The Fire Mages by Pauline M. Ross Page A

and dependencies. Fifth year work at least. One or two I recognised as being illegal to use altogether, even for mages. And histories – far more histories of magic than even I could read.
    I couldn’t afford to buy many books, but Master Tolmion was understanding. He let me buy a single book, then a few suns later, when I had exhausted its possibilities, he would buy it back from me at almost the same price. And he put a tiny table and wobbly chair in the room, and let me stay and read for as long as I liked.
    “One sun you will be a law scribe,” he said airily, when I thanked him. “Then you will be able to buy many books from me.”
    After that, I spent innumerable happy hours browsing through ancient musty tomes, filled with arcane spells I had never encountered before, or describing practices from long ago. I learned that there was once a higher rank than thought mage, something called a creation mage, who could invent new spells, but there hadn’t been one for centuries. There were other, lesser, mages who had more directed abilities so there were iron mages, tree mages, fire mages, wind mages, fruit mages, plough mages and even mushroom mages. I learned that all spells, not just the few marked as ineffective, had become less reliable over time, but no one knew why.
    ~~~~~
    I tried to find out something about Cal’s renewal ceremony, which I would have to participate in, but it was so secret that very little was known about it. Except by the mages, of course, and they weren’t telling. There were rumours though, and rather unsettling ones at that. Mages could be taken by violent rages during the ritual and injure anyone nearby, or themselves. They were so filled with magical energy that they simply burned up, or destroyed the building around them.
    And then there was the sex. Carnal pleasures, as the books had it. Unnatural, some said. Excessive lust, said another. Like beasts in the forest.
    I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but when the first snows came, the mages began their cycle of renewals. One by one they returned with spouse or drusse undamaged and seemingly untainted by unnatural practices, so I stopped worrying about it.
    My life was perfect that year, and only one ugly incident marred it. One evening I had gone to bed at the usual time, but the moon was still giving enough light to read by, so I was curled in the window seat with a book. It was an unusually detailed history of scribing that I’d found in a book shop. I was engrossed in my reading when I became aware of raised voices. The noise came from the corridor outside my room, but some distance away. Clearly it didn’t concern me, so I returned to my book. It was difficult to concentrate, though, for the argument drifted nearer. Was that Cal’s voice? And Raylan, perhaps. Well, they often squabbled, so again it was nothing to do with me.
    I picked up my book, but dropped it almost at once. Now the voices were right outside my door, shouting, filled with venomous accusations and foul language.
    Then the door crashed open, and Cal marched in.
    “Cal, you just can’t—” Raylan said, his tall outline framed in the doorway.
    “Fuck you!” Cal slammed the door in his face.
    He stood still, legs apart, hands on hips, his head lowered and face twisted with anger, breathing hard, like a bull about to rampage. Outside the room there was silence. Had Raylan left? I heard no footsteps, so perhaps he still waited out there, ready for Cal to emerge. If he ever did.
    He showed no sign of leaving. He paced rapidly up and down a few times, picked up a book, tossed it aside again. It fell open, crushing the pages. I raced over to set it straight.
    “I suppose it amuses you,” he said angrily.
    “What?”
    “You think it’s funny, I daresay. Me and Raylan fighting over you.”
    “Over me?” I croaked.
    “He thinks I’m fucking you. Well, he would, wouldn’t he? Drives him wild. As you’ve seen.”
    He picked up another book, but I snatched