Page 223 of The Discount Damsel

“Gale.” Master Excelsior extended his arms for an embrace. “Lovely to see you again. How long has it been?”

“Two hundred and seventy-three years. Drop in the bucket to what it could’ve been, I suppose.”

When the two parted, the sorcerer brushed the soot off his robe. The environmental wards immediately incinerated it. “The desert treating you well?”

“Much better than what my original fate had in store for me.” The two shared a laugh, then Gale planted his hands on hips made of smoke and turned his attention towards Bradley. “Is this the whelp you warned me might come?”

“He is. My apprentice, Bradley Donmarin.”

“But you broke the spell chaining me, not him.”

“Yes, he passed the test. You’re here to prove I’m not a dark mage. You can drop the illusion, by the way.”

The fearsome creature of black smoke and heat transformed into a sprite. Judging by its translucent, misty appearance, it was one of those puckish air sprites Bradley had read about in Small Magicks.

“If you would be so kind, Gale, please render unto Bradley the consequences of this summoning as if he had been the one to forget all my teachings, lose the integrity of his moral fiber, and succumb to despair.”

“Sure!”

The sour scowl that had contorted Bradley’s face in response to his master’s attempted guilt trip smoothed into something wary when the sprite doubled in size and loomed over him with sparks crackling through the misty motes of his body.

“Quit messing around with dark magic, dumbass!” Gale bellowed, and sucker punched Bradley right in the gut.

“Hey,” Dirk cried, and gentled Bradley’s sudden and complete collapse to the ground with a hasty wind.

The apprentice wheezed, squeezed the tears from his eyes, and fought to rise up on his hands and knees. He craned a murderous look up at his master.

“Ooo.” Gale nudged “Celsy” with his elbow. “This one’s got pluck. Glad he didn’t turn dark. I suppose this concludes our arrangement?”

“It does. You’re free to go. And don’t make me imprison you ever again, alright?”

The air sprite shrugged. “I am what I am. No promises.” Then he zipped out into the sky, crowing with glee.

Master Excelsior bent and helped his apprentice rise. “Caelus’s Stars, you’re as heavy as ever.” He smacked the dust off Bradley’s robe. “You got off light, by the way. That little blast that shoved me back a step before Gale arrived? That would’ve knocked you clean through the workroom floorboards. If you survived the fall, you would’ve been picking splinters out of your nethers for weeks. And then I would’ve taken you to the Deamplification Chamber to strip you of your magic, which is the very fate that awaits Gladstone out there, come to think of it.”

“So that wasn’t dark magic at all?” Hells of the deep, how Bradley had tortured himself over that scrap of parchment!

“Nope. Just a gamey spell and a spritz of licorice essential oil. Great for digestion, by the way.” He grinned.

“You asshole!”

“Stop that.” He swatted his apprentice in the arm. “You’re starting to sound like a parrot, Bradley. What is it you want? An apology?”

“Yes!”

“Well you won’t get one.” He reached up and flicked Bradley hard in the ear. “When you were cursed and unable to complete your Master’s exam, I could have let the Board honorably discharge you from the College and return you to your life on the Cut. Instead I fought for a continuance because I believed you deserved a chance to become something great. I gave you all the tools in this tower, but you had to earn it for yourself, or it would mean nothing. You’d be no better than Gladstone then, handed everything his rotten little heart desired.”

The archmaster’s tone softened. “I’m only sorry that the path wasn’t easy, because someone as good as you should not have to fight for everything in your life. Sadly, this is often not the way of the world. You might not have enjoyed my methods, but they were necessary. You are the most powerful sorcerer in three generations, my boy, not just your own. The potency of your wild magic? Unheard of except in legend. When Gladstone cursed you, I seized this opportunity to reveal your soul, not just to me, but to yourself. You could be the greatest gift this continent has seen in centuries, or you could bring great destruction. I had a duty to discover what it was.”

Bradley was shaking now, gasping for breath that would not come. “But I— I almost— I could have—” He was going to be sick. If what Master Excelsior said was true about his potential, he could have become the thing he’d hated most in the world.

A tyrant.

Master Excelsior’s hand was soothing as it passed over Bradley’s curls. “But you didn’t, dear boy. Why do you think I bonded you and Lung Shang? You needed each other—you both were walking hard roads. Love is the greatest preserver of humanity there ever was. The greatest healer. It’s how you were able to break the curse and save him with the renovatio spell. And I’m very glad you did. Nearly three hundred and eleven years old, I knew nothing about the connection between wyrms and dragons. They’re more secretive than archmasters, you know.”

How could Excelsior possibly know about the renovatio spell? About wyrms?

Bradley batted those questions away. They weren’t relevant to the indignation, the relief, and the flummoxation all reeling about in his mind like a schooner caught in a whirlpool.