Journeyman (A Wizard's Life) Read Online Free PDF

travelling alongside his route.
    When he came to the gates of the castle, Benen found them guarded not by men in armour but by one old man in robes. Around his neck he wore a seal of some sort, hung from a chain. The old man did not try to stop Benen, instead he motioned to him to accompany him. He did not seem to have any fear of the wizard.
    Finally! Someone who isn’t a superstitious fool, thought Benen.
    The old man escorted Benen to a sitting room and motioned toward one of the padded and cushioned armchairs. Benen figured this was a waiting room where he would stay until the king was ready to see him. He accepted the seat.
    “What is your name?” asked the old man as he poured two glasses of wine from a decanter.
    “Benen.” He had considered embellishing his name with a title, but no matter which title he tried, it sounded much too pompous.
    The old man handed Benen one of the glasses and sat down in an armchair facing his guest’s.
    “I am Mellen, an adviser to his majesty.”
    “Thank you for seeing me. I guess you’ve been told I’m a wizard?”
    “Yes. I have.” Mellen was very grave. “Who was your master, Benen?”
    He was surprised by the question. He doubted this adviser knew of Oster, but he told him the name anyway.
    “I see,” the old man said. “Did he not make it clear to you that people fear wizards?”
    “Not exactly, no. He wasn’t a very good teacher,” Benen confided in Mellen.
    “Has what you have experienced shown you that it would be best for you to practise the magical arts out of sight of the common people?”
    “It’s shown me that the common people have stupid ideas about wizards.”
    “Do you really think so?”
    “Yes. Wizards could be of great help to them.”
    “The moment anything would go wrong though, they would blame the wizard for it. If a horse goes lame, it was the wizard’s fault. If the milk sours early, it was the wizard’s fault. The common people see the power of wizards, their ability to do the impossible, and then reason that wizards would use this power to their advantage; to rule over them, or to otherwise harm them. It is what they think they themselves might do with such power and it taints their view of events.”
    Benen began to suspect that Mellen was speaking from experience.
    “Are you a wizard yourself?” Benen asked.
    The old man nodded.
    “Surely you could convince the king to let wizards help. We could be useful in so many ways!”
    “Your heart is in the right place, Benen, but using wizardry will just turn the people against the king. He cannot afford this, he is already unpopular. All of this is more complicated than you realize. Please do not show yourself a wizard again; It is best to keep a low profile. Or better yet, leave the capital and do some research away from prying eyes.”
    “But we can help.”
    The old man shook his head. “Not the way you’re wanting to, Benen. Believe me.”
    “Maybe the people can be shown that we’re not the monsters they think we are.”
    “I doubt that, Benen. Please, do not be rash. Do not expose yourself to their scrutiny. You will regret it.”
    Benen stood up. “I will prove you wrong. I will help people and they will see me for what I am: their friend.”
    “It seems I cannot convince you otherwise, Benen. Do this away from the capital, if you please.” Mellen stood up too and extended his hand to Benen. They clasped hands. “It is a wonder you have kept such idealism despite having been under Oster’s tutelage,” the old man said.
    Benen took this as a compliment.
    Mellen escorted Benen back out of the castle and through the inner city gates. By then, the tumult was over and no one raised a fuss about Benen. Before they were to part, Mellen asked Benen if he would see him at the moot.
    “The what?” Benen asked.
    Mellen shook his head. “Every five years, the wizards of Estren meet and exchange knowledge. Will you go to it?”
    Benen got from Mellen the date of the conclave