I was sitting in a comfortable chair in my mage master’s private chambers within the upper levels of the enchanter’s guild hall. I was completing my summary of the Arturo Damascus text, and my master was an eager pupil, as excited now as I had been to receive the text from my trades master, Sundance.

  “Sundance had insisted on the first day of my apprenticeship years ago that I learn modern magical runes such as those used by modern runemasters, as well as dwarvish runes, given his heritage. I picked up on them fairly readily because they were easier to learn than a typical spoken language with far fewer troubles around grammar, and there was no punctuation.”

  Master Glimmerblade chuckled to himself, having read many of my written reports across the years as a dual apprentice of magic and crafting. He was both a master mage and a professor of history at the university. As such, he had read more than his fair share of poorly written student essays.

  I continued. “And because I could read Ancient Dwarvish and Dwarvish, the Damascus text was no trouble, although its language was more formal and dated than most of the works I had read and translated in my studies. But because Sundance was not a mage, he and his master missed some aspects of Damascus’s techniques that relied upon both skill work and spellwork.” I explained.

  “I eventually learned from the text, through handwritten notes and Sundance himself, that Arturo had an apprentice from each of the seven good races. Sundance’s master draws his lineage from the first Dwarven apprentice named Norsil Copperthane. Unfortunately, much knowledge was lost across the ages. We presume that some Dwarven master along the way died prematurely before sharing the secrets with his chosen apprentice. Given thousands of years passing between Damascus’s time and ours, it is not unexpected that something like this occurred when dealing with deep trade secrets. Because of Sundance’s own tragedies, if he had not handed this down to me, it is possible that the book could have been lost forever.

  “I’m still unsure how or why Arturo discovered these new methods. I discovered in some recent research that sages speculate that perhaps the innovations were driven by demand during the establishment of the first empire and legendary battles between powerful mages across the races, like the War of Bones or Wars of Dominion. Or maybe it was just designed to increase production speed by using less powerful apprentices and giving them shortcuts that would otherwise require more powerful magic. Or maybe he was just a genius who wanted to improve magical constructions. Or maybe it was all three.” I added.

  Regardless, these methods were taught to select apprentices across the good races with or without the approval of governing mages. The theory of Damascus taking non-human apprentices is proven by the handwritten title page for the book, where he states it was given to Dwarven Apprentice Norsil Copperthane and is signed by the Archcrafter himself, Arturo Damascus. The book is a mixture of original, elegant handwritten print and handwritten notes by masters over the ages. Some notes are nearly illegible, and others are worn down so much that they are nearly unreadable. A lot of effort went into reading and deciphering them.” I reported.

  My master nodded in understanding, having had significant exposure to ancient tomes. “It is possible that a master sage could help you along this path, but-” Here he paused and looked pensive. “I fear that you should not reveal the existence of this book to anyone you would not trust with your very life.”

  Both of my masters insisted I share any knowledge I learned from one master along my training with the other master. Master Sundance and Master Glimmerblade trusted one another and knew that it was probable that the other master would learn some deeply held secrets. However, in order not to place me in an impossible situation, withholding secrets from oathed masters, they agreed that what was taught by one could be learned by the other. Still, the new and secret knowledge was sworn and magically bound to each master as it was to me, the apprentice. It was not common, but not entirely unheard of, for this situation to occur. Still, it was rare that an apprentice would be jointly enrolled in dual apprenticeships. Usually, an apprentice would visit for a month or even an entire summer at some guild of interest to their own sworn guild. However, joint apprenticeships demanding double work and showing ongoing and adequate progress throughout the apprenticeship were rare.

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  Master Glimmerblade’s warning seemed a little extreme to me, however. Certainly, I knew that I was to keep this knowledge secret as a sacred oath between master and apprentice. I always informed each master when discussing sensitive subjects, but it was just a book. Surely, it was not worth a life. I said as much.

  “Gwyd, you are brilliant, but also young and naive. Many would kill you for the secrets held in that book, and many more would do so merely for the value of its sale or pawning.”

  I felt a momentary chill run up my spine. Master Glimmerblade must have seen the fear enter my eyes because he sighed deeply. “Rest easy, Gwydion. You have done nothing wrong, although a part of me wishes you had not shared your story with me.”

  “But-” I began, and he raised his hands, forestalling my explanation.

  “The bond of truth between mage master and apprentice demands this of you, just as the magical truth bond shared by Sundance and me. A powerful ward protects you, us, and the knowledge. Still, I am now sorely tempted to read the book. Doubly so,” he continued, “because of my twin loves of enchantment and history.”

  He sighed deeply again before saying, “But for now, you must promise that you will tell nobody of this. Only you and your two masters must know of the book. Is that understood?”

  I nodded immediately out of habit. “Yes, of course, Master Glimmerblade.”

  This afternoon, after I had completed my work with Master Glimmerblade, I planned to meet with Steven outside the cathedral, tell him the part of the story that would not break my oaths, and ask for his help with my trials. His magical spells of blessing and healing were part of my plan. But now, I would have to ask for his help with only half my plans and none of the story.

  “Tell me, apprentice, what wisdom have you gleaned from the Damascus text thus far, and what are your plans for the trials?” Master Glimmerblade asked, perhaps sensing the direction of my thoughts.

  It was back to business, and the authoritative tone of voice helped me refocus on the tasks at hand.

  “After several readings of the text, the book hints at seven primary lessons across twenty-one chapters. What these primary lessons are is a little hard to grasp at this stage. However, the text also suggests that each chapter has a spell and skill lesson meant to be mastered. That suggests at least twenty-one crafting techniques, many of which could have been lost to the ages, and also twenty-one spells or magical techniques used to create items that equally could have been lost to time.”

  He nodded and asked more directly, “And what specifically have you learned that will benefit your trials?”

  I smiled widely. “A lot.”

  Over the next hour, I outlined how, with the limited spells and knowledge I had acquired as an apprentice under both my masters, I could create a considerable quantity of single-use magical rings that dissolve upon use but contain a wide range of spells from any mage or priestly guild and skills from any guild. In addition to these single-use magical rings, I was also able to create magical rings with a single, permanent spell capable of being used once each day. If desired, a permanent magical ring could receive an enchantment granting five sockets along with its daily spell effect. Finally, I expanded beyond magical rings and was able to make a living, fifteen socketed magical staff capable of holding up to forty-nine single-use rings as a part of its construction.

  When I explained the last effect, my master actually paled, and his bushy eyebrows became tangled in his mop of curly, silver hair.

  “That is a prodigy-level accomplishment. You understand how to do this?”

  “I do, master. I plan to seek out the park's dryad and ask her permission for a branch of her elm tree in the next few days. I have already collected the ingredients I will need to make my request of her.”

  The ramifications of the knowledge gained and skills acquired as a mere apprentice preparing for journeyman trials caused my master to grimace, smile, and finally gasp in a fit of chuckles.

  It took him several minutes to regain his composure. “Oh, the look on my old guildmate’s face at your trials is worth a little risk.” He finally managed to say.

  My master was kind, not overly ambitious, and not power-seeking. However, his peer and guildmate from the capital, where they were jointly apprenticed, was another story. He was a nemesis in every sense to my master and had, at my master’s insistence, accepted the role of the third trial judge at my ceremony.

  I had a feeling that this would not go as well as my master had planned. I began to sense just how dangerous this knowledge could be and how it could be used in ways my young and na?ve mind had not foreseen.