School of Wizardry by Debra Doyle

Author:Debra Doyle
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-04-03T01:49:47+00:00

VI. Storm Clouds Gathering

THE NEXT FEW weeks brought more of the same, and worse. Spells that Randal had found difficult before, he now found impossible. Others, like the reading light, went awry when they worked at all. The prospect of second-year examinations loomed over Randal's existence like an ugly mountain.

Not even Lys's success at the Grinning Gryphon could lift his spirits. The patrons of the tavern, mostly wizards and apprentices, liked her music so much that the innkeeper gave her room and board in exchange for providing entertainment.

But Randal, while he felt pleased that Lys no longer had to choose between theft and starvation, found himself jealous as well. The player-girl, at least, had a talent that answered when she called upon it to serve her needs.

But even Lys, who could make music as well as any minstrelsy he'd ever heard, had needed to steal bread to keep from starving, so what might a failed wizard have to do to keep himself alive?

I could go back to Down, he thought, and then shook his head. It had been a long time since he'd left the castle; a long time since he'd worn the padded practice armor or lifted even a wooden sword. I've forgot ten all I ever learned about becoming a knight—even if they'd still let me—and so far I don't know anything about being a wizard.

In fact, Randal concluded bitterly, his training so far had only made him useless to everyone, including himself.

It was in that same dark mood, one afternoon in late summer, that Randal came back to the dormitory room he still shared with Gaimar. As usual, Randal's roommate had appropriated the only chair. He sat with his feet on the table, leaning back, summoning up colored bubbles of light, and then popping them one at a time in a shower of sparks.

Randal watched him for a few minutes with mounting irritation. "Is that all you can think of to do?"

Gaimar called forth a handful of golden bubbles and bounced them in the air above his empty palm. "What's it to you, anyway? You can't even do that much."

Randal gritted his teeth. "I'm learning," he said. "And someday ..."

"Don't hold your breath waiting," said Gaimar. One of the golden bubbles burst with a quick, echo-less bang. A shower of gold flecks sifted down, circling among the bubbles that remained. "You've been here more than a year and you haven't even managed to light a candle."

Randal said nothing. He flung himself down on his cot and stared up at the dimness among the rafters. On the other side of the room, he could hear the sound of three more bubbles popping in quick succession.

"Stop that," he said finally.

Gaimar snickered. A half-dozen gold and silver bubbles sprang into existence over Randal's head. They dodged and flitted about like fireflies, breaking apart in showers of glittering dust whenever their paths collided.

"I said stop that," said Randal.

"Why should I?"

"Because if you don't," said Randal, "you're going to regret it."

A silver bubble floated down to a spot just above Randal's nose, hovered there for a moment, and then burst.

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