9. Benjin
nine
Benjin
Benjin stirred the bubbling flask with a thin glass rod. Faint wisps of runeflame flickered across the rod, seeping from Benjin’s fingers down into the potion.
“Good, good,” Dexil said, watching keenly. “Remember the pattern I showed you. If you don’t stir in the proper configuration, the ingredients won’t combine correctly.”
Benjin nodded, ignoring the sweat prickling his brow while he tried to recall the precise steps the Grand Magus had demonstrated. It had made a shape like a dragon’s fang—he recalled that much. But was it supposed to be two or three turns at the fang’s tip before he reversed direction?
His runeflame flared. The flask hissed, steam rising from it thanks to the heating enchantment Dexil had taught him.
“Careful now!” Dexil said. “Keep your flow of magic at the same rate or else the potion might backfire. Consistency, my boy—that’s the key when it comes to alchemy.”
Benjin gritted his teeth. That was easy for Dexil to say. He’d received a proper education at the Arcanum and spent years honing his craft. Benjin had only a two-week crash course in basic alchemy to draw upon.
Goddess’ mercy, he still didn’t even know why he was here. What had made the Grand Magus choose him over all those far more qualified applicants from across the kingdom?
The flask holding the potion shivered, the liquid within turning a bright crimson. His eyes widening, Benjin had barely a second’s warning to throw himself to the side before the glass shattered in an eruption of wild magic. Flashes of multicolored light and heat seared the air above him.
Once the dusty haze and fizzling sparks had cleared, he lowered his arms from where he’d covered his head and glanced up from the floor.
Dexil was studying him with a reproving frown.
One of his necklaces glowed with an activated ward.
The barrier of force it had conjured to shield him flickered and faded as he stepped forward and easily hauled Benjin to his feet.
“What’s the first rule of magic, lad?”
Benjin bowed his head. “Never lose your concentration.”
“That’s right.” Dexil glanced about his workshop. His violet gaze lingered on the scarred table where the potion had been and the fragments of scattered glass left by the destroyed flask. “Nothing a simple Restoration or two won’t fix. Why don’t you take a break while I tidy up?”
Nodding, Benjin trudged to the nearest chair and sank into it.
Now that he wasn’t channeling runeflame, he could feel the full weight of his exhaustion.
Dexil might be remarkably patient with Benjin’s many failures, but that didn’t make him any less demanding of a taskmaster.
Between the Grand Magus’ grueling lessons and Benjin’s actual duties running errands and aiding him with his work, the past two weeks had left little time for rest or relaxation.
He couldn’t help but feel out of place. The occasional frowns and pointed looks he received made it clear that a lowborn like him didn’t belong in the palace. Even some of the guards and servants treated him as an oddity risen above his station.
Still, he knew he couldn’t let their prejudice deter him.
No matter what anyone else thought, he wouldn’t have traded his apprenticeship for anything.
His wages alone were enough incentive to do whatever it took to keep his position in the palace.
The first bag of coins he’d sent home to his mother had been more than he could’ve made in a year working in Revesole.
Money aside, his mind also thrilled at every scrap of new knowledge he acquired. It turned out it was far easier to learn magic when you had an actual teacher to supplement stolen peeks at books and poor attempts to replicate other mages’ spells.
So much of mastering runeflame came down to precision—to memorizing the proper sigils and practicing the required hand gestures until you could conjure the desired effect via instinct alone.
Perhaps someday, Benjin would be capable of more than mere parlor tricks…
or brew a potion that didn’t explode in his face.
Benjin watched Dexil activate a small charm to animate a broom so that it began sweeping the glass shards into a neat pile.
The Grand Magus then moved to the table and sprinkled dark brown powder over its surface.
He focused his runeflame into the dust until it began to glow, the scarred wood gradually regaining its former luster.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Benjin said, wishing he could help. “I’ll do better next time—I swear.”
“Of course you will, lad.” Dexil spared him a brief smile before returning his attention to the table. “These things take practice and extensive study. You’re already far more proficient at alchemy than you were when you first arrived. Still, there’s always room for improvement.”
A bemused snort came from over by the door. “Clearly.”
Benjin’s gaze shot over to the doorway to see Prince Haldric standing there. His back was ramrod straight, his placid expression somehow still managing to drip cool condescension. Their eyes briefly met, the prince’s gaze seeming to measure him and find him unworthy.
Scowling, Benjin looked away. He hadn’t spoken to the prince since that run-in by the king’s bedside, but Benjin had glimpsed him prowling the halls often these past two weeks, radiating haughty disdain.
How he could be the son of someone as gracious and kind as King Roland, Benjin would never understand.
“Ah, Prince Haldric,” Dexil said from over by the table. “My apologies—our lesson today slipped my mind. Benjin and I had a bit of a mishap.”
“So I see.”
Benjin answered Haldric’s quirked eyebrow with a glare. This time, he refused to break eye contact until Haldric blinked and turned away.
The prince strode toward the table, holding up a hand shimmering with azure bands of runeflame. “I can help if you wish,” he said, sounding almost eager for the first time since Benjin had met him.
Dexil waved him away. “No need, Your Highness. I have it handled. Although, I’m afraid we’ll need to reschedule your lesson. Once I finish this potion for Lady Samilla, I still need to attend to the wards for the Provincial Council’s Summit next month.”
A faint frown flickered over Haldric’s lips before he smoothed it away. “Of course. Another time, then. I have my own preparations I should make for the Summit anyway.”
The prince turned to depart, Benjin glad to be rid of him, when Dexil called out, “One moment, Your Highness! Just because I’m too busy for our regular lessons is no excuse to slack on your studies. Perhaps we can find another arrangement.”
The Grand Magus glanced at Benjin, who tensed. He had an unpleasant feeling that he wasn’t going to like what Dexil suggested next.
Sure enough, the mage said cheerfully, “As you yourself pointed out, my apprentice requires more practice. Why don’t the two of you train together?”
Benjin leaped to his feet, scrambling for any excuse to get out of it. The last thing he wanted was to spend time alone with the arrogant prince. “What about the wards, master? And your potion. I should be here in case you require my assistance.”
His face flushed at Haldric’s incredulous snort.
Dexil, however, fixed him with a kind smile. “Thank you, Benjin, but I’ll manage. You need to learn to walk before you can run.”
“Perhaps he’d accomplish more practicing the fundamentals on his own,” Haldric said. His gaze lingered on the scarred tabletop Dexil was still in the process of mending. “To avoid any…unnecessary distractions.”
Dexil shook his head, dashing Benjin’s fleeting hope. “Benjin will learn much quicker—and more safely—with supervision. And it never hurts to refresh your own memory of the basics. What better way to bolster your mastery than to convey your learned wisdom to another?”
His face back to an emotionless mask, Haldric inclined his head. “Very well. If that is what you believe best.”
Benjin’s stomach sank as he glanced between the two of them. Seeing no good way out of it without further disappointing his master, he said, “If the prince is willing, then so am I.” After all, how hard could it be to tolerate a spoiled noble’s presence for a single afternoon?
“Excellent.” Dexil focused back on the table, his runeflame flaring brighter as he added another coating of powder to the tabletop.
“In that case, why don’t the two of you go find an unused chamber to practice in?
You can start by reviewing the fundamental runes and memorizing their common variants.
I’ll check in with you later this week, Prince Haldric.
As for you, Benjin, I expect you back here this evening.
There are a few deliveries I need you to make, as well as some fresh ingredients to sort. ”
Muttering his assent, Benjin trudged after the prince’s stiff back. He snuck a quick glance at Dexil as they exited the chamber and swore he caught a pleased smile on the Grand Magus’ face. Perhaps Dexil found it amusing to pair them up when they so obviously disliked one another.
Benjin followed Haldric down the hall, doing his best to keep track of where they were within the palace. He’d gotten better at navigating since he’d arrived but still struggled once he left the main thoroughfares.
Eventually, they came to a small sitting room in a quiet part of the palace. Intricate wooden carvings—at least by Ilthabardian standards—paneled the walls, depicting the rolling plains that made up most of the country.
Benjin settled into a cushioned seat, watching warily as the prince shut the door and stood before it, crossing his arms.
“So, what has the Grand Magus already shown you?” Haldric asked. “I need to know how simple to make this lesson. I don’t want to be here all day.”
Benjin bristled at the prince’s dismissive tone. “I’m not a child. You don’t need to dumb things down for me.”