Chapter 20 - Tests

They walked the entire day, making camp only when dusk had settled. Avia needed to hunt, so she left the others to gather water and set up the fire. The day had gone better than she had anticipated. There had been some quiet conversation, but no singing, whistling, or mindless chatter. Not that she minded people being happy, but she valued her peace. And now, traveling with three others she wasn’t likely to part with anytime soon, she dreaded the possibility of any of them being irritating. Solitude was essential for her mental survival, and though difficult to achieve in a group, it seemed possible if everyone shared a similar understanding of how to spend the day. Against the odds, this group seemed to be working well together in that regard.
Avia managed to shoot two rabbits and returned to the camp. As they sat down to eat, Jadoog broke the silence with a question.
“Where are we headed?”
“I’m aiming for the wizard’s school,” Avia replied.
“And we’re going in the right direction?”
“Yes.” She knew they were heading the right way, though she wasn’t sure of the school’s exact location. It would take weeks to reach it, leaving plenty of time to ask for directions. But didn’t he know the way?
“But now you’ve got me,” Jadoog countered. Avia noted that he hadn’t taken Putt on as his apprentice yet, and she argued that it was reasonable to continue in that direction, just in case.
“Well…” Jadoog hesitated, drawing out his words. “Let’s say the wizard’s school is a myth, and I can’t test your grandson if we’re walking all day.”
“What do you mean the school is a myth?” Putt yelped, alarmed.
“It means there is no wizard’s school. It’s something made up by people who wanted to be wizards but never found a master. Real wizards have always had a master. It works the same way as it does for warriors.” Jadoog pulled up his sleeve to reveal a circular brand with an eight-pointed star inside. Avia examined it closely, noting that her mother had certainly never had such a mark. The warrior’s brand was widely known and accepted. If wizards had a mark, why wasn’t it common knowledge? Why hadn’t it been used to distinguish real wizards from frauds?
“Why should I believe you?” Avia challenged.
“You don’t have to. If Putt lives up to the demands of a future wizard, then the problem is solved.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then you’ll have to decide whether to believe me or not. The point is, as long as we spend our days constantly walking, we won’t get anywhere. I need a few days of staying put, or we’ll never find out if your grandson has what it takes.”
Avia felt a surge of frustration. Why couldn’t he have just said that outright instead of spinning a tale about the wizard’s school being a myth? And why flash that brand? Was it to embarrass her? Impress her? Or was he just oblivious to the confusion he caused with his unfocused explanations?
“Fine. We’ll stay here as long as you need.”


The next day, Avia tried to keep an eye on what Jadoog and Putt were doing, but it wasn’t long before both the wizard and her grandson grew annoyed with her supervision and disappeared into the forest to be on their own. Osapi, however, was thrilled by their absence. Finally, he had her full attention and could show her what he was capable of. As Avia had suspected from the moment they first met—when he had been sent to assassinate them—Osapi was not particularly skilled in survival, only in the flashy skills one could show off. He could handle a knife, bow and arrow, and sword with ease, as long as nothing unexpected happened. If he had been on a stage, performing for an audience rather than fighting for his life, he would have done well.
She watched as he attempted to hunt for dinner, and it quickly became clear he was struggling—his prey had the annoying habit of moving. By the fourth time he missed a deer, Avia whispered to him, “Look at its pose, where it’s likely to head when it runs. And it will run, so aim where it will be a moment after your arrow leaves the bow.” He tried again, and once again, he missed. Frustrated, Osapi groaned. Avia calmly took the bow, pulled an arrow from the quiver, and with a swift, practiced motion, she brought down the doe.
Osapi helped her carry the deer back to camp, gutting it and preparing the meat with a dejected expression. Avia saw the disappointment written on his face and knew what was weighing on his heart before he even voiced it.
“I missed my chance to become your apprentice today, didn’t I?” he sighed.
“No, you didn’t,” she replied. He glanced at her, hope flickering in his eyes, but it was clear he didn’t fully understand what she meant. “You’ve been trained to reach specific goals, to hit the mark, to be measured with accuracy. But out here,” she gestured toward the meat roasting over the fire, “it’s a matter of whether you get something to eat or not.” She knew he had already figured this out, yet he remained silent, waiting without impatience—a quality she admired in him. It probably wasn’t innate but something he had cultivated through conscious effort.
“What you showed me today is your willingness and ability to learn,” she explained. “I know you can hit a deer even if it’s running at full speed. The real test was whether you could understand how to improve. How to anticipate where the target would be, that’s something that comes with practice, but if you couldn’t even grasp the concept, this would’ve been goodbye.”
Avia could see the excitement bubbling beneath his calm exterior. She paused deliberately, enjoying the moment, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hold back his question for long.
“Will you take me on as your apprentice?” he finally burst out, his eyes filled with anxiety and hope.
She studied him for a moment. Osapi was more than just competent—he was respectful, could stay silent when needed, and even had a sense of humor that she found herself admiring. Finally, she nodded.
“Yes. I will.”
“Wow!” he breathed, his voice filled with awe. “Thank you.”
“And we’ll need to get you a bow of your own,” she added with a smile.


That morning, Jadoog had put Putt’s focus to the test, and it hadn’t taken long for Putt to feel the weight of failure pressing down on him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to get it right. He was grateful when Jadoog noticed his struggle and suggested they leave the camp, away from his grandmother’s watchful eyes. Out in the woods, everything felt different—easier. Putt could fix his gaze on a single flower for as long as necessary without losing concentration. In fact, he found joy in the exercise, taking his time to study every detail: the delicate petals, the intricate stamen, the sturdy stem. He considered the insects it attracted, how its seeds might spread, and what it would look like once it withered. It amazed him how one simple flower could inspire so many thoughts.
“Why is this important?” Putt eventually asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
“When you perform magic, you disrupt the natural order of things,” Jadoog explained. “If you can’t keep your focus, you might leave traces of your actions—traces that can be very noticeable.”
Jadoog’s openness to questions was a relief to Putt. His grandmother had always answered him when he asked things, but he often felt as if she found him difficult or bothersome. As Putt thought about Osapi who wanted Avia as his master, a mix of emotions churned within him. Part of him was jealous—Osapi was taking the position Putt had lost, a position he had failed at, yet one he wasn’t ready to see filled by someone else. But another part of him couldn’t understand why anyone would want Avia as a master. She had been demanding, harsh, and—he would never forget—quick to punish mistakes with a firm hand.
Jadoog handed him a few leaves from a plant. “What do you make of this?” he asked. Putt examined the leaves, turning them over in his hands. He didn’t recognize them. He crushed one between his fingertips and sniffed, recoiling slightly at the sharp, distinct scent. It wasn’t something he’d want to taste.
“What use could you make of it?” Jadoog prompted.
“I don’t know,” Putt admitted truthfully.
“If you had to guess?”
“I wouldn’t eat it,” Putt said cautiously, catching a glimpse of the man nodding approvingly out of the corner of his eye. Panic fluttered in his chest—what should he say that sounded clever? He knew nothing about medicinal herbs. But then, in a flash of realization, he understood that his lack of knowledge was the point. It was about what the plant made him think of, not what he knew. He blurted out, “I would use this to make someone angry.”
“How?” Jadoog asked, intrigued.
“Squeeze the juice out and put a drop in their drink,” Putt replied.
“And why would you want someone angry?” It was a good question. Putt had never liked being around angry people.
“I don’t know,” he said, frowning. “Maybe to get something done. Dad used to chop a lot of wood when he was angry. And our neighbor always threw pebbles at his ox to get it moving.” Jadoog chuckled.
“Do you have any idea what magic is?” the wizard asked, watching the boy closely.
“I saw you create a ball of light the other day,” Putt said.
“But you wanted to be a wizard before you saw that, didn’t you?” he pressed. Putt hesitated. Hadn’t it been his grandmother’s idea all along? What did he really want? He had once dreamed of becoming a warrior, but now everything felt so uncertain.
“It’s Granny who wants me to become a wizard.”
“Are you sure it’s only her?” Jadoog’s voice had a knowing tone, and Putt’s cheeks flushed as he recalled the vibrant woman who had conjured a nude girl out of pink smoke. Jadoog grinned. “I thought not.”
“Can you read my mind?” Putt asked, embarrassed.
“Not in the way you think,” Jadoog answered. “I can sense what you’re feeling, and that’s more than most people realize they’re giving away. But no, I can’t know exactly what you’re thinking. You’ll learn, though.”
Putt’s heart skipped a beat. “Will you teach me?” he asked, barely able to contain his excitement.
“Yes, if you want me to.”
Putt’s face lit up with a beaming smile, and he hugged his new master tightly.