Foundling Wizard (Book 1)

by James Eggebeen

  “One at a time, please,” he said. “We have located a Sorceress. Yes. That is what I said.” He held them in silence with a look until finally nodding to Rotiaqua. “Rotiaqua, you must have the most to say about this,” he said, granting her the floor.

  “Zhimosom, are you certain about this?” she asked.

  “Of this, I am quite certain. We detected the power rise in her a while back. It was diffuse and weak. We thought it was a very young boy who was awakening early.”

  He placed his hand over the volume from which he’d read Lorit’s adventures. “When Lorit met her, he shielded her, and we lost the connection. I was worried that we had lost the boy but, occasionally, Lorit drops his shields and I can sense her through him.”

  “What else do you know?” Rotiaqua asked. She was sitting forward in her chair, as if she was struggling to remain seated.

  “She is about eighteen summers in age, just as Lorit. She has awakened some months ago and is developing slowly, as is the way with girls. When Lorit first met her, they touched, and he detected the power in her. Since he keeps shields up around both of them at all times, it is very difficult to determine more than this.”

  “What do you recommend?” Rotiaqua asked.

  “I recommend that we get you in touch with her. She and Lorit are headed this way. I instructed the boy to head north to Trickby and take a boat to Wradon. I believe you could just about make it there by the time they do, unless they run into further troubles.”

  Rotiaqua settled back in her chair. “That would be ideal. Can you get in touch with the boy and ask him to help me contact her?” She shot Zhimosom a plaintive look. “Do you think she is strong enough for this type of contact?”

  “If the council agrees, we can undertake this action,” Zhimosom stated. “Do we need to discuss this any further?”

  “I think Rotiaqua is the perfect person for this job,” Awbelser commented.

  “I agree,” Maomran added.

  “As do I,” Koaleing said.

  “Agreed,” Neussul commented.

  “Then we are of one mind,” Rotiaqua pronounced. “Thank you for your support in this matter.”

  One by one, the wizards faded into mist and vanished until only Zhimosom and Rotiaqua remained. The wizard relaxed and leaned back in his chair. Only in the exclusive company of Rotiaqua was he truly able to let his guard down.

  “Quite a day!” he said. “I was shocked and surprised when I discovered this.”

  “You ARE certain about this,” Rotiaqua demanded. “You never say you’re certain about anything.”

  “Of this, I am certain. There is a unique quality to her magic, as I perceive it through him.” He pushed the stack of books aside and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “It is unmistakable.”

  “You should know. You, and few others,” she said with a smile.

  “Do you think you can help her from a distance?” Zhimosom asked. “We get so few Sorceresses that I just don’t know what to expect.”

  “Don’t you remember what it was like when we were that age? It wasn’t that long ago!”

  “Not that long ago?” he chided her. “Maybe time passes differently for you. For me, it’s been ages.”

  “I think I need to get to her as quickly as I can.” Rotiaqua rose from the desk in the inn and walked over to the table where Zhimosom sat. She sat on the corner of the table across from him gathering her robes around her as she did.

  “What about the boy?” she said, glancing back to the image of the inn. “What will I do about him?”

  “You can’t send him on alone,” Zhimosom said. “He’s but a youngster. He can’t make his way across the pass and all the way here without an escort. He’d be scooped up by the priests or the first brigand he came across.”

  “I know, but he may not survive the trip if the troubles that follow young Lorit are any indication.”

  “I think the chance to secure another Wizard and Sorceress pair is such a rare event that it must be protected and cultivated at all costs. These two could be our successors in a few decades if they keep developing together,” Zhimosom said.

  “Do you think you can get him to open up his shields enough to let me through?” Rotiaqua asked.

  “If he had not already met you in person, I don’t think we could convince him. He has worked under your tutelage; he knows the signature of your power. He should be able to do this. I have to teach him how to leave a hole in his shields for me to get through, or I will lose the ability to influence or train him soon. His shields are getting strong enough that I can barely get through them as it is.”

  “Shields so strong you can’t get through. The boy has located a Sorceress. He’s already found a young one on his own. He’s escaped from temple imprisonment on his own. Anything else you have to share that’s extraordinary?” she asked.

  “That pretty much covers it,” he said, looking up at her. “You are going to enjoy this, aren’t you?”

  “Like I was a little girl again,” she said, smiling down at him. “Aren’t you?”

  “I think I’m getting too old for this type of thing.”

  “When will you make the attempt to contact young Lorit?”

  “Tonight,” Zhimosom replied. “After their day’s excitement subsides. He seems to relax the shields a little in the evening. Right now, I can sense what he is up to, but the shields are so tight I can’t get through with anything other than a suggestion here or there.”

  “Let me know how it goes,” she said, rising from the table. “I will head out in the morning with my charge in tow. I’ll purchase a pair of horses so we can get there by the time they make landfall.”

  She walked back over to the desk in her inn room and sat in the rustic chair. She waved her hand and turned to mist, fading into the darkness of Zhimosom’s study.

  “I really am getting too old for this,” Zhimosom muttered to himself as he extinguished the candle, plunging the study into shadows.

  Rotiaqua rose early to prepare for their departure. This far into the fall was about the latest they could have planned to cross the Athestow Pass without risk. After their diversion, it would be too late. She roused Chedel from his slumber with a gentle nudge of her staff. “Wake up boy. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

  Chedel grumbled, “Can’t I get a little more sleep?” he begged. “I need all my rest to climb those mountain passes.”

  “Your good luck then,” she said, nudging him again. “We’re not crossing the mountains today. We have a new destination. You won't have to walk for a while. I've arranged horses for us to carry us there faster.”

  “Where are we going? I thought I was going to Amedon?”

  “We’re taking a little side trip,” she said. “Remember Lorit?”

  “Yes, of course,” he replied petulantly.

  “We’re going to meet up with him. He’s located a few more people who need a little extra help getting to Amedon, and you and I are that help.” She shouldered her pack and jabbed her finger at Chedel’s pack still lying on the floor. “Let’s get going!”

  “What about breakfast? I haven’t eaten yet. Do we really have to leave this early?”

  “We’ll eat on the way. We have a stop to make.”

  Swaldby Abbey was an unassuming abbey that specialized in wines and beers. The monks there were Gnostic Hedonists who believed that the perfection of one’s understanding of delectable food and strong drink were the highest achievement that any human could aspire to. For some reason, Rotiaqua felt a strong rapport with them and usually dropped in for a little of their enlightenment whenever she crossed the Athestow Pass.

  The abbey was comprised of a series of buildings where the monks slept and worked at their collective projects. Each building contained private sleeping quarters for the six monks who were assigned to that particular specialty. Each of the specialty buildings had a large depiction of the culinary focus that its occupants worked to perfect emblazoned across the wall
of the dining area.

  The dining room was large enough that all of the monks could gather in any one of the specialty buildings for each meal, which they rotated between the various groups daily.

  All of the abbey’s buildings were surrounded by a short wall made of fired clay bricks. The wall encircled the entire compound, including the gardens, at about waist height. Rotiaqua knew that it was there more to keep small vermin out of the herb garden than for protection of the occupants.

  Securing the gate behind them, Rotiaqua led Chedel down the dirt road that ran to the buildings. The sound of a large gong rang out reverberating off of the buildings and walls, filling the air with its call. Once, twice, three, four times, it rang out.

  “Chedel, you are in for a treat this morning,” she explained.

  “Why?”

  “Because they just rang breakfast bell.”

  He looked at her perplexed.

  “The number of bells indicates where the meal is being served,” she said, as if that explained everything.

  “Where is it being served? I am hungry. I need breakfast.”

  “I promise you a meal such as you will never again partake,” she said. “This is quite an opportunity for one as young as you.”

  They rode up to a squat building adorned with a bunch of ripe purple grapes, and tied the horses to a post out front. They dismounted, and Chedel reached for his pack.

  “Leave it behind,” Rotiaqua said. “We won’t need anything from there.”

  A short, rotund man, wearing a brown robe, ambled out of the building. When he spied Rotiaqua, he raised his arm in greeting. “Welcome back, Maestra,” he called. “Did you bring us some of those forest mushrooms that are so rare?”

  “Sorry, not this trip. I was in a hurry to cross the pass before winter. Now I'm being diverted. I’ll be making my way to the Lake District, only to return again with great haste.”

  “As usual, you have arrived just in time for a meal.” He waved his arm toward the building bearing the emblem of the purple grapes. “Please, be our guest for breakfast,” he said, bowing deeply.

  “I would not insult you by arriving any time other than meal time,” she said. She gave him a strong, one armed hug. “How are you, Brother Usule?”

  “I’m fine as always. And you?”

  “I’m getting older, as always.”

  “So it was when I was just an acolyte. So it will be when I am long in the dust,” he chided her. “Come, we have something special prepared for this meal.”

  “You always do, my friend,” she replied, following him into the dining hall.

  They took their seats as the monks filed in. When the room was full, Brother Usule walked to the front of the room and cleared his throat. “Today we have the special privilege of offering the fruits of our humble efforts to one of the great ones,” he shouted as the din quieted down.

  “We have with us today Maestra Rotiaqua and her charge Chedel,” he announced. “Please make them welcome as you would one of our own.”

  He folded his hands, bowed his head and paused. The room fell silent, waiting. Brother Usule intoned the blessing on the efforts of the monks who prepared the meal, and gave special thanks for their guests. When he finished, he returned to the table and sat down next to Rotiaqua.

  “We always feel welcome, Brother Usule,” she said. “But thanks for the words, nonetheless.”

  “You’re one of the few guests who return on a regular basis, and the only one who truly appreciates our efforts,” he answered. “So tell me. How can we help you, other than through our meager efforts to produce a palatable meal?”

  “I’m headed up to the Lake District to meet up with a young wizard and his charges. I was on my way to deliver young Chedel to Amedon, but now I must alter my plans. I fear that it may be dangerous for him to accompany me.”

  Several monks dressed similar to Brother Usule appeared. They wore white aprons over their brown robes. Each one carried a platter loaded with jams, jellies, syrups and confections. One of the monks stopped at their table. He placed the tray in the center and quickly left. He returned moments later with a second platter laden with pancakes, egg toast, biscuits, muffins and an assortment of breads. After placing them on the table, the monk who served them bowed deeply and addressed them.

  “Please, accept my humble attempts to achieve perfection here, on earth. While we accept that perfection is beyond the reach of the living, it still remains a worthy goal.” He waved his arm towards the table and continued, “May these humble efforts please you and bring you closer to perfection yourself.”

  “I have some winter gear I would like to store with you for a while,” Rotiaqua said around a mouthful of pancakes slathered in tart grape syrup. “I don’t want to haul it all the way to the Lake District and back.”

  “We would be pleased to be of service Maestra. But I guess that this isn’t the extent of your desire,” Brother Usule said, giving Rotiaqua a look of concern.

  “I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you keep the lad safe here for a while?” she asked. “I’m loath to take him into danger with me. He’s just a lad and with his power so freshly awakened, he is a defenseless target.”

  “Please, don’t leave me behind,” Chedel begged. “I want to stay with you. I want to meet up with Lorit.” He tugged at Rotiaqua’s robe. “Please.”

  “Chedel, please calm down. It’s only for a short while,” she said, dislodging his hands from her robe.

  “Please Brother; you know I wouldn’t ask unless it was important.”

  “Indeed it is a lot to ask,” Brother Usule replied. “We have maintained a strained truce with the temple of Ran by staying outside of your struggle. You know that.”

  “I understand, I wouldn’t ask this if it were not important to me,” she answered.

  “I'll have to discuss this with the elders,” Brother Usule said. “It’s not my decision. I fear that we both already know which way they will decide.”

  He stabbed a small biscuit with his knife, deftly splitting it in half and slathered it with jam. “Let’s not let such talk disturb our enjoyments, shall we?” he suggested.

  They discussed niceties during the rest of the meal. Rotiaqua shared the location of a small shop she’d encountered outside of Ruton End that made the most delightful spiced gravy. Brother Usule described the best way to find and harvest the night blooming mushrooms that were poisonous during daylight hours, but by the light of the full moon opened their caps to spread their poisonous spores thereby rendering them edible for just a few hours one night each month.

  After the meal, Rotiaqua and Chedel assisted the monks who were cleaning the dining area. They were particular about their cooking, and they would accept no help in meal preparation, but they had no such restrictions about cleaning up.

  Shortly after cleanup was finished, Brother Usule returned. From the look on his face, Rotiaqua could tell that her request was going to be denied.

  “I have conferred with the elders,” Brother Usule said. “As I feared, they feel this would prejudice our neutrality with the Temple, and open us to interference. Our sovereignty is almost as important to us as our culinary striving.”

  “I understand, Brother. I will take the boy with me.” She patted the monk heartily on the back. Brother Usule stumbled under the impact. “Don’t worry, Brother, this doesn’t affect our friendship. I would not have asked this of you, were it not important, but I also respect your decision. I didn’t really expect anything else. I just had to make the attempt, for my conscience, if nothing else.”

  “I am glad to hear that,” he said, straightening up. “We always enjoy your company. You will always be welcome here.”

  “Come on, boy,” she said, grabbing Chedel by the arm and pushing him towards his horse. “We have a long way to go and not a lot more time.”

  “Farewell Maestra,” Brother Usule called as they rode back down the road towards the gate.

  Lorit and Chihon entered the cour
t house along with a crowd of people returning to their business after lunch. There were several court rooms where trials were held. They found Ryvor by peering through the observation ports until they located him in the third one.

  When they approached the door, the Patroller stopped them by lowering his spear. “State your business,” he demanded. “Only persons on official court business are allowed inside. Are you a victim or a witness?”

  “I’m a witness,” Lorit answered. “And she’s with me,” he continued, indicating Chihon.

  “What matter are you a witness in?”

  “Ryvor. I was there when the brigands attacked his family,” Lorit explained.

  “Your name?”

  “My name is Lorit.”

  “Just a moment,” the Patroller said. He stepped inside the court room pulling the door shut behind him. The second Patroller stepped in front of the door, continuing to block the way. After a few moments, the first Patroller returned. “Sit there.” He pointed to a bench across the hall from the court room. “Your name will be called when the time comes.”

  “What will happen once I’m called?”

  “You’ll be asked to recount your witness of the events,” the Patroller explained. “The judge will hear your witness, along with all concerned parties. Once he’s heard everyone, he’ll make his ruling.”

  “I’ve never been in a trial before. What’s it like?” Lorit asked.

  The Patroller looked at Lorit with a wry smile. “Your friend is fortunate to have the Honorable Hatith as a judge. Most judges don’t even entertain witnesses. Hatith is one of the better ones,” he said.

  “He will hear arguments from the witnesses and the accused. Then he will decide if your friend is innocent or guilty. If he’s found guilty, the judge will decide if he gets life at hard labor or death,” the guard explained. “Just answer the questions he asks and don’t, for any reason, argue with the judge, unless you want to find yourself in jail along with your friend.”

  “Thank you,” Lorit said. He took a seat on the bench, and Chihon sat beside him. The courtroom doors were solid oak, banded with brass and much heavier than Lorit would have expected. They must be meant to serve as a stronghold in times of need.