Brevon let out an annoyed, sharp grunt. He knew the book was filling his son’s head with all sorts of weird and terrible ideas, but two sides to Heaven? What sort of blasphemy was that? And to say it out loud to the Master Wizard, during an interview no less? He was screwing it up! It was no surprise, really. Brevon should have expected this.
Theryn frowned, becoming tongue-tied. A single grunt was all he needed to know what his father was thinking. He was failing, just like he knew he would. That’s why he never held hopes of actually becoming an apprentice. Him? Theryn the wimp? Theryn the bookworm? A wizard’s apprentice? Yeah, right.
“From whatever’s left of it,” Theryn said bitterly, and flipped a few more pages over, showing that a large chunk of the book was missing. “78 pages are missing from Chapter IV alone; all in all, 159 pages are missing, incomplete, or damaged.”
“I see,” the wizard grinned.
Theryn’s brows furrowed. Was the wizard making fun of him? It wasn’t his fault the book was so damaged, well, not entirely. In the process of wrestling with his father over the tome, inevitably, some damage was done, and then there was his elder brother, thinking it would be ‘funny’ to tear up some pages and throw them into the river. But most of the damage was done before Theryn ever laid his hands on the book. “Do you know the answer?” Theryn challenged.
“I know many answers. What is your question?”
“Are there two sides to Heaven, and Hell, and all the rest?”
The wizard ran a hand through his long white beard, thinking. “Do you know who wrote this book?”
Theryn pursed his lips. The wizard had changed the subject; he didn’t know either. “Eldaron ec Marakin,” he said triumphantly, without having to look.
“Do you know what that name means? What the ‘ec’ means?”
“No…”
“Do you know what my name is?”
“Eldaron… ec Marakin?” The boy asked warily.
The wizard laughed, “Do I look two centuries old to you? Wizards do tend to live a bit longer, but even that is excessive.”
“Then…”
“My name is Talador ec Eldaron.”
Theryn looked at him blankly, turning the idea over in his head, trying to guess at what the implication of that was—but before he could reach a conclusion, Talador turned to his father.
“I believe we have a contract to write up.”
Brevon blinked, glanced at Theryn, then looked back at Talador. “Ah… did he… did he pass?”
“How much were you thinking, Mr. Fendrick?” Talador said casually, pulling an empty parchment from one of his drawers.
Brevon grinned and squeezed Theryn’s shoulder, “Well done, boy! Well done!”
The squeeze hurt, but Theryn didn’t mind; he could tell his father’s excitement was genuine, and his encouragement sincere. His father, for once in his life, was proud of him.
“We were thinking that 50 Crowns a month would be a fair price, at least to start with. If you can teach him magic—actually teach him magic—then we can renegotiate in thirteen months.”
Teach him magic, Theryn thought, then realized the ‘him’ was… him. He was going to become an apprentice, learn magic, history, the Realms, and all the other things he was always curious about.
“That is unacceptable, Mr. Fendrick,” Talador said coldly.
Theryn’s heart sank, and Brevon cleared his throat, preparing for what he thought was going to be a bit of bargaining. “Well, we can go up to 55 Crowns, but any more than that would be excessive, at least, not until we can see some results.”
“Ah,” Talador frowned, his quill, wet with ink, hovering over the new parchment. “I’m afraid there might have been an error… a misunderstanding.” He put the quill back in the inkwell. “I am not asking you to pay for your son’s education, Mr. Fendrick, but rather, I am hoping to purchase my son’s parentage and education from you.”
“I-I wasn’t aware you had a son.”
“I don’t, not yet, that’s what the contract is for.”
Brevon’s head spun, trying to follow the Wizard’s words and their implication. Contract. Son. Education. Parentage. “You… You want to buy my son?”
“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong. I am not trying to buy your son… I am trying to buy your fatherhood.”