A Young Man Without Magic by Lawrence Watt-Evans

realized.”
    â€œI can cast a decent ward,” Valin said defensively. “I can manage any of the simple bindings. I can do as much as half the lords in the college here. But no, I cannot perform the sort of grand magic that caused theemperor to name Lord Allutar a landgrave, nor the complex wardings that my guardian maintains around Alzur. His ancestors have built those up over the last two centuries; they’re in his blood, while in my own veins flows the blood of shop keep ers.”
    That speech made clear to Anrel a few things he had not entirely understood about his friend Valin. Yes, Valin had made the jump from commoner to nobleman—but as he saw it, only to the bottommost rung of the nobility. That seemed to rankle.
    â€œAt any rate, if the representatives are to be appointed by the nobility, as seems so inevitable to many, can you name a
better
choice than myself?” Valin demanded.
    â€œNo,” Derhin said mildly, “but I would still prefer to let the people choose their own representatives. Even if they make a worse choice, it will be
theirs,
and not the whim of aristocrats foisted upon them.”
    â€œ
Pfah
,” Amanir said. “If the right choice is made, does it matter who made it?”
    â€œExactly,” Valin said.
    At that same instant Derhin said, “Yes,” and the two turned to glare at each other.
    Anrel beckoned to the serving girl for more tea.
    The discussion continued through much of the day; on occasion other young men joined in, either taking seats at the table when there was room, or crowding around to listen and comment. It became clear that a great many people in Naith knew Valin, and that most of them seemed to think highly of him.
    Anrel wondered at that; for his part, he did not find much wisdom in Valin’s words. Derhin seemed to have done a better job of thinking through his positions, and keeping them consistent, than either Valin or Amanir, but when disagreements arose, most of the audience tended to side with Valin.
    Listening to them, Anrel came to suspect that this was because he was
Lord
Valin, while the others were all commoners. Valin might feel that he was not respected by other sorcerers, but it would seem that he needed no distinguished family or powerful magic to impress the people of Naith; the bare title was enough.
    Although Valin had claimed to have come here in pursuit of the latest news, Anrel heard little evidence that anything under discussion was based on more than gossip. No one cited sources; simply saying, “I’ve heard,” seemed to be sufficient grounds to treat a statement as proven fact. In some cases the tales obviously originated from the provincial magistrates, or members of the College of Sorcerers, but others gave every sign of being pure speculation and wild fancy.
    As the crowd around the table grew, Anrel grew steadily more nervous. In Lume a gathering like this would have long since drawn the attention of the Emperor’s Watch; there would be bowmen atop the nearest arch, and a sergeant coming to break it up. Naith had no network of arches, and no one here would answer directly to the emperor, but surely, there must be watchmen who would take a dim view of what amounted to sedition, should they realize what was being said. When his concern became unbearable Anrel tried to push back from the table and dissociate himself from the conversation, letting another young man take his place while he moved his teacup to a low wall, away from Valin’s table.
    Once he had settled in this new position he sat silently, declining to contribute further. He refused offers of wine, restricting himself to tea and some lovely sweet rolls. When the others ordered a midday meal of stewed beef, complaining mightily about the price as they did so, Anrel made do with a mild onion soup.
    The conversation rambled on, across a variety of inflammatory topics—the food shortages, the emperor’s debts, why