My First Zombie

“So you’re the new candidate for the prenticeship,” a tall Troll said. He wasn’t exactly wearing anything to distinguish his class or rank or title, but he was answering the door so he must have some position in the house.
“Yes I am. From your question, I can assume that I am expected?” I said, but he didn’t move out of the door frame. I cocked my head to the side, “Is there some problem I need to know about?” He looked at me with a blank expression that was neither threatening, nor was it welcoming either. It was just passive, like a piece of sculpture that you were to do with what you wanted.
“You’re a human?” From the rumors, this was a house of many races, where such a thing could be used against me. I tried to hear his tone, or context, but there was none that I could detect. I hated not knowing things like this.
“We’ll spotted,” I said, “and you’re a troll. I apologize that my experiences with your race have not allowed me to know which of the many tribes you belong to,” recalling the nuggets of sociology that were still in my brain. “Please do not take my ignorance of your customs to be an insult, I will not try to offend you or your race in anyway.” He nodded, accepting what I had said, but he still blocked the door. “Have I offended you already?”
“Yes,” he said quite too quickly. “You’re short.”
“You stand seven feet tall. Everyone is short to you, sir.”
“I mean you aren’t even full grown yet.”
This must be a test to try the patience of the prospect, or he’s just a prick who likes exerting his power any way that he can. Joy. “That is because I am still a child.” I smiled. He didn’t, and he didn’t move out of the doorway. Considering who the master of the house is, storming by him would probably get me killed, if I was lucky and not trapped in some pit. The Order had some peculiar concepts of justice, especially when it came to personal offronts. Somehow, I had to get by this hairless sphinx here.
“How are you going to survive then?”
Imagine my joy to hear yet another commentary question from him. “Pray tell and explain what you mean?” I kept the corners of my mouth up in a grin. It gave me something other to do than bang my head against the wall of the townhouse.
“If the other acolytes, who were here and were older than you, failed, then what chance do you really think you have of reaching any success?” I wonder if he was supposed to share that little nugget of information, or was this his own addition to the gaity we were sharing here on the steps.
“Maybe it is by how one determines success?” I countered, “I do believe that word can have many different meanings depending on the context of the situation.” This earned a raise of his eyebrow ridge.
“How about surviving until your first Assessments?”
I smiled. I’ve been told that my smile is not natural. It has a certain, how have I been told, infernal character to it that makes one wish to be on holy ground bathing in a font of holy water and confessing all the sins they’ve ever dreamed about. I can’t really say. My family was too poor growing up for luxuries like mirrors. What good is a looking glass except for maybe stitching yourself up in after a scrap. Hell, we’d probably have busted the dang thing up for shanks if we couldn’t get proper shine for it at the hock shops. Anywho, he’d taken my grin to mean that I knew something he didn’t, and he shouldn’t expect any hints from me.
“So you do have some sort of plan. That’s good, but the Master, he doesn’t appreciate tardiness. That’s right bad in his book, it is.” He was giving me a stern eye, as if I didn’t know his Master’s reputation. The whole school thought I was plum looney to take his Apprenticeship, what with the fact he hasn’t Sponsored any of his Adepts in the last three decades, and not a one has survived to the first Assessments in the last fifteen years. However, he is the foremost consulted necromancer in the whole Order, and, truth be told, I figured I wouldn’t and shouldn’t expect another offer. It’s not as if I can pay for this. Beggars choosers and all that. My grades were good and my scores were better, its just that I’m in a game that favors the wealthy, and my whole family could be stripped, sorted, and boiled down to our chemical parts, and you wouldn’t make a silver drachma.
What I wanted to say were some unpleasantries about his thin skin, clawed fingernails, and hairless body. I figured that would continue my wait on these front steps. Instead, I tried “I’m sure that, when the Master finds out who answered the door, all would be forgiven.”
“Cracking wise to me are you?”
In the present company, it was quite easy to do. “I would not presume to be so arrogant as to accept such an honor from you, but if you insist…” There was a cheap smile on his lips that was being held back. He didn’t want me to know that he was enjoying this.
“I insist nothing. The standing wager in the order is that the Adept who next apprentices with the Master won’t survive a calendar’s turn.” He unfolded himself upright, almost approaching his true towering self. “Does this sound at all like someone who is wise?” He crossed the long thin arms, which were like leather bound table legs, even underneath his shirt and waistcoat.
“No, I would consider it to be more daring than wise.” I stepped forward to look right up at him. “Have you not yet noticed that the only thing the wise do, is act wise. If you want something done, ask the daring.” The two corners of his mouth curled hard, if only for a moment. Whomever this troll was, I now had his support in my cause.
With this reclaiming of his composure, he opened the door to let me in. Whether I wanted to enter or not, well that was still another matter.
 
The Doorman stepped aside to let me pass. I was expecting a threshold, but what I went through almost took my breath away. Whomever lived here had been settled here for, well, generations. The master had boosted the efficacy with some sigils and runes, but the main power was the age with which someone had lived here. The shielding this threshold possessed would most likely keep a demon horde out and a corresponding angelic host in. He pointed me towards a pocket door, and let me walk by. I knocked on the door, and heard something from the other side. I assumed that it was a “come on in,” and slide the door open.
Now, I took a moment to prepare myself for what to find here. I assumed that this was the public office of one of the most feared fellows of the Order. I had heard other Fellows speak his name in hushed tones. It was said that he was banned from teaching for making his collegues cry, and causing heart attacks in his students. It was rumored in his younger days as an active agent, he once defeated an entire army of ogres using a simple wind spell. It is on record that as a researcher, he once bested a Beyonder from another dimension in a magick circle, and filled an entire set of a dozen leather bound tomes with arcane knowledge. They even say that there are some dragons who even consider him worth talking to, and they will barely speak to one another. All of this, plus as I hinted before, there is no greater necromancer currently living or unloving, er dead I guess. With necromancers, this is always a tricky classification.
Those powers above and below could only imagine what I could expect to find inside this room. That there would be books, yes, but the sort of arcane knowledge contained within would be beyond imagination. I mean, the shielding necessary to keep one spell from destroying another, magnified by the power of the magickraft within HIS grimoires, spellbooks, and arcane tomes would be a nightmare waiting to be unleashed. Now add the grisly artifacts, spell pieces, wands, rods, and staffs, this antique sword of some lost race next to that shield of the gods know what, beneath the skeleton of what hideously evil creature from the Outside dimensions, it only boggled my mind.
Crap, shake it off. I shook my head, which caused a smirk from the door man. The heck with him, I needed to get my mind right. I was about to be interviewing with a man who had forgotten more ways to kill a man than I currently know how to, (which was only 322, but some of them were especially gruesome and left stains that would never come back out, but I digress).
“You ready, Nancy?” the doorman asked. He knew full well what I was doing to myself, as he had probably seen it many times before. He had moved to the door and started to slide it open for me, once I nodded my head to him. As I stepped into the dining room, I heard him mutter “Good Luck!” underneath his breath.
“About damned time!” the Master’s voice said from somewhere behind a newspaper. The newspaper’s reader was sitting at one end of a long dinner table. There was the remains of a breakfast on a plate with some cups and silverware besides it. “Tassio, didn’t I tell you that the new whelpling was to arrive today and I needed to be ready for him. I trust you have laid out my black school robes with all the ribbons, awards, medals, and all that-
“You know I’m not your valet.” The Doorman said, whose name was obviously Tassio.
“Yes but I figured that you’d help me out this once. You know what a dreadful terror I am with an iron.” Tassio looked right at me and smiled a wide grin. He was thoroughly enjoying the look of shock on my face. “I can never get those blasted ruffles correct and absolutely useless when it comes to any sort of pleating whatsoever.” A small hand grabbed one of the cups on the table. “You know how many stories and legends have been growing about me, especially considering how that last idiot almost blew this citix up. The few snippets I’ve heard about me since from his slanderous mouth would probably make this adept thinking I have plans of taking over hell once I figure out how to bring heaven’s weather with me.” The owner of the hand tried to take a drink, but slurped loudly as the cup was empty and the drinker was too distracted reading to notice. “What the hell?” and the paper was thrown across the room. “Can’t I even keep a cup of blasted coffee around here?”
And that is when I saw him for the first time with mine own eyes. I wasn’t what I had expected, and not in a so horrible that my brain was leaking out my ears. No, what was before me was no one you’d assume to be a necromancer. In fact, if he wasn’t a goblin, you’d assume the being in front of me was a clerk for some ministry of bureaucracy. He was wearing a burgundy bathrobe over some navy cotton pajamas. I assumed they had matching bottoms because he was sitting down. He even had his morning pipe next to him, smelling of cherry Cavendish, which mixed quite pedestrianly with after smells of eggs and bacon, now that I processed what I assumed on first sniff was some exotic miasmia of rare alchemical ingredients. I could not make out the monogrammed “C” on his coffee mug.
This wasn’t right. He should have some cobra eggs and bat’s blood for his morning repast. Some saucy virgin wench should be bent over quite painfully to be serving as his breakfast table. There should be a fire elemental cooking baby birdys one by one for a succubus he had broken and seduced to drop into his gaping maw. A chorus of fiends and imps should be waiting claw and hoof on his every whim. His morning reports should be gotten from some blazing angelic script of burning fonts cursed out of the mouth of some blinded Siren, not from the daily press available from any orphan on a street corner in the citix.
I think he heard my illusions shattering because he asked, “Who’s this?” I looked up and made eye contact, and could see the tattoos on his face, as he could now see mine. “I heard you answer the doorbell Tassio, but who’d you let in at this early hour?”
“It’s just rung nine Master.”
“No shite. Holy boffins, that new boy could be here any minute.” He jumped up from the table. “Bayobob!” he yelled to the ceiling as he started to rush towards us. “Another excellent breakfast, and I trust you would be so kind as to clean up the table and brew a pot of both tea and coffee. I’m expecting someone and I’ll need the dining room ready again in ten minutes. Thank you.” He went right by Tassio and me, nodding briefly at me as he went by, mumbling a “good morning.”
He had made it to the doorframe when Tassio finally said, “Master, I think its too late for that.” I could hear the light footsteps running up the stairs.
“What the devil do you mean by that?” his voice called down.
“Master, if you’d like to come down here so I can explain.”
“You’ll have to yell a bit louder, as I’ve just entered my room!”
Tassio went to the dining room door, and yelled up, “Master I have someone to introduce to you!”
“Does it have to be now? I need to get ready to meet my new apprentice!”
There was a chuckle from Tassio. “Master, you already did!” and with that said, Tassio fell apart in laughter. Had my first impressions not been shredded like a kitten’s playtoy, I’d have probably joined him in the humor. Heck, even seeing the eight/nine foot troll falling about in uncontrollable laughter would have put me into stitches. I could only imagine how this had played out into a practical joke that likes of which Tassio could have never imagined. I heard those same soft footsteps come down the staircase. There was a loud “thud” as though someone had kicked someone else very hard with their foot, not that it stopped the sound of laughter.
The goblin returned to his dining room wearing only a pair a black dress pants and a look of absolute shock, horror, self-disgust, I wasn’t exactly sure which, if not all of those emotions and a few more negative ones as well. He looked back up at me, reached out his hand, and quietly swore, “bugger!”
 
“I would say this is a bit awkward,” the goblin smiled, “but I am really too old to give a damn about silly things like etiquette. I’m sure Tassimo is going to spend a decade or two to laugh about this, but we really don’t need to spend the time worrying about your feelings of propriety.” He went over to a chair and made himself comfortable. While the shirtless goblin wasn’t the most attractive thing I’ve seen, he was no where near the nightmares of uncovered flesh you’d find at the closest local beach. The most unpleasant portions were hidden, so I made myself comfortable as well.
“I take it that this interview will now be a bit more informal than you had planned,” I said.
“Well, considering I had planned for the room to be waited on by liches and skeletons, with the interview to be conducted by a flaming skull that would send ot lightning bolts for any answer I didn’t like one hundred percent.”
“You could still do that,” Tassimo added, then he started laughing agin.
“Somehow I think that little surprise has been ruined, thank you, Member Tassimo,” the Master said. “Don’t you have something better to be doing, like giving a dragon an enema, or maybe cleaning the lavatories with your tongue.” I couldn’t tell whether or not he was kidding, but Tassimo certainly know.
“Is that before or after we make history in Parnos?” Tassimo said. He didn’t wait for an answer as he left and shut the pocket doors behind him. This didn’t please the Master, as he sunk his head into his hands, and sighed to say, “why bother”? He sat there in his thoughts for long enough to make me think that he forgot me.
“Master,” I said, edging out onto the thin ice. “May I ask you some questions?”
He looked up from his hands, baffled by this notion that I might have some questions for him about all of this. He looked uneasily right and left, trying to find a cue or script to work from, and seeing none, settled back in his chair. “Sure, why not?”
“Thank you,” I said starting. “Would you mind telling me why you sent for an adept to apprentice, especially since the Order doesn’t have any adept successfully passing their apprenticeship with you since a lad called Bowen Streets over twenty-nine years ago, and he committed suicide shortly after?” This rocked him forward in his seat and smacked him to attention. “Why? You don’t have a good track record with adepts, as most either quite the order and magickrafting all together, or they end up dead. So why now?”
“Are you scared for your neck?” The voice was a sword over sharpening steel.
“Yes I am,” I answered right back. “It’s what keeps my head attached to my shoulders, which is where I’ve always kept it, and plan to always keep it there.” Unconsciously, I found my left hand at my throat, as it to reassure myself that the connection was still there. “But you didn’t answer my question,” and then, remembering who I was talking to, even if he was only wearing a pair of pants, “Master?”
He sat back into the back of his chair, as if thinking deeply about this answer. Twice he started forward with his hands moving, only to stop himself and sit back into the chair. Finally, he said in a weak tone that showed nothing but honesty, “I need you.” He pushed himself forward as if finally putting a heavy load on his shoulders. “I have been given a task by the Order that requires me to take an apprentice, even though, as you so thoughtfully reminded me that I suck at it, I find myself in a place where I need to have an apprentice or else I won’t be able to achieve the Order’s goals.” Even the look in his eyes burned with the truth, and this must have humbled such a goblin like him. I had expected some blustering and bravado, maybe a sales pitch for adventure, but what was I to do with stark naked truth?
“So why me?” I continued. “I’m a mentalist, you’re a biomage. They don’t exactly work together in the same ponds do they. Heck, Tassimo’s at least a summoner, which is in the next arena. Mentalism, I’m not even playing the same game as you two, so why did you send for me?”
This caused a chuckle from him. “Actually, I had planned that you would never be asking that question. I had a sales pitch ready to go that I assumed would get your tailfeathers burning to go without a second thought about it.” He smiled at me. “Forgot how introverted you mentalists can be, must be all the time you spend in others heads, you like to have your own analyzed first, eh?” Not exactly, but close enough to the point for broad strokes work, but he didn’t answer the question yet.
I nodded, but asked the question again.
“How am I supposed to dodge it, if you keep pointing that out?” He threw himself from the chair, and started pacing around it. It was one of the regular chairs he had in his dining room, not the one chair he had built specially for his small height. He really didn’t want to tell me.
“Master, this isn’t helping your cause, as you are wearing a hole in your rug trying to come up with an acceptable series of lies. Do you think that this will make me agree to be your apprentice? Especially after what has already transpired here, as well as what your reputation is?” I said, trying to coax it out of him by sounding more adult and intelligent. “I mean, what harm will come if you just tell me the truth, and answer the question?”
He looked about at that and the sneer that is natural to a goblin’s face shone forth. “You will have me condemned by the Great Council, and I will be executed by means of Circle’s death.” He jumped up on the seat of the chair, then onto the table top so he could look me square in the eyes. “Do you know what that is?” He held me now in eye contact with his beady red eyes. “I assume they haven’t taught you that in your quaint school of magickraft or in your Order supervised testing schedule? That is because they do not want it in your head that you can seize power and kraft for yourself and are able to do really horrible things,” he said as he walked back and forth among his dishes. “And you can do these horrible things not only to others, or to the world around you, but first, you must do them to yourself!” He picked up a goblet that was on the table and threw it into the fireplace. He turned to face me again, with the fire now curling out of his eyes, “Yes, there is the rub. Before you can curse with lethal fury, before you can call up the fiends from hell, before you can even strike another dead, you must have first blackened your soul. You must inflict that upon yourself before you can ever send it from yourself.” He leaned back, crossed his scaly bare arms. “Where do you think the power comes from?” He walked to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. “No answer for my question Adept?”
I had never thought about it before, because it was one thread of logic they at school and in the Order never let us follow. Heck, they didn’t even let us see that it was there. Sure, we learned about the warlocks who made their deals of power in exchange for parts of their souls, bodies, and minds. They warned us about the summoners who brought forth being of such power and horror that they went mad just upon seeing it. We heard the stories of how this good wizard defeated that bad wizard, but they never bothered to tell us the difference between the two. Was this one good because he won, and therefore, that one was bad? I can see why this sort of thinking was discouraged by the powers that be for fear of the canning plant of worms that this would open up. As a lot, we magickrafters aren’t the most ethical group of hominids, but imagine if we were exposed to free thought much earlier in our youths? Would this planet, heck, this plane be anything but a smouldering crater of ash and cinder after ten years, or wouldn’t it even last that long for us to wipe ourselves from existence.
“I see I have triggered some deep thoughts in that skull of yours?” he said. “Good, because that is what I need. I need someone who will walk the narrow gray lines that exist between black and white. I need someone who sees that there isn’t truly ‘good magic’ and ‘bad magic’, that it is only how the magic is used.” He walked up to me with the sparkle in his eye. “I need someone who understands that the spell that cures is the root of the curse that destroys. The fire that warms and cooks is the inferno that exterminates and obliterates. I need someone who can understand the needs of the Order aren’t necessarily achieved according to the rules of the Order.” He paused in his newfound sales pitch, to try and close the deal. “Are you the one I need?”
I smiled. He smiled as only a goblin can, with their little pointy teeth meshing together with a brutality that only a shark can admire. “Am I the only one with the moral flexibility you need?” Pop went the sails, off went his smile. We mentalists tend to see through sunshine and unicorn motivational speeches for the manure that they are. I stood up to do some pacing myself. “That was a good speech, but it lacked continuity to our prior conversation, and therefore did not answer the questions I already had.” His scowl was severe now. It’s odd the way scales wrinkle up like that.
“You are considered by most in the Order to be as dangerous as those that we hunt and eliminate. You haven’t produced an adept to the presentation step of apprenticeship in forever. You stay here in Genito, well away from the rest of the Order as if you are doing something that you shouldn’t and are hiding it from the authority of the Regent Marshall.” If he hadn’t killed me by now, I was fairly certain I was safe, especially now that I was getting a handle on his aura and its textures. “You are caught unawares by the member studying with you, and we are discussing all of this without your shirt one. Finally, out of nowhere, you give me a ‘are you the one I need’ speech to convince me to join you, after telling me that I could be reporting you to the Great Council. Take a step back yourself and see how bizarre this is?”
I walked away from him and walked down to the small buffet his house folk had prepared for us. I helped myself to some sort of pastry that had frosting, jelly, and crumbly, light dough. He was going to have to come down here to fetch me, but I couldn’t look at him either, otherwise, this ploy wouldn’t work. I had to take control from him to get him to do what he needed to do. Okay, to do what I wanted him to do. I found a pitcher of something cold and poured it into a mug. It was some scrapplefruit juice. I was hoping for a real fruit. Oh well, I drank the heavy wetness that made the scrapplefruit everyone’s least favorite. It was the only plant that ate like tough gristly meat. Further proof that those that made us had a sense of humor.
Since I couldn’t turn and look at him, risking the eye contact that would end this scheme, I turned one of the shiny metal boxes so I could use its reflection to see him. I couldn’t have used the reflection to paint a picture by, it was enough that I could see him pacing back and forth. He would stop, look at me, then continue his pacing again. I picked up one of the bread rolls, and spread some of the honey butter on it, not because I wanted to eat it, but more that it was something to do while I waited for him to make up his mind.
Whilst I was spreading, one of the house folk jumped up to check the buffet he, she, it had laid out for us. I was never one that could tell their sex upon looking at them. To me, they all had the face of a talking prune, with as much as hair too. It stood only about a foot high, so it was about two and half feet shorter than its master. It wore the short toga that is common of their race, which ended just at its knee. There was something woven, braided, wrapped around its head as a headband, but to examine it further to identify it would have required me to take it off of it, which would have probably cause me to retract a stump of a hand, then see my life pass before my eyes. House folk are very are particular about their customs. One hard and fast rule is no touching. They will quickly turn from the beneficial guardians and custodians, the willing servants so many a kraftyr wishes to have in their home, into vicious, bloodthirsty evil beings bent on the destruction of those who insulted them, and they will share their vengeance with one and all until they have had satisfactory justice. Many a building has been razed when the house folk went on the war path, especially when the perpetrator wasn’t willing to stand up and take their medicine. It was completely absorbed in its duty and hadn’t looked up to see me watching it. Hence, their value to their home owner. “That’s Bayobob,” the master said behind me.
Upon hearing his name, the house folk looked up at us. I said quickly, “Thank you for this excellent honey butter. It tastes as if the bees lost their gold only five minutes ago.” I bowed to show my appreciation. It has been my experience that anyone who works for a living always enjoys that their labors are valued.
He returned my informal and hasty bow with one that was so crisp and exact that I wondered if he ironed it. “Master, since you biggers let me do my work in peace, I will let you do the same.” With that said, he was gone, off to where ever they stayed in this townhouse. I most likely would never find out where that would be. Another one of their rules was that they demanded to be left alone. While it was as egregious a sin as touching them, it would drive them permanently from the house. Again, a curious child has cost many a family their priceless friends.
“He is always efficient in his duties.” The master helped himself to the pitcher of hot coffee, and poured it into a mug. I smelled that it wasn’t just coffee beans in there, but sweet spices that smelled of parts unknown to me. He squared himself to me, so that we could have the conversation we needed. “So how do you want to do this?”
 
It seemed odd to have won such a victory, especially over someone so famed for their intelligence and strength. I scared him by reaching out my hand to his for a handshake. “I’m Hrosko Wood. I am an Adept of the Royal and Ancient Order of Rascullions. I am here in response to your letter about the position of apprenticeship. I would like to hear more about this, as far as terms, conditions, and expectations.” He looked at me stunned. I guess he never thought of doing this the easy way, the honest way. When one spends as much time as we do amongst each other, trust is the first thing that is thrown out the window. “And no equivocating as I’ll know and be on my way out the door.”
This last comment raised that ridge one would assume is an eyebrow. He signed, then let it go. “I am the biomage Carcharodon, a Mighty Fellow of the same order. Why don’t we go up to my study and discuss this proposition?” He even motioned with his hand to gesture the right way. I fought the urge to chuckle, and headed out of the dining room the direction he pointed. We went upstairs on the staircase that seemed to run the heighth of the building. Once inside the study, he excused himself to get dressed.
I sat down in the comfy leather chair opposite of his massive wooden desk. Of course, I peeked over it to see that the chair, drawers, and everything on that side were designed for his lack of height. Behind him was the fireplace and a whole lot of assorted knickknacks, artifacts, and other objects of power that would be fun to investigate. The walls were all covered with bookshelves, and each one of them was filled with tomes, grimoires, and spellbooks. He even had a wooden rack for his ancient scrolls of papyrus. I thought it was funny that, over in the corner, on the bottom shelf, was a whole row of modern novels that were quite out of touch the rest of the room. Of course, there was the north side of windows, complete with a set of stained glass bay windows and another that was framed by various runes. I’m sure that there were different views to different worlds visible from this window, provided, of course that one knew the right spells.
“So what do you think of my study?” Carcharodon said behind me. This time, he was wearing a proper suit of stylish gray wool, complete with burgundy accents. He even put on a pair of spectacles with smoked lenses. I’m sure they weren’t just for improved vision on a sunny day.
“I hope to have one of my own like it someday.” I returned to the chair, and he motioned me sit, as he himself took his modified chair. Without the chair, he wouldn’t be able to see over his own desk.
“You obviously have read my letter. What do you need to discuss?”
“Well, first off, what are you offering as far as the apprenticeship? You never give any specifics in the letter, other than the offer. What do you mean by this?” I asked. I also pulled out a small leather notebook and a pen.
“Do you mean to take notes of this?”
“No, I mean to write the contract of our negotiations here.” I smiled. “Otherwise, if we don’t have a record, what’s to stop you from letting me have an accident one day in your lab because you’ve grown tired of teaching me?”
He grinned. “It’s to be like that is it?”
“Wasn’t it like this with your other students?”
“No, they were too geeked by the liches I had answer the door to really think clearly after that. Especially when they thought that they were learn to make them for themselves.” He laughed at his own private joke. He saw that I wasn’t laughing, and explained, “I believe that is why I used to do it.” It was his own distraction technique.
And with that, we spent the next three hours in negotiations. We finally agreed to a contract that we both could live with. He got me as an apprentice, to work five days in a week, with one day devoted to my own teaching and learning, and one day that I could use as rest. I was allowed to use his study and books when he saw fit, but only the works he thought I could handle at that time, with monthly reconsiderations. I was to live on the fifth floor in the small bedroom, but could sleep in the guest room on that floor if it was unoccupied. I was to be fed by him and therefore, by his house folk and would be expected to abide by his relationships with them, but would be on my own if I violated any of their rules. I was his responsibility, and he could not, through action or inaction, allow my death or physical damage when he could prevent it, or I was free to curse him and his until I saw fit to move on. I was also under this same edict as well. I would receive a monthly trip to his tailor for three complete outfits of clothes and shoes that would suit him, with one outfit that would please me. He was to create a curriculum that would prepare me to pass the Assessment by the end of year three, or the apprenticeship would be null and void. I needed to have the Presentation completed by the end of year five, with the final Defense completed by the end of my seventh year. Also, I was expected to publish one article yearly in the Order’s “Record” until the end of my Apprenticeship. If all of these criteria were meet, I would receive his Blessing and become a Member of the Order.
At the end, after we both shook and drank of this contract, he introduced me first to Tassimo Maltese, a Member of the Order that was studying with Carcharodon, then to the head of his house folk, Bayobob. We then took a tour of the townhouse, finishing with the modest bedroom at the top of the house that would be mine. I was just gleeful that I had my own bathroom. Growing up in a group orphanage, there is just something luxuriant about being able to go to the bathroom and know that the door would stay shut. Carcharodon left me in the room to “unpack,” but the way that he said it made me think there was something more to it. I was just happy to have my own space that I didn’t care what would come. I could finally take a leak in peace.