“Are you doing something?” asked Isabel suspiciously.
“Not on purpose,” said Will innocently. She tried twice more, and he practiced changing tactics, letting his body absorb the first and deliberately letting the second pass through him. He was glad to see that he could control his turyn absorption. He didn’t know enough to be sure, but he suspected that being unable to stop absorbing turyn would probably be inconvenient in certain circumstances.
“That last one should have worked,” muttered Isabel. “How long did your grandfather train you?”
“A couple of years,” said Will truthfully.
“And you never learned a single spell?” she said incredulously.
“He always said he’d get to it later,” answered Will. Then he added, “You have no idea how mean he was.”
“I think he did you a terrible disservice,” said Isabel. “Although, officially, I should say what he was doing was illegal. You should have been started on spell craft during the first year. The only thing I can think is that whatever exercises he was putting you through somehow helped you to develop a very strong will. Normally that spell doesn’t fail unless it’s attempted against a very experienced wizard or sorcerer.”
Will shrugged. “He used to say I was as stubborn as a goat.”
Isabel’s features softened. “I’m sorry you lost him. Though I’m glad he isn’t teaching you anymore. You need to go to Wurthaven. Otherwise you’ll wind up in prison sooner or later.”
“I’m a private contract,” said Will. “I’ve got most of five years left to serve. Assuming I don’t get hanged today.”
She shook her head. “No. As soon as things are settled here, I’m taking you to Cerria. Unlicensed wizards can’t be allowed to run amok.”
“I’m not dangerous. I wouldn’t do anything bad.”
“Like sneaking into a young woman’s bedroom?” said Isabel, raising one brow.
Throwing caution to the wind, he asked, “How old are you?”
“Just a few months older than you,” she replied immediately.
“How do you know how old I am?”
“Oh,” said Isabel, and her eyes darted to the side for a split second. “I saw your age in the contract book. I had Lieutenant Stanton look up the record while they were on their way to arrest you.”
Will knew better, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to confront her on the matter. He had already gotten himself in deep enough for one day. “What happens now?”
Isabel got to her feet and put her hands on his shoulders to steady him as he tried to rise. Will’s knees were numb and stiff from kneeling so long, though, and with his hands tied behind his back he stumbled. Isabel stepped forward and caught him briefly, steadying him as his head landed on her shoulder. He could sense the muscles in her back as she kept him upright until he got his legs sorted out. She’s stronger than she looks. Backing away, he apologized, “Sorry.”
She ignored his remark and moved around him to untie his hands. “I should have done this a few minutes ago, when I was certain you were cooperating.” Then she gave him a stern look. “Wait here. I’ll go outside and explain to Lord Fulstrom that you were the victim of someone else’s attempt to disguise the source of the letter. You’ll be sent back to your company after that.”
“Thank you.”
She pointed a finger at him. “Only until we get reinforcements and the pass is secured. After that I’m taking you to Cerria to be properly trained.”
Will’s shoulders drooped slightly. “Fine.”
“And if you need to speak to me again, come to the medic tent. I’ll make certain Doctor Guerin knows to notify me if you show up. If I’m not there, find Sir Kyle, your captain. I’ll give him the same instruction.”
With that she was gone, and Will took a deep breath through his nose, trying to catch the faint scent of roses she left in her wake.
Chapter 43
Things returned to normal over the next few days. Will managed to dodge most of his squad mates’ questions by simply saying he had been mistakenly accused. Dave had a great time teasing him about being a criminal, but he and Sven seemed to believe him. He wasn’t as sure about Tiny though, and Will noticed the big man giving him odd looks now and then.
He couldn’t help but keep thinking over the things Isabel had said, but nothing made sense. Was she a friend of Baron Nerrow’s? If so, that might explain her willingness to help him. From what he had overheard her say previously, she had already known there was a paid exemption for him on the roll ledgers. Was his father more important than Baron Fulstrom? They were both barons, so he assumed they were of roughly equivalent rank, though admittedly he knew almost nothing of the inner workings of the nobility. If Isabel was acting on Nerrow’s behalf, why was she being treated with so much deference?
On several occasions he was tempted to go to the medic tent and try to see her, but each time he talked himself out of it. All of his excuses seemed pointless or trite. Deep down he knew he just wanted to see her. I’m such an idiot, he told himself, and in the back of his mind he heard his grandfather’s voice agreeing with him.
Almost a week passed before his next big shock. His platoon had just mustered for the morning roll call when Sergeant Nash called his name just before releasing the squads for their first duties of the day. “Cartwright. You’re relieved of duty this morning. See me for your assignment.” Then the sergeant addressed them once more, “Dismissed.”
Will waited, worried he was about to be punished for something else, though he couldn’t think of anything he might have done—this time. The sergeant gave him an appraising look before speaking. “Go into Branscombe and see the armorer there. His name is Andrew Harless. He’s expecting you.”
“Sir?”
“Did I stutter, soldier?” barked the sergeant. “Get moving.”
Doing as he was told, Will started to leave, but Sergeant Nash added one parting remark, “Cartwright, I don’t care who your friends are, if you screw up or make trouble for my men, I will bust your ass.”
Will stopped and saluted, thumping his fist over his heart. “Understood, sir!” Sergeant Nash stared at him for a few seconds longer then walked away. What the hell is going on this time? he wondered.
Half an hour later, he was standing in front of the smithy, feeling conspicuous. The man there sent him to a second building behind the main smithy, which apparently didn’t deal directly with weapons and armor. The other building was open in the front with two small forges operating and a number of apprentices busy working on a variety of tasks. Harless turned out to be a short, heavy-set man with a pronounced lack of hair. Not only was he bald, but part of one of his eyebrows was missing due to a past scar.
“Who’re you?” asked the master armorer, hardly bothering to glance up at him.
“William Cartwright, sir,” said Will. “I was told to see you.”
The smith cleared his throat and then spit on the ground before answering. “Oh, you.” Straightening up, he called to one of his assistants, then directed Will to go with the man. “He’ll take your measurements.” A second later, the armorer returned to his work, apparently having banished Will from his awareness.
Will didn’t move. “Excuse me, sir. What’s all this about?”
The armorer sighed deeply, as though frustrated beyond all endurance. Will almost flinched when his eyes focused on him once more. “Fucking aristocrats,” said the smith. “Not only do they want everything done yesterday, they want a nice chat as well. I’m not a goddamn tailor, and I certainly ain’t a babysitter.”
“I’m not an aristocrat,” said Will.
“I know that, otherwise I’d be kissing your ass instead of cussing you, dumbass,” spat the armorer. “Follow Jeremy and let him get your measurements. We need ‘em if we’re to make anything that fits you.”
Will noticed the aforementioned Jeremy giving him a sympathetic look. Closing his mouth, he went with the apprentice, who promptly instructed him to strip. “Eve
rything?” asked Will.
“Everything above the waist,” said Jeremy. Will did as he was told. The apprentice looked over his gambeson carefully before setting it to one side and walking away. He returned a few minutes later with a similar coat, though this one was slit along the sides with laces to secure it. He helped Will put it on before pulling the laces tight and producing a long string with knots tied in it at regular intervals.
He measured Will’s body in a bewildering number of places, his waist, torso, shoulders, biceps, forearms, and more. As he did, the apprentice armorer chalked his findings on a piece of grey slate. When he had finished, he helped Will remove the padded coat and gave him back his gambeson. “We’ll send a note when it’s ready, probably next week.”
“When what is ready?” asked Will.
The apprentice gave him a strange look. “Your mail shirt.”
“I didn’t ask for one,” stated Will. “How much does it cost?”
Jeremy shrugged. “Usually around twelve to fourteen gold, though we charge more for rush jobs like this. That’s just a guess, mind you. I don’t handle the money. You’d have to talk to Master Harless if he didn’t give you a price yet.”
Will goggled at the man. “I don’t have that kind of coin.” In fact, he had exactly no money whatsoever. He had spent it all buying good for his mother, and he hadn’t yet been paid for the past week.
“Somebody does,” said the apprentice. “Harless won’t start things like this unless at least half is paid up front.”
“Well, who paid?”
“Ask Master Harless,” said Jeremy. “Whoever it was must have been important, otherwise you’d be waiting a few months. Yours is at the top of the list now. If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.” With that, the young man left Will alone.
Will went back to stand in front of the master armorer. He waited without speaking for several minutes before the man looked up at him with obvious irritation. “What?”
“Master Harless, I don’t have any money,” said Will simply.
“So? It’s already been paid,” said the gruff armorer.
“Can I ask who commissioned it?”
Harless stared at him, lifting his partially missing brow. “Soldier, if you don’t know who your friends are, you’re dumber than I thought, and if the person who paid doesn’t want you to know then I sure as hell ain’t going to piss her off by telling you.”
Her? Will bowed. “Thank you, Master Harless.” The armorer’s attention was already back on his work. He said nothing as Will left.
Back in camp, Will considered returning to his squad, but there were still several hours before lunchtime and he wasn’t expected back before then, so he went to the medic tent instead. He figured he had a good enough excuse to see Isabel now.
Doctor Guerin glanced up from the man he was treating when Will entered the tent. “Are you hurt?”
“No, sir.”
“What do you need? I’m a little busy at the moment,” said the doctor amiably.
Unsure what to say, Will gave his name. “I’m William Cartwright. I was told…”
“She isn’t here,” said Doctor Guerin. “Left almost a week ago.” Straightening up, the man wiped his hands on an already-stained apron. “One second.” The doctor went to his desk on one side of the tent and rummaged around through his things. When he returned, he had a sealed envelope in one hand. “She left this for you.”
Will accepted the note and went back outside, looking around carefully to make sure no one was nearby before he broke the seal and opened it. Inside he found a single neatly folded page. On it was a short letter, written in a precise, flowing script. It reminded him of his grandfather’s later handwriting, but the letters were more elegant with long, flowing loops that made it distinctly feminine.
William,
I decided to act on the information I received and to that end I am traveling to the capital. If things go well, I should be back within two weeks with reinforcements. Be ready to travel when I return, for you’ll be going to Cerria shortly thereafter. The army is no place for your talents.
I’ve made arrangements for a small present of sorts. Something to help keep you alive if my return is delayed.
Isabel
He read it twice before folding the letter and putting in his pouch. Will had mixed emotions about going to Wurthaven so soon. Part of him felt a sense of relief at leaving before war broke out. Deep down, his first taste of violence in Barrowden had left him terrified of the thought of facing a similar situation. Conflicting with that was his desire to avenge his family and friends who had died, not to mention fighting alongside the men he had been training with for the past few months.
Will was also confused about the wording. She had said ‘you’ll be going to Cerria,’ rather than ‘we’ll.’ Did that mean she would be staying behind to face the enemy? Granted, it wasn’t as though he really knew her, or that he had any particular claim on her, but he had even less inclination to leave if he was going alone.
“And why in the hell is she wasting so much gold buying armor for someone like me?” he muttered aloud to no one in particular. It made no sense. Unless she likes me, he thought. “That’s ridiculous. She’s some sort of nobility, whereas I’m…” He stopped. What exactly was he? A commoner? The bastard son of a nobleman?
He could hear his grandfather’s answer in the back of his head, All of that comes second to the fact that you’re a mentally challenged half-wit.
Still, she had spent a considerable sum of money on him. Was she trying to buy his loyalty? Something his grandfather had said came back to him. “Most of them spend their time bowing and scraping for the sorcerers, hoping to be given scraps.” Did she expect to train him as some sort of magical lackey?
It couldn’t be any worse than cooking and cleaning for Arrogan was, thought Will. It wouldn’t be a romantic partnership, though, and eventually he’d wind up serving her husband and family as well. As much as he appreciated her kindness and beauty, he didn’t want to live his life that way. Better to be a hermit in the woods.
Putting those thoughts away, Will returned to the platoon tent, which was currently empty. He spent the last hour before lunch practicing the one spell he had learned. The runes were simple enough, but it took him some practice to reliably put them together quickly, and he was still nowhere as fast as Isabel had been, and far slower than his grandfather. The old man had produced the spell with such speed that he’d failed to even notice the spell construct at the beginning.
With no target, he sent green lines spearing outward to pass harmlessly through the tent walls while he practiced aiming. They vanished only seconds after appearing, since apparently they needed to connect to a living source to be sustained, but his first goal was simply to gain proficiency and accuracy.
When the bell rang for the midday meal, he went to meet his squad mates at the mess tent.
“Where the hell have you been?” demanded Dave as soon as he saw Will.
There wasn’t much point hiding it, since it would be revealed when he received the mail, so Will answered honestly, “The armorer in Branscombe.”
Dave and the others waited several seconds before the ex-thief prodded him, “And why would you go there?”
“Someone paid to have a mail shirt made for me,” admitted Will.
“Liar!” exclaimed Dave. “I knew you were some rich merchant’s brat.”
“Is that true?” asked Sven.
Will shook his head. “No. You remember when they hauled me in to see Lord Fulstrom last week? I think someone took a liking to me, or maybe they felt bad for falsely accusing me.”
“Bullshit,” said Dave. “Noblemen don’t give a shit about people like us. We aren’t even human to them.”
Will caught Tiny staring at him with a look that suggested he knew something, but the big man kept his thoughts to himself. The conversation returned to more usual topics after that, mainly complaints about the sergeants and officers.
When lunch was over, Will caught Tiny’s arm as they were filing out. “Can I talk to you later?”
The big man nodded. “Last hour, before lights out?”
“Sounds good,” said Will.
Chapter 44
Tiny and Will walked out and stood near the company lantern pole, since it was too dark to go anywhere else. Plus standing in the light gave the added advantage of making it easy to see that no one was close enough to overhear them.
“It was her, wasn’t it?” opined Tiny at the start.
Surprised, Will’s eyes widened. He tried to deflect the other man’s attention anyway, though. “Who?”
“The lady doctor,” said the big man. “She was obviously important, and she took a lot of interest in you.”
Sighing Will gave in and nodded. “Yeah, it was her.”
“Why is she so interested in you?”
“I don’t know all her reasons, but there’s one I’m sure of, and that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” said Will. “What do you think about magic?”
“I don’t,” answered Tiny. “It’s all nonsense.”
That was the last response Will expected. He’d listened to the villagers of Barrowden talk about it on many occasions, and their opinions had generally ranged from fascination to fear, but none of them had ever suggested they didn’t believe in magic. Will showed his shock with an eloquent exclamation, “Huh?”
Tiny shrugged. “I don’t believe in it. It’s all just stories they tell farmers and townsfolk to keep them in line.”
Flabbergasted, Will cast about for a counterargument. “What about the laws? Why would they have laws against warlocks and unlicensed wizards if magic wasn’t real?”
“Old laws written by superstitious people,” said Tiny. “Or worse, just another way of convincing people like you and me that it’s real.” Warming to his topic, Tiny went on, “Tell me this, Will, have you ever seen magic? Of course, you haven’t. It’s just like the stories of faeries who take milk from your doorstep and clean your shoes, or bogeymen who steal naughty children.”
The Choice of Magic Page 35
