Dool - стр. 3

Although necromancers are distinguished by their nasty character, Master Turvon has not aroused any special fear in the residents of the surrounding villages and the not-so-distant capital – and, as a result, the entire kingdom – for a long time. Among the magicians you won’t find fluffy bunnies, they’re all wolves; Well, a hellish dog has wormed its way among the wolves, so what now? Do not touch unnecessarily, and he will not touch you; and when the need arises, don’t rush like crazy to the Tower, pounding on the door and yelling under the windows, leave a sign on a post near a withered oak tree at the edge, and the magician himself will find you. Moreover, Master Turvon did not raise cemeteries, did not summon evil spirits, preferring to question the dead or murdered for the benefit of their living relatives or the crown. And what he does in his tower is his business, which it is better for no one to meddle in. And they didn’t go in, and even for the most part not out of fear, but because it is clear to any sane person that where the necromancer casts spells, it’s better not to meddle there. Otherwise, how the Great Power forbid will enchant you by accident!

That's how we lived.

No one knew that the master had a student. The high-born Sieur Gaunt del Marre was in no hurry to tell everyone where the heir had disappeared. “Learns the knowledge necessary for a young man from a knowledgeable mentor,” and period. Those who were interested in the details received, instead of an answer, thoughtful reflections on the fact that service in the border garrisons, especially in the south, did not make people such idiots. And so it turned out that Sieur Gaunt did not seem to be lying, but he reliably hid the location of his son from everyone.

And the master, of course, did not take the undergrowth with him when he went to perform dark magic at the home of his next customer. Magic is not about weeding beds and allowing the untrained to practice. But even incompetent people don’t like garden beds; but it’s better to confuse weeds with cabbage than, instead of summoning a soul that is peaceful in a good afterlife, suddenly raise an evil corpse.

Marius did not dare to grumble, although every time his mentor went to work, he had difficulty suppressing the desire to ask to come with him. And master Turvon, you know, left the student with tasks that were dirtier and bigger for the time he was away, so that he wouldn’t sit idle, wouldn’t suffer from nonsense and wouldn’t climb into places where he shouldn’t climb without supervision.

So Marius sat in a black tower in the middle of the forest, like an enchanted princess from a fairy tale. He chewed on the intractable science of magic, dismantled ancient books, memorized rituals. Daily household chores – cleaning, a garden with herbs and a stable with the only inhabitant, the black hellish horse Garo – were also on him. You never know whose heir you are. You may brag about your high birth in the palaces, but in the tower of a magician, while you are a student, you are nobody and there is no way to call you. In addition, maintaining proper order in the home, and magical herbs, and even more so, the inhabitant of the stable is the same part of the training. You need to understand what to do with all this and why it is this way and not otherwise.