“Where shall you stay?” Sean asked after they parted.
“Avery invited me to her home; I’ll think things out there. And you’ll be staying here, you lucky dog.”
“Will you participate in the trials?”
“I’m not sure, but I’m leaning towards ‘yes.’ Might be fun.”
“Hmm … being a bronze sentinel isn’t about having fun, you know.”
“I know, but let’s face it, I’ll never get chosen anyway. They’d rather have a local win.”
Sean was about to respond to that, but then Jonas came up and asked why Callie hugged Sean and not him. “Because roses have thorns,” she joked before giving Jonas an equally warm hug he wouldn’t soon forget.
“Come, Jonas, we shouldn’t keep the count waiting,” Sean said. “Callie, I wish you luck in the trials. Maybe you’ll face You-Know-Who again.” Callie made a face then stuck her tongue at him, prompting the trio to chuckle.
Count Guyver seemed upset about something when Sean returned to him, but he didn’t ask and the count never told. A butler was tasked with bringing Sean and Jonas to the current house mage, Master Harris—wherever he was.
Having lived in a mansion nearly all his life, the size and appearance of the entrance hall held little impact for Sean, and his first impression was that it was quaint. The furnishing was rather simple, the windows were undecorated, and the paintings were mere landscapes and still-lives. Still, it was a handsome place with cream-colored marble flooring, white stucco walls, doorframes and rafters of red oak, a finely crafted staircase with red carpeting, and the lingering smell of candles that have burned over the ages. The overall layout gave a rather cozy feeling that Sean believed all homes should have.
The butler surmised that Master Harris was in the alchemy lab, located at the far end of the east wing. They came to a dark oaken door with a wooden sign reading DO NOT DISTURB. Ignoring the sign, the butler tapped on the knob as if expecting it to bite him like a snake. “He’s not supposed to boobytrap the door, but you never know,” he said. He then knocked, and a voice responded from the other side: “Go away!”
“Are you doing a spell in there?”
“I don’t know, maybe I am!”
The butler shook his head in dismay and cracked the door open.
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Sean asked. “If he is doing a spell—”
“He’s not; he’s just being a crabass.” The butler opened the door to find an old man stooped over a book atop a work cabinet. “The count has returned to us; why are you still here?”
The old man gave him a brief sidelong glance then returned to his book. “I’ll see him when I’m good and ready.”
“Well, you should be ‘good and ready’ right now, because here is someone you need to meet: your new apprentice.”
This got the old man’s attention, and the look in his beady brown eyes said he was not pleasantly surprised. Far from it. After the butler made introductions, Sean offered his hand. Master Harris looked at it blankly for a moment before wrapping his own slim digits around it, his wispy white hair fluttering as he shook. With the handshake over, Master Harris scoffed and bent back over his book.
Sean thanked the butler then requested that he assign a room for him and Jonas, adding that he’ll find the room on his own later.
“Staying awhile?” Harris asked once he and Sean were alone.
Sean raised an eyebrow. “Of course, sir. I’m your apprentice from this moment on; now’s as good a time as any for us to get better acquainted.”
“But you don’t have to. You can leave.”
“I made a promise to Count Guyver. You’re stuck with me.”
Harris made a frustrated sigh. “You know, when I woke up this morning, I never thought I’d have another fucking ’prentice. I thought it’d be another peaceful day, no distractions except for those loud fucking dogs out there, I swear to Micah …”
Now it was Sean’s turn to shake his head in dismay. Oh, God, he’s going to be my master for the next year or so? “I understand you’ve had many apprentices who have moved on to other places … but perhaps I’ll be different. I’m a quick study and a hard worker. If there’s anything I don’t understand, I shan’t give up until I have it down pat.”
“Or you could just leave,” Harris muttered.
Sean stretched a corner of his mouth, thoroughly disapproving of his new master’s attitude yet committed to making a good first impression. It would probably take a while, though, since Master Harris had clearly grown bitter and resentful in his golden years. He probably had big dreams as a young man of earning honor and prestige, but now he was a lowly house mage in a province mostly known for growing hops. Like Cypher, Harris did not like taking on new apprentices, but Harris was even more of a recluse, preferring to shut himself in a room out of everyone’s sight. Plus, he no longer kept good hygiene and let himself waste away behind closed doors: His scrawny frame was covered in a shabby gray robe spotted with patches of various colors, a few white hairs dangled from his nostrils and a mole above his left eyebrow, and he had the smell of a man who used a weak spell to stave off the hundreds of days he went without a bath. Perhaps his most noticeable feature was his jaw, which constantly quivered like a bowstring even as he spoke.
It was disheartening, seeing a new master be like this. Sean strongly hoped he would never become like this himself, but for now all he wanted was to have Master Harris open up to him. He thought he’d get a big reaction when he said was born and raised as a Consarian, but Master Harris was hardly impressed. It was as if the war was simply an afterthought for him. Sean then claimed he was here through a referral by Master Cypher, and this time Harris had something to say: “That crackpot sent you here? God-fucking-dammit, I should have known he’d do something like this! When I see him again, I’m a-gonna crack my knuckles on his head so hard, his eyes’ll fall in!”
It took Sean a good five minutes to get him to calm down. He ended up promising to never mention Cypher’s name again, nor would he ever compare him to Harris. Afterward, Harris went back to his book, and Sean took the opportunity to look over the alchemy lab. There was an impressive array of stores, including shelves chock full of jars of most anything an alchemist would ever need. Each jar was meticulously labeled, containing such items as badger claws, bat teeth, charcoal nuggets, iron shavings, and flytrap seeds. There were even stasis fields which kept perishable ingredients fresh, their yellowish-orange glow bathing things like frog eyes, gecko feet, mammal livers, and scales of the rare coelacanth.
While looking over the collection of beakers and vials, he discovered a single hair strand kept in a long tube, its follicle glowing with an ethereal beauty. He had seen similar follicles before, but this one was extraordinary. “Wow, is this … a unicorn hair?”
Master Harris spun around in his seat and pointed at him. “Don’t touch it! You spoil that, and I’ll have your hide!”
Sean raised his hands as if in surrender. “No, I would never! I just wanted to know. I’ve never seen a real one before. How did you get it?”
Master Harris finally left his seat and pushed Sean aside to have himself a closer look. He may have seemed frail, but he had little trouble walking. “Oh, trust me, you don’t want to know, but it involves slathering yourself with honey and standing by a waterfall with a lotus flower in your mouth. The unicorn comes in close, and if you’re lucky, some of the hairs of its mane will stick to the honey and pop off … but if it recognizes you as a man, it’ll stick its horn into your gut and have itself a nice, refreshing bloodbath. Then you’ll have the supreme honor of having an epitaph that reads, ‘Fucked by a unicorn.’”
“Um … you’re right, I didn’t want to know that,” Sean said, mostly in jest.
“Then why the hell’d you ask?” Master Harris used tweezers to pluck the hair from the tube into a vial and casually stuffed the vial int
o a junk-filled cabinet. “God, I swear, you leave something out for just a second and people want to trample all over it.”
The old mage proceeded to look over the shelves while mumbling to himself, worried that Sean had touched something else he shouldn’t have. Sean took this opportunity to glance at the master’s book, wondering why Harris was so absorbed in it. It took only a few lines to make out his answer:
He chased her up the hill, and she giggled when he caught her. As he spun her around, her yellow skirt resembled the sunflowers swaying by their ankles.
“Don’t I look lovely?” she asked with fluttering eyes.
“You are prettier than a nightingale, singing its secret song,” he said.
Sean realized his eyes had unconsciously opened as far as they could go, so he stepped away and tried to appear as if he hadn’t seen anything. A love story? This ornery old grouch is reading a love story?
Once he turned away from his supplies, Master Harris glared at him as if he knew what Sean had done. “Well … I’ll see if you can take your Apprentice’s Oath tomorrow. Till then, bye.”
Predictably, the master returned to his book, prompting Sean to shake his head and leave in disappointment. He then found the butler who had escorted him earlier and was directed to his new quarters, where a bored Jonas was folding sheets of parchment to make different shapes. The room was a little too small for Sean’s taste, but it did have a wall shelf with a few studybooks and even a world map where he could marvel at how far he traveled over the past summer.
With nothing else better to do, Sean and Jonas went out to explore the manor. They discovered the horse stables and chicken coops (where Jonas was dissuaded from chasing after the hens) and greeted many of the wandering servants. Sean always made sure to introduce himself as Master Harris’ new apprentice, to which he was often given a servant’s sympathies. The old house mage had an unflattering reputation, and Sean heard a few horror stories of Master Harris giving terrible bedside service and berating people for the smallest of slights.
At sunset, the two men retreated to their quarters and made ready for bed, changing into white shifts. “I like it here,” Jonas said. “Do I really have to go to the palace?”
After making a sad sigh, Sean replied, “Yes, Jonas. I and Master Cypher think that’s the safest place for you.”
“I know, but there are no animals in the palace—not even dogs. I want to play with the chickens and cows.”
“I don’t think cows are meant for playing with,” Sean said with a chuckle. “And the farmers won’t like you scaring the chickens all the time; it’ll affect their productivity.”
“I know. Good night, Sean.”
The men adjusted themselves into the first beds they’d seen in months, and they relished in the kind of comfort they had once taken for granted. Jonas fell asleep almost immediately, but Sean stayed awake with thoughts of Master Harris and Asturia weighing heavy in his mind. He was stuck with Harris whether he liked it or not, but it seemed like having him for a tutor would be an uphill battle. Dealing with Harris’ toxic attitude would be bad enough, but Sean would also need to encourage him to actually do his job of tutoring. Perhaps if he did some special favors for Harris, such as bringing back more love stories from Asturia … no matter how weird that would be …
And there was Jonas to think about, whom he was going to part with in less than a week. If his suspicions about Jonas were correct, then his relationship with the older man was one of the most monumental and unlikely instances in his entire young life. Sean had so many questions for him, questions he had pondered for many years. Yet he didn’t dare ask them for fear of getting no answers—or worse yet, upsetting Jonas to the point of pushing him away.
I shouldn’t press him on anything, he thought as he listened to Jonas’ gentle snoring. The important thing now is that I keep him safe. If he gets hurt or killed due to my negligence … I don’t even want to think what might happen then.
Sean and Jonas joined the count for a sumptuous breakfast of roasted ham, carrots and potatoes. The dining hall was less extravagant than the one in Sean’s old home (complete with a poorly rendered portrait of the count and his wife), but at least the cooks knew how to turn out a delicious hunk of meat with herbs and spices.
Count Guyver said that the trials for the new bronze sentinel were about to start, and that Sean and Jonas were free to attend. “Normally, we would get you registered into the mansion’s wards right away, but since you’ll be joining me in Asturia, that can wait. How was your meeting with Master Harris, by the way?”
Sean left nothing out and didn’t sugarcoat the details. The count simply nodded in understanding, not surprised at all by his house mage’s cold reception. Shortly after, the old mage himself stepped in and bowed before his lord. “Count Guyver, welcome back. So good to see you again.”
“Thank you, Master Harris. Please, have a seat.” Once Harris did as asked and made a plate for himself, the count continued: “If it’s good to see me, then why did you not do so yesterday? Everyone else did, but you were notably absent. What were you doing that was so important?”
“I, er … I was, uh … m-making potions for my new apprentice and me.”
The count nodded, though he looked disbelieving. “Sounds like something you could put off for later. I would rather you had a proper introduction to your new apprentice; instead I had to send him after you inside. From now on, you shall show more consideration for me and Sean. Understood?”
“Yes, my lord,” Harris said in a low, irritated tone.
The count then informed Harris that Sean was to accompany him to Asturia, so Harris should plan a curriculum while they were away. As was customary, Sean waited for his master to finished eating, then went with Harris to the alchemy room with Jonas in tow.
“So, you want to go to the trials?” Harris asked. “Want to see those barbarians hack each other to death? Here, take these potions and give them to the mediators; tell them to put only a few drops into a cup of water to numb the pain. If they use the whole damn thing, then the patient won’t feel anything for a whole week. He’ll feel more like a ghost than a man. On second thought, don’t tell them that. Let them suffer!”
Sean took the four proffered vials. “I shall at my own discretion, master.”
“Don’t talk back to me! If I don’t see any of those guys suffering out there, I’ll—”
Sean hurried out of the room while tugging on Jonas’ sleeve. An uphill battle, indeed.
The manor’s western field was an uncultivated expanse that stretched to a tributary that fed into the Marlin River, the source of irrigation for the crops. It was normally used for the horses and cattle to graze in, but today the servants and townspeople had set up fences to organize the bronze sentinel trials. As many as three battles went on at once, each surrounded by hundreds of onlookers cheering and wagering over their favorite contestants.
Sean had missed Callie yesterday, so he searched for her after distributing the potions. He didn’t have to look long, for she was in an arena fighting a man nearly double her size. Like all the contestants, they only had wooden swords, but it still had to take guts for her to face an opponent like that. The man’s biceps were as large as boulders and covered in bulging veins; even with a practice sword, he could do serious harm if he wasn’t careful. Of course, considering that he was facing a real beauty like Callie, he was probably being extra careful.
One would think that the difference in body sizes would make for an uneven match, but both opponents seemed equally agile. Callie tried to sneak past his defense with some quick moves, but the man handily countered them and kept her on her toes. As Callie was pushed back against the fence, Sean dug his nails into his palms and softly encouraged her to get back on the offensive. For a moment, the man went easy on her and allowed her to step away from the fence, but then he pulled a few quick swipes followed by a strong
parry that left her disoriented. As Callie tried to regain her footing with an ugly sneer, her opponent rushed and shoved her to the ground. A thunderous cheer rose from the crowd, and the mediator declared the man as the winner.
Callie graciously took her opponent’s offer to pull her back up, then tossed the wooden sword to the arena’s quartermaster and went for a drink of water at a nearby stand. Sean had assumed she would be joined by her circle of female friends, but they were nowhere to be seen. He and Jonas caught up to her as she wandered off. “That was a good show you put on. You should be proud.”
“Thanks,” she said, smiling under troubled eyes.
“He must have cheated. I mean, you never lose.”
She ruffled his hair and said, “It happens.”
“Are you going to be the next bronze sentinel?” Jonas asked.
Callie gave him a curious look. “You don’t get to be a sentinel by getting knocked on your ass, Jonas. After that match, I’m now disqualified.”
“Oh,” Jonas said with downcast eyes, probably kicking himself for not understanding what had just happened.
“I’m starved. Let’s find something to eat.”
They came to a firepit where servants offered roast-suckling pig in flatbread, chopped vegetables, and buttered bread. Callie helped herself to generous portions as if she had skipped breakfast, while the men had modest ones. They then sat in a popular socializing spot near the stables where they noted how autumn felt right around the corner, given how the sun had weakened of late. Callie related how her friend Avery had a nice cottage that felt empty with no children running around, and how the hosts themselves were “nice.” Beyond that, she was reluctant to say more. Sean was decidedly not reluctant in speaking of his new master, who tried to shoo Sean away with unkind words while reading a story about a man literally chasing after a woman.
“You mean, a bodice-ripper?” Callie asked with a wide grin and sparkling eyes.
The Hunt for the Three Roses Page 14
