Lesson of the Fire Read Online Free PDF

of
magocrats.
    Normally, the greens would have outstripped
any other color, but at this function, the bright green had soon
been weeded out and ambers and higher colored the room. Amber,
cyan, lavender and yellow made lively patterns across the floor.
Among them, Eda Stormgul — the woman who had led the patrol the
night Sven had arrived — wandered, no doubt currying favor from her
new superiors while commanding those now below her.
    She joined me because mine
was the winning side, Sven
thought.
    Rustiford had given eight others besides Sven
to Nightfire’s Academy, and none would have gone willingly. He
frowned as the thought crossed his mind.
    I went willingly, he thought, a part of him trying to recall
why. For knowledge, he decided, and to protect Erbark,
who is not as intelligent as I am.
    Below, a man of middling years gained the
stage and gathered his grey cloak about him in a flourish. Sven
peered at him. The man was no Mar, but it was hard to place his
origin.
    He began speaking and then singing in adhi
tetrads, and the crowd became fixated.
    “Oh come sit by my hearth tonight
    And warm your hands near golden flames.
    Here, have some meat and soup as well.
    Sit, eat, and hear what I will say:
    I am not ready yet for sleep.
    The night is just as long as day.
    What stories do your people tell?
    Who are your heroes? Give their names.
    For it is hours ’til morning’s light.”
    We are known for our love
of the legend, Sven thought,
smiling. Perhaps that is another reason so
many have sworn to serve me — to be a part of my story.
    The crowd, too, from lowliest slave to
highest yellow, was mesmerized already. The speaker raised his hand
toward Sven and appeared to stand taller.
    “I tell of our Mardux’s humble beginnings,”
he cried, and the crowd roared approval. The storyteller appeared
to be waiting for Sven’s permission.
    Sven was surprised by the
choice. Is this a story to tell now? But
the people below do not know me well yet. Let them hear what I have
done. They will see soon enough what else I can do.
    He waved the storyteller on, and the man
bowed extravagantly as the wizards cheered.
    “Sven Takraf was born i’the wild’ress of
Gunne, a secret child of Marrish an’ Fraemauna. Seekin’ to protect
her lover from the wrath of his wife, Dinah, Fraemauna aban’oned
her son. Seruvus, who sees all, took pity on the babe, blessed the
boy with his own memory an’ gave him to Pitt Gematsud to raise as
his son.”
    All worries of the storyteller vanished from
Sven’s mind. The man certainly didn’t know any truths, if that was
how he began. And though he spoke in the rural, uneducated Mar
dialect, he certainly could have picked that up. Trained
storytellers could do many things.
    “Pitt an’ his wife had no child’en, an’ they
were happy to do as the god asked. But they didn’t reckon on the
jealous wrath of the Bald Goddess. Dinah called a ban’ of damnens
to raid the villages of Gunne, promisin’ them all the slaves they
could catch as lon’ as they killed any child with Marrish’s eyes of
green fire.”
    Now Sven found Eda, her back
to the storyteller, her brown eyes seeking him. Another face was
turned toward him, a man not three years older than him, wearing
yellow. Horsa Verifien, Sven thought. There were
six of us who finished: Brand and Tosti, who are dead, Eda, Horsa,
Katla and myself. Is it coincidence these two are here now? The
gods have played their games with me before.
    “The list of people taken an’ green-eyed
child’en killed grew daily, an’ th’ones left lived in fear of
Dinah’s child’en. The people of Gunne cried out to the gods for
deliverance, an’ Seruvus heard them an’ brought the message to
Fraemauna.
    “She sent her servant, the great wizard
Nightfire, to spirit her son to safety in his Academy. The son of
Fraemauna would receive the gifts of Marrish an’ become a wizard
who would be the Guardian of Marrishland — the one who’d lead the
Mar to