Chapter 91
THE NAME DONMARIN, ROGUES, AND A WORRISOME INVITATION
The hag stone brought them to the exam chamber, an amphitheater-style room of polished mahogany with a high-arched dome and walls ringed with windows to let in the sun at any hour.
It was at the top of a tower situated on the opposite side of the lake, away from the College dormitories and lecture halls, just in case an errant spell shot the dome off or exploded the windows.
There were wards that prevented such things from happening, but one never knew.
Especially with wild magic.
The College Board quickly convened, and those who could not attend in person sent copper-colored astral projections of themselves.
After Master Excelsior explained Millie’s presence and the change of exam, Bradley Donmarin was ordered to come to the center of the room to be tested with clear instructions that he was not to speak even a syllable of High Aetherial.
Master Excelsior guided Millie away to a bench furthest away from the exam floor, got her a cushion, and she sat with one hand clutching his twiggy fingers and the other fisted in Dirk’s feathery mane as the exam commenced.
For thirty minutes, the sorcerers did their best to kill the apprentice.
They slung every spell in the three volumes of The Ultimate Spell Directory at him, and Bradley often had to defend against three attacks simultaneously.
Tremors shook the floorboards at his feet.
Icicles rained down from the dome. Vines sought to ensnare his ankles, and someone tried to cut him in half with a sickle made of air.
One severe-looking woman—Professor Udora—clearly disapproved of Bradley’s long hair and was fixated on giving him a haircut via lightning or fireball.
“She apparently has never known the joy of pulling on a man’s hair in bed,” Millie muttered.
Master Excelsior stifled a snort. “I would very much like you to meet a dear friend of mine sometime. A Miss Penelope Shrewsbury. I think the two of you share a lot in common.”
Moments later, the wild magic peasant of the Cut prevailed, astoundingly so.
When the smoke and caustic rain cleared away, the apprentice stood amidst the rubble with hands clenched and eyes blazing with blue light. He hadn’t uttered a single sound.
“Congratulations, Bradley Donmarin,” Udora said, mouth puckering. “Your success and title will be recorded in the annals. Come forward to select your staff and your new name.”
“He’ll need the blue robe of a grand master, too,” Excelsior piped up.
As Bradley changed into his new robe, a selection of staffs from a variety of woods and a collection of mature crystals were brought forth and arrayed on a long table.
Bradley chose the olivewood staff—a tree native to the Cut—without hesitation, but he was more deliberate with the crystals.
He knew from sitting in on others’ Master’s exams that many newly staffed sorcerers chose the largest crystals simply because of their size.
But he knew from Small Magics and his own honed senses that size didn’t matter. Potency and compatibility did.
Unhurried, he closed his eyes and passed his hand over the crystals.
They all glowed in shades of purple, and most would change their color to reflect the characteristics of their sorcerer’s magic.
He hoped his would turn the exact shade of reddish gold that shone in Millie’s hair when the sunlight hit it just right.
A tingling sensation prompted him to open his eyes, and he lowered his hand upon a five-pointed cluster that resembled Dirk’s paw. Smiling, he set it on the top of his staff, and little branches grew out of the wood to secure it in place.
“Now your new name,” Vesuvius said, sliding forth a dusty old tome with crackled leather covers. “Here is a selection of available monikers—”
“Donmarin,” he said firmly. “I will be known professionally as Grand Master Donmarin.”
The sorcerer’s brow furrowed. “A new name signals a new chapter in your life—”
Blue fire flashed in Bradley’s eyes. “Donmarin. And I will be taking an appointment with Mildred Angelique Tisane of Amberly.”
“The Amberly court already has a sorcerer,” Udora sneered, elated that she had finally caught this precocious young man in an error. “It can’t have another.”
“Not the Amberly court. Mildred Tisane.”
“But she’s part of—”
“No, I’m not,” Millie piped up from the benches. “I resigned.”
“You what?”
“I’m a pirate now.”
“What?”
“Forgive me, are you truly hard of hearing or are you just flabbergasted? I’m a pirate. A captain, actually, once I get my own ship. I have my own court and there is a vacancy for a court sorcerer. Grand Master Donmarin is filling it.”
“You can’t have your own court!” Vesuvius blustered.
“Says who? A court at its smallest is comprised of a leader, a second, a master-of-arms, an advisor, and a sorcerer if you’re fortunate to have one. I have all that. Even a jester.”
“Do Pocket, Sir Roger, Duncan, and Prince Henri know that?” Dirk whispered.
“Do you think they’ll protest?” she murmured.
“Nope. You’re gonna have the best court ever.”
She winked at him.
“Courts don’t have leaders, they have monarchs,” Udora countered testily. “Royalty. And you said you resigned!”
“From the Amberly court, yes, but I’m a still a member of the royal family.”
“But—”
“I’m a pirate, woman! I do what I want.”
Dirk nudged her, cackling.
“And as a grand master,” Bradley said, stepping in before his new and offended peers could take action, “I have the authority to do what I wish.”
“If you take this appointment, you’ll be branded a rogue,” Vesuvius shouted.
“I was not given this gift to be micromanaged,” Bradley thundered.
The windows rattled in their frames, and all the sorcerers and astral projections flinched, except Excelsior.
“I know our code of ethics—to use my magic for the betterment of this world. And I can assure you, serving in this noble woman’s court will achieve that and more. ”
“But—”
“Oh shut up, Udora,” Excelsior cut in. “Stop needling him and turn your focus on what really matters. For instance, the dark mage Donmarin captured in a containment field in the Ashburnum desert. We need to send a collection team. And while you all are deciding who that should be, I’m going to see these lovely young people out. ”
Excelsior herded Bradley towards the door, Millie and Dirk quickly following from the seating gallery.
They traveled down a winding staircase eerily similar to the one in the tower, though this one was carved from wood and guarded by a banister.
At the exit, all four of them inhaled the sweet air of freedom.
It tasted of freshly mown grass and last night’s rain.
Dirk led the way to the lakeside path, disappearing momentarily behind the lilac shrubs.
“It would be best if you three didn’t linger.
” Walking briskly, Excelsior chanced a look over his shoulder, but they weren’t being pursued.
Yet. “I suggest you return to the tower at once to collect the rest of your court and anything else you might need. Don’t worry about your things here, Donmarin, I’ll send them along as soon as you have a forwarding address.
But before you go sailing about the world, dear boy, would you be so kind as to fly Festus back to the College?
I left him rather adrift on that balcony. ”
“Of course, Master.”
“Much appreciated. He’ll obey your command as a grand master, but he can be a mite nippy, so have a care.
And, if you don’t mind, would you return the hag stone?
I’ll cast the portal for you, but then I’d like to use it myself.
Miss Penelope is expecting a very long and very relaxing holiday at Lagunas after all that turmoil she experienced overseeing your time in the tower, and I find myself suddenly in the mood for one of their famous tangelo margaritas. ”
Bradley returned the malachite-flecked hag stone, and Excelsior summoned the portal beside the lake. He scratched the feathers under Dirk’s chin, kissed Millie lightly on the cheek, and cupped Bradley’s face like an affectionate grandfather.
“I expect you to stay in touch, Donmarin. Your training is not yet complete. You have the makings of a fantastic archmaster.”
Bradley’s heart swelled. “Thank you, Master.”
As the three approached the portal, something coppery shimmered in the air between them. An astral projection manifesting.
“Hurry,” Excelsior urged. “Before one of our infernal colleagues try to rope us into whatever nonsense this is about.”
They rushed forward, clearing the patch of lawn just before the copper sparkles took shape. Dirk zipped through the portal first, Bradley following and leading Millie by the hand.
“Salutations, Master Excelsior,” the projection greeted in a familiar voice. “Please accept this cordial invitation to the wedding of Princess Rosamund Evangeline Tisane of Amberly, scheduled for six twenty-three this very evening, to Prince Chandler Stonevein of Leighton.”
Millie whipped around, but her momentum was already carrying her through the portal. “Master Olabeus?”
“I couldn’t possibly,” Excelsior told the projection, whose shoulders drooped in disappointment. “I’m holidaying in Lagunas posthaste. But I’ll send along a postcard and a tangelo tree for the Tisanes’ greenhouse, how’s that?”
The shimmering veil swallowed her, and she stumbled into the workroom.
The pirate princess wrenched free of the sorcerer and spun right around to launch herself back through the portal.
It winked out of existence before she could even complete her spin, which she concluded was out of spite instead of any law of magic.
“Did you hear that?” she demanded of the others.
“Leighton?” Dirk exclaimed softly. “The prince who tried to rip my heart out is marrying your sister?”