Draken’s rear has fallen asleep. Four hours of sitting on a hard wooden stool will do that.

The burgandy mage who got him into this mess in the first place keeps both eyes on him, ready to cast a very uncomfortable paralysis spell if he tries to escape for the third time.

As dozens and dozens of hopefuls take the trials, Draken and a couple of other special cases wait in an adjacent tent. The three callow youths sitting under the watchful eye of the red wizard (whose name it turns out is Kryndall) all have one thing in common. Each for his or her own reasons had second thoughts after passing the trials and now is held against their will until their apprenticeships can begin in earnest.

“We’ve each decided to take you as our full time apprentice. It will be three times the work of a normal apprenticeship with three times the rewards.”

Draken remembers how quickly his feet moved upon realizing the extent of the masters’ plans. He considers himself hard working for a thief and the idea of working a bit harder to secure a good future never bothered him. However he’s met several magician’s apprentices and while never knowing them well they each left an impression of being harried, overworked and under bred. While he recognizes that apprenticing to a mage is surely worth some extra work he draws the line at the thought of working thrice as hard as those sexless overtaxed youths.

His feet tingle as the effects of the paralisis spell wear away. He takes stock of his surroundings one more time. Tent, twelve feet high and eight feet around, black. One entrance, blocked by one scowling wizard in red.

Four stools, two occupied. Stool occupants are as follows.

One blue eyed witch, muttering to herself. Perhaps mentally ill, definitely unstable. Every few minutes a thought or image hits his mind like a fist.

The other is shock haired and wild eyed.

“What’s your story again?” Draken asks.

The wild eyed boy, Aaron if Draken remembers correctly, takes out a small wooden icon and says a short prayer to his god.

“My father will disown me or worse. I would never have taken the trials if I thought I would pass, magic is the deepest taboo for my people.”

“Why take the trials at all?” Draken asks.

“I’d been so mad at my father , we quarreled over my taking up the family trade. I shouted that I’d sooner take up with the devil than be a butcher and fuming marched into the park and made a show of taking my place in line. Before I cooled off it was too late and here I am, marked for damnation. ”

“Damnation?” Draken asks

“I’m Crissian, magic to us is a terrible sin against God.”

“You could have failed the test on purpose.” Draken says. The Crissian gives him a defiant look.

“I offered my oath at the door, to break it would mean damnation.”

“Does anything not lead to damnation for you people?” Draken asks.

“The path of the righteous man is beset with peril,” Aaron replies.

“What will you do?” Draken asks, the boy’s grip on his idol tightens.

“What can I do?” He asks, “I dishonored myself and my family when I tried to run, I must accept this to be a part of God’s plan and pray my soul survives the ordeal.”

“What about your old man?” Draken asks.

Aaron’s expresion sinks.

“I don’t think he’ll be as forgiving as blessed Jiosuix, may he ever be reborn. No, my father is as most fathers, a hard man determined to hammer me into his image.” Aaron shakes his head.

“I just hope he doesn’t do anything crazy when he finds out. What about your family, friend? I don’t immagine you tried to run because they are so very approving of magecraft.”

“I don’t have much family.” Draken says, picturing Top Boy and his own crew.

“I envy you that,” Aaron replies. “Though I know it’s a sin to dishonor my progenitors.” He kisses his X shaped idol..

“I really couldn’t guess how they’ll react to this. My uncle and my crew, we’re all really close, thick as thieves in a literal sense but this thing is going to cut into my ability to work, that’s for sure.” Draken says.

Aaron looks horrified. “Did you say you’re a thief?”

“Cleaner work than killing animals,” Draken shrugs, “not that i’m judging.”

The other boy laughs. “If my father saw me now he’d die of a heart attack, apprentice mage socializing with a criminal”

Draken joins in the laughter, his sides heaving as he tries to speak.

“You think that’s ridiculous? I was just trying to pick a pocket an ended up passin all three of the trials when I wasn’t planning to take em at all!” The two laugh hysterically until suddenly they are mentally slapped.

The girl in the third seat stares back at Draken with cold gray eyes.

“Be quiet.” Her voice leaps into his mind.

“I can’t hear anyone’s thoughts over you jackasses.”

Draken looks nervously at Aaron.

“You heard that, right?”

The other boy nods. Draken fishes in his pocket and pulls out some dice.

“Fancy a game?”

The girl glowers at him.

“Not all of us want to pass the time by snooping on other people’s thoughts, sweet cheeks.” The girl flushes in anger, opens her mouth to say something and instead closes it sending Draken the image of a dog pooping.

The familiar clatter of dice calms Draken’s nerves. It’s exactly what he needs, a drop of normal in an ocean of madness.

“Six again, your using sorcery!” Aaron accuses.

“I swear I’m not,” Draken grins. “Why would I when they’re loaded?” He laughs.

“Gimme back my two coppers!” Aaron demands.

Draken waggles his finger , clicking his tongue.

“You knew i’d cheat when we started playing so you can’t honestly say it’s unfair that I cheated. Besides which as you said I could have used my sorcery and these loaded dice are the only ones I have.”

The other boy sighs.

“Your logic is so twisted but it makes a kind of warped sense. I would be dishonest if I said I didn’t expect you to cheat.”

Draken pretends not to notice approaching footsteps on the gravel outside. Reaching out with his mind he senses the wizard Blackard Hood and two others he doesn’t know.

“They’re here for us,” Draken stands, stretching his legs. Five of the six hours have given him the basics of a plan. The fact that it’s Hood makes things all the easier.

The three men enter the small tent.

“Draken, Aaron, Wendy, arrangements have been made.”

Hoods cologne is strong and reeks of some vinegar mixture. The other two men, one youngish and in a hat and the other a hunched old man with whiskers longer than his legs.

“These the ones?” The youngish man asks, Blackard laughs

“Not having second thoughts eh?”

Shaking his head, the youngish man approaches Aaron.

“By Jiosuix, you are a Crissian! I thought old Blackard here was pulling my leg, this was surely meant to be, you and I will have great fun.” Aaron tries to shy away but is immediately caught in bear hug. “My very first apprentice and you’re of the faith, praise the lord for such luck.”

The old man on the other hand stands behind hood, radiating warmth and compassion.

The young witch, whose name Draken doesn’t remember slowly stands and marches to the oldster with a great smile on her face.

“That just leaves you and me.” Hood says, Draken nods.

As he ponders his new master in the waning light of Dusk, Draken’s plan solidifies.

“Do you have a guardian we should notify?” Hood asks between strides.

“No but I’ve got personal items I need to pick up and I gotta let my crew know where I am.”

Hood smiles. “Your riffraff can wait, as for your belongings I’ll send a boy for them tomorrow.”

Draken nods, not expecting the direct approach to work anyway.

“Any chance of stopping at an Inn?” he holds his stomach for emphasis. “It’s been a long day and I haven't had a bite.” The apple core falls out of his pocket. “Since breakfast,” he smiles.

“I see no reason not to, we can toast your apprenticeship,” Hood grins. “I think the Blue Apple is only three blocks away.”

Draken’s feet clop on the rough stone pavement as he runs, waiving for Hood to follow.

“Can’t go back there but I know a better place, It ain’t far.” Ignoring indignant shouts as he pushes his way past magic hour crowds, Draken stops his hands more than once as they reach instinctively for a jingling bracelet or a ring gleaming in the street light.

Before Hood can follow Draken’s eyes lock on the small Inn at the edge of the plaza.

As the establishment grows closer so his springy step slows until he stands on the cobbles outside. He estimates one minute before the wizard makes it to the door. Inhaling a lungful of the smoky odious air Draken slowly saunters to the bar and scribbles a note on his blue handkerchief in charcoal. He hands the note to the barman along with two coppers. The bartender scans the nore and snickers. “A word of this true?”

Draken grins, exposing his newly missing tooth.

“You know you shouldn’t read other folks private notes but yeah, it’s true. Here comes my proof.”

Blackard Hood enters the seedy inn with a grimace.

“This is better than the Blue Apple?” He sniffs the air as he sits to Draken’s right.

“There’s certainly a character to the place, I’ll give you that.”

“Spice ale,” Draken shouts to the barman, indicating two with his fingers.

“Old Bodrick makes the best in town, sweet as cinnamon and one mug gets a fella roarin drunk.”

Hood holds out his hand to Bodrick. “Water the lad’s if you please, he’ll have a long day tomorrow.” Draken frantically shakes his head behind Hood’s back mouthing, “don’t you dare”.

The flagons arrive , foaming and smelling vaguely like gingerbread cookies. One sip tells Draken that the ale remains unruined but a hand quickly relieves him of the flagon and sets it on the bar.

“Bad luck to drink before the toast,” Hood raises his mug. “To the secrets of wizardry and the joys of learning them.”

Draken’s cheeks burn as he raises his own flagon, not noticing the sudden hush over his own embarrassment. His ears pick up whispered voices murmuring, his name repeating frequently in the low tones of rapid conversation.

A hand the size of a brick slaps Draken across the back with stinging force enough that he’s sure it will bruise.

“You actually did it, you bastard, that’s The Wizard’s Toast, you know. A round of ale on the house, young Draken’s done us proud! ” The barman playfully slaps Draken again with equal force. Catching the flagon as he loses balance Draken steadies himself in his chair.

He takes a deep gulp of ale, the effects hitting him near instantly. Aches and worries pushed to the side of his consciousness, Draken says. “After a day like I’ve had, this is just what I need.” He drains the mug. The night is a spiralling mass of images, sounds and sensations. He joins a raucous and bawdy chorus singing every song of magecraft and adventure and finds himself spewing the contents of his stomach as someone holds his hair. Bumping into his crew and drunkenly trying to explain things as his mouth turns his words into pudding and finally giving up when a man in a cloak whose name he can’t remember shoos them away.

He empties his stomach again on the cobblestones as a tall man supports him.

The streets twist and wobble and every step makes his legs feel like they’re sloshing through oatmeal.