7. Benjin

seven

Benjin

Benjin pulled his cloak tighter about himself as he hurried down the palace's pristine stone corridor. He'd never felt so out of place before. His clothes were rags compared to those worn by the others he passed. His every step left a smear of mud on the polished stone tiles.

A pair of guards eyed him as he approached, and he averted his gaze, scuttling quickly past. It wasn't until he'd turned a corner that he puffed out his held breath. He should be used to the constant mistrust levied against commoners by now, but it still stung.

Pausing to lean against the nearby stone wall, he tried to regain his bearings. Had the servant at the entrance told him to take a left here or another right? He couldn't remember anymore.

Goddess' mercy, what was he doing coming here in the first place? He so very clearly didn't belong. He'd spent weeks scrimping and saving for a semi-decent pair of clothes that wouldn't look as worn and threadbare as his usual fare. But given the stares he kept drawing, it wasn't enough. Something in his bearing or dress must've still marked him as lowborn—an outsider. Someone unworthy of sullying Ilthabard's royal palace.

Clenching his jaw, he forced himself to continue walking. You belong here as much as anyone else , he scolded himself. The Grand Magus wouldn't have put out an open call for a new apprentice if he didn't want everyone to be able to apply.

Technically true, if perhaps not entirely accurate. Benjin had seen the rows of carriages during his long hike up the hill from the city of Revesole nestled at its base. Judging by the family crests he'd recognized, he'd guess the better part of the lesser nobility from across Ilthabard's six provinces had flocked here to answer the Grand Magus' call. Even if a commoner like Benjin wasn't outright barred, what chance in the Void did he have of being selected over all the other hopefuls?

He rounded another corner and stumbled to a halt, his stomach sinking as he took in the long line of young men and women lined up along the length of the hall. There had to be several dozen in total, all of them with the clothes and easy bearings of nobles. Many of their hands glowed with silvery blue trails of runeflame while they practiced their magic.

Despair threatened to overwhelm him. He shoved it down and took his place at the back of the line. The woman ahead of him gave him a single disdainful look before sniffing and pointedly turning her back on him.

As always, the dismissal rankled, but he ignored it. All that mattered was securing this apprenticeship. Forget the chance at a real magical education, though that was exciting enough of a prospect. The wages he'd earn even as a lowly apprentice would far outstrip what he could make performing odd jobs in Revesole. It would be enough that his mother wouldn't need to keep struggling to make ends meet. And that meant he had to do his best to impress the Grand Magus, no matter how awful his odds appeared.

One by one, the aspiring mages ahead of Benjin entered the ornate door at the end of the hall, and one by one, they left, frustration or anger etched on their faces. Seeing each dismissal gave Benjin the tiniest gasp of hope even as it also stoked his nerves. If these lords and ladies couldn't impress the Grand Magus, how could Benjin possibly manage it?

The line shrank from a few dozen to ten, then only five. Benjin's heart raced when he was the last waiting outside, certain the snooty woman who'd entered ahead of him would somehow secure the spot before Benjin himself had a chance.

This was what he got for running late…not that he'd had much of a choice. Unlike these nobles, he couldn't just drop everything on a whim. He'd spent the morning hauling lumber for a handful of copper crugs, then had to fight his way through a crowd of beggars and protesters just to make it up the hill to the palace. Money was too tight and jobs too few not to seize every opportunity given to him.

When the woman stalked out and fixed Benjin with a savage grin, his heart plummeted. "Good luck, peasant," she sneered, shoving past him. "After how that old coot tore me apart, I wish I could be there to watch him eviscerate you."

Benjin glared after her, his fleeting hope returning when he caught the rigid set to her shoulders and processed her words. The Grand Magus hadn't chosen her. He'd get his shot to prove himself after all.

Now, he just had to make it a good one.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the Grand Magus' study. Despite his best effort to maintain his composure, he couldn't contain his soft gasp and widening eyes. The carved-out tower overflowed with shelves of books, scrolls, and strange contraptions. His fingers itched to study each one and unlock their secrets. If the Goddess favored him, perhaps he'd someday have that chance.

"Thank you for coming," a deep voice intoned wearily. "Please, stand in the runic circle and tell me your name."

It took Benjin a moment in the cluttered space to identify the voice's source. A surprisingly muscular man with neat white hair and purple eyes sat behind a desk shaped like a crescent moon. The man was draped in more jewels and silks than Benjin had ever seen on any one person, and the silver mark given to former students of the illustrious Arcanum gleamed on his neck.

Hurrying to do as the Grand Magus had ordered, Benjin centered himself within the faintly glowing runic circle in front of the desk. A dull tingle coursed over his skin amid a flicker of runeflame. Magic, obviously, though he couldn't identify its purpose.

"It's a Divination circle," the Grand Magus said, answering his unspoken question. "Makes it easier for me to gauge your magical aptitude. Also makes it harder for you to lie without getting caught. Now then, what's your name, lad?"

Benjin swallowed and cleared his throat. He hoped his anxious shifting wouldn't interfere with the runes. "Benjin, Grand Magus, sir. Benjin Calwit."

"A pleasure to meet you, Benjin. I am Grand Magus Dexil Hashture, though if you're here seeking to become my apprentice, I assume you already knew that. This interview will consistent of two parts. First, I'll ask you a series of questions designed to test your knowledge of runeflame. Then, I'll assess your relative magical strength with several simple tests. Do you understand and assent?"

The entire spiel had the feeling of a well-rehearsed speech. The Grand Magus had likely given some version of it to the other applicants he'd already interviewed today. Wondering if the Grand Magus' tiredness would count for or against him, Benjin nodded.

"Good." Dexil settled back in his seat, studying Benjin with a dull spark of interest. "Now then, when did you first begin your study of runeflame?"

"When I was nine." Benjin pictured the dim, dusty shelves with their alluring scent of leather and ink. "My mother worked for a local baroness. I discovered an old tome in her library and used it to teach myself a few basic cantrips."

Dexil's eyebrows rose. "Learning new spells on your own is dangerous, especially for an untrained child."

Benjin shrugged, a hint of defensiveness entering his voice. "I didn't have the benefit of fancy tutors, sir. I had to make do with what I had. Besides, I'd always felt a connection to runeflame, even before I studied any actual spells."

The first genuine interest flitted over Dexil's face. He straightened in his seat, peering more closely at Benjin. "Indeed. Well, far be it from me to question your eagerness to learn. Did any magic in particular stand out to you?"

Benjin wasn't entirely sure what the Grand Magus meant, but he hazarded his best guess. "Well…I enjoyed making objects move." A faint blush colored his cheeks. "And setting things on fire—safely, of course."

"Of course," Dexil replied with the hint of a smile. "Tell me about some of the specific spells you managed to cast."

It had been years since Benjin had last seen the spellbook, and what he remembered had become innate by now due to frequent use. Still, Dexil listened patiently while Benjin did his best to describe the magic.

When he finished, he felt gratified to see that the Grand Magus appeared mildly impressed. "It sounds like you possessed quite the gift with runeflame, even as an untrained youth. I look forward to seeing what you can do now. What additional training have you received since then?"

And just like that, Benjin's soaring hope crashed and burned. "Um…" He scratched at the back of his neck. "I haven't really had many opportunities to study since then. Spell tomes aren't easy to come by in Revesole—not for someone of…limited means." Dexil frowned, and Benjin hastened to add, "B-but I've continued to practice what I know! I've even learned how to make some modifications along the way."

Dexil gestured at the runic circle. A set of seven sigils etched along its exterior began to glow. "Very well. Let us skip ahead to the practical portion. Why don't you demonstrate the cantrips you learned, and we'll go from there."

Eager to please, Benjin nodded and raised his hands. His runeflame didn't flow as smoothly as some of the other prospectives he'd seen practicing in the corridor outside. Instead of a consistent stream of blue and silver, his magic flickered in fits and starts.

He didn't miss the Grand Magus' wince and tried not to let it discourage him. He knew he'd never win Dexil over with his knowledge or technique, but perhaps he could still impress the man enough with his strength that he'd be willing to overlook Benjin's other obvious flaws.

Benjin started with simple blasts of force, buffeting the air around him as he aimed them harmlessly up into the air. Then, he moved on to creating other blasts, channeling first fire and then water. These, he kept to smaller streams, not wanting to accidentally damage the Grand Magus' study. They were harder for him to control than pure blasts of force, and relief trickled along his spine when he managed it without any major mishaps.

Each time he cast a spell, he noticed that a particular rune set in the circle glowed a hair brighter. Unsure what to make of it, he focused on his spellwork. He'd spent the better part of the last month practicing for this moment, ever since the call for an apprentice had gone out.

He moved on from blasts to other basic spells he knew. He summoned a small flame and then doused it with a handful of water. When he tried to create a hovering orb of light, he only barely managed to hold the shaky magic together. He chanced a glance at the runic circle and saw that a second rune had now begun to glow as well, though not as brightly as the first.

All right, time for the grand finale.

Gathering his runeflame about him, Benjin focused on a set of quills on the Grand Magus' desk. He grinned when they obediently rose, levitating through the air. One by one, he added more objects to the spell until they spiraled about one another in an intricate dance.

Warmth spread through his chest when the Grand Magus burst into applause. "Bravo! You certainly have a gift for Evocation, my boy. And admirable control considering your lack of formal education."

"Thank you, sir." As Benjin settled the levitating items back on Dexil's desk, he noticed that the first rune now blazed almost too blindingly to look at. That seemed like a good sign.

Apparently, Dexil agreed. His posture radiated excitement as he gestured at Benjin. "Well then, I'm impressed with your display of Evocation, and you managed Conjuration well enough. I'd like to see how you perform at the other disciplines now, if you'd please."

Benjin blinked uncertainly. "Other…disciplines?"

Dexil frowned at him. "The other five disciplines of arcane magic. You've demonstrated proficiency in Evocation and Conjuration. Now, I'd like to measure your experience in the others."

Benjin's gut twisted itself in knots. "That's…um…I'm afraid those are all the spells I know, sir." His voice dropped to an embarrassed whisper.

"I see."

The Grand Magus' disappointment sent a ripple of shame curling through Benjin. Dexil waved his hand, canceling out the circle of glowing runes. Benjin braced himself, but even anticipating what the Grand Magus was about to say, his next words still stung.

"I'm sorry, my boy. You show enormous potential, but I require an apprentice better versed in the fundamentals. Perhaps in a few years after some additional training, I could find a spot for you. Until then, however…"

"I understand, sir." Despite the knot constricting his chest, Benjin forced a respectful bow. "Thank you for your consideration."

"Of course, my boy. Best of luck to you."

Benjin tried to draw solace from the regret in the Grand Magus' voice but found it offered little comfort. Pity wouldn't help Benjin support his mother.

He'd reached the door and was about to grab its handle when the door suddenly slammed open. Benjin leaped back to avoid a faceful of wood.

A man a couple years older than him swept into the room as if he owned it. His tall, rigid back projected an aura of quiet confidence. He wore his long black hair tied back with a simple band of leather, a silver circlet perched on his brow. His green eyes, full of cool indifference, swept right past Benjin and settled on the Grand Magus.

"Sorry to disturb you, Dexil, but my father wishes for you attend him as soon as you're free."

Dexil's brow pinched into lines of worry. "Is he well?"

Though the stranger's face didn't shift, Benjin swore he detected his bearing stiffen still further. Benjin couldn't help but admire the firm muscles beneath the man's fine leather tunic.

"As well as can be expected," the man replied. "I believe it's your advice he seeks today, not your potions."

"Of course." Dexil gave a soft bow of his head. "I was just finishing up here. Please inform him I'll be there at once."

With a curt nod, the man turned to stride out, once again ignoring Benjin as though he didn't exist. Perhaps it was that noblewoman's earlier snub or the fresh sting of his failure that compelled Benjin to speak up against his better instincts.

"You know, it wouldn't kill you to be more polite."

Surprise flickered over the man's face. He paused by the door, glancing at Benjin. "Excuse me?"

Benjin crossed his arms, refusing to be intimidated by the man's imperious stare. "You heard me. Usually, it's customary to apologize to someone when you almost clobber them in the face with a door."

The man's brow shot up. "You want me to apologize because you were in my way?"

Annoyance shot through Benjin. "I was in the way? You're the one who came barreling in here without a care in the world. Pardon me for daring to use a door for its intended function."

The man took a moment to rake his gaze over Benjin from head to toe. Benjin's skin tingled at having those intense emerald eyes so focused on him.

After a moment, the man huffed and turned away. "My apologies if you're upset, but I don't have time to waste on nonsense. Good day."

To Benjin's astonishment, the infuriating man swept past him and out the door without waiting for a response.

"Apology not accepted!" Benjin called after him as the door clicked shut. Only once he was gone did Benjin realize that the Grand Magus was staring at him, his mouth agape and his eyes wide. Benjin flushed. "Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to make a scene. I'll, um, get out of your hair now. Goddess' blessing upon you."

Mentally kicking himself for ruining whatever fleeting hope he still had for future employment here, Benjin hunched his shoulders and reached for the door.

"Hold on a moment, lad."

Benjin froze with his hand on the door, waiting with rising anxiety as the Grand Magus approached. The expression on Dexil's face conveyed a mix of astonished amusement. "Do you have any idea who that was?"

Benjin shrugged. "Should I, sir? He looked like just another stuck-up…um, I mean, another noble to me, sir."

Dexil's keen violet gaze weighed Benjin in much the same way the stranger's had, though Benjin sensed less judgment and more curiosity.

"You don't much care for the nobility, do you?"

Benjin considered lying, but it seemed pointless now. He'd already dashed whatever chance he had of securing the apprenticeship. He might as well be honest.

"Not really, sir. In my experience, they're selfish and self-centered, always looking for the next way they can screw someone else over for personal gain. Uh, no offense, sir."

The Grand Magus smiled the first genuine smile Benjin had seen since entering the palace. "None taken, lad. Despite my station, I assure you that I don't entirely disagree." Dexil examined him. "Still, I sense there's more you're not telling me. Does this have anything to do with that baroness whose spellbook you borrowed?"

Shook buzzed through Benjin. Had the mage used some sort of spell on him to glean that information? Or had he simply made a lucky guess?

"She, um, wasn't too happy when she found out," he admitted. "My mother had worked in her household for over a decade, but she had us both tossed out on the street less than a day later. Things have been rough ever since. That's why I applied for this position in the first place, sir."

Dexil studied Benjin, his expression unreadable. Benjin braced himself for the mage's reaction. Would he be angry at Benjin for wasting his time? Have him punished for insulting that noble?

To his utter shock, Dexil held out a hand, his face beaming. "I fear I may have been too hasty in dismissing you before. The position is yours if you want it."

Benjin stared at the offered hand, barely daring to breathe. Numb with shock, he grasped Dexil's firm grip and shook.

"T-thank you, sir. I swear, you won't regret giving me this chance."

"I'm sure I won't," Dexil said, still grinning. "Congratulations, Benjin. You are my new apprentice."