The Fire Mages Read Online Free Page A

Ardamurkan an hour or two before sunset. The town was not at all what I’d imagined. The noise and multitudes of people were as expected, but the walls which enclosed the town were low, not imposing at all. The first streets we saw, although wider than those in the village, were still too narrow for the press of people and wagons trying to pass through. Many buildings were only of wood or clay or brick, and few were above two storeys, every one a different style from its neighbours.
    The turnip wagon deposited us at a square near the gates, and we paid a couple of pieces for a man to carry our bags on a hand cart, while we walked alongside, boots clonking on the cobbles. The town sloped gently up the base of a range of low hills, so our way was all uphill. Gradually, as we ascended, the roads widened and the buildings became higher and grander and more solid. At last we could see the highest building of all, the many stone turrets and towers of the Kellon’s hall, flags hanging limply in the still air. Even the hall was of no interest to me; I pressed ahead eagerly for my first glimpse of the scribery.
    It sat in the very heart of the town, and here another surprise awaited us, for it was not a single building but a conglomeration of assorted sizes and shapes, no two alike. There was a wall surrounding the whole mismatched collection, the gates wide open at this hour. Several bored guards protected the entrance, with no hint of the magical power within. I walked proudly through the gates, hiding my nervousness, for surely I had every right to be there. This was where I belonged, at the heart of magic.
    The buildings around the gates were open to the public: the scribing hall, the teaching hall, the guest hall. Away at the far side of the compound, enclosed by its own wall and a tiny garden, was the scribes’ tower. This was the centre of spell-scribing, where I would train. Next to it, the grander walled garden around the mages’ house.
    We stayed a couple of nights at the guest hall while I waited for my assessment, but I was too excited to notice anything around me. I was finally here! I could hardly believe it. I ate and slept and walked around the town with my father while he bought his tools, and remembered none of it.
    My first task was to take a basic writing test which would admit me to the scribes’ training scheme. At Mother’s insistence, I was also to take a more advanced test. The certificate for that would allow me to have my own teaching room, if I wished it. Mother had no confidence in my ability to become a scribe, so I was to have a second career option. She had even given me the silver for it, a great concession, for whenever she had money to spare, she sent for new books.
    The tests took place in the teaching hall, a vast, echoing room filled with individual writing desks. Mine was scratched and worn, engraved with the names of bored students and stained with blotches of ink. The other candidates looked like town residents with their flounced shirts and long coats. In my patched trousers and tunic, handed down to me from Ginzia and Alita, I felt like a rustic interloper. What was I thinking, trying to be a scribe? I didn’t belong here. It was stupid to try. I would fail the test, and have to crawl humiliatingly home to the village.
    As soon as I saw the test papers, I sighed in relief. Not too difficult at all. I answered everything, although I saw others struggling, chewing the end of the pen in frustrated thought, or dipping the nib repeatedly in the ink.
    I emerged waving the two certificates triumphantly at Father. “There! Mother should be pleased with me, anyway.”
    “Perhaps,” he said. He leaned towards me, lowering his voice. “But don’t gloat too much about it. You’ve already gone further than she ever did.”
    It took me a moment to work out what he meant. “Are you saying – she doesn’t have one of these?”
    He shook his head. “She never had the money to come here and