The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction MarchApril 2017 (The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction Book 132) by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Spilogale, Inc.
Published: 2017-05-02T22:00:00+00:00

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THE WIZARD'S NAME was Thelerion, and after his name he added the sobriquet "the Exemplary," though Baldemar never heard anyone else do so. The youth had little to do with his employer, however; Thelerion stood at the apex of a pyramidal structure of retainers and dogsbodies who maintained their master's manse and the exotic flora and fauna of its surrounds: cleaning, tending, feeding, weeding, cosseting, nursing, and occasionally recapturing those that made it over, under, or through its walls. Baldemar's position was at the pyramid's very base.

"He's a wizard," Baldemar asked, early on in his tenure, carrying the ordure of one of the caged beasts to feed the roots of one of the exotic blooms, "so why doesn't he have all this done by imps or afrits or spells?"

The recipient of this inquiry was Oldo, a senior under-henchman responsible for the estate's security. He was the old associate of Vunt's through whom the collector had secured this safe berth for the youth. His response was to seize Baldemar's throat in a strong, though not dangerous, grip and say, "There are two answers to that question: first, that the master lacks the thaumaturgical powers to do so; second, don't ask questions like that if you want to keep your place."

Baldemar knew a Vunt-taught way to remove Oldo's hand and bring the older man simultaneously to his knees, but he sensed that the throat-seizure was meant kindly—to emphasize the importance of the lesson. So he said, "You're telling me I can ask how to do my work, but not why it must be done?"

Oldo released his grip and patted him on the cheek. "Vunt said you were a canny one."

The work was reasonably varied and not onerous, the pay enough that he could send half of it to his mother and still have a few coins to put away at the end of each month. Baldemar had his own small room and ate what the other retainers ate, though he sat so far down the refectory table that any conversation at the far end, where the majordomo and the wizard's two apprentices reposed themselves on plush-seated chairs, was inaudible to him. Not that he cared; the few remarks among those senior members of staff he had managed to overhear—discussions of fluxive coherence, asymmetrical resonances, and lay-line convergences—were gibberish.

When he reported on his first day, the majordomo had handed him off to Fantance, the third-year apprentice, a sallow, squint-eyed specimen with a too-prominent lower lip. Fantance, overseen by a representative of the Wizards' Guild, had required Baldemar to perform a number of mental exercises that made no sense at all to the youth. With eyes closed, he was told to listen for tones he could not hear and count objects he could not see or touch. He was told to repeat strings of syllables he could not keep straight in his head.

"Not so much as a tinge," the apprentice said as he handed Baldemar over to Oldo. "Couldn't spell his way out of a room with doors in every wall.

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