A Clash of Magics by Guy Antibes (read this if txt) 📕

he started out in Presidon. Trevor’s time spent in Viksar had been more instructive than he had appreciated.

“Why do you want to enter the enclave?”

“I don’t really know,” Trevor said. “I came to learn more about what possibilities there are for me. I don’t want to spend my life as a guard.”

“Yet you know no offensive magic,” one of the three interrogators said.

“I will repeat myself. I don’t want to spend my life as a guard,” Trevor said, trying to change the subject.

“Then what can you do?” the woman at the desk behind him asked.

“I’m not sure what my possibilities are. I am untutored except for my ability to shed magic,” Trevor said. He wanted an orientation where he could ask questions.

The three interviewers looked at the woman, who nodded. The trio behind the table excused Trevor. He returned to the bench in the corridor, now shared by a teenager wearing a diving outfit too.

“You are from Khartoo?” the youth asked.

“No. I come from the north, but I like this,” the boy said.

The youth tapped his fingers on his thigh, showing his nervousness. Trevor was probably just as anxious, but he had learned long ago how to suppress outward signs, not that he was always successful.

“You are looking forward to being in the enclave?” Trevor asked.

“I am. It isn’t the magic part that concerns me, but what cabal I’ll be allowed to join.”

“Do they determine that in there? What difference does the cabal make?”

The boy shuddered. “Life or death,” he said. He looked closely at Trevor. “You really don’t know?”

Trevor tried to produce a very confident smile, folding his arms. “Tell me.”

“There are fighting cabals and spying cabals, ruling cabals and servant cabals. At present, as far as I know, there are twenty-two of them. Some cabals go through their members quickly, especially fighting and spying cabals. Life can be very short in the wrong organization.”

Trevor nodded. “I know what you mean. I had an evaluator who tried to kill me.”

“Red robe?” the youth asked. “They are fighting. Not all applicants make it through a red-robed evaluator. Do you want to be a fighter?”

“Not me. I don’t know what I want, but I’m not that bloodthirsty. Are guard cabals fighters or servants?”

“Generally, servants. They live a lot longer. I’m hoping I can link up with an administration cabal. That is the safest, and I can use my head.”

“Have you had a sufficient education to do something like that?”

The boy furrowed his brow. “Education?”

Their conversation was interrupted. “Boxster, you can come in now,” the woman clerk said, poking her head out the door.

Trevor would have preferred to talk to the young man some more, but that wasn’t to be.

“We have decided you can start in a yellow cabal.”

“I don’t know what yellow means,” Trevor said truthfully.

“Those are considered a spying cabal. You train for a year in the cabal. If you rise in the estimation of your peers, you will become a full member. If you don’t, we will feed you to the sharks in the bay,” the man in the middle of the table said. The magician handed Trevor’s application back and pointed to a door behind him. “Tell the woman at the yellow desk what we decided.”

Trevor guessed he had succeeded in getting himself into one of the kinds of cabals that exposed magicians to death. His idea to walk up and get an orientation wasn’t working in quite the way he intended.

The door opened into a large room filled with desks, and Trevor walked to the bright yellow one. Trevor guessed they corresponded to the general classification of the cabals. That would mean the red desk was for fighting cabals and the yellow for spying.

“I was told to give you this.”

The woman, dressed in a dark blue robe, looked up and took the paper. Maybe dark blue was for administration, Trevor thought.

“I don’t know who will want you,” she said.

“Are you a member of a cabal?” Trevor asked.

“Of course. We all are in an administrative cabal.” She sneered. “Did you think I was a spy?”

“What do the spy cabals do?” Trevor asked.

“They sneak around and find information, of course.”

Trevor nodded. Of course, he thought, but did the spies go out stirring up trouble in other countries? Knowing that would make this masquerade worth the risk.

“I assume you know how to use that sword?” the woman asked.

Trevor looked down at the hilt of his sword poking from his cape. “I do.”

She made a notation. “There is a waiting room over there.” She pointed to yet another door on the far end of the room. “The cabals will be notified you are waiting. You’ll have to interview with anyone interested.”

“And if no one is interested?”

“Then we will pat you on the head and send you on your way, but remember you only get one chance to join the enclave, and this is it,” the woman said.

Trevor was getting less interested in what these people had to tell them. He had learned that instead of one magician’s guild, the administrative cabals managed the other cabals’ existence. He could be wrong, but he hoped to learn more during the following interview.

The small, sparsely furnished room had a window that looked out to sea. He pressed his nose to the window to see how far up he was. Three stories, maybe four, he thought, with a long, long drop directly into the bay. Trevor opened the latch and pushed the window open to smell the sea. It didn’t smell any better from up here than down in the city. Trevor didn’t see a way to climb down the sheer sides of the building if something went wrong.

The door opened behind him. Trevor quickly turned around and closed the