robe and stepped into the room,
leaving the door open.
    “Come here, Pug,” said the
magician with a small wave of his hand Pug went over to the magician,
who placed both hands on his shoulders “Boys who sit in their
rooms day after day worrying about why things don’t work make
things not work. I am giving you the day for yourself. As it is
Sixthday, there should be plenty of other boys to help you in
whatever sort of trouble boys can find.” He smiled, and his
pupil was filled with relief “You need a rest from study Now
go.” So saying, he fetched a playful cuff to the boy’s
head, sending him running down the stairs. Crossing over to the
pallet, Kulgan lowered his 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 acolate before me.”
The old priest leaned forward “Kulgan, what of the boy’s
problem?”
    “The 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 .
. .”
    “Do you think you can find a
solution?”
    “I 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