1

"Well Rhys, have you got everything?" My teacher Orne darkened my room's door, his imposing shadow falling across the floor.

"Yes, thank you Orne." I said, tossing the last article of clothing in, and snapping my carpet bag closed.

"Then you had better be off. It would not do to keep King Lionel waiting."

We stepped to the departure balcony. As if reading my thoughts, which I wouldn't be surprised if the old sorcerer could, Orne said,

"You need not worry about your service to the King of Bamarre. He is an incredible coward, and has some very odd notions, but in all, seems easy to serve."

I nodded, and tried to swallow my nerves. I gave a deep bow of farewell to my master, then, gripping my carpet bag tightly, propelled high into the air, the grand Citadel fading to a tiny dot.

The wind lashed unkindly at my ebony hair. Just wonderful. I would arrive shivering, sweaty, nervous, and on top of it all, windblown enough to look like a bird nested in my hair. I sighed, drawing my heavy cloak nearer. I knew it was customary to serve pompous royalty, but I had no desire to. I would much rather be at the Citadel, learning all sorts of new spells. I sighed again. Oh well. May be there would be something that would make my time there bearable.