“You don’t think the woods fairy will come for me tonight do you? I wasn’t that bad, and I said I was sorry.”
“No, fairy no come this time,” Grick leaned toward her and gave her a sniff. “But you getting pretty rotten. You gots maybe one or two more chances. Depend on how bad you are.”
“I’ll kill rats and I’ll write my lessons, I promise, and I won’t use magic again without permission!”
“That good, maybe not too late for you like too late for poor Grick. Come, I see rat.”
Grick led Ellyssa deeper into the basement rooms, which were quite extensive. They spread out to cover a considerably greater area than the tower above. Some of the timbers had gotten sodden and crumbled over the ages and would need to be replaced, but most of the rooms were still sound, having been protected from the elements by the ground and structures above.
Grick shined the bulls-eye lantern on a rat running along the wall just ahead. “There rat, go whack it!”
Ellyssa darted after the fleeing rat, and with a small squeal of distaste, brought her wooden rod down on the vermin’s back. The rat began flailing about and screeching in a high-pitched wail of pain.
“It’s not dead! What do I do now?” she cried, putting her hands over her ears.
“Whack it again!” Grick ordered.
With another shout of revulsion, she brought the stick down on the rat again and again until it stopped moving and ceased its wailing. Ellyssa had tears in her eyes as Grick stepped up and dropped the dead rat into the large burlap bag he carried.
“You do ok. Next time you hit rat harder,” the goblin advised.
Grick had set out some food earlier that day in hopes of drawing the creatures out. His bait was proving effective and it did not take long to find more rats.
Grick directed the light of his lantern at another of the creatures. “There, this time you hit hard.”
Ellyssa followed the goblin’s advice and put all her might into the swing against the next rat. Entrails burst out of the slain creature’s side and spattered onto her shoes, and small droplets of blood speckled her face.
“Oh gross!” she shrieked.
“You whack that one too hard.”
“Ew, it’s on my shoe!” Ellyssa moaned.
“That okay, you gots lots of time to get it right.”
Ellyssa rolled her big hazel eyes. “Oh thanks, that makes me feel a lot better.”
“You welcome,” Grick replied with a sly grin.
By the time her duty was over, the burlap bag was heavy with slain rats. Grick made her go dump it outside the wall before she went to her room and spent the next hour writing out the ten fundamentals of wizardry.
Her fingers covered in ink, she went downstairs to the bath chamber where an iron bathtub stood a few inches over the floor on iron feet. She made sure the plug was in the bathtub and pulled on a chain dangling from a large metal pipe jutting down from the ceiling. The pipe led to a wooden water tank built above the main room of the keep. The top of the water tank had a roof shaped like a flattened funnel so it could capture the rainfall and fill the tank. Since it was not the rainy season, dozens of laborers spent nearly a week filling up the reservoir with buckets using the well in the courtyard.
The chain was attached to a lever that opened a valve in the pipe. The opened valve released a torrent of water, which quickly filled the tub. Ellyssa removed the lid covering the large pan built into the floor filled with a slow burning oil and lit it with a long candle. The oil flared to life and began its job of heating the water with its orange and blue flames.
Since she was not that big, she only filled the tub up about halfway, so it did not take long for the flames to heat the water to a comfortable temperature. Ellyssa stayed in the tub until after it was time for her to go to bed, scrubbing her skin until it turned red in an effort to remove the icky taint of rat smashing.
***
As if rebuilding the tower and teaching his apprentice magic were not enough work, Azerick had to play parent to a willful child. He wondered if he had made the right choice. Had he simply destroyed the spirit, he would have nothing to do but direct the workers and pursue his own studies. He would not have to care for anyone else—no responsibilities, no worries, and no punishments. He would have no one, and it made him realize that although it was not the easy decision, he had made the right one.
Between dealing with the child, preparing his vault, and casting the teleport spell, Azerick was exhausted. He needed to go into the city tomorrow and visit the Minister of Labor now that he could afford to hire more workers.
***
As lovely a city as North Haven was, every visit reminded him why he chose to live in a decrepit tower miles away. There was simply too much of everything. Too many people, too many smells, and far too much noise. Although city born, Azerick always felt most comfortable alone in his underground lair when he had lived in Southport. Now, amongst the citizens of North Haven, he ached to return to his tower, and he had been in the city less than an hour.
“Ah, Master Giles, so good to see you again,” Lord Randall beamed as he stepped out of his office upon being notified by his secretary that the sorcerer had returned.
It was a far warmer welcome than he had received on his first visit. When Azerick had initially come to the minister, Lord Randall had mistakenly assumed that the young man sitting outside his office was looking for a job, just like the hundreds of other unemployed and destitute people of North Haven. However, as soon as Azerick made it clear he actually wanted to hire a number of workers, the minister warmed to him immediately. Azerick found it revolting yet darkly amusing how quickly gold changed the opinions and manners of some people.
“I hope your workers are meeting your satisfaction. If they are not, just let me know. There are hundreds of people who will gladly take the place of any slackers,” the slightly older than middle-aged lord promised as he guided Azerick into his office.
“Not at all, Lord Randall, all my workers are doing exceptional work. In fact, I am here because I have secured the bulk of my assets and wish to hire more laborers.”
The minister’s smile widened even further, if it were possible. “Fantastic, the Duchess will be most pleased with my next report!”
“I am sure the workers and their families will be equally happy, what with having coin to buy food and clothes for the winter,” Azerick replied dryly, not giving a damn about the lord’s report.
“Oh of course of course,” the minister waved off. “So how many workers will you be needing, a dozen, another twenty perhaps?”
“As many as you and the guild leaders think I can keep productive. I need stonecutters, haulers, timber cutters, bricklayers, more cooks to feed them, food delivery, and carpenters. I will eventually need to purchase livestock, plow several acres of cleared timberlands, plant crops, and have them maintained by someone with farming experience.”
The minister’s jaw dropped. “Sir, you are aware that we have a significant employment shortage at the moment, and it is possible for me to fill probably two to three hundred of those positions almost immediately, at the least.”
“Excellent, if the guild leaders think that they can field even more than that and still be productive then have them do so.”
“Of course, Master Giles, but you do realize the rather large expense involved in hiring so many people?” Lord Randall asked nervously.
“Yes, Lord Randall, I do. Believe it or not, mathematics is stressed rather intensely at The Academy,” Azerick replied coolly. “I will also require the permanent services of an accountant. An honest one,” Azerick stressed. “I would also like a scholar for the general education of my apprentice.”
The minister was furiously scribbling notes on a piece of parchment as Azerick spoke. “I know just the man for the accounting job. I will have to check with the scribe’s guild for an educator. Will there be anything else, sir?”
“Not at this time. Thank you for your assistance, Lo
rd Randall. I look forward to the arrival of the workers as soon as possible.”
“It has been my pleasure, Master Giles,” Lord Randall said and actually bowed as Azerick left his office.
Azerick was glad to have the minister working so diligently to get him workers but it irritated him that the only reason he got the man’s respect and courtesy was that he was throwing around large sums of gold. A person should not have to purchase respect or simple courtesy. Any respect a person has to pay for was not worth a copper in his opinion.
He was walking through the city back toward the main gates, leading Horse by the reins, when he thought he saw a familiar face through the crowd. He quickened his pace and caught up with the older man that he was certain he recognized.
“Master Ewen, is that you?” Azerick asked and laid a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder.
The grey-haired man spun about with surprisingly quick reflexes and agility for a man his age and grabbed Azerick’s wrist with a strong grip.
“Azerick, is that you?” Ewen asked as recognition dawned on his face.
“Master Ewen, what are you doing in North Haven?”
“My boy, it is you!” the old man shouted and wrapped the sorcerer in a fierce embrace, clapping him soundly on the back.
“What are you doing in North Haven?” Azerick repeated.
“Things were getting a might uncomfortable down in Southport. I don’t like my family being threatened, and after a bunch of men started asking around about you, I decided it was time to move. I sold my home, packed up my entire family and resettled up here,” Ewen explained.
“So, they were still looking for me when you left. How long have you been here?”
“A bit over a year now. Not nearly as much work, even considering the slowdown after…well, you know, your father and all. Nice folks up here, but not many are willing or able to spend the coin on a private weapons teacher. Azerick, they say you killed a boy at that school. Is that true?”
“Master Ewen, I have killed a lot of people since my mother died. The first man I killed was that very same night, and death has followed me around like a shadow ever since. But, I swear to you, I never killed a man who did not deserve it. Travis, the boy who died at The Academy, was an accident.”
“I never thought you was a murderer, lad. Your father raised you right, and I like to think I taught you proper enough not to become that sort of man.”
“Thank you, Master Ewen, your opinion means a great deal to me.”
Ewen’s face brightened back up. “So what have you been doing all this time? You been here in North Haven the whole while?”
Azerick shook his head. “It’s a long story. Why don’t you come up to the keep sometime and we can catch up.”
“You’re the one who bought that haunted place? I heard some crazy wizard moved in, but I never would have guessed in a million years it was you!”
“Yes, I am the crazy wizard, sorcerer actually, but it is not haunted any longer. I took care of that.”
Ewen shook his head. “Drove out a spook that’s been haunting that place for hundreds of years. We definitely got some catching up to do. I’ll tell you what, I’ll pop in there in a day or two, and you and I can have us a good sit down and talk about everything. It’s good to see you well, son, mighty good.”
Azerick smiled warmly. “It is good to see you too Master Ewen.”
CHAPTER 5
Ellyssa was on her second day of grounding, and Wolf was already bored. Having been on his own for so long, he was surprised by how much he missed her company.
“I’m bored, Ghost, what are we going to do?” the half-elf asked his wolf companion.
That simple question coming from Wolf would have mothers grabbing their children from the street and men locking their doors, but Ghost just looked at the lean boy with his gold eyes and blinked.
“Let’s go see if there is anything interesting going on at the keep.”
Ghost padded along softly behind Wolf as they made their way through the wall and ducked behind the several small stone buildings standing in various states of reconstruction. The pounding of metal and the flying of sparks drew the half-elf’s attention. Creeping from building to building, he watched a lean but powerfully built blacksmith wearing a thick, leather apron pound a piece of iron with his heavy, steel hammer.
Wolf watched in wonder as sparks flew from every strike. After turning the metal several times and pounding the brightly glowing metal completely flat, the smith let the forked end hang over the side of the anvil. He then struck the narrower ends lightly, bending the steel tines until they both formed a loop. The blacksmith held the hinge up to his eye to examine his work and then doused the glowing hot metal in a barrel of water to temper the steel.
Wolf was fascinated when the water hissed, gurgled, and steamed as the hot metal came in contact with it. The blacksmith left the forging area of the smithy and disappeared into another room where Wolf heard what sounded like the filing of metal. The curious half-elf crept from his hiding place, looked at the fiery hot forge, and ran his hand across the heavy, steel anvil. He dunked his finger in the barrel of water and then brought it to his tongue.
“Blah, brine.”
He lifted the lid from another barrel, dipped his finger into its contents, and found that it was filled with a light oil. He rubbed his finger and thumb together, interested in the slippery feeling of it, and then washed it off in the brine barrel. The oil spread out from his fingers creating a rainbow of colors on top of the water. Wolf found the phenomenon intensely interesting. He dipped his hand into the oil, transferred it to the barrel of brine once more, and watched the rainbow spread out from his oil-coated hand.
“Hey this is neat, Ghost, you should look.”
The large black wolf just sat near him and watched, not terribly interested in Wolf’s discovery. Wolf scooped up a double handful of the oil, dropped it into the water, and watched as the globules of oil rose to the surface.
“Hey, Ghost, the oil floats on top of the water instead of mixing with it. Why does it do that do you think?”
Not bothering to wait for a reply that he knew was not forthcoming; Wolf dropped several more handfuls of oil into the water and watched in fascination. He heard the blacksmith returning to the forge room, thus cutting short his experimentation. Wolf and Ghost darted out, hid next to the opened sided building, and watched the smith once more.
The blacksmith grabbed another piece of iron with a large pair of tongs and thrust it into the forge. He worked a pair of bellows with his foot, pumping fresh air into the forge causing it to glow even brighter and put off so much heat that Wolf could feel it on his face from where he spied around the corner. The blacksmith pulled the near white-hot iron from the forge with the tongs and began beating it flat with his hammer.
The skilled blacksmith quickly formed the hot iron into another hinge. Once the hinge met his satisfaction, he plunged it into the barrel of brine just as he had the previous one. The instant the red-hot iron touched the oil floating on the surface of the briny water, it ignited and sent a burst of flame up and out of the barrel large enough to scorch most of the whiskers off the surprised smith’s sweat-covered, soot-stained face.
The shocked smith jumped back with a shout of surprise, dropping the hinge as well as his tongs into the barrel where they immediately sank to the bottom. The blacksmith cursed before looking up and spying the awed half-elf.
“Wow, that was so neat!” Wolf shouted. “Did you see that?”
The smith looked at the open barrel of oil and quickly deduced what had happened. “Why, you little cretin, I’ll wring your skinny little neck!”
“Uh oh, Ghost, time to go.” Wolf and his lupine friend sprinted back toward the safety of the forest leaving the angry shouts of the now nearly beardless blacksmith behind them.
After a few minutes of running, Wolf could no longer hear the angry blacksmith and slowed to a walk, safely in his woods once more. He loped through th
e forest in a southerly direction so he could watch any traffic along the road. Wolf watched the occasional wagon bearing workers and tools being pulled by horses or sometimes oxen or mules pass by heading toward the keep.
He was about to give up his newest pursuit as boring when several riders came out of the gates of North Haven leading a string of horses. Half the riders were well-dressed men and women while three other men in plain clothing led the horses, eighteen in all by Wolf’s count.
“I wonder why all those people are going to the keep, and what’s with all the horses?”
Wolf followed the procession toward the keep, always staying hidden within the trees. The caravan moved at a sedate pace, taking a little less than an hour to travel the four or five miles that lay between the keep and the city gates.
“Azerick, there are people outside with horses!” Ellyssa shouted as she looked out of the window of the library where Azerick conducted her lessons on the newly completed fourth floor.
Azerick crossed the room, it was the largest one on the fourth floor, and looked out into the courtyard. He saw half a dozen people, two women, and four men, each riding their own mount and pulling nearly a score of horses behind them, each bearing a saddle and bridle but no riders. Ellyssa bounded down the stairs three at a time while Azerick followed at a more leisurely pace.
By the time Azerick reached the entrance hall, a cavernous room twenty feet high and large enough to host a ball, Ellyssa had already admitted three of the newcomers, and they stood waiting as he walked down the stairs to greet them.
“You have done wonders with this place,” Lady Miranda praised him as the sorcerer entered the room.
She looked at the chandeliers hanging by stout rope running through pulleys and attached to the walls so they could be lowered for lighting and cleaning. Thick tapestries hung on the walls and helped insulate the room and trap the heat from the two enormous fireplaces standing to each side of the grand hall, currently unlit due to the warm season.
“The workers have done wonders. I have done very little, truth be told,” Azerick corrected.
The Sorcerer's Path Box Set: Book 1-4 Page 75
