Chapter Two of Destane's Apprentice

Chapter Two
The Land of the Black Sand

It was a simple matter to the convince the woman that this stranger would be an appropriate foster parent for Mozenrath. Although, the boy couldn't help but notice that the sorcerer failed to mention that Mozenrath wouldn't be a mere son- He was to be an apprentice.
He observed from a distance as the man who would become his foster father discussed the adoption with Mari. The woman would be pleased with the news, Mozenrath knew that much: She had a young son of her own to care for, and would get some money in exchange for Mozenrath. In light of the fact that her husband was off hunting for some great treasure, the little money she would receive would be a great financial help to her family.
He stood in the doorway of the building, clutching to the doorway, nearly salivating at the thought of getting away. Mozenrath wasn't from Agrabah, nor had he been born there. All that he knew of his past was that several nomads had travelled here on horseback, carrying him as an infant. They brought him to the orphanage, but claimed no responsibility for him, saying that they'd discovered him at the edge of the Agrabanian desert, abandoned.
As a very small child, he'd yearned to be reunited with his family, thinking that he must have come from a loving home with a mother and father and siblings. That he'd simply been lost or stolen, and that somewhere out there, in the vastness of the Seven Deserts, his family were desperately searching for him. He'd quickly become more cynical.
As the years had passed, he'd seen the children around him being adopted out, or growing up to become merchants, or simply joining the Thieves Guild. No one ever came for him.
I don't need friendship, and I don't need a family. I can't rely on anyone, because I'll simply be abandoned again. No...what I want is to leave Agrabah. To be powerful, and have the ability to change the world around me!
Mozenrath wasn't like the other boys- He didn't want to become a mere trader or a guard. Such professions relied upon little skill, and as such, gave little prestige in return. A trader was at the mercy of a bad harvest or of marauders, and guards were subject to the whims of their master.
The idea of Politics attracted him, somewhat, but he was one of questionable birth, a hair's breadth away from being a Street Rat. There was no way he'd ever be accepted by the aristocrats for his own merits. It had seemed hopeless.
But now... Now, he'd finally been handed an opportunity!
Not because of luck, but because this man saw something in him, saw potential.
Mozenrath may have been fragile in appearance, especially when compared to boys  of his own age, but he was fiercely intelligent and would do anything to achieve his goals. And if being trained to become a sorcerer wasn't prestigious, when the Grand Vizier himself was a wizard, then Mozenrath didn't know what was.
He was brought out of his reverie by a loud laugh, probably from the sorcerer. Mozenrath blinked, realising that he hadn't even bothered to ask for the man's name. Oh, well there'll be plenty of time for that, later.
From where he stood, Mozenrath could see a look of distaste cross Mari's pretty features, and he heard the jangling of coins. With that, he officially became the sorcerer's property. It was the main downside to becoming an apprentice, but it would be so worth it...
Mozenrath ran, to avoid being caught spying on his new master, sneaking off to the room he shared with three other boys, all about the same age as him. He gathered the few possessions he had, couple of books, and a change of clothes, stuffing them into a makeshift bag he'd crafted himself, out of stolen cloth and soft leather. It was a roughly hewn thing, but it had been made by his own hands, and he treasured it beyond everything but his books.
He turned around, bag in hand, to see the sorcerer standing behind him, observing him from the arch of the doorway. "Is that all you own?" he asked Mozenrath. Not mocking, merely...curious? That was odd... Mozenrath was used to being treated like filth, and the string of insults he'd been expecting did not come. He felt confused and oddly lost.
Deciding that it would not be wise to insult his new master, he merely nodded.
The sorcerer nodded, too, his face blank. He did not pity Mozenrath, and that was good, somehow- Mozenrath despised pity. It was useless and a waste of energy. Energy that could be better spent changing the situation that might warrant that annoying emotion. Mozenrath tried not to feel pity. Ever.  
"I...Master..." the boy began, but halted when the sorcerer raised a hand to silence  him. Even at his young age, Mozenrath knew it was sometimes wiser to be silent; one could often learn more, that way.
"Destane. Don't call me 'Master'." Destane's mouth twisted with distaste as he uttered that word. It seemed to cause him some pain.
Uncomfortable memories, perhaps?
Mozenrath had always been poor, he'd never had a family, and he was often teased; but he'd never been abused, and he'd never truly starved. Not like a true Street Rat. He really couldn't imagine what sort of life could cause a simple word to be associated with pain; and he'd never been very good at empathy, either. He simply couldn't understand this man's discomfort. But...he decided it would be better to respect the man's wishes. For now, anyway.      
"Yes, Sir," he nodded, eventually.
They left the orphanage after that, with Mozenrath trailing a few steps behind the strange man who'd apparently adopted him. It seemed a little odd to him, travelling on foot when the man he was walking with was a wizard. A man beyond the normal scope of human knowledge and ability, who could doubtless teleport from place to place. Or at the very least he could enchant some ordinary object to take us to our destination... He got a sudden mental image of a flying carpet and immediately disregarded it, thinking it foolish. Not impossible, but...undignified.
When they got to the edge of the city, Destane purchased two camels from a stable. They had horses, too. Not just irritable fleabags. Mozenrath eyed what was apparently intended to be his camel with supreme contempt. He had always hated camels.
It took him a while to mount the damnable animal, and Destane had to help him, chuckling all the while. Mozenrath glowered at the sand at the animal's feet, as if it had personally insulted him. He hated being laughed at, but since this man had the authority to beat him if he so desired, Mozenrath kept his mouth shut.
There were many things that the boy disliked, and when he thought about it, it would actually be easier to make a list of the things that didn't annoy him. It was going to be a long journey -at least a day-, so he had plenty of time to reflect on this.
A short way into the journey, Mozenrath had slumped over his camel, tired out by the dry heat of the day. Suffocating and cloying, it was like standing in the midst of an inferno. If only had the ability to control the sun... He did, however, have the strength left to make his list:
Things I like: Books, apples and pears, the colour blue...
He later supposed that he must have dozed off and slept away the whole day because the next thing Mozenrath was aware of was being stationary and surrounded by an entirely alien landscape. The sky above him was dark, with a few shots of blue managing to sneak through; it was like someone had made a giant, swirling ink stain upon the very heavens. Before him were assembled a motley of crudely assembled buildings, stacked on top of one another. He couldn't help but wonder if those buildings were structurally sound, and about what kind of people lived in them.
He supposed he would soon find out.
Towering above all else and perched atop a curving cliff sat the single strangest building Mozenrath had ever seen in his short life. Two large structures, connected by what looked like pipes loomed out of the darkness. Strange and almost bulbous in shape, they reminded him of a giant's castle; of something he'd once read in a book.
"That is the Citadel," Destane spoke up, having noticed that his protégée was finally awake.
Mozenrath nodded, still entranced by the sight before him. He managed to dismount the camel, feet landing softly in the dark sand that blanketed this place. He'd heard of such a thing before, dark sand. It was a natural phenomena associated with volcanoes. He wondered if there were any such things in this place, and just how far he and Destane had travelled.
"It's wonderful..." Mozenrath breathed, much to the amusement of his guardian.
"I'm glad you think so," Destane grinned, quite pleased by the boy's awe; "Welcome to the Land of the Black Sand."