by Greg Curtis
Edrick walked over to the carpentry table and work benches as his guests headed slowly down the hill towards him. This was the heart of his construction. Where his plans were set out and all his tools sitting, ready to be used. It was where he was cutting his lumber to the right lengths and chiselling in the notches so everything would fit together. He doubted though that his visitors would want to stand around it as he had been all morning, drinking tea and considering building plans. So he put the kettle back on the brazier beside it to heat up again and then walked out across the grass to greet them.
Tea would no doubt be expected, though he also had some beans to make coffee or cocoa with if they preferred. He didn't know what the winged people drank or even if they had tasted such drinks before. If they hadn’t then he expected the coffee would prove too bitter. The tea too perhaps. After all, he didn't know what world Wilberton's spell had dragged them from, and they were all different as far as he knew. This one had griffins and unicorns, silver tailed foxes and golden harts, but no people as far as he knew. No Faerie either – and he had searched – though not too seriously. Whereas the world they had just come from had none of those creatures, no Faeries and no winged people. What the winged people's own world had, was likely different again.
“Is that a chicken coop or a colonnade?” Carrie called out, as she approached. She was smiling as she stared at the construction. No doubt she was surprised by the fortress like chicken coop.
Edrick shrugged easily enough. “Bit of both. But it'll keep the griffins out.”
“It'll keep an army out!” She smiled at him. Then she dismounted as the little group drew nearer, and let her horse have its freedom to graze.
“I’d like to introduce you to Tyber and Stelle L'velle; you've already met their daughter Sybelle.” Carrie nodded to each of the others in turn.
“I'm happy to meet you.” Edrick managed a polite nod. He might dress and look like a rough and ready silver miner but he still remembered his manners. “I'm Edrick of Holdfast.”
“Actually, he's not.” Carrie immediately contradicted him. “That's just another of the many lies he tells as he hides the truth from everyone. Like pretending he's a silver miner and not a wizard.”
Edrick sighed. She wasn't a great believer in dishonesty, though at least she wasn't as vitriolic in her condemnation of his lies as her grandfather. And she kept his secret. They both did. Not because they wanted to, or even because they believed him when he said if he was found out he would suffer a fate too horrible to bear. Rather it was because he was a wizard and wizards did not cross one another. It was one of their customs.
As he had discovered over the years, Guild wizards had a great many customs, most of them obscure and confusing. But at least this one allowed Edrick to call himself Edrick of Holdfast, rather than Lord Lukas Edrick Baraman … even if they frowned on it. Fellow wizards would even address him as such if he insisted. Still, he had to wonder why was she telling his secrets to the winged people? Unless they were wizards as well, she was breaching their customs.
“Actually, I am Edrick and I do mine silver.” He contradicted her in turn. “From that river just down there.” He pointed at the river running down the valley only a few hundred yards away.
Carrie's response was an untranslatable noise that he guessed meant she thought it was all smoke and mirrors, though she didn't accuse him of lying to his guests again. Maybe that would have been too rude. Besides, she knew he wasn't technically lying – at least not about all of it.
“Why don't we all take a seat while the water boils?” Edrick gestured to the wrought iron benches he'd set out by the rose garden. They would be an excellent place to sit in comfort while they took tea. There was even a place there on the small round table between them for the kettle to stand once it had boiled. Normally he liked to sit there on a sunny afternoon, reading and listening to the sound of birdsong while the river made its own music as the water flowed lazily past. In the mornings though his preferred spot was the porch in front of his house facing them.
Edrick had designed his house for comfort rather than tradition. As a result, his house was far larger than it needed to be, and he had decided to build two massive fire places at either end of the house to make sure he was warm even on the coldest winter night. The floors were covered in thick rugs as he generally liked to walk barefoot and disliked the feeling of cold stone floors. And the four bed chambers in the loft were all oversized so he could fit the largest beds in them. Beds that were incredibly soft as the mattresses were over stuffed with feathers instead of straw. He had also built huge dormer windows in the bedrooms just so that he could lie in bed each morning drinking in the view over the valley, before he began his day.
He wasn't sure why his home had four bed chambers when he only needed one. After all, it wasn’t as if he was accustomed to having guests. But when he'd gone to Caspian, the town's best builder, and got the plans for the log house, they had been part of them and he'd built more or less exactly to his plans. It had seemed like the smart thing to do given that he'd never built anything before. Still, he had made use of the other bed chambers, with one of them now a library and another a study. Over the years he had grown into the space. As to the fourth chamber, perhaps in time he would turn it into a laboratory? It all depended on whether he decided to pursue the craft of enchantment and potions. It was a dangerous art.
Similarly, his walled vegetable garden was really too large for his needs. But he had converted part of it to a seating area and had planted shade trees under which he had set out a seating area, so he could take a break when he worked in it. And despite the log fences standing six feet high to prevent his neighbours from entering it and eating everything in sight, the unicorns didn't suffer too greatly. When he had an excess of his crops, he harvested them and left them out on the grass for them to graze. They seemed to appreciate the gesture, often letting him pet them.
“You should also know that there are griffins about. A pair nesting in the trees to the south. I don't think they'd attack your daughter, but you should keep her close.”
“Griffins don't attack people.” Sybelle's mother quickly dispelled Edrick's concern.
She was probably right Edrick knew. But that made him wonder – how had she known? Were there griffins on their world? There weren't any in Riverlandia – just a few bards’ tales about them.
Carrie and the others soon made themselves comfortable without too much more fuss. Meanwhile Sybelle had found Blackie the cat who was stretched out on a tree stump enjoying the sunshine, and was playing with her. The cat wasn't so impressed at being picked up and stroked, but she was also far too lazy to do anything about it. No doubt she assumed it would end in time and she could go back to sleep. Edrick had noticed that she applied the same strategy to the griffins when they bothered her as they sometimes did. Edrick sometimes suspected they thought she was a baby griffin and wanted to mother her. She just wanted to sleep.
Edrick had never been sure why the cat was unafraid of the griffins. Or why the griffins didn’t view her as lunch. She was more or less the right size to make a meal for them. Maybe it was because they shared a cat heritage – though with a griffin being a mixture of lion and eagle the heritage must surely be somewhat diluted. Either way the griffins mostly stayed away from her and she ignored them and they all seemed happy with things that way.
“We wanted to come and thank you for bringing Sybelle back to us. She's too young to be out alone. Especially in a strange town.”
“You're welcome.” Edrick said the words automatically. But he doubted that that was why they'd come. “And I'm sorry for the circumstances that brought you to our world. It should never have happened.”
Of course, he couldn't actually say it was all the fault of a senile old fool who should have been put out to pasture with the rest of the relics. That would undoubtedly break some rule of the Guild of the Arcane that Wilberton was always rabbiting on about. Wizards shouldn't belittle one anot
her in front of others. In private of course was another matter, and they were free to yell, scream and insult one another like little children – as long as no one saw. Which made it hard to understand how Carrie could flatly call him a liar in front of the others. Maybe since the winged people weren't from Riverlandia the Guild's customs didn't apply?
“This is the realm of the ancient Faeries by the way. Another world again. Home once to an ancient, powerful people. But they've been long gone from it. And now I live here.”
“All alone?” Stelle's eyebrows rose a little. “Carrie didn't say you had an entire world.”
“I don't own the world!” Edrick managed a shocked look. “I don't own anything! I just live here. It’s just that no one else from this part of Riverlandia does. That’s because only a wizard can activate the gate. For some unknown reason the ancient Faeries arranged it so that it responds to those with magic.” But why they'd arranged the gates that way he didn't know. It was just another of the many mysteries they'd left behind. “And no other wizards seem to want to live here.”
“It is an interesting home,” Stelle remarked. “It’s much larger than the other houses we’ve so far seen on your world.” Stelle paused for a moment and then added, “But it's still enclosed. We find it strange how… confined your homes are on your world. Not to mention the fact that they are built on the ground where it's dangerous. Don't you feel trapped in them?”
Enclosed? Edrick had to think about that for a moment or two. And then he realised that as these people had wings their homes were likely to be very different from this. The other point though still confused him.
“You don't build on the ground?”
“We build in the branches of the Caobar trees. Mighty trees that tower over the forests with bark of silver and branches that open wide to greet the sun. Each tree can support at least a dozen platforms and houses at least. From them we can see out over the tree tops to the other houses. It's so beautiful. To wake up each morning to a glorious sun with blue sky above and a sea of dark green below.”
“Also, our homes are much more open. Every house has an open wall and a balcony from which we can fly. And the doorways are much wider.”
“Ah.” Edrick nodded. It made sense he supposed. They had wings like birds – why shouldn't they build nests of a sort? Though privately he thought it must get very cold in winter with a wall left open. “Then I'd guess you're looking forward to returning.”
“When we can.” Her face fell.
“Wilberton still hasn't worked out how to send you home?” That surprised him, but not as much as he would have wanted it to. But still he thought, Wilberton should have done something. The wizard had had three days after all. And even if he was in his dotage, he had a lot of people to encourage him in his work this time. The whole town to start with. “Has he at least stopped the portal grabbing your people and bringing them here?”
“In a way. The portal closed when it ran out of people to grab.”
“Ran out of people?!” Edrick thought about that for a moment or two. Then he turned to Carrie. “Praise the gods woman, just how many people were dragged to Coldwater?”
“A few.” She looked away. “Maybe more.”
“Stelle, Tyber?” They wouldn't be so shy about telling him the truth he thought.
“Our entire village.”
“Your entire village?” Edrick buried his face in his hands for a moment as he tried to make sense of that. Then he turned back to Carrie. “And just how many is that?”
“Seventeen hundred and thirty-four,” she mumbled under her breath while still staring away into the distance.
“Seventeen hundred winged people?!” Edrick's voice rose in disbelief. “In Coldwater?! Praise Sirtis! The people must be going crazy!” More than crazy, he thought. That was roughly one tenth the population of the town. Everywhere they looked, the people would be seeing wings! And of course, they would all be waiting every day to find out just how much of a disaster this was going to be. They had had experience with Wilberton's mistakes before.
“Actually, they're taking it rather well.” Carrie did her best to meet his stare. “There's been some running and hiding. A few panicked marches to the Council. Demands that grandfather be thrown out of the town. Some fighting. The usual. But the general consensus seems to be that it isn't as bad as the ducks.”
“Nothing could be that bad!” Edrick replied rather too hastily. Then he took a moment to calm himself. Like everyone else in Coldwater, the mere mention of the damned ducks tended to unsettle him. The bards might have named them “The Quacks of Doom” and thought it was funny. But it hadn't been funny at all. Not for those who'd experienced them.
“What about accommodation? Where are they staying? Food and clothing?”
“That's one of the things I wanted to talk to you about,” Carrie suddenly turned her gaze away from him to stare at the ground.
“Go on.” Edrick wondered what else could have gone so wrong.
“We've filled the common with them. Arranged food and some shelter. But all the farmers keep coming in wanting to set up stalls. And the only way I can stop them getting upset is to buy their wares and send them away.” She reddened a little.
“I see.” He didn't actually, but he was sure she'd get to the point.
“We're almost out of coin.” It seemed to take an effort for her to force the words out.
“Ah!” Finally he did see. Normally there would be around fifty stalls set up on the common each day. And fifty stalls full of wares was a lot of coin. She couldn't keep buying their wares for much longer. She needed help. More accurately she needed coin. And he knew he had to help. He couldn't let Coldwater suffer any more magical disasters. But it was just so wrong! Her coming to him when her grandfather had not only caused this disaster, but was also constantly insulting and complaining about him.
“That's fine.” Edrick sighed a little. He'd had plans for the silver. The hope of heading into Reedton in the next month or so and purchasing some more books to add to his library. Perhaps taking the first steps toward creating a laboratory. But the needs of the winged people and the town came first. In the end this was a wizard's mess, and as a wizard he would have to help fix it. That was one of the customs of the Guild he approved of.
“There's a box of nuggets and ingots sitting on the bench in the kitchen. Take whatever you need. There should be enough for a time, and I can mine some more over the coming days.” He didn't want to though. He kept his mining to an absolute minimum. If people saw he had a lot of silver, they might start asking questions about it. Some might come looking for his mine. He didn't want that.
“But I want your word. Not a single half copper piece goes to your grandfather! These people and the town, I'll help. You, I'll help. But not him!”
“Thank you,” she couldn't seem to raise her head as she said it though. “I'll pay you back when I can.”
“There's no need,” he quickly told her. “I have more than enough and these people need it.” It was sadly true. He grew his own vegetables. Paid no rent. Had no servants either. And there was little left on the house to fix. All he needed was a little coin for food, and some more for purchases from the book stores in Reedton when he next travelled there. The odd bit of clothing. But his needs were modest.
“Thank you. You are a very good man, Edrick – even if that's not your name.” Finally she managed to raise her face to look at him.
“It is my name!” he protested. And it was. It just wasn't his first name. But he didn't need to tell her that. Not when it seemed that they were once more friends. The bond of the friendship waxed and waned between them, usually in response to her grandfather's moods. And part of that he knew, was his fault. He shouldn't react to the old man’s bad humour. But he too had a temper, and it got the better of him from time to time. And when he yelled at her grandfather, it naturally upset her.
“There's one other thing I'd ask of you too. But it won't cost you anything except mayb
e some time.”
“Alright.”
“My grandfather's books.” She indicated the bulging saddle bags on her horse. “The Mayor got angry. He demanded that I stop Grandfather from casting any more spells. He asked me to take his magic away. But as you know, I can't do that.”
Edrick nodded, understanding perfectly. She had neither the power nor the will to try and limit her grandfather's casting.
“But I did go through his study and take every piece of parchment, every scroll and every book I could find. All his most advanced works. His journals too. Everything he was working on. All he has left are the books in the library. Common fare. If you're willing I'd like to leave them with you. It may not stop him casting, but it might limit the sorts of spells he can cast. And who knows, maybe if you search through these books you might find the spell grandfather used to bring these people here.”
“I'll look through them. But you probably know more about his magic than I do. And please don't tell your grandfather they're here. He'll accuse me of stealing them!”
