“My workshop. Pray do not touch anything.”
Erich did not need this warning. Walther directed him to sit at the table and cleared some space amongst broken springs and gears. He was a large, heavyset man, balding but with a close-cropped black beard gone mostly gray—not quite Erich’s idea of a mage.
When Erich sat down, something like a large brass spider came over and inspected his foot. He was about to pull it away when the thing turned and left the room. Meanwhile, Walther dug around in the corner of one workbench and returned with an ornate brass cube that had an array of cables dangling from it.
“This is what it means to be an artificer?” Erich asked.
“My father was a watchmaker, and his before him. I was expected to follow in their footsteps, but I found my talents lay elsewhere.”
“These are far more than watches.”
Walther reached across the table for a large purple crystal and held it out. “This, when tuned to the Flow, is what gives them life. This one is burned out, but the principle is the same. You need a watchmaker’s craft and a mage’s sensitivity to make these things work. It is not a common profession.”
“So I have seen.”
“My daughters have no interest in these things, though their talent to direct the Flow is strong.”
“Your daughters are mages?”
“Yes, but their interest is in the natural world. Artificing is not really a craft for women in any case. Few of them care to look like this.” He held up his hands, which were heavily calloused, cut, and blackened with tarnish.
Walther set the brass cube between them. It had about a dozen cables protruding from it, each with a ring on the end.
“Give me your hand.”
With more than a little trepidation, Erich extended his hand. Walther slid one ring halfway up each finger. As soon as the last ring was in place, the cube began humming softly.
“This will give us an independent assessment of your character.”
“How so?”
“You may have no talent for directing the Flow, but you are part of it nonetheless. That means I can measure how it affects you, and vice versa.”
Walther tweaked a few things on the cube, then turned to Erich.
“Tell me a falsehood.”
“What?”
“Anything. You’re the emperor’s son. Your grandfather was a dwarf. Whatever you like.”
Erich left the first one alone. “My grandfather was a dwarf.”
The humming within the cube suddenly peaked, and it let out a shrill whine. Walther nodded in approval and tweaked a couple of knobs on one side.
“What is your name?”
“We are speaking the truth now?”
“Yes.”
“Erich.”
“You have no surname?”
“No.” Not any longer, at any rate, as far as he was concerned. The cube appeared to agree.
“Where did you get those blades?”
An easy question. “I won them in a game of cards a few years back. Their former owner was not wise enough to stop playing when his money was gone.”
Walther glanced at the cube and frowned, then twisted the knobs again.
“What was your last dishonest act?”
Erich snorted. “I climbed over the town walls this morning because the guards were asleep and could not let me in.”
Walther roared with laughter. “Their captain is a notorious drunkard, but the town fathers appear blind to the fact. You are a man of some resource. I like that.”
Another tweak to the knobs. Then he grew serious again.
“I have two daughters of marriageable age and so far unimpeachable virtue. I need a man who, I can trust, will respect that. I want no seductions.”
“I can control myself.” But he glanced at the cube anyway. It was silent. Well, that was true—it was simply that he sometimes chose not to.
“Well, you say that now. Let us see what you say when you understand what you will be dealing with.” He turned to the door. “Daughters! Come here.”
Erich heard footsteps coming down the stairs. In a few moments, a young girl came through the door. She was pale-skinned, long silver-gold hair falling in cascades around her shoulders. She wore a long green dress trimmed with gold brocade, one that did little to hide her full bosom. Then the other girl stepped into the room, and Erich blinked in surprise.
They were identical: dresses, shoes, thin gold necklaces around their necks, even the way they wore their hair.
“My daughters Ariel and Astrid. Daughters, this is Erich. He may be the man we seek for your trip to Köln.”
“Hello,” they said in unison.
“So, I will ask you again, are you the man I need and can trust?”
Erich swallowed hard. The beauty before him was considerable, but it did not quite outweigh his fear of angering an experienced mage. The thought of his incipient poverty—after the belt, he had enough money left for one night at the inn, no more—was enough to tip the scales.
“Yes.”
The cube was silent. Walther nodded.
“Girls, you may go.”
Walther’s daughters left, though one (Ariel?) gave him a lingering glance as she departed.
“One last question: I need you to guide us and protect us from here to Köln. If I pay you a fair wage, can I trust that you will complete the job to the best of your abilities?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. You are hired. I can pay you one crown per week. Is that acceptable?”
One crown was about ten times more money than Erich had arrived with that morning. “Fair enough.”
Walther pulled the rings from his fingers and returned the cube to its spot on the workbench, then sat down again.
“We are not due to leave for another week or two, but I would like to begin your employment today. You see here before you my footman, who expired from an unfortunate lack of maintenance a few hours ago. I need to concentrate on completing his replacement over there, who will guard this house in our absence. That means I need you to answer the door and prevent interruptions, as well as preventing the girls’ annoyingly numerous suitors from molesting them. Will that work?”
“I can manage it.”
“Do you have lodgings?”
“The inn on the square. But I have no money after tonight.”
“Well, I would prefer to put you up here. There are several spare rooms on the ground floor where you can sleep. That will keep you near the door.”
Walther rose, and Erich followed him out to front hall. Walther left him there for a moment and went toward the rear of the house. He returned with Erich’s sword belt.
“One last thing. As you will be in my employ, I need you fully equipped for the job.” He handed Erich ten crowns. “Get whatever you need for the trip, save for horses, which I will arrange, and provisions, which we can worry about later. But armor, suitable clothes, whatever other gear you need, go buy it now. I will trust you to return with the remains of my money, but if you need more than this, let me know.”
Erich let out a small sigh as he regarded the gold coins in his palm. It seemed his luck had turned. This would not completely restore his fortunes, but it was a start. At least until they reached Köln, but he would deal with those matters when the time came.
7.
Ariel watched around the corner of the upstairs hallway as Erich left the house. When he was gone, she emerged and looked down at her father.
“You hired him?”
“Yes. He seems trustworthy. The resonance cube found no fault in him. I can tell he is a skilled swordsman, and he’s clearly familiar with the road to Köln.”
Ariel beamed. “So we can leave soon?”
“A week or two. However long it takes me to complete Fortitude and assure myself that he can protect this house. That means no interruptions, do you understand?”
“Yes, Father.”
Ariel returned to her room, where Astrid was sitting on
her bed with a pensive expression on her face.
“What’s wrong?”
“We are finally going to go.”
“Yes.”
Astrid looked up at her. “What do you think of that man?”
“Father trusts him. I don’t know.”
“Erich,” Astrid mused. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“I don’t think he’s from anywhere around here. Father said he knew the way to Köln. Perhaps he’s from there.”
“We should ask him. I would like to know more about Köln. What we should wear. What to expect.”
“Yes,” Ariel said. Then, “Do you think he’s handsome?”
“He frightens me a little. His eyes. He seems dangerous.”
“His eyes are pretty. Blue.”
“We don’t like blue.”
“I like his eyes. He seems to know things.”
Astrid’s eyebrows creased. “Father made him promise to protect us. You heard what he told him. Don’t cause trouble.”
“I’m not. But I want to talk to him.”
♦ ♦
Flush with his newfound wealth—relative though it might be—Erich set about restoring himself to fighting trim. First was a visit to the town tailor, where he purchased two pairs of leather breeches, two shirts, and a new cloak and threw his old clothes into the fire.
The smith had no throwing knives to sell, but had little trouble understanding what Erich wanted and promised him he could make a set of eight in a day or two.
Next, he returned to the leatherworker, who—after congratulating him on his good fortune and employment—fitted him for a riveted leather corselet. The leatherworker likewise did not have anything like the scabbards he wanted for the knives, but after some discussion, they agreed on a price to make them when the knives were ready. Erich asked him to recommend a cobbler, and the man sent him down the street where he was fitted for a pair of new boots.
A few other random items for the road—most importantly a new, larger pack that would not deposit critical items he needed on the ground without his knowledge—finished off the afternoon and most of the money. Feeling that Walther could not possibly begrudge him this, Erich stopped at a tavern for a mug of ale as the sun fell toward the horizon.
When the barkeep brought his ale, he quaffed a third of it in one go, then sat back to feel the warmth of the brew spreading through him. Things were indeed looking up.
His momentary calm was interrupted by several young men laughing loudly at a table behind him.
“You couldn’t even tell him which one it was you would marry?” a voice said.
“I cannot tell them apart,” another replied. “Can you?”
“No. I don’t think anyone can, save Walther,” the first one said.
Erich turned around at the name. There were four of them, all expensively dressed. The two who were speaking wore matching velvet doublets, one green, one blue, and sported thin rapiers. They appeared to be brothers from their similar features.
“You’re wasting your time, Hans. Ariel likes Stefan here.” This one was heavyset with shaggy hair. He indicated the fourth boy, a tall, muscular youth. “At least I think it’s Ariel.”
“I’m sure it’s Ariel,” Stefan replied. “She talks to me when they buy bread. Astrid will not.”
“How do you know which is which?” Hans asked.
“Only from her manner. She mentioned Astrid a few times, so it must have been Ariel. The other one glares at me.”
“They always dress alike,” Hans’ brother said. “It’s as if they don’t want anyone to tell them apart.”
Stefan straightened himself in his chair. “I’m going to call on her tomorrow. She wouldn’t talk to me unless she liked me.”
Erich finally spoke up. “As your friend said, boy, you’re wasting your time.”
The four of them turned toward him.
“Who are you?” Stefan asked.
“I am the man telling you to leave Walther’s daughters be.”
“Why?”
“Because I have been paid to tell you that. If you should chose to appear tomorrow, we will have to continue this conversation in a more direct manner.”
Stefan’s eyes dropped to Erich’s sword. Erich returned the gaze, then threw down the rest of his ale.
“Good evening, gentlemen.”
♦ ♦
When Erich returned to Walther’s house, the artificer met him at the door.
“Well, I had begun to wonder if you had absconded with my money. Your wardrobe is much improved, though I hope you have commissioned some new boots.”
“I have, along with armor and some additional weapons.”
“Good.” Walther led him inside. “You’re just in time for dinner. Put your swords up and join us.”
Erich left his blades and other purchases in his room at the back of the house and found the kitchen.
Ariel and Astrid were preparing dinner, what appeared to be roast chicken. Erich’s stomach growled at the smell of it. He had not eaten so well in quite a while.
But his attention was immediately pulled from the scent of the bird by the numerous automata working the room. One was standing on the stove, apparently unaffected by the heat, stirring a pot. Another was chopping carrots, though inexpertly, on the table in the center of the room.
“Why not build a automaton cook?” he asked.
“We tried with Temperance,” one of the girls replied. “It was horrible.”
Erich looked questioningly at Walther.
“The broken one you saw in my workshop. It could cook, after a fashion, but the food was inedible. Automata can handle simple tasks, but anything requiring judgment, like cooking, is beyond them. I thought I would try, but I more or less knew what the outcome would be.”
Erich walked over to the stove. The little thing stirring the pot looked a bit like a deer with its antlers down, head toward the soup.
He looked back at Walther. “The woman at the inn, she had something she used for baths, to heat the water. Did you make it?”
“Yes.”
“It does not work for cooking either?”
“It can boil water,” Walther replied, “but it leaves a sour taste. Fine for bathing and washing, but not soup.”
Erich looked around the kitchen a bit more, then approached one of the girls.
“Do you need help?”
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Can you cook?”
“I’ve had little choice for most of the past few months.”
“Game by the roadside? Well, look at the chicken and see if it’s done.”
There was a stone oven in one corner, where the chicken appeared to be. Erich opened the cast-iron door and looked inside. The chicken was roasting in a pan. He had not had chicken in some time, but chicken and rabbit were not so far apart. He found a pair of tongs and poked at it.
“I think it needs a bit longer.”
The girl—was it Astrid? She seemed more standoffish than the other—came over to the oven and checked the chicken herself. Then she gave him a wary glance.
“Hmph.”
Walther approached with a mug of ale. Erich took it. This was his second of the night, so he took this one more slowly.
“We do not usually eat like this, but we will not eat like this at all on the trip to Köln.”
“No,” Erich replied. “We will not.”
8.
When the food was ready, Walther led him to the dining room, which had already been set. Ariel and Astrid brought in the food. Walther directed him to sit on one end while he sat at the other.
As Walther prepared to slice up the chicken and the girls arranged the other dishes, Erich looked down at his place setting. It had been quite some time since he had sat at a table like this, but . . . he could see the utensils were out of place. Fighting the impulse for only a moment, he repositioned the forks and moved one spoon up above his plate.
When straightened himself in his chair and lean
ed back, he realized Walther had seen what he had just done, and was regarding him curiously. Erich remained still, returning the gaze. Walther looked him a moment longer, then turned to one of his daughters.
“Ariel, would you pass the vegetables around?”
As she reached for one platter, Erich made a mental note: Ariel left, Astrid right. He was going to need to find a way to tell the two of them apart somehow, so he had best start now.
While the platters of food circled the table, Erich studied the girls discreetly. He kept his eyes above their bosoms as best he could, thought it was not easy. Unfortunately, as best he could tell, they were truly identical. He could see no features that distinguished them.
Perhaps another tack was in order. He took a bite of chicken. “I think it did indeed need a few more minutes in the oven.”
Both girls looked over to him, but it was Astrid who spoke. “How many chickens have you roasted?” It had been Astrid in the kitchen, then, as he had thought.
“None. But more than my share of rabbits.”
“I like rabbit better than chicken,” Ariel said. She smiled at him, just a bit.
“I am curious,” Walther began. “For a man of your skills, I am wondering how you came to be in such a wretched state.”
“Bad luck. Bad decisions. That is more or less the sum of it.”
“Are you from Köln?” Astrid asked.
Erich was silent a moment. “I have been there.”
“Do you know the city well?” Ariel asked.
“Yes.”
“What is it like?”
“It is a Free City of the Empire, as I assume you know. That means we will be paying a tax on our possessions when we arrive.”
“Yes,” Walther grumbled.
“It is mostly safe. The city guard is well-trained and professional. The cathedral is known for its collection of relics. There is a university there, but I suppose you would know more of that than I.”
“Father taught there,” Ariel said.
Walther nodded. “And it is where I met their mother. But I have not been there in some years.”
“Well, that is about it,” Erich said. “I am not sure what else to tell you.”
“Did you go to any balls?” Ariel asked. But before Erich could form an answer, Astrid sniffed at her sister.
The Wizard's Daughters: Twin Magic: Book 1 Page 3
