The stables were huge and could accommodate at least a hundred horses by Azerick’s quick count. The horses currently occupying the stable belonged to staff members, students of The Academy, and the drilling horses for the Martial Academy. Few guests stabled horses for tonight’s feast as any noble of worth had arrived by coach. It was unbecoming to ride horseback to an event as elaborate as the one being held this evening.
As Azerick began to descend the loft, he came across one of the many rats typically infesting such places and lured it to him with a bit of food. He caught it up and dropped it in a hard leather satchel he kept slung over one shoulder.
This should prove useful, he thought.
Azerick exited the stable and was questioned only once by one of the stable hands. He simply showed his furry captive to the groom and said The Academy hired him to exterminate as many rats as he could lest one run across the shoe of one of the many prestigious guests and besmirch the cleanliness of The Academy.
He scanned the rows of parked carriages until he found one to his liking. A boy, probably a page, dressed in his master’s livery stood next to a fine coach eating an apple. The boy was about Azerick’s age and size but lacked the hardness he achieved through his harsh life on the streets.
“Ho there,” Azerick called to the boy.
“Who are you, and what do you want?” the boy demanded.
“I just came to look at the fine carriages and thought maybe you would let me take a look inside one.”
The boy looked at Azerick and sniffed. “I think not, you are likely to leave a stain and an ill scent upon the upholstery.”
“Come on, look I’ll give you a silver for just a peek. I won’t even step inside or touch anything, I promise,” Azerick said as he held up the shiny piece of silver.
As the page reached for his promised reward, Azerick let the coin slip from his fingers. When the boy bent to retrieve it, Azerick clouted him hard behind the ear with the blackjack he had made from a leather pouch and a fistful of small, lead balls. The boy fell to the ground at Azerick’s feet in a crumpled heap. He quickly grabbed the boy under the arms and dragged him into the carriage. A minute later, Azerick emerged from the coach wearing the fancy livery of the page, leaving the real page securely bound and gagged on the floor of the coach.
He crossed under a set of stone arches leading to the well-manicured lawns, which he crossed before reaching the main Academy building itself. He let himself in through a postern door and found the kitchen. Azerick grabbed up a serving tray, ate a couple of the snacks, and swept out into the dining hall.
A cacophony of sounds filled the hall coming from several harps, lutes, and a harpsichord as well as the tuneless droning of dozens of nobles and Academy members. He made his way around the long, brightly polished tables while serving the morsels off his tray. The nobleman whose livery Azerick wore flagged him down to get him some wine. The man never even looked at the imposter long enough to see that he wore a different face than the one who had brought him here. The only thing the rich man saw was his colors. The wealthy never see the face of the lesser people who serve them.
Azerick made several rounds about the tables, listening and learning the names of those in attendance. He found the old wizard who had humiliated him twice and served him, leaning over his shoulder with his silver tray and was once again invisible while standing in plain sight. He quickly learned his name as well—Magus Allister. Armed with this knowledge he began to execute his plan.
He went back to the kitchen and found a tray with a silver dome used to keep the contents warm. He also found a flagon of wine into which he poured a quantity of extremely spicy, red sauce. He served the wine to Lord Answorth Bronwyn, Lord Mayor of Groveswood and the covered silver dish to his wife, Lady Tabitha Bronwyn. Groveswood was a town east of Southport. It was a relatively small town but boasted a long and proud history. Many wealthy merchants and minor lords sought its mild weather, shaded groves and gardens, and peaceful surroundings, building summer manors and often moving there permanently in their retirement.
“My Lord and Lady, Master Allister begs you to try a special vintage as well as a rare treat he deems only a palate of your character deserves, but please wait until I inform the Magus that it has been delivered before you indulge. He wishes to make a toast of it and witness your delight.”
“Of course, please send the Magus our warmest regards,” Lord Bronwyn commanded without even looking over his shoulder at the imposter who served him.
Azerick skirted the back wall, circling to the far side of the room to the table directly across from the Bronwyns to where the wizard sat. He bent down and spoke softly into the old wizard’s ear.
“Master Allister, Lord and Lady Bronwyn wishes to raise a cup to convey their deepest appreciation for your diligent service to The Academy and the excellent tutoring you have provided the many children of the kingdom’s upper class.”
Azerick ducked back into the shadows as Magus Allister gazed across the table and raised his goblet in salute to the Bronwyn’s kind words. The Lord raised his cup, and his Lady gave the wizard a nod and smile. Lord Bronwyn brought his wineglass to his lips and sipped as his wife lifted the cover on the silver serving dish.
Both Lord and Lady let out a scream, one of shock and pain as the fiery spice burned a trail from his lips to his stomach, the other of horror when the large, black barn rat ran down the table as soon its shining, silver prison was lifted.
Cries went up from the Ladies seated at the table as they jumped up, several falling backward over their chairs as the furry, black streak raced across plates and turned over wine glasses. Serving boys, pages, and kitchen staff chased after the fleeing rodent swinging serving trays and wooden spoons, chasing it from the dining area.
The crowd was starting to settle down as Lord Bronwyn stopped choking enough to point an accusing finger at the Magus. “What is this, sir? You dare try to poison me and frighten my wife to an early grave! Is this your idea of a joke?”
“My Lord and Lady, please, I have no idea what has happened,” the flustered and confused wizard replied. “If this is indeed some kind of hoax, the guilty party will be found and dealt with, I assure you.”
The Master of The Academy stepped up to offer his reassurances to the Bronwyns. “My Lord and Lady Bronwyn, please accept my sincerest apologies. Everyone, please be seated. The excitement has passed. Let us get on with the banquet. I offer all of you my deepest apologies. It appears that someone, likely one or more of the spirited students, sought to play a cruel jest on us old stuffed shirts. You know how children are. I am sure the rest of the evening will go splendidly.”
The music picked back up as the well-dressed crowd returned to their seats and resumed their conversations, many starting to have a laugh at the excitement. Azerick continued to keep an ear to the conversations hoping to discover another chance at creating further mayhem.
The evening wore on with no more excitement until he chanced upon some hushed words coming from a dimly lit alcove, words promising of a midnight rendezvous and a secret tryst in the garden. Azerick watched from behind a fluted pillar as the conspiring pair returned to their seats. The man was middle-aged and sat next to a hatchet-faced woman who always looked to have just bitten into a lemon. The pretty, younger woman took her seat next to a great fat man dressed in flamboyant silks.
Azerick returned to the kitchen and fetched another pitcher of wine, returned to Magus Allister, and filled his cup, deftly mixing in a fine powder. He watched as the man with the sour-faced wife excused himself from the table followed several minutes later by the pretty woman with the fat husband.
Azerick followed the woman out of the hall and into one of the gardens. Sticking to the shadows, he heard a whispered call followed by a short squeal of delight and giggling. He quietly followed the sounds of a man and a woman taking their pleasure to a darkened little alcove surrounded by creeping ivy and rosebushes. As the amorous couple frolicked in the garden complete
ly unaware of the voyeuristic eyes on them, the young thief reached through the bushes and absconded with a piece of the woman’s underclothes. He crossed the grounds of the garden looking for the living quarters of the teaching staff. As he searched along the halls, a man in a well-made but plain robe accosted him and demanded to know his business.
“Young man, what are you doing here? These are the personal quarters of the magi.”
“Please, sir, Master Allister bid me fetch a scroll he had set out that he wished to show to Duke Ulric, but I have gotten turned about and have forgotten the directions to his quarters.”
“Bah, I don’t have time to play tour guide to some boy too simple to follow instructions. I have a great deal of work to do.”
“Please help me, sir, lest I be turned into a newt or some such. I do not wish to be a newt,” Azerick pleaded in his most pitiful voice.
“Take those stairs up to the third floor. His is the room on the right at the far end of the hall, and see that you do not get lost or you may well get something worse than being turned into a newt,” the man warned.
Azerick sprinted up the stairs, taking two steps at a time up to the third floor and ran down to the end of the hall. The door was a simple wooden door with a typical lock. He was about to take his lock picks to it when he felt the same queer sense he had experienced from the fancy jewelry box at the manor house he had robbed.
At least there are no dogs or guards this time, he thought.
Azerick closed his eyes and concentrated as he had before in the mansion. The emanations from the door felt stronger, cleaner, somehow better constructed but lacked the malevolence of the jewelry box. The Jewelry box was dangerous, possibly deadly. He felt that if he set this ward off it would likely do little more than alert the owner or perhaps give him a good jolt. He did not know how he knew that, but he was certain his assumptions were correct.
It took far longer to manipulate the energies of this ward than the last one, and a magical ward is what he knew it to be now, but he finally got it to release its hold on the door. His practice in creating wards of his own paid off handsomely. With ward taken care of, he went to work on the lock with his picks, which took far less time to undo than the ward had.
Azerick crept into the wizard’s chambers. The room turned out to be far smaller than he would have expected of a wizard of The Academy. A bed was near the window with a large trunk at the foot. A desk sat facing the wall under the only other window in the room while a large bookcase filled with books, powders, and small knickknacks stood against the wall opposite the desk. A small alchemic set rested on a table next to the bookshelf. He looked around the room for something to steal and selected a book titled “Elementary Magic” and a large crystal from the bookshelf. He stashed both items in his shoulder satchel, darted back out of the room, and ran back to the dining hall.
The mischief-making thief cut through the gardens once again and caught sight of the two lovers making their way back inside. Azerick ran back through the door leading to the dining hall ahead of the couple and spied the old wizard coming up the hall from where the privy was located.
Still enjoying the fruits of your wine, eh wizard? Azerick chuckled to himself.
As the old man strode past, Azerick dropped the pilfered undergarment into one of the silk robe’s large pockets. He then cut through the kitchens, once again grabbing a wine pitcher, and walked briskly into the dining hall.
“Here, My Lord, let me fill up your cup since you are still here. I thought you had gone out to the gardens with your lovely wife,” Azerick insinuated.
“My wife went to the gardens you say?” the fat man asked.
“Yes, milord; a few minutes before Magus Allister excused himself saying something about having to show someone his wand. Do you think he means to give us all a magic show? Though it did sound to me to be a private showing,” he said in disappointment. “Oh well, here they both come now.”
Angry whispers came from the rejoined couple while the fat man glared across the table at Magus Allister. He stood up, threw his napkin down, and waddled around the table to confront the wizard.
“Magus Allister, I would know to where you disappeared and what foul business you have perpetrated,” he demanded.
“Sir, with all due respect, where I went and what I did is none of your affair,” the wizard replied, his face coloring with both embarrassment and irritation at the man's effrontery.
“It is when your affair is with my wife! Show her your wand indeed!” the fat man shrieked indignantly.
“Sir, I assure you I have no idea of that which you speak,” the wizard replied, his face getting nearly as red as the jealous husband’s.
Leaning against the wall, Azerick cleared his throat and pointed at the wizard’s pocket. Quicker than Azerick would have thought possible, the fat man thrust his hand into the big pocket and came up with the silken undergarment belonging to his wife.
“Explain this, sir!”
“I, I, I cannot,” the old man stammered.
“Now, Peter, certainly you do not think I would betray you with this…ugh…old man, do you? I would never stoop so low,” his wife said.
"What precisely is the level that you would stoop to, my dear?" the man asked peevishly.
Azerick chose this time to make his escape and head back home, feeling that his work was mostly complete. He was still running on the excitement of the evening and knew he would not get to sleep anytime soon. He sat up for a couple hours reading the book he had stolen, finding it of great interest. He hoped he would be able to keep it when this was all over. It contained a detailed explanation of magical theory and even a few minor cantrips and spells.
He read over them and knew that with a little time he could decipher their meaning and possibly cast them. Much like the magical wards he had unraveled, he seemed to have an almost natural understanding of the mystical words. Azerick studied a few of the minor spells and was able to make sense of the writings and meaning after a couple hours of study. He eventually grew tired, but instead of placing the precious book in his bookcase, he laid it gently on the floor at the intersection of two passageways just up from the main room in which he slept and lived.
The next morning, he awoke and went back out into the street, this time actually looking for Hugo and his friends. It did not take long, and he cherished the look of surprise on Hugo’s face when he actually called him over.
“I couldn’t get you any coin, Hugo, but I have something that should be worth at least as much as I owe,” Azerick said and produced the crystal he had stolen from Magus Allister’s room.
“What is this? What do I want with some piece of glass?” Hugo demanded.
“It’s crystal not glass, and it is said to have magical properties.”
“What kind of magical properties?” Hugo asked suddenly wary.
“I don’t know, I’m not a wizard, but I’ll bet someone schooled in magic will pay you well for it.”
“All right, street rat, but next time, you better have real coin,” Hugo demanded, punched Azerick once in the gut, and stalked off admiring the reflected sunlight thrown off by the crystal.
Azerick caught his breath as the thugs walked away laughing at his mild distress. Once the three left, he went off in search of food to restock his larder. By noon he had a couple small sausages, a fist-sized wheel of cheese, and two loaves of bread. Now that he was assured to have a decent lunch, he made his way back home to enjoy his repast.
He crept into his dwelling with more stealth than usual, looking and listening for any signs of an intruder. He checked each of his many traps as he slinked down the passageway, but all were still functional and ready. He set himself some tea to brewing, spread out his fare, and waited for it to come to boil.
A wavering aura of light suddenly illuminated the gloomy chamber then filled it with brilliant sunlight. Azerick shielded his eyes with his hand and squinted at the sudden brilliance coming from a few yards up the passage from his
chamber. A black, silhouetted form appeared, created by the sunlight streaming in from what appeared to be a hole in the air leading directly to the streets of the city above.
“Boy, we have a great deal to discuss before I decide what manner of punishment I shall inflict upon you,” came the deep, rumbling threat of the angry Magus.
“I believe it is best that we call the game a draw rather than escalate the war to greater levels,” Azerick replied calmly.
“You think this a game do you? I shall quickly dispel that notion from your mind.”
The wizard stared down at the floor ahead of him where the book of magic rested, lying in the dust. “Not only do you dare to steal my book, but you then defile it by carelessly tossing it to ground! Not surprising to find you are an illiterate little savage."
The wizard seemed even more incensed about his book lying on the ground than anything else Azerick had inflicted on him. Magus Allister took several steps forward and bent down to retrieve his precious tome.
A flagstone shifted under his soft-soled foot, and mortar and dust flew into the air as a powerful spring pulled a rope from under the false grout that hid it. Pins holding the rope securely out of sight sprung out from between the stones securing them in place as they could no longer bear the force of the heavy counterweight dropping from behind the wall.
The wizard felt a sharp pinch around his ankles and quickly found the world turned upside down as the rope went taut. He swung back and forth, twisting round and round as he dangled at the end of the rope holding him aloft. Heavy cloth covered his eyes and bared his buttocks as gravity pulled the hem of the robes down over his head.
“I had a mind to be merciful, boy, but now I will truly make you rue the day you ever crossed me!” he raged.
The Sorcerer's Path Box Set: Book 1-4 Page 25
