Chalam Othworld's Arc

Chapter 1 of 3

Chalam Othworld wanted an apprentice, and Black Oak had none to give. He stood in the muddy square with his staff and his open blue robe, watching children work. He had spent his life reading bindings left by contained gods. Now he wanted a boy or girl to teach before his own skill died with him. But every child here was already promised. One hauled water for the stonemason. One shadowed the smith. The trades had claimed them all. Tucker Hoskins found him staring at a girl who carried grain sacks twice her size. Tucker was Black Oak's Master of Port and Trade. He knew every deal in the town and every soul behind it. He wore two gold chains that caught the gray light. "You've got that look," Tucker said. "Like a man shopping with no coin." "They're all sworn to a trade," Chalam said. "I can't take what belongs to another master." Tucker leaned on a post. "Then don't shop here." He tipped his head toward the gate. "The Crossing takes in strays. Runaways. Kids nobody claimed. Marco counts them every day." Chalam knew Marco Valentino by reputation. Marco kept the eastern gate for Black Oak. He read thoughts and caught lies, and he never took off his gold bracelet. If any child passed through with a hidden gift, Marco would feel it. They rode east through cold air. Marco met them at the gate with two sworn men behind him. He looked at Chalam, then at Tucker, and did not waste words. "You're here for the boy." Chalam frowned. "What boy?" "Came through three days back. Alone. No family, no trade, no lies in him." Marco pointed to a lean shape crouched against the wall. "His head's loud. Loud like yours, wizard." The boy looked maybe ten. His clothes were torn and his feet were bare. He was drawing shapes in the dirt with a stick. Chalam knelt and looked. The boy had scratched a ring inside a ring. It was the same mark that bindings left in stone. Chalam's breath caught. "Where did you learn that?" The boy shrugged. "Saw it in a dream. It hums." Chalam set his staff on the ground beside the drawing. The staff detected binding signatures. It gave a faint, low pulse, the way it did near contained gods. The boy heard it too. He grinned. "He feels the bindings," Chalam said. He looked up at Tucker and Marco. "He feels them without a staff." Marco crossed his arms. "Then he's yours. But he's a stray with a strange head. That's trouble following you now, not a trade." Chalam took the boy's dirty hand. "Will you learn from me?" The boy stood. "You'll teach me the humming?" "I will." Chalam smiled. He had his apprentice at last. But the boy dreamed of bindings he had never seen. And someone unknown was still reaching those sites first.