"I want you to take on an apprentice," said Dorrin.
Hanrick looked up from the leather-bound tome he was studying in the dim small room. He was surprised to find Dorrin awake at such a late hour as his usual schedule had him retiring to his room right after the evening meal and then rising right before dawn. Hanrick knew his teacher's habits well and had made good use during his apprenticeship of Dorrin's absent hours. The time on his own had allowed Hanrick to delve deeper into the thick volumes on theoretical magic that were among the few books to survive the flight from Targonor to the new seat of the Thestran kings.
"Dorrin, are you sure I'm ready?" asked Hanrick. "I was only your apprentice for 3 years."
"You are no longer an apprentice. Grow up, Hanrick!" Dorrin's brow furrowed with agitation. He was not a man used to being questioned, especially by a former apprentice. "You were made a full member just two weeks ago. The times have changed. They had to change after what happened in Targonor. We no longer have the luxury of coddling newer members."
Dorrin pulled up a chair and sat opposite Hanrick. Reaching over and closing the book Hanrick had been studying, Dorrin continued, "Now, I have already chosen your apprentice. I was going to take him myself but I am confident in your ability to pass on the training I so graciously imparted to you."
"If you feel I am ready, then I accept your task. I do have one question, though."
"Yes?"
"Am I allowed some leeway in the teaching methods?"
"Were you not satisfied in your own training?" Dorrin arched his eyebrow and stared at Hanrick.
"No, that was - is not the issue, Master. My training was exemplary. I would just like to employ some methods I have been reading about."
Dorrin leaned back in his chair, studying Hanrick. "I suppose that will be acceptable. He will be your charge and, ultimately, your responsibility, whether he succeeds or fails. The Sages Arcane needs as many well trained members as we can muster. However, you must inform me of your training methodology upon my request and I must have access to your apprentice as required."
Hanrick was caught off guard by this last request and it showed on his face as his mouth tightened. Normally, the relationship between a mentor and an apprentice was one of trust. Once an apprentice became a full member of the Sages Arcane, his former mentor never asked for, nor needed, contact with the new apprentices and trusted that the proper training would be carried out.
"Rest assured, Hanrick," added Dorrin, clearly trying to ease the worries of his one time apprentice. "It isn't that I don't trust you. I have the utmost confidence in you. My task is to make sure we get the best apprentices we can." Pulling out a letter from the folds of his robes, Dorrin passed it across the table.
Hanrick picked up the letter and opened it. Reading aloud, he said, "Rendil Wainscott, to be found in the vicinity of the Tuhr Smithy?" Reading further, he then added, "I see no reports of his testing in this. Where are the notes?"
"Oh, he was tested in Targonor," replied Dorrin. "The notes, like so many other things were lost. In fact, I tested him myself. Now, tomorrow morning, find him and begin his training. I look forward to your reports."
The young man paused at the doorway, giving his eyes a chance to adjust to the low light of the room, then stepped in tentatively as his vision recovered from the bright sunlight outside.
"You wanted to see me, papa?" Rendil asked the figure seated at the table. His father, Milus, looked up from the unfolded letter he was reading and laid it on the table.
"Yes, Rendil. It appears you're to begin your apprenticeship with the Sages Arcane. This man over there brought the news." Rendil followed his father's hand as it pointed to the corner of the kitchen. Seated in a chair was a man, not much older than Rendil, dressed in a green robe with white trim. "The strange thing is, my son, I don't remember ever agreeing to have you tested. What do you know about this?"
Rendil's face flushed under the Milus' intent gaze. His father was not one quick to anger. However, if he directed his stare at someone, especially as he was doing now to Rendil, one knew the best course of action was to speak directly and truthfully. "Father, I-," he stammered, looking for the right words. "I put myself up for testing. I didn't want you to be angry." The confession came faster now, as if it wanted to get out, to reveal the truth to earn his father's forgiveness and acceptance. "I'm sorry, papa. It was done before-in Targonor. Then, with the fall of the city and our moving here-Well, I thought the records were lost."
The man in the corner spoke up. "Excuse me." Standing up, he walked to the table and took a seat opposite Milus, leaving his back towards Rendil. "Master Wainscott, I'm sorry. This is probably a lot to absorb at once. However, I want to assure you that we of the Sages Arcane are committed to teaching those talented individuals we find. Not all of those we choose make it through the process. However any person who leaves does so with an education that is suited to an array of good occupations. Many merchants, scholars, and even some clergy have passed through our preliminary training. We want what is best for the entire community.
"I know you have seen, first-hand, the danger our society faces. All of us have. The fall of Targonor damaged every level of our society. We lost many of our own Members as we defended the citizens during the flight. We have lost even more in the past couple of years striving to build this new city. I assure you, we are only doing what is necessary to sustain the Kingdom, our Kingdom."
Milus listened as the sage continued. Rendil stood awkwardly, wishing to flee, but also wanting to hear the outcome of this conversation.
"I also want to personally guarantee the safety and well-being of your son while he undergoes his training. In fact, I am assigned as his mentor. I have recently completed my own training and will be giving my full attention to his studies. My own master, Dorrin Longreat, was the one who tested Rendil in Targonor. He has requested that I keep him apprised of the training. As you can see, Rendil's future is of great interest to all of us."
Milus picked up the letter again and read it. After a time, he said, "So you are Hanrick Lantier, I take it?"
"Yes, I am. It is a pleasure to meet you."
"Hanrick, do you mind giving me a moment with my son?"
"Certainly, I shall wait outside." Hanrick pushed his chair away from the table and stood up, and with a quick nod to Rendil, walked through the doorway into the courtyard beyond.
"Rendil, sit please." Milus motioned to the chair opposite him, recently vacated by Hanrick. Rendil took his seat and waited for his father to continue. "I am not going to pretend I'm not angry. Your not telling me was wrong. I taught you better than that, didn't I? You know I expect honesty from you."
Rendil lowered his eyes, looking at the tabletop. "I know and I'm sorry. I should have told you. With everything that happened, in Targonor-and since we left-well I was afraid I would never get your permission."
"Son, I'd have to be both blind and daft to not know you won't be a smith. Getting you to help out in the smithy is like trying to shoe a pig. You can get it done, but when it's done, you end up tired and dirty and the pig is squealing mad. I have never expected you to follow in my steps. I just want you to be happy. Is this what you want? If it isn't, tell me and I will run this Hanrick off."
Rendil thought about that question. He'd spent his whole life searching for an answer to, "Is this what I want?" All those times he followed the Sages, even on the day he had made a mistake and been caught, Rendil had dreamed of joining the order. His desire had grown even stronger since that day, especially because of his odd and more frequent encounters with Master Longreat. Master Dorrin, as he had asked Rendil to call him, showed such an interest in him. Several times, the sage had shown him a simple cantrip or had talked to him about life as a sage. He was condescending most of the time, often downright rude. Rendil ignored such manners. He was fascinated by the sage's ideas.
One day, Dorrin had given him some books to read. Rendil had secreted them away like some ill-gotten treasure. He only brought them out when he had time to study them in privacy. Once, Elvara had caught him with one of them. She had asked what it was. He told her it was a study book from his teacher. Elvara had nodded and said nothing, but still he thought she saw through his lie. She always did.
Rendil kept his odd relationship with Master Dorrin a secret. No one else knew about it, at least that's what he thought. A few weeks before the flight from Targonor, Master Dorrin had spoken to Rendil about the Sages Arcane. The Sage had pulled out a sheaf of notes from the pocket of his robe and said, "Who would have thought a little spy could be so talented? Oh yes! I remember our meeting, just as I know you do. It seems we are both fortunate I didn't slay you on the spot as is my habit with nosy alley skulkers. You have a great future ahead of you, Rendil. These are my notes about your tests. The world of the Sages will soon open to you."
That was the last Rendil had seen of Master Dorrin. In fact, the boy thought the Sage has perished in the terrible aftermath of the fall of Targonor. He certainly hadn't expected to find that, after all these lost years, the Sages were still interested in him.
"Well, son, what's your answer?" Milus' question jolted Rendil out of his reverie.
"This is what I wish, papa," replied Rendil.
"Very well. You best get your things packed so as not to keep the sage waiting. And make sure to stop in the smithy to tell Elvara goodbye."
Both Milus and Rendil stood up. Milus walked over to his son and embraced him. "Remember you are always welcome here."
Their embrace ended. Rendil made his way to the ladder that led to the loft above to retrieve his belongings.
"And son, always remember, I am proud of you. You don't have to impress me."
"I know, papa." Then Rendil added, "And thank you."
