The Princess of Trelian Read Free Page A

images and feelings.
    Master Su’lira turned sideways again, holding up the needle once more, and Calen wondered if another reason for the private room was so that no one else would be there to observe if any mages or apprentices started screaming, or crying, or fainted from the pain.
    “Nervous?” Mage Serek asked from across the room. He was leaning against the wall, watching the preparations with his usual detachment. Serek had, of course, been through this procedure countless times. And no doubt without any cowardly whining or squirming. He had probably sat there reading a book and barely even noticed when the needle pierced through his skin.
    Me, on the other hand . . .
Calen thought, sighing.
    “A little,” he admitted. Serek could clearly already tell, anyway.
    Serek nodded. “It will hurt a great deal, but the pain is part of the process. A reminder that we do not take on these responsibilities lightly.”
    Good old Serek. Always comforting.
    “I know,” Calen said. “I’m ready.”
    Master Su’lira turned toward him, smiling.
    Calen mustered a shaky smile back.
    “You must hold very still, Apprentice Calen,” Master Su’lira said as he sat on the stool beside him. Calen nodded. The man smiled again. “No more nodding,” he said.
    Oh. Right.
“Sorry.”
    “And no more speaking unless I ask you a question directly. If you need to say something, if you need to sneeze or cough, if you need me to stop for any reason, tap your hand here on the table to get my attention. All right?”
    “Yes.”
    “All right. I am going to prick you just once to start, to show you how it will feel.”
    Calen held himself rigid as the needle came closer to his face. He shifted his eyes to look straight ahead. He could still see the needle in his peripheral vision, but at least now it didn’t look like it was coming directly at him. Although, of course, it was.
    “All right,” the Marker said again, softly, and Calen felt a pressure against his skin. And then a bright blooming of pain. He inhaled sharply through his nose but managed not to gasp. Then Master Su’lira drew the needle back, and the pain faded quickly. Calen swallowed. He could do this. It hurt, but it wasn’t unbearable.
    “Are you ready for me to continue?” Master Su’lira asked, holding the tool a few inches away. “You may answer.”
    “Yes.”
    “All right.” The Marker brought the needle closer again, and Calen felt the pressure and then the pain. This time, though, the needle prick didn’t come and go quickly; he could feel the needle going in and out slightly, moving in tiny increments. The pain didn’t stop or fade but stayed present, scratching, piercing, almost burning.
Ow,
he thought.
Ow, ow, ow!
But he didn’t move. He tried to keep his breathing slow and even, through his nose, since his mouth was closed and he was afraid to open it now.
    It wasn’t really so bad. It still hurt, quite a bit, but he thought being scratched by Lyrimon hurt more. And it seemed to help if he tried to focus his mind on other things.
    He was glad Serek hadn’t wanted to bring Lyrimon along on their journey, although he was a little worried about poor Maurel, who had volunteered to look after the gyrcat while they were gone. She seemed to be a pretty tough little girl, though. And Meg would no doubt step in if there were any problems.
    He had been surprised to realize how much he missed Meg once he and Serek and their small armed escort had left the castle. He knew he would see her again in a few weeks, but almost as soon as they were beyond sight of the front gate, he had started to feel a little bit, well, sad. He supposed he had gotten used to seeing her every day.
    He hoped they would be able to head back home soon. They had only arrived yesterday, and today was the marking and ceremony, and then tomorrow was the meeting with the council of mages who were in charge of things, and then maybe the next day they could start back. Surely it couldn’t