The Dotard

by Greg Curtis

  “The Guild can help you with –.” the woman began.

  “Nothing,” Edrick finished for her. “The Guild can do nothing. This is a matter of nobility and noble houses. No guild has any say. Only the King does. So, unless you want to petition the King on my behalf and proclaim that my father is involved in some dishonourable practice in wedding me off like a prize cow for the breeding, you'll just have to sit and watch.”

  The woman fell silent, apparently realising that he was right. Or at least she had decided she needed to think about it. at the very least she had to understand that wizards had no say in matters of the Court and of the nobility. No one did, save the noble families themselves.

  With that he was off, leaving the two of them sitting there on their horses, staring at his retreating back and no doubt thinking bad thoughts about him. But he was alright with that. And though it hurt, he could live with having to stay away from Coldwater too. He could get his supplies from Miston on the other side of the Sitwell Forest. It was a longer journey, but that didn't matter. What mattered was what had always mattered – that he remained free.

  Chapter Five

  Harrisbrook was quiet. It was always a quiet town. But then it was the middle of the day when Edrick rode his steam wagon into the town and that added to the quiet. The men were out toiling in the fields or operating the mills. Others were at home, eating their midday meals. Harrisbrook was a town where most of the people could afford to eat midday meals and where many of the people were almost verging on fat. It was a prosperous place.

  The town earned its keep by growing wheat and milling it. And the flour they milled was always in demand. It was something to do with the boulders they used in the mills. Something about them helped to grind the wheat extra fine. Because it was so good Harrisbrook flour was sold at a premium to all the nearby cities, and there were always steam wagons lined up outside the mills, waiting to be loaded.

  Edrick rolled past a dozen other steam wagons as he headed toward the town's main street. As always, he marvelled at how crude they were compared to his. Yet his wagon had once been like them. A great lumbering wagon with an even larger trailer behind it. But when he'd bought it, he'd had the wagon modified. All the exposed metal of the steam engine had been coated in zinc to make sure it didn't rust. He had got rid of the trailer along with ten feet of the tail, figuring he didn’t need it. The wooden bench seat had gone too in favour of a comfortable button leather couch to sit on at the front. It was well sprung so he didn't feel the bumps so badly, as he bounced in the seat. And because the wagon had shed so much weight with those changes, the springs had been softened a little and the drive wheel enlarged so it had a better top speed. The wagon even had an awning he could pull up and down to keep the sun and the rain off him. It was smaller than the lumbering steam wagons he rolled past, but faster and much more comfortable.

  Some of the other drivers stared at him as he passed by, probably surprised by his speed and maybe even a little envious of his seat as they sat on their hard wooden benches. But no one called out to him or waved. Instead they remained seated on their hard wooden benches and waited for their wagons to be loaded so they could begin their long, slow journeys to the cities.

  Like them he too had come to pick up some wares in the town. But he would be purchasing far less; nothing like the ten or twenty tons of flour they were going to load up with. Nor was he going to spend a day on the trail, travelling at walking speed to the nearest city. His journey would only take an hour or two all up. That was for the best as he wanted to be quick.

  Two weeks had passed since he had spoken with Master Thatchwell, and in that time he hadn't seen hide nor hair of a wizard from the Guild. No one had called on him and he fervently hoped that no one would. He hadn't seen any sign of his father's men either. But then he hadn't been back to Coldwater where he assumed they would go to first. He'd only left his home once in all that time to buy supplies, and that had been just after he'd spoken with the Guild wizards.

  Once he had been told of the tales Wilberton was spinning he’d thought it prudent to stock up on supplies elsewhere and had immediately travelled to Miston to do so. There he had bought all that he could. Enough to see him through a good long spell in the safety of his home. And now that the time had come to top them up, he had decided to pass through Miston and headed north a couple of extra leagues, just to make sure that no one could guess where he might appear. It seemed like a wise strategy. Next time he thought, he might head south three leagues from Miston to Greenfields.

  Though it might seem less than courageous, Edrick thought it was worth the extra travelling just to make sure he remained free. And he could keep it up. There were seven towns that ringed the Sitwell Forest and he could buy what he needed in any of them. He'd only used Coldwater because it was the closest town, and because over the years he'd grown familiar with it and the people. He’d made friends there.

  Now he would just have to grow to like a new town. Or towns. And really, he told himself as he rolled down Harrisbrook’s main street, they were all alike. They all had clay streets and stone cottages. And most important of all, they all had traders who wanted to do business. If Harrisbrook differed from Coldwater in any respect other than the distance he'd had to drive and the mills he'd passed along the way, it was that someone had long ago decided that stone walls of the cottages should be supported by log posts. As far as Edrick could see, every cottage he passed had one-and-a-half-foot thick log pillars at every corner and stone walls butted up to them. It looked a little odd to him, but the people here apparently favoured the design. What did he know about architecture anyway?

  His first stop was the general goods store, which gad the peculiar name of Good's Goods. Evidently the proprietress was named Miss Good. Except for the name though it looked exactly the same as most other general goods stores he was familiar with, having a huge open area surrounded by wooden shelves that run from floor to ceiling. Smaller shelves were dotted around the floor.

  There he picked up several sacks of oats and flour, and a few bags of sugar, dried fruits and salt. Enough to keep a family fed for a month at least. He also purchased a dozen jars of various jams and preserves and a good-sized tin of honeycomb. By the time he'd finished some of the shelves in the store were looking bare and the proprietress was staring at her cash draw with unexpected glee. It was lucky he had such a rich vein of silver near his home. It meant he had no shortage of coin.

  But he wasn't finished there. No sooner had the shop boy loaded his purchases on to his wagon, then he went next door to the butchers to purchase some dried bacon, a couple of cured hams and a small barrel of salted fish.

  And so it went on as he hurried from store to store, purchasing absolutely anything and everything he thought he might need and spending his coin as though he had an endless supply of it. And wherever he went the store owners welcomed him with glee and the shop boys cursed his name as they had to carry his purchases out to the wagon. But at least they didn't make him carry his purchases himself unlike a certain timber mill owner. In a mere half hour he was once more prepared for a lengthy siege should things come to that. But he wasn't finished.

  After that Edrick visited the hardware and the drapers to purchase all the other sundries he would need. One thing he had learned over the years of owning a house was that things wore out – and not just clothes. Though now that he thought about it he remembered that a number of his jerkins and vests and pairs of trousers needed mending. Given that he was more or less trapped in his home for the foreseeable future he realised that he had the time to spend repairing things.

  It was a pity. He had been planning on riding out to the nearby city of Reedton to browse the book stores for tomes of magic as he did every few months, but that plan had ended. There was just too great a chance that someone would expect him to do that. After all, it was the only city in twenty leagues and his father's men knew he was a wizard and had his own steam wagon. All they had to do was leave someone
there to watch for him. He was disappointed since he loved browsing the various bookstores, but he knew he had enough books of magic to last him for a while. Besides, he'd discovered over the years that he liked working with his hands. It didn't matter whether it was carpentry or sewing, he enjoyed it.

  An hour later he had the steam wagon loaded down with his purchases and was feeling well pleased with his day. He would be remembered in the town by the storekeepers as a stranger who had paid well and would likely be welcomed back. This, he thought as he got back on his steam wagon and released the damper to the fire box to generate more steam, had been a good day.

  Of course he learned anew, he should never be too prideful. The Lord of Misfortune loved to prey on those who were too pleased with themselves. And in this case Andal's blessing came with wings attached. Just as he was congratulating himself on his success, one of the Argani decided to alight on his wagon. After that any hope of returning to the town again in a month or two as merely a welcome but otherwise less than memorable customer was gone.

  She was pretty trouble he thought. But still trouble – with wings attached. And from the moment that she alighted on his steam wagon and sat down beside him, he knew that all eyes were on him. He would be remembered. His name would be known. The winged elves might be becoming a more familiar sight in Coldwater, but not in this town. So much for doing future business in Harrisbrook any time soon, he decided.

  Still, the damage had been done, and it was far too late to fix things. All he could do was make the best of things.

  “Good day Miss.”

  “And to you too wizard.” She smiled.

  It was a pretty smile he thought. One full of white teeth, full lips and good will. But most of all, innocence. She had no idea that in visiting him she'd caused him any trouble. And why would she? Not only was she young, perhaps twenty or so, but she didn’t realise he was trying not to be noticed. And she was a stranger to this land.

  “Isn't this just such a marvellous contraption?”

  “I like it.” He sighed, as he watched the bravest of the townsfolk drawing closer. And then he pushed the lever to engage the wheels and they lurched off into the street. Something that made his passenger laugh excitedly. And when she did her wings, which were draped over the back of the couch, moved up and down.

  “That's wonderful!” She giggled like a little girl, heedless of the crowds in the street staring at them. “It moves like a horse but without the rocking. How does it work? Is it magic?”

  “No.” He was surprised by the thought. “It's steam. The water in the boiler behind us is heated by the wood burning in the fire box below it to produce steam. The steam then pushes a piston in a cylinder up and down, which in turn drives a shaft connected to the wheels. It's science.” She stared wide eyed at him as he explained it as best he could, but he wasn't sure that she understood.

  “We don't have anything like this in our world. Would it work there?”

  “I guess so.” He didn't know for sure of course, but he couldn't think of any reason why it wouldn't. “I'm Edrick, by the way.”

  “I know that.” She smiled happily and stared at the shops in the street as they drove down it.

  “And you are?” If she wouldn't tell him her name by herself he figured he'd have to be more direct and ask her.

  “Oh, of course! I hadn't thought. I'm Py. Py Fen Wae, sorceress.”

  “You're a wizard?” He hadn't expected that. He hadn't even known that the Argani had wizards. But he supposed it was normal for every world to have people possessing some magic. Not that he knew of any other people save his own.

  “Sorceress,” she corrected him. “Wizards like you cast using the ancient tongue. Sorcerers work by instinct and feel.”

  “Baby magic?” Immediately the words slipped out of his mouth, Edrick wished he hadn't uttered them. And he wished he could take them back. But what she was talking about was what every wizard called baby magic. It was the magic a wizard was born with, before it had been honed into the force a trained wizard would use. The most basic magic that had no need of words or gestures, but was instead cast by will alone. The problem with it was that without being honed and crafted it was weak and erratic. Once a new wizard was found they immediately started learning the ancient tongue, and it was then that their magic truly began to grow. It became precise and strong.

  “Carrie called it that too. But we call it sorcery. And despite the beliefs of your people, it can be quite powerful and accurate. It simply requires practice and dedication.”

  “Of course. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it.” And he truly wished he hadn't. “It's just what we call it.”

  “I know. The wizards in our home say the same. But we sorcerers call your sort of magic heartless and confused. You do not know what the words you utter mean. No more than a parrot knows the words it speaks.”

  “Has Wilberton made any progress in sending you home?” Edrick changed the subject because the last thing he wanted was to get into an argument about something so trivial. Something that only had the power to bruise feelings.

  “No. And it's becoming clear that he won't. He lacks the clarity of thought needed.”

  Lacked the clarity of thought?! What a diplomatic way of putting it, Edrick thought. It was so much better than simply saying that he was barking mad. Really, the wizard didn't deserve such respect. Though perhaps it wouldn't be appropriate to say that to her. He was already in trouble with the Guild.

  “You know that I suggested to Stelle that if you could remember the location of a gate on your home world that might connect to Faerie I might be able to find it from my side?”

  “I know, and thank you. We're trying. But all we have so far are stories. Often childhood stories. We were pulled across to this world without any baggage. So not only do we not have the usual things we need for our daily lives, we also don’t have any books or writings. Nor do we have access to any of our explorers or scholars. Heartwood as you would call it in your tongue was only a small village. We had no scholars. No academy.”

  “We're trying to put all the stories we heard as children together to come up with a location. To remember what everyone had heard. But everyone has a different memory of what they were told. It will take time. In the meantime we're trying to build new homes for ourselves.”

  “Of course. I'm sorry.” He shouldn’t have expected her to say anything different, of course. But it was still a sad thing for her and her people. To be trapped on an alien world. Not that Riverlandia was a bad place to be. It was just that it wasn't their home.

  “How goes the building?”

  “Better. The trees are strange and there are no Caobars among them so our platforms will have to be among the tree tops rather than overlooking them. But we have already built our first few platforms. Carrie Wilberton has wagons loaded down with lumber and tools arriving every day. She is a good woman. When we are finally living off the land as we should, the people will be happier.”

  “Goo –.” Edrick suddenly had to pull on the wheel hard as a man loaded down with firewood suddenly stopped in the middle of the street just in front of them to stare at the winged elf sitting beside him.

  “Shite! You dullard!” He yelled at the man as they passed him, wondering if he was naturally slow witted or had had to work at it. Sure, there was strange winged woman sitting next to him. But still!

  Edrick drove on through the town in silence after that, focused wholly on the drive and making sure that he wasn't caught by any other people suddenly deciding to walk out in front of them to stare at his passenger. It was lucky he did because some of them insisted on standing in the road and he had to yell at them to get out of the way. Others he actually had to drive around as they simply refused to move.

  Thankfully in time they escaped the town and were soon driving peacefully along the south road to Miston, The wagon rocked and rolled a little on its springs. The steam engine chugged away steadily just behind them. Even when he had to stop an
d load some more timber into the fire box, it didn't detract from the peace. And his passenger was fascinated as he showed her the parts of the engine. Still, he wondered why she'd come calling. Because by the way she kept glancing across at him and started fidgeted, he knew she had a reason. Eventually he got tired of waiting for her to raise what was on her mind and asked.

  “To ask if you'll stand with us when we meet with Lord Ironbelly.”

  “Ironbelly? He's coming?” Edrick was surprised by that. The King's Right Hand didn't visit small towns as a rule. And if he was coming to speak with the Argani, that had to mean that this time Wilberton's mistake had grown to national importance.

  “Yes. In three or four days.”

  “Why? I mean, he's a very important man. Right Hand to the King and all. He has twenty cities and a hundred million people to deal with. He commands the armies and the Courts. A little town like Coldwater wouldn't even be noticed in his world.”

  It worried him a little too. If the King’s Left Hand had shown up, he would have been concerned about matters of property, taxes and coin. That Edrick could have perhaps understood. But the fact that it was the Right Hand meant King Durhan's concern was either with military matters or with the law. Had the Argani become some sort of threat?