Dark apprentice, p.7
Dark Apprentice, page 7
She rolled her eyes. At least he was being honest for once.
“If you keep doing that, your eyes are going to get stuck.”
“No, they won’t.”
“I know. It’s a joke. I—never mind.”
They reached the Hanged Man and she paused outside. Time to be rid of him.
“Thank you. This was most enlightening.”
He frowned. “I was hoping we could have dinner together. I apologize for missing lunch. Petrov kept me busy.”
“I’m afraid I have things to attend to.” The drunk men were on the move. She’d have to hurry if she wanted to catch up with them without drawing too much attention to herself.
The boy seemed intent on seeing her in. She’d probably have to go inside and walk upstairs, then double back after he’d left.
“I just remembered,” he said, “I have an answer to your question—about wanting power.”
Two self-reflections in one night? She should congratulate him, or whatever it was people did, but all that came out was a noncommittal, “Hmm?” Brilliant, way to encourage the kid.
“I want to be self-reliant. More than that, I don’t want to be beholden to anyone, ever—like you.”
Autonomy was certainly something she valued, but the way he said it sent shivers up her spine.
“Ah, but I’m beholden to myself, and my standards are high.”
“As are mine.”
He said it with such sincerity she almost burst out laughing. As it was, she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from betraying herself.
“I will see you on the morrow.” This time he took the dismissal. She ducked inside and watched from the window until he vanished from sight, then she left to pursue her quarry.
Nikolai headed back to the Spotted Sow, boots clacking on cobblestones. His mind returned to Medea’s question. Why had he saved Kate? It’s not like he got anything out of it. At fourteen, she wasn’t old enough to be of interest. Some men might enjoy that kind of thing. They’d never know the pleasure of having a woman scream out their name in ecstasy because they put all her former lovers to shame. Experience was essential to validating one’s abilities.
Now, Kate’s older sister Mary, she was interesting. An outrageous flirt notorious for turning down every bachelor in town, Mary had rebuffed Nikolai for two years running. She had to be getting it from somewhere, but no one was talking. Saving Kate might win points with Mary, but that hadn’t occurred to him when he’d chosen to intervene. So why had he done it?
The answer he’d given Medea was unsatisfactory, but he couldn’t pinpoint why. It nagged like an itch he couldn’t scratch. What was it about Medea’s probing that sent his thoughts spiraling in new directions?
The problem was that all of them—the drunken men and Kate—fell into the Useless category. Yes, Kate had slightly more value than the men, being both female and Magi, but uncertain future potential didn’t warrant defense. Was it because the drunks were outsiders? No. If anything, he could have attacked Haveners more openly. It had something to do with them being men, he was sure of it.
Men weren’t inherently Fuckable, at least not to him, and were therefore Useless by default. Was he missing a category? He considered his brothers and how antagonistic he had been to their arrival. As the eldest, he’d enjoyed a certain level of comfort and attention during his stint as an only child. Each successive birth created yet another rival for attention, for food, for time.
Men were Competition.
Women could be Competition too, if they vied for the same resources, but men were Competition by default. Winning meant weakening or eliminating the Competition. That’s why he attacked the men—not because he saw any value in Kate, but because it was a convenient excuse to eliminate the men.
Nikolai smiled, satisfied to have sorted out the puzzle.
Bawdy laughter erupted from the Spotted Sow. He stepped aside for a merry couple and entered the pub, now packed with outsiders, mostly men. Magi women could appreciate pleasure for the sake of it, without romantic entanglements.
Unfortunately, word had spread among the Mundane that Haven women were easy, at least compared to their Catholic counterparts. He doubted they opened their legs for many outsiders, but apparently it happened often enough for young men to flock to Haven for the opportunity.
There were five men for every woman in the pub. The odds didn’t bother Nikolai. He never had problems finding a willing partner, but quicker would be better tonight. Aside from regular morning trysts with Mrs. Gallagher, he’d barely gotten laid all week. Nikolai scanned the room for his usual partners.
A gentle touch on his arm, and Mary was there, pushing a pint into his hand. “For my sister,” she said.
Nikolai took it with thanks. “How is she?”
“Shaken. Da and I were so busy we didn’t notice she was taking too long with the rubbish. She isn’t the best with spells and gets flustered easily. Even if she hadn’t left her wand behind the bar, she probably would’ve been too panicked to defend herself.”
“I noticed. What happened to the men? I imagine your father had some choice words for them.”
“He ran them off. Anyway, I have to get back to work, but drinks are on the house tonight.”
Mary sauntered away into the crowd. Nikolai carried his mug to the bar. If ever he had a chance with her, it would be tonight. Might as well stick around and see where things went. Regardless of his intentions for saving her sister, there was no point in letting his recently earned goodwill go to waste.
He had a companionable conversation with her father, a barrel-chested, formidable fellow. Kate made a puffy-eyed appearance around ten. The sight of the packed bar almost caused her to flee back upstairs, but when she spotted Nikolai, she drew herself up and braved the crowd to come thank him. They chatted for a bit, and she inquired if Petrov had any decent protection wares.
The rest of the evening passed slowly. He watched people, engaged with those around him, and got into a debate with a drunk who soon forgot what they were even discussing. Last call came and went, and soon he was chatting with Mary as she wiped down glasses behind the bar. Kate cleared off the tables nearby.
“Tell me,” he said, “how is it the Spotted Sow is the only place in town with electric lights? I thought they weren’t allowed.”
“They’re not anymore, thanks to Da. You know him—got a stubborn streak. He figures since they don’t bother us, why not have proper lights?”
Everyone knew Mundane technology screwed with magic. Only witches seemed immune to the effects. It gave them an edge in big cities, and they’d expanded into Mundane spaces the way other Magi couldn’t. Using electricity in a Magi city was more than rude; it was akin to force-feeding shellfish to someone with a known allergy.
“Nobody complained?”
“Oh, they complained. There were protests and everything, but there was nothing on the books saying he couldn’t use electricity, and the elders had to let it go. Afterward, they passed the statute banning electricity from being added to buildings.”
“And now everyone drinks here.” After visiting the Hanged Man, he could see why.
“Indeed they do. Buncha hypocrites.”
Nikolai raised his glass. “To the hypocrites.” He’d drunk here several times a week since arriving two years ago. As far as he knew, there were no long-term effects from exposure to Mundane technology. A thought tugged at him. Medea chose to room at the Hanged Man, in the oldest part of town. Was it because she’d hidden something within her room, or because she was avoiding technological interference? Something to ask her tomorrow.
He chatted with Mary until Kate went upstairs, then made his offer. She shot him down yet again.
He sighed and got up to leave. “Tell me this—do I have a chance in hell, ever?”
She shook her head. “Sorry, Nikolai, you’re not my type.”
“What is your type? I don’t know a single lad who can claim he’s had the pleasure, but I see you flirting with everyone.”
She leaned forward conspiratorially. “You’re sleeping with Ethne, aren’t you?”
Was that her problem? She wanted exclusivity? That would never happen.
He stood straighter. “Ethne and Shailyn.” And whatever Mundane tail he could get on the weekends in Dublin. “Neither of them is bothered by it. I don’t see how it’s an issue.”
“Oh, but it is an issue. You and I have the same type.”
“Wait . . . are you implying you fancy Ethne?”
Mary smirked. “I’ve done more than fancy her. She’s a little upset you haven’t been to see her all week.”
With a single sentence, Mary removed herself from Fuckable and slid into Competition. He was used to competing against women in academics and combat. Despite knowing that some women preferred other women, it never occurred to him that he might be competing with them for sex. Didn’t people usually stick with one or the other? This added a whole new dimension to things.
He took a long drink and studied her freckled face. Bitch looked damn smug.
“You fucked my girlfriend?”
Mary laughed. “Since when are any of the women you sleep with ‘your girlfriend’? Last I checked, you weren’t exclusive with anyone.”
“I’m not, but still . . . Why didn’t you tell me sooner about liking women? I would’ve left you alone.” And saved what little money he had. For two years he’d been overstaying, drinking far more than he should in the hope Mary might come home with him. So much for that. He plastered a smile on his face. “I always got the impression you were flirting with me, but I guess I was wrong.”
“You weren’t. Men order more drinks when they think they have a chance.”
She’d been conning him too? Definitely Competition.
“Besides,” she continued, “even among our kind, there are many who look down on it.”
He tilted his head in acknowledgment. “It’s a damn shame when Mundane stupidity manages to permeate our culture. Well, thank you for telling me. At least now I can laugh at the poor sots trying.”
“No problem. Oh, is the club still meeting tomorrow? Word has it you’ve been a bit distracted.”
Shit. He’d forgotten all about dueling club. A year into his apprenticeship, when it was clear Petrov wasn’t the master he’d hoped, he’d sought out sparring partners. Petrov hadn’t been keen on the idea, but the younger locals loved it, given there wasn’t much else to do in the sleepy village. Soon he had nearly a dozen people that met once a week, and far more spectators.
It would probably be best to cancel tomorrow’s match. Tuesday was rapidly approaching, and he needed to put all his efforts into coercing Medea. Then again, maybe if she saw him in action, it would tip the odds in his favor.
“Yes, we’re dueling tomorrow.” A sudden inspiration hit him. “Bring Kate. I know your Da thinks she’s a bit young for it, but given what happened today, I’m sure he’ll see the necessity. She can partner with me. I’ll see she comes to no harm.” It was perfect. He could gift Kate his spare wand holster. Medea would see him at his best—fierce combatant and gracious tutor. Doubtless his prowess in combat would outshine all of her previous apprentices.
Mary smiled. “I think she’d like that.”
“Until tomorrow.”
“Hold on a moment, I’ll walk you out.”
She took off her apron and followed him to the exit, thanking him once again. The oaken door closed and the heavy thump of a bar falling into place sounded behind it. The night was thick with fog. Light from a solitary lamppost fought bravely against the curtain of white. Nikolai donned his hat and walked to his apartment, a broad smile on his lips.
6
DUELING CLUB
When Nikolai entered the Hanged Man on Sunday, Medea greeted him with a smile. Or rather, what passed for one. True, she did not greet him by name or say hello, but one corner of her mouth turned up and her usual chilly demeanor thawed considerably. Since her face seemed perpetually stuck in a frown, he called that progress. Had his brawl at the Spotted Sow impressed her? Perhaps she shared his fascination with violence in any form. If so, the duel would give her another opportunity to see him in action.
He brought up the topic as casually as he could. It broke his usual rule of allowing his target to do most of the talking. For once, he had to give her a bit of information about himself, and in a way that wouldn’t sound like bragging or false modesty. He’d formed the dueling club and taught most of the members their spells, for when he’d arrived in Haven, there’d been no one with whom to practice.
“Do you kill your members then, or merely enslave them?” she said over her cup. Her tone made it a serious question.
“I . . . no, of course not. It’s just for practice.”
“Then it’s not a dueling club. It’s a sparring club.”
Semantics again. She often argued over words like this. As old as she was, it was probably difficult for her to accept that colloquial definitions changed over time. “Sparring, yes, though we refer to it as the Dueling Club.”
She shook her head at this. “Dueling used to be a serious matter.”
“Outlawed, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. A shame. There were tiers to dueling, depending on the seriousness of the dispute. At the top was Servitus aut Mors, in which the loser is killed or enslaved.”
“Enslaved? How? Couldn’t they just run away?”
“No, they’d be soul-bound. The loser has no choice in their fate, but death would be preferable.”
“Well, while our stakes aren’t as high, I would be honored if you came to our match. I’d be very curious to hear what you think of it.”
“Would you?” A hint of a smile again.
“Of course. Your prowess in combat is legendary. It’s this evening at five, on the outskirts of town. Do you know where the Reid barn is?”
“You battle in a barn?”
“Not my choice. It was a concession with the local Enforcers.” Their meetings had originally been in the open. They’d started with drills, then split into teams and spread out, incorporating the terrain as they hunted each other. Villagers complained. Why did he need to teach them those spells? Few Haveners sent their kids to the Academy. Family magic could be learned at home. Still, if he was going to teach them spells, why not the nice, Academy-approved set? His choices hearkened too much back to the old days. What if they were seen? It was cancel the club or submit to being muzzled. Nikolai had chosen the muzzle—for now. Haven was but a temporary stop.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” She looked it.
“Will you come?”
“I’ll consider it.”
The rest of their time passed amicably, but he couldn’t get a more committed response. Afterward he went to his apartment to prepare. Like most shops in town, Petrov’s was closed on Sundays. Some Mundane influences couldn’t be helped. In a drawer he found his old wand holster. It would have to be taken in to fit Kate, but she’d be able to hide a wand up her sleeve.
The holster went into the worn bag he carried with him to every match. Back when the club had more freedom, the bag was stocked with potions and powders that could be used to disable opponents or aid allies. Now it contained a few bandages and healing potions—another concession to the Enforcers. They were hardly needed. The club was under too much scrutiny for him to teach or cast any truly dangerous spells.
The cobblestone streets changed to dirt as he reached the edge of town. Sheep grazed sedately in the green pasture. The sight irked him each time. Why any Magi stooped to a lowly profession like farming was beyond his understanding. The Reid family were not strong casters. Their magic pertained mostly to the keeping of animals and tilling of soil. Every full moon they made offerings to some god of hearth and harvest. Their yields were good and their animals were healthy, yet they had lived in the same quaint holding for generations. Didn’t they see how much more they could accomplish with their powers?
The road curved toward the Reid barn a half mile down. Sean Reid and a few other members greeted Nikolai as he entered. It was Sean who’d offered up the barn after the village had gotten testy. His family mostly used it for shearing and storage. The dusty air stank of animals. Stacked hay bales lined the walls, doubling as seating for spectators. A variety of mismatched chairs were available as well. The center was relatively large and free of obstructions. Not the most prestigious place to show off his skills to Medea.
The club members attempted to clear the dusty floor with Gust, a spell that created a small burst of wind. Most of them had so little control they merely spread dust from one area of the barn to another. Nikolai shook his head. How quickly they forgot.
Most spells were powered by mana, the magical version of stamina innate in all Magi. Running out meant mana exhaustion, which prevented you from casting spells and made you feel like shit until you’d had a chance to rest. A spell’s mana cost was directly proportional to how much energy it took to create the effect. Nudging a pencil across the table was cheaper than punching a hole in a wall. At this rate, the idiots would use up half their mana before the match even started.
“How many times do I have to say it? If you’re not a witch, use a broom! Save your mana for the match.”
The hay bales crowded with spectators as match time approached. Nikolai scanned the audience for Medea. She had to come. It wasn’t like she had anything better to do. Surely an evening of live entertainment was preferable to reading.
Kate and Mary entered the barn together. Kate chose a front seat with her friends, Mary a high seat at the back of the room. Ethne joined her a few minutes later. They didn’t touch but leaned close as they conversed. He’d have to do something about that. Whether or not he was dating Ethne was beside the point. Mary had outmaneuvered him and he couldn’t let that stand.
It was almost time to start. He took out his wand and twirled it in hand, pacing as he did so. Where was Medea? If she didn’t show, he’d have to postpone giving the holster to Kate until he could arrange for their paths to cross again. When he could put it off no longer, he turned and faced the crowd.
