The Choice of Magic

by Michael G. Manning

  Some time later, he was startled when he heard a voice calling his name. “Will!” It was Eric.

  Picking up the candle, he stepped outside. The flame became smooth and stopped flickering when his eyes fell on his best friend’s face. “Eric?”

  “There you are!” said Eric. “I got worried when your mom said you were living here. Why did she kick you out?”

  “I wasn’t kicked out,” insisted Will indignantly. “It’s sort of an apprenticeship.”

  Eric’s eyes grew round. “Is it because you healed the Tanner kid?”

  “I didn’t heal him. I made a poultice for a bad abscess.”

  His friend nodded, knowingly. “That’s not what Mrs. Tanner is saying. She thinks it was magic.” Then he noticed the candle in Will’s hand. “What’s that for?”

  Will shrugged. “I’m not really sure. Grandfather is a little strange.”

  “Grandfather?”

  “He’s Mom’s great-grandfather, so he’s my great-great-grandfather,” he explained.

  Eric paused, staring into the distance for a moment. “If that’s true, then he’s my great-great-grandfather too. Are you sure that’s right? He doesn’t look old enough, and my dad never said anything about it. He always called him a crazy old hermit.”

  Will hadn’t thought about that, but Eric was right. Eric’s father was Erisa’s older brother, so his cousins would also be the old man’s great-great-grandchildren. “I dunno,” he admitted. “Mom said her great-grandfather taught her about herbs, and the old man says he was her teacher, so—”

  “I’ll ask my dad when I get home,” said Eric. Then he held up the bundle in his hands, pushing it toward his friend. “Your mom asked me to bring you this.”

  “What is it?”

  “A blanket.”

  Unrolling the bundle, Will found a heavy wool blanket along with a thick quilt, the same one that had once adorned his bed at home. He sighed gratefully. “Thanks, Eric. I really needed this.”

  His friend laughed. “I told her she was worrying too much, but she was afraid you might be getting cold at night.”

  “I don’t even have a bed,” admitted Will.

  “What?” Eric seemed shocked. “Where do you sleep?”

  “On the floor,” answered Will.

  “That’s just cruel,” said Eric indignantly. “Does he think you’re a dog?”

  Remembering the goddamn cat, Will replied, “If I were a dog he’d probably treat me better.”

  Eric clapped him on the shoulder. “Tell you what. When I get home, I’ll talk to Dad about building a cot for you. No one should have to sleep on the floor.”

  Will felt a surge of gratitude and the candle flame shrank slightly, becoming round and changing to a warmer orange color. He had never felt closer to his cousin than he did at that moment. “Thanks, Eric.”

  His friend smiled. “Think nothing of it.” Then his eyes lit up. “You said this was an apprenticeship—what are you learning? Are you going to be a sorcerer?”

  Will felt a moment of panic and glanced around, making sure his grandfather hadn’t returned. “Don’t say that word! The old geezer gets really mad if you say anything about sorcerers. He hates them for some reason.”

  Eric frowned. “Then what are you learning?” His voice dropped lower. “Is it black magic? Is the old man a warlock? He is, isn’t he?”

  “Shush!” warned Will. “You’re going to get me in trouble. I don’t know what he is, but he doesn’t seem to like magic very much, even though he definitely knows some. He says he’s going to train me to be an herbalist.”

  “Boring,” sighed Eric in a long breath. “Is that what you’re learning now? Your mom could teach you that stuff.” He pointed at the candle in Will’s hand. “What’s that anyway?”

  Will grinned. “It’s magic, some sort of spell he’s teaching me.”

  His friend’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Really? What does it do?” Eric leaned forward to examine the candle more closely.

  “Nothing, as far as I can tell,” admitted Will. “It’s not even hot. You can touch it.” He demonstrated for his friend by putting his fingertip in the flame.

  Eric didn’t bother hiding his disappointment. “That almost makes growing lavender sound more exciting.”

  Feeling defensive, Will replied, “At least I’m never in the dark. I have to keep it with me at all times.”

  “For how long?”

  Grimacing, Will answered, “A couple of years.”

  “Wow,” exclaimed Eric with mock enthusiasm. “Only two years to learn such an amazing piece of magic? That’s amazing, and in only twenty more, all of this could be yours!” He swung his arms wide to encompass the dilapidated shack and weed-filled dirt yard.

  “I’m sure making carts and wagon wheels is a lot more exciting,” replied Will in a surly tone.

  “Dad says cartwrights and wainwrights make good money in Cerria,” said Eric, unfazed. “When I make journeyman, I can move to the city and make a fortune. Then I’ll come back and settle down, marry Annabelle Withy, and have a houseful of kids.”

  Annabelle Withy was a sore point between them, since Will also fancied her, but he decided not to get into that argument again. He shifted directions instead. “Do you really want a houseful of kids?”

  Eric winked. “Kids aren’t so bad, but it’s the making of them I’m looking forward to.”

  “Too bad,” said Will. “While you’re off working in the city, I’ll marry Annabelle first.”

  “And do what?” said Eric. “Whisk her away to your own hermit’s cottage in the Glenwood? The only thing you’ll do is learn how to be a crazy old man who talks to his cat.”

  That brought Will up short. “How did you know about that?”

  Eric began to laugh. “What? He really talks to his cat? You’d better start running, Will, or you’ll wind up just like him. I’m sure Dad would take you in. We always need more help.”

  “I’ll think about it,” said Will, just before a distant scream of rage floated to their ears.

  It was his grandfather’s voice. “Fucking deer!”

  “What was that?” asked Eric.

  Will pushed him toward the edge of the porch. “You better go. He gets really pissy when he finds deer after his garden.”

  Chapter 10

  Summer passed quickly as Will settled into a routine living with his grandfather. Each morning he made breakfast, after which he continued his literary studies. His afternoons were taken up by math and measures, and if he had time after that he was expected to clean the house before he made dinner. Through it all, he was expected to keep the candle close at hand. Any time he was caught without it, he would be scolded and punished.

  The punishments were rather odd, though. Most commonly, his grandfather would cook dinner while he watched, then refuse to let him have any. Whenever this happened, the old man would show off his culinary skills by turning the most ordinary of ingredients into what appeared to be a masterpiece of the gustatory arts. Will couldn’t be sure if it actually tasted good, since he wasn’t allowed to sample the food on these occasions, but it certainly smelled amazing.

  Those incidents put a fire in his belly, and not just the ache of his empty stomach. After the first few times, he began to pay close attention when his grandfather cooked, hoping to learn some of the old man’s tricks. At the very least, if he couldn’t eat during his punishment, he would learn to replicate some of it so he could make it for himself the next day.

  As summer turned into autumn, he became grateful for the blankets his mother had sent. If the nights were cold in the summer, they were far worse in the fall. He didn’t want to think about what winter would be like. Without a bed to keep the floor from leaching the warmth from him, he didn’t think the blankets would be enough.

  Winter was fast approaching, and with it his fourteenth birthday, though he had little hope it would be marked by a celebration of any kind.

  He was sitting on the porch one a
fternoon, pretending to add and subtract fractions, while his grandfather was off chasing deer—or whatever it was he did when he went out—when Eric appeared.

  Will jumped up in excitement. He hadn’t seen another human being aside from his grandfather in months. “Eric!” he shouted.

  Eric was hauling what appeared to be a wooden frame of some sort, and another of Will’s cousins, Sammy Cartwright, was holding up the other end. Sammy, short for Samantha, was Eric’s younger sister by two years. She smiled at Will, hazel eyes twinkling above a nose dusted with a light sprinkling of freckles.

  The two of them brought their burden to the porch and deposited it. “Sorry this took so long,” apologized Eric.

  “Hi, Will,” said Sammy brightly, using one of her now free hands to push back her strawberry blond hair.

  “Hey,” said Will, giving her a brief nod. He wasn’t particularly fond of Sammy. Through most of his childhood, she had been an annoyance, always wanting to tag along when he and Eric were looking for adventure. Worse, when they were forced to accept her, usually by Eric’s mother, they weren’t allowed to go very far. Instead, they became glorified baby-sitters.

  He turned to Eric. “What is this?”

  “A cot,” said Eric proudly. He had a bundle tied over one shoulder, which he now pulled off and rolled out. It turned out to be a large sheet of canvas designed to fit over the wood frame. “I would have finished it sooner, but we had a busy summer.”

  “Let’s take it inside and set it up,” suggested Sammy.

  In spite of himself, Will was somewhat glad to see Sammy as well. Despite their history, she had obviously matured quite a bit over the past year. She wasn’t as gangly and awkward as he remembered her being.

  As they unfolded the wood frame and stretched the canvas across it, he noticed that his cousin had changed as well. Eric’s formerly skinny arms now displayed an impressive bit of muscle, the product of his labor no doubt. Will couldn’t help but look down at his own arms and feel slightly envious. As far as he could see, he hadn’t changed at all. If anything, his occasional missed meals had made him skinnier than before.

  Sammy had a bag as well, and she opened it to reveal a linen pillow. “Here, I thought you might need this too.”

  Will turned it over in his hands, touched by the gesture. The pillow was off-white in color and stuffed with old, but clean, rags. One side had been embroidered with green and yellow thread, creating a simple design of grass and flowers. “Did you make this, Sammy?”

  She nodded, then looked away. “Momma let me have the scraps for the stuffing. She’s been teaching me embroidery, but I’m not very good at it yet.”

  “I think it’s amazing,” said Will, genuinely impressed. “It’s probably the best present I’ve ever gotten.”

  Sammy blushed, but Eric gave him an abrupt shove. “Have you forgotten the cot already? I put a lot of time into that.”

  Will grinned. “All right, the two best presents I’ve ever gotten. Honestly, you’ve probably saved my life. I’m sure I’d freeze to death if I had to keep sleeping on the floor this winter.”

  “That’s better,” said Eric. “If you’re done giving Sammy a big head, I have something to talk to you about.” He glanced around for a moment. “Is the old man around?”

  Will shook his head. “He’s off somewhere. Probably chasing deer again. What is it?”

  Lowering his voice, Eric leaned close. “He isn’t our grandfather.”

  Will frowned. By now he was firmly convinced the old hermit was insane, but he hadn’t shown any signs of dishonesty. Sure, the old geezer had a mean streak a mile wide, but as far as Will could tell, he was honest, often brutally so. “How do you know that?” he asked his cousin.

  “I asked my dad. He said the first Cartwright to live in Barrowden was his grandfather, Nathan. Before that they lived in Branscombe. He said all his great-grandparents are buried there,” answered Eric somberly.

  “That can’t be right,” said Will. “Mom said he was her great-grandfather. Did you tell your dad that?”

  “No,” responded Eric. “He seemed so sure, I was afraid it might start an argument between them. He said he’s seen all their graves, though they died before he was born.”

  Sammy pulled on her brother’s sleeve. “Tell him what else Dad said!”

  Eric hesitated, looking uncomfortable.

  “What is it?” asked Will.

  “I probably shouldn’t say,” said Eric. “It’s not my place to talk about your mom.”

  “Just tell me,” said Will impatiently. “I won’t get mad.”

  “Your mom ran away from home when she was sixteen,” blurted out Sammy, unable to contain herself. “She didn’t come back for almost four years, and they don’t know where she was. When she did come back, she was pregnant with you.”

  Will grimaced. He hadn’t known much about it, but he had expected something along those lines. “Did he say who my father is? Maybe the old man is my great-great-grandfather on his side.”

  Eric seemed embarrassed. “He doesn’t know. He said he thinks your mom worked as a barmaid in Cerria. She probably got pregnant from one of the customers.”

  Will’s cheeks flushed, and the candle flame flared. His hands balled into fists. “You’re saying she was a whore?”

  His cousin held up his hands. “Look, I’m sorry. That’s just what he said. I don’t think he really knows what she was doing while she was gone.”

  “He also said he doesn’t know anything about her being taught by the old man,” put in Sammy.

  Will let out a long breath, calming himself. “I don’t know why she would lie about that. Plus, the old man said the same thing. Why else would he visit our house over the years?”

  “You do know he doesn’t visit anyone else, right?” said Eric. “He’s never come into the village. Not once that I can remember.”

  That seemed odd. Where does he get the butter then? wondered Will. His grandfather never seemed to lack for necessities like soap, salt, dried beans, flour—the list went on. The old man had to be buying things from somewhere.

  Sammy broke in, “Dad says there’s been a hermit living here since he was a boy, and according to him, there was one here when his dad first moved to Barrowden, but he doesn’t think it’s always been the same old man.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Will.

  “The hermit in the woods was an old man when Dad was a boy. He’d have died of old age by now, so the one you’re living with has to be different,” explained Sammy. “Anyway, Dad said the old man who lived here when he was little had dogs.”

  “Just because he had dogs back then doesn’t mean he would still have dogs,” argued Will. Though it is a good idea. Putting that aside, he had to admit it seemed unlikely it was the same person living here back then. People just didn’t live that long. “I’ll ask him about it later.”

  “Be careful,” warned Eric. Sammy nodded in agreement beside him. Both their faces displayed worry.

  “Careful of what?” said Will dismissively.

  “Remember what we talked about before?” reminded Eric. “He might be a warlock.”

  Will laughed. “He’s a grumpy old bastard, but I don’t think so.”

  Sammy grabbed his hand. “He might be fattening you up for later.”

  “I doubt it,” said Will confidently. “Aside from eggs, I’ve never seen him eat anything that didn’t grow out of the ground.”

  “As a sacrifice,” added Sammy, wrinkling her nose.

  “Well he’s got a strange way of doing it, then,” said Will. “His favorite punishment is not letting me eat. I’ve missed dinner twice this month because of that.”

  “Maybe his demon likes skinny virgins,” suggested Eric.

  “Then you should probably get out of here,” returned Will with a sly grin. “He’ll want to capture both of you.”

  Eric sniffed, lifting his chin haughtily. “I don’t have to worry for long. Annabelle let me dance with her at
the harvest festival.”

  Sammy’s features grew angry. “I’m telling her you said that!”

  “I did dance with her!” insisted Eric.

  “No, I’m telling her what you meant. She’ll never talk to you again if she hears what you said!” declared Sammy.

  Will listened to them bicker without interrupting. It made him feel good to hear their voices, and sad at the same time. Especially the part about the harvest festival. He had completely forgotten it, and it sounded as though Annabelle had forgotten him as well.

  His cousins stayed another quarter of an hour, chatting and filling him in on the doings of Barrowden. When they finally left, he felt more alone than ever, and it was hard to get back to his fractions. Math seemed pointless to him. What use did anyone have for numbers, aside from being able to count?

  When his grandfather showed up that evening, he seemed to be in a good mood, until he saw the cot. “What the hell is that?”

  “A cot,” answered Will simply.

  “I can see that, dumbass! Where did it come from?” demanded the old man.

  His grandfather’s angry reaction sent a quick surge of adrenaline through Will, and the flame on his candle began to flicker wildly. “E—Eric brought it for me.”

  “Eric? Who’s that?”

  “My cousin,” explained Will. He doesn’t know anything about my family, does he? Will realized.

  “Why did he bring it?” asked his grandfather, his tone more even now.

  “Because I told him I’ve been sleeping on the floor. I’ll freeze this winter if I have to keep doing that.”

  That brought the old man up short. “You don’t have a bed?”

  Will just stared at him as if he’d gone mad. Then he spread his arms wide, gesturing at the small room as if to say, ‘do you see a bed?’

  “Oh,” said his grandfather. “No, of course you don’t. I had completely forgotten. Next time remind me. You shouldn’t take things from strangers. Did you pay him anything?”