Wizard’s Apprentice

CHARLES NOYES

The Wizard’s Apprentice

Jamie crept through the quiet tunnel. They held their sword at arm’s length, occasionally glancing at it, as if nervous that it would bite them. It was chock full of magic, so that wasn’t out of the question. Master Roghart walked a few paces ahead, nonchalantly taking in the intricate carvings on the wall, occasionally stopping to explain the significance to Jamie. “Aha, well you see my child, this one’s telling us to turn back, says there’s certain doom ahead. But here’s the kicker, they’ve actually miscarved one of the runes, it actually says there’s certain pie crusts ahead! Isn’t that humorous?” Master Roghart turned to Jamie, as if expecting an answer. “Very humorous sir.” said Jamie politely. A frown came over their face. “Sir, if you don’t me asking-” “Ask away, child.” “Thank you sir. Well, if you don’t mind me asking, what does it mean by certain doom?” “Oh that.” Master Roghart waved his hand dismissively. “Traps and such, I expect. Nothing to worry about, really.” “Oh.” said Jamie, not particularly reassured. “That’s fine then. Right?” “Oh yes, perfectly fine. I wouldn’t let a thing happen to you, la- child. Now, we mustn’t dwell, got to make good time on this.” Jamie and Master Roghart continued to trudge along the roughhewn tunnels of this forgotten place. It was damp and cold, and there was a constant dripping of water somewhere just out of sight. It set Jamie quite on edge, but Master Roghart continued along defiantly. Jamie sighed. The man was apparently a power-

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ful wizard, but still seemed to need to prove his bravery at every available opportunity. He just ambled past various warnings left by previous treasure seekers, only stopping to point out their spelling mistakes. Jamie glanced down at the faintly glowing blade in their hands. They quietly wished that they had just left it in the garden where they’d dug it up, but no, Master Roghart had insisted they return it to its rightful resting place. As if the sword cared. Or maybe it did care, it was magic, but either way Jamie shouldn’t have had to risk their life just for some up-jumped eldritch butter knife! It was ridiculous as, Jamie was coming to learn, most wizard business was. Jamie had expected a less practical approach for this apprenticeship: reading ancient tomes by the fire, occasional ingredient-gathering for potions, maybe doing actual magic if the wizard was feeling extremely generous. Instead, Master Roghart was constantly taking Jamie on dangerous trips through the countryside, where he would track down dangerous creatures neither of them were prepared to deal with, handle cursed objects with his bare hands, and be a general nuisance to everyone, Jamie included. In the brief few months Master Roghart had been teaching them, Jamie had been nearly killed at least twice a week every week, usually more. It was far too exciting in Jamie’s opinion. And now, at this very moment, they were delving into an ancient ruin, probably full of all kinds of nasty creatures, attempting to return some sword to its “proper resting place,” whatever that meant. Jamie’s train of thought was cut off as they walked straight into Master Rogharts back. “Careful there, child.” said Master Roghart, a rare note of caution in his voice. “Don’t want you knocking me down there.” There was a 20-foot-deep, 5-foot-wide, square hole in front of them. Jamie took a quick glance over the side and yelped, darting back behind Master Roghart. In the pit were thousands of snakes, all various shades of purple. Jamie hated 119

snakes. Not in specific, you understand, just in the same way they hated all creatures capable of killing them. “Now, young Jamie,” said Master Rogart, turning to face them, “How would you go about defusing this particular conundrum?” Jamie considered the question. Certainly a fire ball or two would sort the situation. Jamie set down the sword and gestured for Master Rogart to pass them the focusing staff.¹ “What’s the magic word?” said Roghart. “What?” said Jamie, broken out of the haze of concentration, “For fireball? Uh, ***** right?”² “No-Well yes, but- ‘please,’ I meant ‘please’, child.” “Oh. Can I please have the staff?” “You may.” Jamie considered the staff. Holding a wizard’s staff, or indeed any implement of arcane casting, is a unique experience not easily put into words. If they had lived in a world and era where such things were available, Jamie might have described the experience as not unlike holding TV static. It radiated power, and the effect could be felt in every cell of your body. Jamie was just beginning to plant their feet and get into the position of spell casting when Master Rogart coughed loudly. They looked back. “So,” said Master Rogart, attempting in vain to sound casual, “You thought fireball, eh? Good choice, good choice, nothing wrong with that, no siree.” Jamie considered the situation. Clearly Master Rogart didn’t want them to use Fireball. Was it a problem with Fireball itself? No, Fireball was a good spell; it would have killed the snakes very efficiently. Hm. It must be a problem with killing ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––¹ It was possible to do magic without a staff, but very difficult, and extremely peculiar. The best way to describe it would probably be to say it felt like dipping your soul in a swimming pool of jello, but even that doesn’t do it justice. ² Writing down one of the ancient words of power would be a mistake so grave that it beggars belief. Words don’t like to be trapped between pages, magical words even less so, and they can do something about it. 120

then. That made sense, Jamie supposed. They were the ones barging into the snakes home uninvited, and killing them would just make the situation ruder. Jamie decided to use another spell. “*****!” Jamie shouted with purpose.³ A little circle appeared in the air above the pit. Something that looked a bit like mercury began to pour out, forming itself into the shape of a large disc. It floated there, seeming expectant. “Well done, young one!” Exclaimed Master Roghart, “Very well done. Glad you settled on a different spell, Fireball might nearly have blown the supports out completely. I had faith that you’d notice that though you’ve always been a perceptive one. Anyhow, let’s be going on!” The wizard gingerly took his staff and stepped onto the mercury disc. It wobbled a bit but stayed firm. He continued along through the cave. Jamie picked the sword off of the ground, mentally hitting themself. They should have noticed that! It was bloody obvious now that they’d stopped to look. Jamie followed Master Rogart at a brisk pace, fists clenched. They really had to be more careful next time.

*** The tunnel was cleaner now, less rough, more like a hallway. It kept going down for hours, and Jamie was frankly losing track of all the twists and turns. It was good practice for a wizard, Master Rogart said, to memorize random snippets of information. He said it prepared one to remember the random bits of information that would be thrown at one throughout daily life as a wizard. Jamie supposed they could see the logic in that, but it still seemed far simpler to just carry a quill and parchment around, taking notes on things and then memorizing them in the comfort of one’s own home, perhaps with a cup ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––³ It was always good to show a spell you were sure of yourself and what you were doing, otherwise it might get ideas. 121

of cocoa while sitting by a roaring fire. Or something like that. Jamie hadn’t given it much thought. Part of the problem was the wall carvings. They were beginning to distract Jamie, having shifted from long messages about certain death ahead to brutal scenes depicting certain death. It was as if they were trying to say, “Well if you hadn’t gotten the message before, you better now.” Master Rogart didn’t seem to be getting the message though. He would occasionally stop to admire them, scoffing at the artistry of a few, but the images never seemed to give him much pause. This was one of the things that most confused Jamie about Master Roghart. He never appeared to stop and consider. Jamie could hardly get out of bed in the morning without contemplating the ethical ramifications of making themself a piece of toast for breakfast, but not Master Roghart. He never seemed to contemplate. He just went ahead as bold as brass. It was probably something to be admired, something that came with age and experience. Perhaps all of the other masters were just like him. Jamie considered this. On the other hand, perhaps not, if only because Master Roghart did not seem to like other master wizards very much. He was going on about them now. They had come to the end of the hallway, ending up in a giant, rough-hewn cavern, almost spherical in shape. In the center was a small island of rock, held up by a huge stone pillar. On the island was a temple of some kind, decked out in marble and pillars and surrounded by various depictions of gods. There was a flimsy bridge made of wooden planks nailed together linking the hallway to the temple. Master Roghart hadn’t asked them to stand on it yet, but Jamie was deadly sure that it was coming, as soon as Master Roghart finished his grand speech. Jamie snapped back to attention. It was always beneficial to pay attention to those; he often referenced them later. “-And the fuddy duddies at the University Ocularis would have us ignore what is dangerous in favor of what is plain! They let me go, and for what? So called incompetency? Well we 122

have proved them wrong today, haven’t we, Jamie,” Jamie nodded vigorously at this, “with this magnificent find, the sword will be returned in no time! Why, this temple must be ancient! Lost for centuries beneath the earth! Isn’t it glorious, Jamie, my child?” He turned to look at them. Jamie nodded. “I’m glad you think so, because you shall be the first to step over that bridge and head inside!” His smile faded a little. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, you’ll be fine. It’ll be a wonderful way to practice your spellcraft.” Jamie took a reluctant step toward the rickety planks. “Feather-fall, at the very least.” added Roghart nonchalantly. Jamie glanced back slowly. Roghart gave them a thumbs-up. Jamie turned back around. The bridge was a non-starter. There was absolutely no way that it would support their weight, so it had to be bypassed. Jamie leaned on their staff and took in their surroundings. The wooden bridge couldn’t have been here as long ago as Roghart said the ancients had been here, so there must’ve been some other way they got across. Jamie’s brow creased. The ancient people here were spellcasters right? That’s why Roghart had brought them here in the first place, to take in the ancient knowledge? So they used magic magic to get across then? Just teleported? But no. Teleportation was finicky, it tended to get you halfway stuck in a wall 3 miles from your destination,⁴ and it expended far too much energy for what would be a daily commute for worshippers. So, Jamie thought, there must be some low-level spell or spells that would get them across. Jump, maybe? No, that wouldn’t get you far enough, the gap was some 45 feet across. But maybe you didn’t have to jump all that way… Jamie started to back up. They were going to need a running start if this was to work. Jamie glanced over at Master

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––⁴ The trick of teleportation is most often to simply convince the universe that you have always been in your destination, and that it is the one who was mistaken about things. This has a lot of potential to go wrong; the universe does not like being called a liar. 123

Roghart. He had a knowing smile plastered across his face in what Jamie felt was the most irritating way possible, as if he had already figured out what they were going to do and already knew it wouldn’t work. Jamie suddenly felt a deep, burning desire to wipe that look off his face. Jamie took another couple steps back, and then a couple more for safety’s sake. Then Jamie started dashing towards the edge, casting Jump as they went. They made it a good 15 feet across and 20 feet up into the air before they started to drop. Jamie could see a flicker of magic light in the corner of their eye, probably Master Roghart thinking they needed saving, but Jamie was entirely prepared. They cast feather-fall on themself and started to float gently towards the other side, the momentum of their jump carrying them along nicely. Jamie turned back to try and see the look on Roghart’s face. He didn’t seem to be smiling. *** “Yes, very well, child, quite well done.” said Roghart after jumping across to meet Jamie, his voice dripping with nonchalance. “Thank you, sir, I was rather proud of it,” said Jamie, beaming. It wasn’t often you got a compliment from Roghart, even one made grudgingly. “It was your talk of the Feather-Fall spell that gave me the idea.” Jamie paused. “You might say I was inspired by you,” they added casually. Flattery always helped with Roghart. Roghart’s chest puffed out microscopically. “Yes, well. I’m happy to play my small part, I try to encourage thinking outside the box. Now, let us continue. ” He began to walk briskly into the temple. Jamie was about to follow when something caught their eye. It was the bridge, specifically a nail in one of the planks, specifically the color of the nail in the plank on the bridge. It was gray. There was no rust on it at all. Jamie jerked their head back around. Roghart had disappeared - it was far too dark to see him in the temple. Jamie felt their heart skip a beat. They 124

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dashed into the temple, terrible scenarios flashing through their mind. If Roghart was killed, they’d never be able to learn magic: There wasn’t another Wizard around for miles, and if they couldn’t learn magic they’d have to go back to their parents, and if they went back to their parents they’d have to become a farmer again, and if they had to be a farmer again they’dJamie ran head first into … something, and fell back. It was something solid. Well, not that solid - it’d moved when they’d rammed into it. It was still moving, in fact. It was cursing as well“Oh,” said Jamie, slightly out of breath and feeling embarrassed. “Hello, Master Roghart.” “What are you doing, girl? You nearly killed me!” Master Roghart was jumping up and down clutching his leg. “You’ve scuffed my robes I’m sure of it. These things are expensive, you know!” “Not girl,” said Jamie, annoyed. Master Roghart calmed down a little. “Yes, well, obviously. Obviously I wouldn’t call you that on purpose, heat of the moment and all that. I assume I am forgiven?” “Sure.” “Very good. Now, what was the reason you came running in like that?” Jamie took a moment to catch their breath before speaking. “There was a nail-” “Yes? And what about this nail?” “It didn’t have any rust on it.” “So?” “Well,” said Jamie, feeling put out. “That’s strange. It’s been down here for what, one thousand years? It should have a little rust.” Master Roghart rolled his eyes. “Child, I’m sure the denizens of this place simply put some sort of anti-rusting charm on it. We studied those in one of our first lessons together. You must remember even the small things if you are ever to become 126

a great wizard and impress the rest of the wizarding community. Now come, no more distractions.” Master Roghart turned back around without another word, and continued down the passage. Jamie was feeling put out. It was rare that they had an anxiety with any actual backing to it, and to have it dashed so quickly felt rather cheap. “Why would those ancient humans even build that bridge? It’d be way too small for them,” they muttered to themself. Before this thought had time to register, a strange voice spoke in their ear. “I suppose that’s where we come in.” Before Jamie could respond, something scaly hit them in the back of the head, and the world went even blacker. *** The torchlight was hurting Jamie’s eyes, even with their eyelids closed, and each of their cells felt as if it weighed 10 tons. Whatever had hit Jamie had hit them extremely hard, and they were still trying to piece together what had happened. Something had spoken to them, they’d been knocked out, they’d been moved here. Or maybe they hadn’t been moved at all - the ground here felt mostly the same. There was a rumbling though, a deep bassy sound almost like … snoring? Through tremendous effort and intense curiosity, Jamie managed to open an eyelid. Lying there, his drool forming a small ocean next to his face, was Roghart. His hands and feet were bound, and his staff was nowhere to be seen. He’d been captured? How? He was one of the greatest wizards of all the ages! How did a couple of- It occurred to Jamie that they didn’t actually have any idea what had captured them, it had all happened so suddenly. Maybe their attackers were powerful spellcasters, true paragons of the arcane who were able to best Master Roghart in single combat. Yes, that must be it. That was the only logical explanation. Jamie glanced nervously over at their captors. There were two little bearded people, both about a foot tall, with tall red conical hats extending a good six inches 127

high, and each of them was wearing a blue shirt and overalls. Gnomes. Their captors were gnomes. Master Roghart had been snuck up on and defeated by a pair of tiny people with pointy hats. A fraction of an idea about Master Roghart and the type of man he was began to make itself known at the back of Jamie’s mind, but Jamie quickly shoved it down. This was neither the time or the place. Right now they had to think of some way out of this situation. At least their being gnomes explained why Jamie was having such a hard time understanding them. It wasn’t a concussion after all. Or at least, it wasn’t just a concussion. One of the gnomes was holding a torch, and the other was holding a metal stick which Jamie’s brain told them was important. Oh. It’s a sword. A sword. The sword! They were holding the ancient artifact Master Roghart had entrusted them with! Jamie had to get it back - it was a powerful magical tool. With that kind of arcane energy they could do … something. That aspect of the mission had never been properly explained to Jamie. Master Roghart had just said that it was of grave importance and Jamie must be very careful not to cast a spell while holding it for fear of the overwhelming power. Jamie tensed up. Perhaps these gnomes were powerful spellcasters after all, and by using the sword had managed to defeat Master Roghart! Yes, that was the only logical conclusion. Jamie had to act quickly or the gnomes might cast something even worse. Unfortunately, Jamie’s brain was not in the business of quick thinking right now, and so the only plan they could come up with was to say one of the Gnomish phrases they had learned from their interactions with the gnomes in Jamie’s home village. “*I am not a Gnome I am simply very short!*”⁵ they shouted earnestly. The gnomes turned to them. The one with the torch

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––⁵ Gnomish can best be understood by the reader as sounding basically like Russian spoken in a thick New Zealand accent. 128

spoke, “*Ah! You speak gnomish?* Askdfqof-*” “*No, I do not speak gnomish.*” responded Jamie quickly. “I should say not,” said the other gnome in the common tongue. He was glowering at them. “Your accent is atrocious.” The first gnome put their hands on their hips. “Now don’t be rude Digby. I’m sure the young one was trying their best.” “Wilma, am I supposed to lie to them? Tell them they put on a good show? Well, they didn’t, and I shouldn’t be attacked for saying so.” “Oh lay off it, there’s no need to be cruel to the poor thing-” As the gnomes began to argue loudly, Jamie heard a rustling coming from the side. They turned to look and saw Master Roghart glaring at them with a finger pressed against his lips. “Sssh!” hissed Master Roghart, being louder than Jamie. “Let’s not alert these gnomes to my consciousness. Jamie, my l-child, you must make a grab for the sword, the fate of the world depends on it!” “What?” whispered Jamie. “Excuse me if I’m being impertinent Master Roghart-” “You’re excused.” “Um, thank you, but if it’s so important, Master Roghart, should you do it? Being the senior wizard and all?” Master Roghart shook his head gravely. “No, child, it would be far too dangerous for me to hold it. The arcane power might fry me alive.” “What?!” said Jamie, a little louder than they meant to. They glanced to see if the gnomes had heard it, but they were still too busy arguing. The discussion had moved on to laundry now, and the lack of doing it. Jamie turned back to Master Roghart, “Sir, begging your pardon, but I’ve been carrying that sword all day - won’t it hurt me as well?” “Ah, well, you see that’s the clever part,” said Master Roghart, seeming quite self-assured. “I theorize that with 129

prolonged exposure you might gain some sort of immunity to it.” Master Roghart saw the look that Jamie was giving him and added “Or something like that - I haven’t ironed out all the details. Anyway, you’ve been holding all day and you haven’t died yet, so it’ll probably be fine. Go on now. The fate of the world, and your continued success, depends on it.” Master Roghart flopped down and stuck out his tongue, pretending to be unconscious. Jamie sighed and turned to face the gnomes. How to approach this? Surely the gnomes wouldn’t be stupid enough to just hand it to them? Maybe they could“Quiet, you two. I have returned.” This was a third voice, a calm voice. “I see that one of our prisoners has awakened.” The voice stepped out of the shadows revealing what could only be described as a hunk of a gnome. It was a good three and a half feet tall, not including the hat, and its biceps were so large they appeared to have ripped its blue shirt. Its beard was long and mangy, and its hands were large and worn, but it was the eyes that stood out the most. They stared right through you, not even acknowledging your existence. Jamie flinched as the gnome reached behind his back and brought out something silvery- Oh. It was a haddock. “I used this fish to bring you down before and I could do it again,” said the hunk gnome, “So don’t even think about trying something, wizard.” He spit out the last word like a curse. Jamie flinched. The thought that they might be powerful spellcasters was crushed. He clearly wasn’t fond of the arcane. The hunk gnome looked at them expectantly. “Oh. Yes. Of course. No, I wouldn’t try anything obviously,” said Jamie. They were a little nonplussed, frankly, all things considered. They’d expected something a little more frightening. “Good,” said the hunk gnome. “I don’t expect you could do anything anyway. Wizards are so weak without their staves.” He chuckled to himself and grinned toothily. There was a pause before Digby and Wilma got the message and started chuckling 130

too.

“Good one, boss.” said Digby. “You really are the master of comedy as well as combat, sir,” said Wilma, wiping a tear from her eye. The grin faded from the Hunk gnome. “Don’t try and flatter me, you two.” “Of course not, sir. I’d never dream of it.” said Wilma. “You’d see right through it, boss.” said Digby. “Hmm.” said the hunk gnome, rubbing his eyes. “Hand me the sword, Digby.” “You got it, boss, I’m right on it-” “Yes, thank you,” said the hunk gnome, snatching the sword from Digby’s hand. “Now. Wizard. What do you know about this sword?” “Oh,” said Jamie quickly. “That old thing? Useless, utterly useless, so so so so so so useless, more useless than a-” “Don’t lie to me. I’ve got pins and needles just holding this thing. How do I use it?” “Oh. You swing it, I expect.” said Jamie. Then a thought occurred. “But to properly access its true potential, you’ll have to hand it over.” “Hey, now.” said the gnome. “Don’t try anything here. I’m not stupid.” Jamie considered this. This gnome was big and scary, but he wasn’t necessarily smart. If they could shock him with a bunch of technical nonsense, Jamie might be able to scare him into giving it over. “Listen,” Jamie said, shrugging “if you want to overload the probability matrix of this whole dang quadrospatial sector, be my guest.” “Probability matrix?” said Wilma, concern creeping into her voice. “Quadrospatial sector?” said Digby, sounding worried. “Hm,” said the hunk gnome, betraying nothing. “Exactly, probability matrix,” said Jamie. “The pins and needles you’re feeling is the quantum super-death starting to 131

take effect.” “Hm,” said the hunk gnome once again. He sighed. “Fine. But don’t try anything.” He started to hand over the sword. Jamie was itching to take it, barely holding themself back. The gnome saw the look in their eye and hesitated. “I have your word? You won’t try anything?” he said. “You have my word,” said Jamie. The gnome handed over the sword. Jamie gripped the handle and felt the magic rush up their arm, like a dog jumping up to its master. Master Roghart sat up and grinned at them. “That’s the ticket, Jamie! All thanks to my expert teaching, eh? Well, very good anyway, now cast Fireball!” Jamie paused. They looked at the hunk gnome. They could see fear in his eyes, pure absolute terror. This was a creature Jamie could destroy in a second, with barely a thought. The power was intoxicating, the temptation overwhelming. Jamie thought for a second, and let the sword clatter to the ground. “Go, now, before they change their mind!” shouted Digby⁶ and the gnomes scattered. There was was a beat before Master Roghart exploded.⁷ “How in the world can you be so careless!?” he shouted “You had them right where you wanted them and you let them escape! Now they’re certain to come back and attempt to steal the sword again. Really, Jamie, I thought I taught you better than that-” “Wouldn’t it bother you though?” said Jamie, turning to look at Master Roghart “To explode those gnomes like that?” “What?” said Master Roghart, befuddled “I would have thrown up a magical shield to resist the effects if that’s what you’re worried about, la-child, I would have been quite fine-” “No, I mean, to kill them. Wouldn’t that bother you?” Master Roghart paused for a moment, seemingly at a ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––⁶ A lot can be said about gnomes, but they know when they are beaten. ⁷ Not literally, but intense emotion and magical power has been known to do similar things in the past. 132

loss for words. Eventually he spoke, “No. I don’t suppose it would. They were thieves, gi-child, ruffians, lowest of the low It would have been perfectly fine to-” “And that’s another thing,” said Jamie, surprising even themself by interrupting once again. “What is it with you almost calling me ‘lass’ all the time? I’m not a girl, you know.” Master Roghart seemed bowled over by this, “Yes, of course, Jamie, I don’t think you’re a girl. I really have no idea what your point is here; that has nothing to do with the matter at hand-” “I guess what my point is,” said Jamie, who was figuring out what that was as they were saying it, “Is that someone who can barely remember to use one set of words instead of another maybe shouldn’t be in charge of an all-powerful magic artifact, especially not if that person also just got knocked out by a bunch of gnomes!” Master Roghart put his hands on his hips. “Young lady-” Jamie narrowed their eyes at that, “-I seem to recall you yourself being knocked out by those gnomes as well.” “I’m an apprentice and you’re a master,” said Jamie. “We shouldn’t be judged on the same metric. And anyway, I’m not going to hold on to it very long. I’ll be taking it to the University Ocularis so they can figure out what to do with it.” “Really? Why in the world would you do that?” said Master Roghart. He shook his head vigorously. “Why, those fun-ruining bores would rather not delve into an ancient ruin full of dangerous traps!” said Master Roghart. “Yes?” said Jamie, “Rather than what?” “What? No, that was the end of the sentence.” “Hm.” said Jamie, placing the sword gently into their pack, “Well, if I get there and they don’t seem capable, I’ll do my own research and see what is best to do with it. Goodbye, Master Roghart.” “Now, hang on there,” said Master Roghart, puffing out his chest, “If you won’t see reason then I shall be forced to stop 133

you using my arcane abilities!”. He pointed his hands at them, gripping his staff. In a flash, Jamie saw a globule of pulsating magical energy begin to charge itself up in his palm. After a beat, he released it, and as it arced towards them it began to take the form of a net composed of undulating light. For a second, Jamie felt a jolt of fear before instinct took over. They raised their arm, took a breath, and knocked the net off-course, causing it to hit the wall with a splort.⁸ Jamie’s insides were on fire. Deflecting that blast had been like batting away a kitten. Could that really have been the best Roghart could muster? Master Roghart’s face was forming a perfect O as he stared at Jamie’s hands. Jamie themself was immensely shocked by what had just happened but they managed to rally magnificently. “I suppose that proves you have nothing left to teach me.” said Jamie. “Perhaps you are right,” said Master Roghart sheepishly, “But my conscience demands I make one last attempt. Child, the wizards of the University Ocularis are fools. They overlooked my greatness, chewed me up and spit me out. They’ll do the same to you. And besides, I took on this apprenticeship to improve my standing amongst the wizarding community. If you leave now, I’ll be a laughing stock!” “I think, Master Roghart,” said Jamie, hands on their hips, “That the fate of the world is slightly more important than your reputation or your personal grudges!” Jamie sighed, “I need to do this, Master Roghart, end of discussion.” “If you want to go and I can’t stop you then it is your right to leave.” He shook his head. “Very wizardly, I suppose, to assert yourself like this. I must have taught you something.” “Yes.” said Jamie, turning away, “Maybe you did.”

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––⁸ This is called a “counter-spell”, and basically involves convincing the magic that it would rather break than work correctly. This is not too difficult as magic is naturally lazy. 134

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