By Ian Lytle A tale of Larisnar
It was spring in the lands of the Accord. The air was filled with the light fragrance of apple blossoms and the sound of an enthusiastically bubbling stream. Edouard lazed on the soft, mossy bank letting the sun warm him. Occasionally he would cast a lazy glance at his fishing float as it bobbed merrily in the stream, waiting for it to disappear.
"Edouard", the rumbling of a stern voice came from somewhere nearby. The boy's eyes opened slightly and his mouth stretched in a massive yawn.
"Edouard! Rouse your lazy bones boy, there's work to be done."
"Later.", Edouard yawned again, "Fishing."
The voice became low and threatening, "This is your last warning lad. Do as I command or you will face my wrath." Edouard nodded slowly, noting that his float had begun to drop sharply below the water, "Wrath. Yes, of course. Be with you in a minute."
Suddenly the lazing fisherman felt himself dowsed with freezing water. He sat bolt upright in shock from the attack and bellowed like a wounded beast. He no longer lay by the idle stream, and the springtime sun no longer warmed him. Instead he found himself dripping wet, shivering in his own modest bed at Arak Spire, his home. The sun hadn't even risen yet; his window framed a bluish rectangle of pre-morning gloom. Perhaps worst of all was the person standing at the foot of his bed holding an empty mop bucket.
Gaston Bonhomme, chatelaine of Arak and Edouard's adopted father glared at his adopted son with livid anger. "By the gods, lad.", Bonhomme hissed through clenched teeth, "Why do you test me so?"
"I. Umm. That is, sir. I don't..."
His father interrupted him in mid-sputter, "Stop! Do not begin to think of telling me you don't know. Get up and dry yourself, you addlepated slugabed, then meet me at my office. For your own sake, my boy, do not dawdle!"
With that threat hanging palpably in the air, Gaston Bonhomme left Edouard's room, slamming the door behind him.
Edouard stripped his dripping nightshirt from his back and wiped his face with it, then sighed, "Another fine day at the Spire."
Later, dried and clothed in the simple robes of an apprentice, Edouard padded down the solemn halls of the Castle of Magi. There were already a few early risers. Wizened ancients and their fresh-faced students mingled with hearty adventurers festooned with strange pouches and bandoleers of vials holding liquids of bizarre color. They all gave Edouard a wide berth; one had only to look at the boy to understand why.
Though he was still very young, Edouard stood a full foot taller than even the tallest man at the chateau. He was broad and powerfully built with angular features that would have made him quite handsome had it not been for other aspects of his appearance. Edouard was a child of mixed parentage, a monstrous mix at that, for one of his parents had been a Nothrog. The boy had no idea which parent had been one of the ravening militaristic beasts, for he had never known either of them. His "family" had left him in the wilds when he was still and infant, there to die of exposure. Apparently the boy had been a mistake, a mistake he was sentenced to die for when still an innocent child. Gaston Bonhomme had found him and brought him here, even going so far as to adopt the half-breed as his own son.
Now Edouard stalked the castle, glaring at the world around him with fiery red eyes, hearing every gasp of revulsion with ears that were mercilessly sharp at times. He kept most of his body hidden with robes that were always a bit large for him, and always kept his hood up. His plan was beginning to fail; the older he got the more difficult it was to find a robe large enough for his purposes. Hiding from the world was getting to be too difficult.
The hal ended in a circular room with a domed ceiling. Colored glass panes were set into the dome at the East and West to allow the light of the rising and setting suns to illuminate the massive foyer with color. The floor itself was a work of art in multi-colored marble depicting a massive celestial wheel with the symbols of the eight "schools" of magic at the spokes. At the North end was a set of massive double doors composed of heavy wood covered in a deep red gloss. The doors were the main entrance to the chateau proper and stood barred until sunrise. On either side of the great doors were set several small doors at regular intervals. They were all simple wooden affairs with black wizards marks burnedinto them. Edouard made his way to a door that bore Bonhomme's mark and knocked three times on the doorframe.
"Come in.", Gaston said. The door opened slowly of it's own accord, and Edouard took a step into the office. The old wizard was in the process of arranging his personal library to incorporate several new tomes. He lovingly hefted a sizable volume and placed it lightly on a shelf over his head.
"Shut the door behind you, son."
Edouard complied; taking care to make little noise, "What is it you wish, sir?"
Gaston picked up another book and frowned at it's worn leather cover, "Why do you study magic, Edouard?", he asked.
The boy was a bit taken aback, "Because you wish it, father."
"And what do my wishes mean to you?"
"I owe you my life, father. Why do you ask?"
Gaston put the book down, "And is that all that's all?"
"It is enough for me."
"Very well.", the old wizard nodded, "I want you to go to the fountain courtyard. Your task today is to count the tiles around the fountain."
"Sir?"
Gaston Bonhomme glared at his son over his spectacles, "You do not understand?"
"No sir. I mean, um, I do sir. Count the tiles, I understand."
"Very well, get to it lad.", Gaston dismissed his son with a wave of his hand. Edouard exited his father's office, taking care again to make no noise. Completely baffled, he strode directly to the courtyard.
Early afternoon found him perched on the fountain staring down at the hundreds of tiles surrounding him. He'd already lost his count perhaps a dozen times since starting, and his eyes were beginning to cross, making the tiles dance and float around. Edouard squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them with the back of his hands. He wished that he'd had the foresight to bring something to write his totals down, but couldn't figure out if his father would consider that cheating. As it was, he'd already spent six hours on his task and was nowhere near finishing, so maybe being considered a cheat wasn't as bad as being considered a hopeless dullard.
"So, they have you counting the tiles, eh? That takes me back."
Edouard started at the voice, it didn't sound like Gaston, but it seemed directed at him all the same. He dropped lightly off of the fountain and turned to face whoever it was. On a bench at the opposite side of the cascade sat a young human dressed in well-worn and comfortable looking traveling apparel. The human was tan, dark-eyed, and wore his bluish black hair short and impeccably groomed. There was something oddly regal about the young man even though he looked to be nothing more than one of the adventurers that constantly came through the Spire. He was a wizard; however, Edouard's trained eye spied a black iron ring on the man's right hand in the shape of a stylized half-sunburst. That was a wizard mark, though Edouard couldn't place exactly where he'd seen it before.
"You made me lose count.", Edouard growled by way of greeting.
"My apologies. If you don't mind me asking, why do you keep track of your count in your head?"
Edouard frowned, still unsure of who this man was or why he was speaking to him. The boy wasn't wearing his traditional robe, so his strange deformity was plain to anyone. "My father, the chatelaine, is very strict on matters involving my training."
"Bonhomme is your father? Yes, I think I understand now. Be that as it may, I believe I have something here that could help."
The wizard rummaged for a moment in a pouch hanging from his belt, then pulled out a jagged piece of chalk. He tossed it at Edouard, who caught it and proceeded to switch puzzled glances between it and it's owner.
"Use it to write your numbers on the fountain.", The strange young man explained, "When your father comes to check on you, just memorize what you have written and wash the numbers off. Then all you have to do is throw the chalk into the rock garden, and there's no evidence."
Edouard smiled slyly, "Thank you, sir. By the way, my name is Edouard. What do they call you?"
"Dayen.", the wizard answered, "You can call me Dayen."
When Bonhomme arrived it was late in the day. The boy heard him coming, and quickly did wha tDayen said to do. His father strode casually to where Edouard waited and then cast his gaze to the opposite side of the courtyard. Seeing the young wizard still sitting there, an odd look crossed Gaston's features. Before Edouard could ask him what the problem was, his father cleared his throat abruptly.
"Well boy, what did you see?"
"There are six thousand, eight hundred and ninety-eight tiles around the spring, father.", Edouard grinned in self-satisfaction.
"I see. But of those, how many were rectangular tiles?"
The grin rapidly fell from Edouard's face.
"And how many were triangular, or circular?"
"Father, I didn't...", Edouard's voice trailed off as his father continued.
"What is the difference in number between the large tiles and the smaller ones?"
"Wait, I think I know that."
"Oh?", Gaston's eyes widened behind his thick, round lenses, "Then perhaps you'd care to tell me how many red tiles there are? Or blue tiles? How about the white ones?"
Finally, Edouard rested his chin on his chest in resignation and shrugged. Bonhomme sighed very deeply and audibly.
"Very well, lad. Go get a mop and give the fountain area a good cleaning and the walkways as well. When you are done go to the kitchen and have Marion make you something to eat."
"Am I done then, father?"
Gaston nodded, "Yes, but stay nearby. I may need you to run some scrolls to the archives later."
The old wizard nodded to his son then made to leave. Before he left Edouard saw his father steal one last look back over his shoulder. Gaston's gaze wasn't directed at him though, but at the smiling young man sitting on the far bench.
The next day Edouard repeated the long walk to his father's office, and exactly like the day before he was given the strange task in the courtyard.
"And remember what I asked you, son.", Gaston advised before dismissing him.
Edouard stomped off muttering to himself. In his confusion and self-pity he almost ran down another apprentice. The poor girl had just stared at him with impossibly wide eyes as her mouth attempted to blurt out an apology. Edouard had just snarled and continued on his way.
"One would think I was going to kill and eat her.", he grumbled.
Later that day the boy sat on the lip of the fountain idly splashing water onto the hateful tiles below, when the door at the far end opened. Out of it walked the young wizard Dayen, who smiled cheerily at the moping boy and sat down on his bench. Edouard hadn't noticed it before, but the young man was very tall for a human, and he carried himself with that same strange nobility he'd seen in him yesterday.
"Back at it again, Edouard?", Dayen greeted him.
"Pointless."
The wizard frowned, a look very uncharacteristic for him, "How's that?"
"This is pointless. I just don't have the head for this; father has to know that by now. But still he insists I go through with this nonsense."
"You don't want to be a magician?", Dayen asked.
"That's not the point.", Edouard sighed, "I simply can't do it. All I seem to be capable of is disappointing him."
The wizard laughed, "Every apprentice says that at some point in his or her training."
Edouard hopped down and cast the young man a withering gaze, "I don't know if you noticed, sir, but I'm not exactly 'every apprentice'. What is it to you, anyway? Are you a blind man perhaps? Do you speak to me out of some kind of pity? If so, let me tell you, I get a bellyfull of pity every day, I don't need yours!"
Dayen stared at him impassively, "I see perfectly well, thank you. To be honest, I talk to you because you are the only one here who will talk back, but that's not important right now. Edouard, you seem to think you don't belong here because of how you were born, am I right?"
"Close enough."
The young wizard shook his head, and a strange kind of sadness came over him, "none of us controls who or what we were born, just who we become. Apparently someone thinks you belong here, and wants to make sure you become someone you can be proud of."
"Father.", Edouard said, "He doesn't like you much. Why is that?"
"You noticed?", Dayen smiled again, and it seemed in the afternoon light that his eyes sparkled with a faint lavender, "It's a bit too complicated to explain now. I believe you have tiles to count. Best get to it."
"What's the point?", Edouard moaned, "I'm just going to forget to do something else. I'm going to be counting these blasted tiles for the rest of my life."
Dayen shrugged, "that is probable. Unless of course you think about what question your father was really asking you."
"What?"
"Magic is a science, Edouard, but it's also an art.", and with that the wizard pulled a small book from his cloak and began reading.
Afternoon, nearly at the same time, Gaston Bonhomme came into the courtyard. Immediately he strode to where Dayen sat, with a pleasant look on his otherwise stern face. The younger man closed the book he was reading and placed it on his lap.
"My lord chatelaine.", Dayen greeted, "What can I do for you?"
"Master Stormwind.", Gaston bowed very low, "The guild thanks you most sincerely for the aid you have already provided, and you are always welcome in our halls. But alas, we have a delegation arriving this very evening from the south. I am afraid we simply do not have the space to accommodate you all."
"I understand completely. Well, give the master my regards should you see him. Thank you for your hospitality."
Dayen stood, fairly towering over the old wizard, and stowed his book beneath his cloak. Then turned to Edouard as he sat watching the exchange, and winked slyly. Gaston waited until the younger man was gone before speaking to his son.
"Very bad company, Edouard, even if his intentions are mostly benign."
Edouard nodded, "yes, father."
"Well then, son. What did you see?"
Suddenly something clicked in the back of Edouard's mind. "I saw a forest, sir.", he replied simply.
Gaston seemed taken aback, "What was that?"
"A forest.", Edouard pointed at the tiled central courtyard, "You see father, the way the triangles and rectangles come together resemble pine trees. And those round tiles sort of look like boulders."
"You don't say.", Gaston adjusted his spectacles, "Its seems you have something there, lad."
"Shall I get the mop, sir?"
Gaston Bonhomme looked at his son and smiled pleasantly for the first time in many years, "Perhaps later. For now, come to my office with me, there's something I want you to read."