The Committal

Part Four-The Apprentice Supper

Next thing I knew, I felt a twisting sensation in my stomach and I found myself in front of a stone cottage half built into a hill, and I was ready to vomit.

"It gets better with time," the cloaked figure remarked dryly as I doubled over in nausea.

He led me staggering into the house, which was surprisingly cozy on the inside-a few tapestries hung on the walls, there were round windows with yellowed glass. We ended up in the kitchen, with polished wooden countertops laid out with poultry thighs and rice-the beginnings of my second Apprentice Supper.

The rice was steaming on the stove when I first regained enough control of my stomach to desire speaking.

"So...if I'm going to be your Apprentice, should I know your name?"

The person barked a laugh. I was tired of calling him "the person" or "the figure," and I wanted to know his name.

"During this relationship, you may want to call me Strider." His voice hinted at a smile. "We can work up to real names, can't we? Besides, Strider is the name I give in this realm. It is the name you may know me by."

Why can't I know his real name? I wondered. Sitting on a wooden stool watching Strider add part of a jar of spice into the meal, I recalled something he had told me.

'Both of our mothers sought to remark upon it in naming us.'

He had been talking about how we were both the seventh child of their fathers. If he was ten thousand years old, the other six were probably long gone, but I still wondered what he had been hinting at. Was his name Septimus too?

Ten minutes later, I had forgotten my musings for the present time and was focusing on how I had not eaten more than some trail rations for twelve hours. My hunger was staggering, and the chicken curry Strider had cooked looked delicious.

"This is your last chance," Strider said as he pulled off his cloak. 

Underneath he was surprisingly lean and fit looking for his age (assuming I was correct in my assumption), with smooth skin that looked like it had not seen sun for a very long time appearing rather a shade of ivory, and raven black hair pulled into a low bun with not a hint of gray or white, and Magykal green eyes, though of a shade I'd never seen before that suggested his irises could have been cut jades, dancing with golden flecks, framed with long black eyelashes and arched with thin pointy eyebrows, which seemed to portray a look of amusement. If I hadn't known or suspected otherwise, I'd have said he was twenty. I also noticed his arms looked rather skinny compared to, say, a dockworker. I seriously doubted he knew much menial labour. As I took all this in, I noticed his tongue wrapped around one of his canine teeth.

"I don't always wear my cloak indoors," he said softly, with a teasing tone in his voice. He sat down across from me and picked up a silver fork.

"If you don't want to eat, you can just tell me," he went on, piercing me in the eye. He knew I had surrendered. I didn't bother telling him that; I just picked up my fork and started to eat. It was quite wonderful, creamy and rich with spices. I'd never tasted the like before.

My plate was cleared in five minutes. I hadn't realized how little I'd eaten- virtually nothing since my breakfast with Hotep-Ra-and Strider seemed an exceptional cook.

 For dessert he brought out some fresh fruit of a variety I had never seen or tasted(he'd later tell me they were watermelons), and by the end of the meal I was regretting my decision a little less. Strider seemed amicable, with a slight teasing air. He also seemed very knowledgeable, and promised that once my Apprenticeship with Marcia had been properly annulled, we'd begin the training with due haste, though he claimed it might take longer since I'd have to relearn various concepts because of how I'd learned them. 

He didn't call Marcia's way "the wrong way," but it seemed implied.

After dinner, he brought out an old silk satchel from his room. Inside was a token of my Apprenticeship, he said, and he had had it for years and never had an Apprentice to give it to.

It was a necklace, a small choker band woven in black and red silk (Alchemie colours, I thought to myself) with white pearl beads imbedded in it. Dangling from it was an upside-down teardrop carved out of smooth black stone that Strider insisted was a symbol of male magic in another realm, and that the only other Apprentice he had ever had had been a girl, so she had not recieved it.

 It was a little flashy for my liking, but I didn't want to anger Strider-I still remembered the Fyre in the wolverine pit-so I put it on, and found it fit surprisingly comfortably. Though it may not have been my style, it was a token of Apprenticeship and I appreciated it. 

Strider seemed to know I was exhausted before I did, and he led me to a somewhat small but very cozy room with a wooden bed piled with a lush quilt, and a lantern that buzzed with a golden light with seemingly no flame. 

He set me to bed and told me that in the morning I would dress in the clothes that would replace my Apprentice tunic, and we'd start our journey to the Castle to speak with Marcia. When I pointed out that he could just take us there in five seconds, he gave me a little sideways smirk and said that sometimes it is more enjoyable to travel places the traditional way. 

He also added, before he closed the door, that he didn't want me getting sick on my former mentor's fancy purple ExtraOrdinary Wizard robes. 

A/N- Once again, I hope you enjoyed! Vote and comment if you did, and be sure to check out my book of one-shots for more Septimus Heap stuff!