Fathers
~It is time. Look. Do you see?~
Sharican woke with a start, the voice from so long ago drifting away. As he realized it had been a dream he sat up slowly, rubbing his face and trying to put all the details to memory.
~Another dream? It's been a long time since you woke with that look on your face,~ his guardian said.
Sharican sighed. "Yes." He sat staring for a few moments at the cluttered room he inhabited in the palace. Then, "We need to go to Diamban."
*
Sharican bowed his head to the King, glancing at young prince Kell where he stood with the Queen, his small hand clasped in hers. He felt a flicker of anticipation but schooled his face as he addressed the King. "I must travel," he said. "I have business to attend in the northern part of the kingdom."
King Henory nodded slowly. "Will you be back?"
"Of course, my King. But you must realize, I never meant to stay indefinitely."
"Ah. So this is a prelude to what's to follow, master sorcerer. You are shopping for a place of your own." He said it with a smile and Sharican smiled back, pleased at the familiar, friendly banter between them.
He remembered King Henory when he'd been three years old, Sharican had just arrived in the capital and the old King had invited him to the court for a visit. Henory had looked much the same as his son did now, eyes large and full of wonder at the sight of a sorcerer. The Fates seemed to like symmetry.
* * * * * * * *
The smoke winnowed through the light from the lamp on the desk and Ion chewed thoughtfully on the stem of his pipe, as he jotted down the result of another order for a table and chairs. He was pleased his good reputation had finally come to the notice of the noble families of Diamban. Now he was confident he would be able to support his growing family.
There was a knock on the door to his study as he was about to dip the pen in the ink again, and his wife stepped cautiously through. There were lines of concern on her face and Ion immediately straightened, worried there was something wrong.
"There's a..." she began, then continued, "There's a man here to see you."
"At this hour?" Ion said, surprised, but then frowned. He put the pen away. "Show him in."
A bare minute later a tall, thin man in cloak and travel-worn boots stepped through the door. He took a moment to look around before he took the chair offered him opposite Ion.
Ion waited for a name, a purpose to this man being here, but he got none at first.
"Well." The man's warm and kind voice was a contradiction to his lined face and thin, graying hair. "I'm pleased to see you are doing so well, my good man."
Ion frowned. "Do I know you?"
"Not yet. My name is Sharican, and I have come a long way to speak to you of your son."
"Son? I have no..." A cold shill passed down Ion's spine and he gripped the arms of the chair with suddenly trembling hands. "You're a sorcerer."
"Aye, that I am. I'm sorry to trouble you at this late hour, but I will not be staying long in Diamban and this is a matter of some importance." He waited for Ion to nod before he continued. "I have waited for quite some time for the birth of your son, and I must impress on you how vital it is that he will be sent to me when he's old enough."
"I... How can I? My own son–"
Sharican cut him off. "Few men can argue with a sorcerer and win. We do not honor any one king, or swear our allegiance lightly, and therefore our aid is invaluable and rare. Unless we give it by choice. We are ruled only by ourselves and what the Fates see fit to send us."
Ion warily cleared his throat to speak. "You mean to say I cannot stop you taking him away?"
The other man nodded. "Sadly, for you, this is so."
"And I would have no right to argue with my son as he grows up? Dissuade – raise him to be a proper young man?"
Sharican shook his head. "That is not it; you are his father, at least until he reaches majority of age, and even then you may still have a say in his dealings. He shall listen to and honor you until he does not."
Ion waited for an explanation to this cryptic statement, but he got none. He shifted in his chair. "Then... what is it he will do? As a sorcerer?"
Sharican smiled again. "He will first become my apprentice at a proper age and remain so for quite some time, he will have much to learn. Then we shall see what purpose the Fates have for him."
"You don't know?" Ion immediately bit his lip; he hadn't meant to say that.
The sorcerer gave him a hard look. "I have a notion, but nothing I can share with you, you must understand."
Ion frowned but nodded; he felt like his son was slipping away from him even as they sat here. Sharican was laying claim to his son's future before it had even begun.
Sharican's expression became somber now. "As a sorcerer your son will follow his own ways, paths laid down for him at the beginning of the ages. There are things only he will be able to do, and no mortal man may interfere."
Ion stared, trying to take all this in, opened his mouth to ask something, but closed it again as the sorcerer continued.
"You should also know your son will not have to follow common rule."
"What do you mean? I have no say... at all?"
The sorcerer seemed about to smile. "For instance, it would be within my rights to take a man – such as yourself – as my lover, if I were so inclined," he said matter-of-factly – stating an example? – at which Ion stiffened warily. "Such is the prerogative of a sorcerer, you must be made aware."
Ion gaped. "To take what and who he may fancy?" He stared incredulously. "He'd be seen as selfish and arrogant. I cannot in good conscience raise my son to become such a man."
For the longest moment Sharican stared hard at Ion, making him wonder if he had insulted the sorcerer. Then a smile spread on his lips, making the sharp angles and lines smoothen a bit. "Good. I'd not look at your son if I thought you would. Arrogance is a trait few men can carry with grace."
Ion blinked, strangely relieved, and unclenched his fingers from around the arms of the chair.
"I shall return some time after the boy is born," Sharican said and slowly rose.
When is 'some time'? Ion wanted to ask, but didn't dare.
"You will have many years with your son, to raise him properly and prepare him for when I return." Sharican stopped by the door. "There is one more thing I must ask of you."
Ion looked warily at the sorcerer, wondering what more he could possible want. "Yes?"
Sharican's grey eyes found Ion's across the room. "There is a name of strength that you must give him, so that he may be properly protected before I can return to teach him."
Ion blinked, opened his mouth but closed it again.
"It is written there on the note by your hand." Sharican raised the hood of his cloak.
Ion looked down and saw a folded piece of paper that had not been there before. He reached for it but stopped as Sharican raised his own hand in warning.
"I must ask you not to read it until he's been born. I've put a ward on it to make sure no one knows what it is until such time is that you can whisper it in his ear. He shall be the first to hear his own name spoken out loud." The sorcerer's eyes held Ion's for a long moment, then he turned away and opened the door. "Take care, and good evening to you, Ion De'Noa."
* * * * * * * *
Ion sat in his study until it was dark outside the window, until he could smell his wife's cooking through the door. He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling worn and tired beyond his years. He rose slowly and went out to his wife, not wholly knowing what to tell her.
Vina was waiting for him, sitting at the table with her hands on her rounded stomach and a solemn look on her face. Ion needn't tell her a word, he realized. His beautiful, clever wife already knew. "When?" she wondered. "How many years will we have before our son has to leave?"
Ion sighed heavily and sat down on the bench next to her, taking one of her hands in his and gently placing them both on her belly. "He didn't quite say," he confesses slowly. "But I think we may have ten years. Maybe."
Vina nodded and looked at their joined hands. Biting her lip not to cry, she murmured, "I'm honored our son will become a sorcerer's apprentice." Her fingers tightened around his. "But I feel like I've lost him even before he's been born."
Ion wrapped his arm around her shoulders as tears started trickling down her cheeks. "We will not lose him, Vina. We will raise him and love him, and he will remember us as long as he shall live."
Ion knew words were not enough to comfort, but for now it was all they had. He could only hope the child would bring them joy for as long as they had him, to keep them through the rest of the years when he would not be with them.
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