“You’re crazy,” I replied intelligently, “I don’t know the first thing about magic.”
Marc smiled, “I don’t either, but I do know one thing.”
“Such as?”
“Wizards are born not taught, so lack of knowledge is no defense.” Deep down I suspected he might be right. We were both full of questions, but the experience with the river had left us cold, wet and tired. We agreed to keep the details of what had happened secret, at least until we could figure things out.
“Come to the keep tomorrow and we’ll go through Father’s library,” he said. Marcus’ father was the Duke of Lancaster, a fact I frequently tried to forget.
“I can’t. I’m supposed to help Dad with a load of pig-iron tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow evening then. In fact, tell your parents you’ll be staying with me for a few days," he replied.
"I can't do that. What will they think?"
"They'll think it's wonderful their son is hobnobbing with the nobility." Marcus never held his higher social station against me, but he had no qualms about making full use of its advantages either. “Listen, I’ll send a runner over this evening with a fancy invitation. Your father will be so impressed he won’t even consider refusing.” Marcus grinned at me with his usual irrepressible smile.
“I think your plan leaves a bit to be desired,” I replied. “Don’t you need some sort of excuse or reason for the invitation?” My parents knew about our odd friendship as it had never been a secret. Marcus and I had met when we were boys, playing in the courtyard of the Duke’s keep during one of my father’s delivery trips. We hit it off immediately, although I’ve never been sure why. I suspect it was because he was the first child my own age with enough imagination and wit to keep up with my elaborate games of pretend. Soon after that my parents began getting ‘requests’ from the Duchess for my presence to help entertain her son. The Duke and his wife were remarkably forward thinking when it came to ‘mingling’ of the classes, but still as we entered our teenage years I had seen less and less of Marcus as he was required to spend more time with people of proper breeding.
“Hah! You’re coming over for a social gathering and boar hunt my father arranged for this week.” Marcus had an incredibly smug expression on his face, as if he had impressed himself with his own cleverness. The idea wasn’t that clever so I knew he was hiding something.
“You just made that up didn’t you,” I accused.
“Not a chance!” He had a definite glimmer in his eye. “Father planned this party two months ago. Young men and ladies of gentle breeding from all over the realm will be descending on our noble duchy this week.”
That gave him away. “Young...oh wait! You sneaky bastard! This is one of those ‘mixers’ your parents have been sending you to in order to properly socialize you with the gentry!” In point of fact Marcus resented the social gatherings his parents forced him to attend and spent most of his timing describing them to me as dull occasions attended by dimwitted fops obsessed with their own self-importance. I was sure he secretly enjoyed them at least somewhat; he merely presented them in a negative light to make me feel better since I couldn’t attend. Which raised a question. “Wait, wait, I’m confused. How do you intend to bring a commoner along for this thing?” The ‘commoner’ of course was me; I had no illusions about my social standing.
Marc snickered, “Ah my friend, this time is different! My father is hosting this event and since it is my home I can bring anyone I wish.” That effectively ended my last good argument. He got up and began leading Star away. He could have ridden her, but he was an excellent horseman and it never even occurred to him to do so after her ordeal in the river. “I’ll have the invitation over in a couple of hours. I’ll send a coach for you tomorrow evening.”
I shook my head, embarrassed, and tried to think of a good parting remark. My wit failed me however, so I had to settle for a simple, “See you tomorrow.” I began walking home, trying to figure out how I was going to explain this to my parents.
Chapter 2
Any meaningful study of magic must begin with those most proficient in its use, mages or wizards, as those more educated in its use are called. Those individuals who for uncounted generations have been passing knowledge, from master to apprentice, regarding how to effectively use and shape the forces of magic, or as they refer to it, the ‘aythar’. According to their teachings, aythar is the vital force present in all living things, and in some part also in inanimate objects, although to a lesser degree. It is the core force behind things we describe with many different names such as: energy, spirit, life-force, élan, passion, magic, and faith.
~Marcus the Heretic,
On the Nature of Faith and Magic
The next evening arrived more quickly than I’d imagined and there was the coach, pulling up near our house. My father had actually been rather pleased by my news. He had a fair opinion of the Duke already, and I’m sure he saw this as an opportunity to acquire more favorable terms and business for the smithy. It certainly can’t hurt having your son be friends with the next Duke. Mother was a bit more anxious. She seemed certain I would commit some serious breach of etiquette and get myself and possibly the family into trouble. I tried my best to reassure her, but looking back I see now she was much wiser than I had ever given her credit for.
Stepping into the coach I was surprised to see Marc already within. He gave me a wide grin, “Hullo! Ready to start your adventures?”
I answered in a sour tone, “This isn’t some romance where we’re off to slay dragons and rescue damsels you know.”
“Says you, but I have a rather more optimistic view on these matters. Besides which, there will indeed be some fair damsels at Castle Lancaster over the next few days, some of whom may well need a rescue,” he replied.
“From what?”
“Not what, who!”
I sighed, my friend had developed a definite talent with women over the past year, or so I had heard. “You’d best be careful; tupping the town girls is a far cry from besmirching the honor of a nobleman’s daughter.”
He didn’t answer that, just grinned at me. We rode in silence for a while, till the bailey came into sight and the outer walls drew closer. I was staring out the coach window when something caught my eye. “Marc! Look at that.” I pointed out the window, toward the nearing archway.
Marc poked his head out the window to look in the direction I had pointed, “What?”
“The wall, what are those odd symbols? See them glowing like phosphor?” I was pointing again, trying to show him the glowing runes limning the archway ahead of us.
“I don’t see a thing,” he said as he sat back down, “describe them to me.” I did the best I could and by the time I was done we were through the gate and heading for the stables. “Oh! Of course!” he said.
“Of course what!? Don’t leave me wondering dammit.” The glowing runes had put me on edge.
“You saw the castle wards. Father told me about them, but apparently only people with the ‘sight’ can see them. I’m guessing that includes wizards,” he answered, rolling his eyes up and to the side, as if to indicate he didn’t know any wizards.
“I’m not a.... Wait, they weren’t there last week when I came to town. Did your father hire some sorcerer to enspell the walls these past few days?”
Marc stared back at me, “No. The wards are old. They were placed decades ago by some wizard my grandfather employed for a short time.”
“Then why couldn’t I see them before now?”
“Well you didn’t used to possess livestock and walk on water either. Ah! I know! Did you just finish puberty? I noticed the other day you don’t look quite as girly any more...check your balls, are you getting fuzzy down there?” He ducked, laughing, as I threw my travel sack at him.
The coach stopped and a footman held the door for us to step down, so we tabled our discussion for later. Stepping into the courtyard I saw a familiar face. “Dorian!” I called out to a sta
lwart looking man crossing over to us. Dorian Thornbear was actually the same age as Marc and I. He was not quite as tall as me, standing about five foot ten inches, but he had quite a bit more muscle than either of us. He was the son of the Duke’s seneschal and because of his martial prowess he had already been accepted into the lord’s service as a man at arms. The stiff leathers he wore along with the spear in his hands were visible evidence of this.
“Ho! Master Marcus! Who let this ragamuffin in here?” Dorian said this with a light tone; we had all been friends since I had begun visiting the keep as a child.
Marc spoke, “I’ve invited Mort to spend the week.”
“You going to bunk with me again Mort?” Usually in the past I’d stay with Dorian’s family if I was sleeping at the keep. Technically his family was minor gentry, but they were a lot less intimidating than the Duke’s family. Plus our fathers were close friends.
I started to reply with a yes but Marc interrupted me with a hand on my shoulder, “Not this time Dorian, I’ve convinced him to let me put him up in one of the guest rooms.”
Dorian frowned, “Will there be enough room with all the visiting peers this week?”
“Certainly,” Marc replied.
“But...” I started to object.
“Shhh! Don’t argue, besides you need to be in the main keep if we’re to visit the library at night without creating a lot of questions among the castle guard,” Marc glanced at Dorian who’s eyebrows had gone up at this. “We’re on a secret mission!” he whispered in a conspiratorial tone.
“Really?” Dorian Thornbear was one of the bravest and most loyal friends I had ever known, but he had a certain lack of guile built into him. He was honest to a fault, perhaps that’s what made him a bit gullible. Not that the young lord of Lancaster was trying to fool him, it was just that Dorian tended to take such things over-seriously. We wound up standing in a sort of huddle near the back of the coach as Marc and I filled Dorian in on the events of the past few days. The three of us had always been as thick as thieves, but I had some concern that Dorian might give away my secret. Deception had never been his strong suit.
“Now what would you lads be conspiring at!?” The loud voice of Marc’s father, Lord James, the Duke of Lancaster came booming from behind us. He was a man of moderate build, with sandy brown hair and blue eyes. He laughed as Dorian whirled to look back at him.
“Nothing your grace!” Dorian ducked his head as he replied.
“You look well your grace. Thank you for the invitation.” I gave a formal bow; I have always had a knack for keeping a cool head.
“You are welcome, young Eldridge. Please give your father my best wishes when you see him again. I trust you will enjoy your stay with us.” The Duke was unusual among most of the peerage in that he treated all his vassals and even yeomen with courtesy and respect, though he had no requirement to do so. It was a fact that had made him extremely well liked among the people of Lancaster.
“Father! Why do you insist on scaring my friends?” Marc was a bit annoyed with the Duke.
“Hah!” The duke exclaimed, “It’s every man’s right to embarrass his son. Would you deny me the simple pleasures of life in my dotage?”
James Lancaster was still in his late thirties, and still quite hale, which his son was quick to point out, “When you’ve actually gone senile Father you’ll know it because we’ll have you put out to pasture.” They spoke for a bit more before the duke finally relented and left us to our own devices. Dorian had to report for duty, something he remembered rather quickly after the duke had surprised us, so he excused himself and we were on our own again.
“Let me show you the room I’ve got picked out. You’ll love it.” Marc led the way through the keep and up the stairs. I followed, curious despite myself, although I had visited many times over the years I had never been given a room inside the keep itself. When we finally came to a stop outside the door I realized we were extremely close to the Lancaster family quarter.
“Are you sure this is right? Isn’t this near your family’s rooms?” I asked.
“Indeed, my door is right over there,” Marc pointed across the hall. He opened the door and shoved me in before I could start objecting. The room itself was ostentatious, at least by my standards. It held a large four poster bed, dressing table, chair, a desk and some sort of odd couch-like piece. I had no idea what it was, but I discovered later it was called a ‘divan’.
“There’s no way you can put me in this room,” I said, looking over at my friend. “You’ve got nobility from all over the realm coming tomorrow and every one of them rates higher than me. If someone finds out you’ve put the smith’s son in this sort of room it’ll create all sorts of hell.”
“Bah, you’re right of course, but we have to place them in rooms according to their rank and status. Do you know who our most distinguished guest is going to be?”
“Not a clue, I’m common remember?”
“No you’re not, but the world hasn’t realized it yet. His lordship Devon Tremont, son and heir of the Duke of Tremont will be our most privileged guest. Protocol would dictate that he should have the best room we have to offer.”
“So let me stay with the Thornbears like I usually do.”
“Not possible,” he remarked, “Gregory Pern, son of Admiral Pern will be staying with them.”
“I’ll be fine in a broom closet then.” I was being sarcastic, but I actually meant what I said.
Marcus looked at me seriously, “Listen, Devon Tremont is the biggest prat I’ve ever met. I absolutely refuse to have that asshole sleeping across the hall from me. You on the other hand are my best friend, and infinitely more worthy, in my humble opinion.”
“You wouldn’t know humble if it walked up and kicked you in the shins. But thanks for the compliment. You still can’t put me in here, it’ll cause an incident.” I knew I was right, and surely he realized it as well.
“You’re right. It would. If anyone knew you were a complete nobody. As it stands you are unknown gentry, who happened to be staying here prior to their arrival. Your rank and status are unknown and you were already in residence when they arrived. It would be rude to relocate you unless you were some common lout with no standing.” He was smirking at me now.
“I am a common lout with no standing.”
“I know that, and you know that, but no one else does,” he answered.
“Most everyone living in this castle knows me!”
“I talked to Mother last night. She’s agreed that for this week you are Master Eldridge, a scholar and distant cousin. No one needs to know more than that, and she’ll make sure everyone plays along.”
“What about the servants?” I said.
“People of breeding do not talk to the servants,” he said this with an aristocratic tone and tilted his head back slightly. “Besides I already let them know as well, just to be sure.” He winked at me.
After that I gave up. I had known Marc long enough to realize there was no dissuading him from his wild schemes once he had made up his mind. I only hoped it didn’t turn out badly. We talked for a while longer and made plans to start searching the library that night after dinner. Once we had talked it all out he left and I had the room to myself, so I promptly lay down and took a nap. I had to admit, it was the most comfortable bed I’d ever slept upon.
Sometime later I woke; someone was standing at the bedside. I was slightly confused and it took me a moment to remember where I was. Looking around I realized there was a young woman looking at me with a slightly embarrassed expression. “Sir if you wouldn’t mind getting up, dinner will be served in half an hour.”
Still groggy I sat up and collected my wits as best I could. I glanced at the maid again. She was beautiful in a healthy and unpretentious way that few possess. Soft brown curls creeping down her slender neck framed a delicate face with faintly rosy cheeks. Then I felt stupid, I knew her! “Penny! What are you doing here?” Penelope was her name but in town we all k
new her as Penny. She was the cooper’s daughter and one of the most sought after girls in Lancaster. Not that any of the boys had caught her eye yet; she was as discerning as she was beautiful.
“Pardon me sir; I just took service with the Duke’s household this past winter.” She lowered her eyes meekly. The Penny I knew was anything but meek, amiable yes, sweet-spirited certainly, kind usually but not always.
“That’s two ‘sirs’ now Penny, one more and I’ll tell the Lady Genevieve who was stealing her roses a few years back.” When we were eleven or so she and I had been playing in the garden behind the keep. Her grace, the Duchess of Lancaster, or Lady Ginny as we knew her then, kept a beautiful flower garden. Dorian had been with us and when Penny proposed we steal some roses for her I had thought he might die of fright. Dorian had been a big worrier even then. In the end I picked three roses, one for each of us, although Dorian was too nervous to keep his.
“I never! You took those roses!” she exclaimed.
“Well, you put me up to it,” I answered dryly.
“Mort they might fire me if you tell that story.” She looked nervous but I could see her natural spirit starting to reassert itself.
“Relax, I was just kidding. Now explain to me how you wound up as a retainer for the Lancasters.” Actually if I had paused to give it thought it wasn’t hard to figure out. The servants in the keep were generally well compensated and the work was usually better than what you could find in town. All things considered a job here was a stroke of luck for anyone that managed to get one. The pay was generous and whoever she married someday would be blessed with a second income.
“My Da’s business hasn’t been going well lately, he hurt his back last year and we were having trouble making enough to keep food on the table, much less pay the tax man. So when I heard the castle had a position come open, I put in for it. Anyway! Stop distracting me; you’ll get me in trouble for sure. And don’t you dare mention that story about the roses again!” She said this with a tone of annoyance, but her eyes held a smile in them. “I’m supposed to tell you that your clothes are laid out for you on the dressing table and you’d best get moving if you expect to be dressed in time for dinner.”
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