“Please sir,” he concluded. “I really need a job today.”
“You got good ambition, kid,” the woodworker said. “But there’s gonna be lotsa boys out here looking for work. It’d be a mighty bad business decision if I didn’t look at a few of them before I made my mind up, don’tcha think? But I like your spirit. Come back in a couple days, and we’ll see how you handle a wood planer. Expect to get blisters.”
“But, you don’t understand,” Randall started.
“Listen kid, don’t push your luck and don’t get me riled,” the woodworker interrupted, his expression darkening. “I can’t use a boy that sasses back when he’s been told to do something. You mind what I told you, and come back in a couple of days.”
Bobby wasn’t any help. The entire time they were walking around the market, Bobby kept going on and on about how the militiamen liked him, and how he was sure to be a big soldier and earn his fame in battle.
“But you didn’t even want to be a soldier!” Randall protested. “That’s what I wanted to do!”
“Yeah, ain’t it funny,” Bobby mused idly, grinning. “But the more I think about it, the more I like the idea. It’s got to be a lot more exciting the staying home to work on the farm!”
Randall seethed inside, but he kept it bottled in and didn’t lash out at his friend. It wasn’t Bobby’s fault that they liked him more. He always was a natural athlete. Things just came easily for him. On the other hand, Randall had grown accustomed to coming in second. Nothing came easily to him. That realization didn’t make it any easier on his pride, however.
“I still don’t understand why you’re so fired up to get work today anyway,” Bobby said. “Folks’ll be coming in for at least a week, maybe two on the outside. You act like getting something today is more important than getting what you really want.”
What I really wanted was to be a soldier—fat chance of that, Randall thought bitterly. Instead, he said “I’m just tired of always being second at home, Bobby. I figure if I make a good enough impression before they see any other kids, they’re bound to pick me.”
Next, they saw a baker. “So, you say your father’s a miller, son?” the baker asked.
“Yes sir,” Randall replied. “Milling’s been in my family three generations since my grandfather first settled here to make his fortune.”
The baker nodded. “So, why aren’t you going into the family business, then?”
“I could, sir. But I’m second-born. The mill will go to Eric when Pa passes on. There’ll always be work to do, but if I want to make my own name, I’ll have to do it on my own. After I apprentice out, I want to start my own business, and have my own assistants!”
The baker thought on that a bit. “Makes sense, and shows that you’re thinking about your future. I like that. But just so you know, being a baker isn’t as easy as you might think. You’ll only wish you were a miller’s assistant after you spend an entire day kneading dough! Speaking of dough, how much is a fifty-pound sack of flour these parts?”
“We usually sell them for seven ringets, sir.” Randall answered. “More if we have to deliver it a long distance.” A ringet was Tallia’s cheapest monetary unit, a copper coin about a half-inch in diameter. Randall had quoted the man two ringets more than the cheapest price his father would agree to. “Always let them talk you down,” his father said.
“Seven ringets! I knew that bastard was cheating…” the baker cried before getting a hold of himself. “Lad, the miller in my town’s been charging me nearly twice that. If you don’t mind piping in next time we’re negotiating price, I think you’ve got yourself a place in my shop. Give me a day or two to see the sights and sell my bread before I square everything with your folks and head home.”
“Yes sir,” Randall said, heart sinking. A day or two would be too late.
After that, Bobby got tired of running to every craftsperson in town. “You’ve already got a job in the bag! And on first day of job fair! I don’t understand why you want to keep looking for another one.” he said. “I want to go watch the militia do some more maneuvers and visit the peddlers before they pack up for the day! They always have such interesting things from the big continent!”
“You go on ahead, Bobby”. Randall said. “I’m gonna talk to a couple more people and then I’ll try to catch up with you.”
Bobby just shook his head, and took off in the direction of a vendor selling meat pies from a wooden pushcart. Undeterred, Randall kept on alone, and spoke to nearly every craftsperson that would see him. It soon became clear that most of the people in town were here to shop, socialize, and have a good time as much as look for hired help. Nobody was in a hurry to get their business concluded and be back on the road before the first day was even over.
Those he did manage to speak to about apprenticeship didn’t seem as interested in him as the baker or even the woodworker had been. It was late afternoon by the time he had seen most of the craftspeople that had set up shop. More would come over the next day or two, but by then, it would be too late.
Dejected, Randall started the long walk home. It was going to be early evening before he got there. An hour’s ride by horse was about three on foot, and knowing that Earl would be there waiting for him made Randall drag his feet even more.
About halfway home, a thought occurred to him: his parents would never let him apprentice with one of the devil touched! Randall wouldn’t be surprised if his mother didn’t chase Earl out of the house with a carving knife once the man mentioned that he was a magicker. And besides, he never even bothered to ask where Randall lived and he hadn’t told the man his name! By the time he reached the edge of the Miller property, he had convinced himself that Earl had been teasing him. After all, how would he even know where to find Randall?
The more he thought about it, the better Randall felt. And he’d already gotten a job as a baker! It certainly wasn’t a soldier’s life, but after he became a journeyman, he could cut a deal with his father for flour, and help turn a tidy profit for the both of them! He was practically whistling by the time he reached the front porch. Wait until his parents heard that he’d managed to get a good job, on the first day of job fair no less!
Randall’s heart sank like a stone when he opened the front door, and saw Pa and Earl smoking pipes and laughing in the front room like old friends.
Chapter 2
“Well, don’t just stand there like a bump on a log, Randall. Come on in,” his father said. Randall stepped into the house, and closed the door behind him. The living room was filled with sweet pipe smoke. Randall guessed that they had been smoking for quite a while, judging by how low it hung from the ceiling.
“Earl was just telling me how you made a fine impression on him this morning, son!” His father beamed proudly.
“He was?” Randall asked, stalling for time. Why is Pa acting this way? Randall feared the worst: that his father must be under Earl’s power. If that was the case, then Randall was already doomed.
“Hell yes, son. He told me how he saw you and Bobby goin’ rounds with practice swords, and how you thrashed him right good. Said you have the makings of a fine caravan guard,” his father crowed like a rooster. “I’m proud of you son! I knew you’d come into your manhood soon enough!” Earl snuck Randall a wink where his father couldn’t see. Randall’s father wasn’t under the influence of a spell, then…only a lie. Maybe Randall had a chance, after all.
“Earl here says he was just passing through town tonight, on his way to Paranol to pick up a wagon train of spices. Said he thought he’d look over the boys in town and see if any of them looked promising, and that you looked to be the best of the lot! He’s come to give you an offer of apprenticeship, on first day of job fair! Now that’s a feat!” John Miller continued, excited.
“But Pa, you don’t understand. He…he…” He what? Randall thought. He certainly has my Pa pegged. What am I supposed to do now, tell the truth? Tell him that Bobby beat me with one hit, and this man is a dangerou
s magicker? The one he won’t want to believe as the truth, and the other will seem too silly to be so! Randall had never been very good at sports or other games boys played, but Pa always told him he’d ‘come into his manhood soon enough’. And Earl was telling his father exactly what he wanted to hear.
“What is it, Randall? Spit it out.” Pa never had much patience for shenanigans, and his face was already betraying signs of his annoyance.
Randall had a flash of inspiration. “But, I already got an offer with a baker this morning, Pa. He thinks my milling experience will be a big help in his shop. He said we could leave in a couple of days.” He looked over at Earl, and tried to look disappointed. “I’m sorry mister. I was so excited, I took his offer. If only I’d known you had seen me fighting…” he trailed off.
Earl frowned at Randall momentarily, before brightening and clapping his hands together. “Well, Mr. Miller I told you the boy had talent! I hadn’t expected to find any suitable boys at all, to tell you the truth,” Earl confided. “But when I saw your boy on the practice field, I could tell he was a natural! He’s rough around the edges, of course, but with the proper training, he’ll become a fine fighting man.”
The more Earl lathered on the praise, the more Randall’s father puffed up with pride. “Why, I’m not surprised that the boy’s had more than one nibble today. Not surprised at all! But I’m sure he hasn’t yet taken the oath of apprenticeship, have you boy?” Earl gave him a look that foretold dire consequences if he lied.
Randall considered lying anyway, but the oath had to be given in front of witnesses. Randall would find himself in deep trouble indeed if Earl or his father asked who they were, and he couldn’t produce someone who’d vouch for him. And judging from the look on Earl’s face, it was obvious that Earl would be relentless in exposing any falsehood. “No, sir,” Randall said meekly.
“Well, then, there’s no deal yet.” He turned back to Randall’s father. “As I mentioned when I came over, I was impressed with the boy, and wanted to grab him up before everyone started fighting over him. I’m sure you’re probably aware that this kind of thing happens all the time with boys that are the choice of the litter! No deal’s done ‘til the oath’s sworn.”
John Miller nodded his head. “He’s right, Randall. Besides, you’ve said often enough you were interested in soldiering. Being a caravan guard’s almost the same, only Earl tells me it’s easier work! And soldiering is more respected a profession than baking, that’s for sure!”
Earl piped up. “Rightly so. You’ll never hear any legends told or songs sung about Randall the Baker! No sir, no how! Now, Mr. Miller, it usually takes two years or so to properly train a person to wield the sword and stand watch. But during that time, he’ll be working as a junior guard. Setting camp, loading and unloading boxes, and the like. Those duties earn wages, and under apprenticeship, those wages rightfully belong to you until Randall is declared his own man and can earn his own wages.”
John Miller nodded his head. He was familiar with the traditional arrangement. During very busy seasons, he’d hired boys before, and even taken on an apprentice once, before his own boys were big enough to help with the workload. The money paid to an apprentice was less than a regular hired laborer would earn, but in return the apprentice was clothed, fed, housed, and taught a craft that he could use to earn his own keep when he finished his apprenticeship. Everyone benefitted. The boy learned a valuable trade to take him into manhood, his family earned a few ringets on the side, and the apprentice’s master got the benefit of cheap labor.
“Mr. Miller, it’s obvious the boy has prospects,” Earl’s tone turned matter-of-fact. “I want you to know that I’m serious about this boy’s training, and I think he’s got too much potential to be wasted making biscuits. I’m willing to pay his entire training wage up front, if it’ll help seal the deal. That way, you won’t have to worry about the wages being lost to bandits, or perhaps falling off during the slow trading seasons. And after paying up front, you’ll know I’ll train him right, to get my money’s worth out of him…” Earl trailed off, muttering and counting on his fingers before speaking again. “Most boys go on fifteen or sixteen caravan trips before their training is complete, so by my reckoning, that comes out to….hmm…two talens.”
Talens?! Randall had never seen the golden coin before. There was no gold to speak of in the one mountain range on Tallia’s northwest coast. There had been a smallish deposit there once, but it had been mined away generations ago. Any gold in Tallia, either coins or jewelry, came from the larger continent of Salianca, and almost never made it to the smaller towns and villages on the island. Randall stared, fascinated as Earl extracted two of the largish yellow coins from his pouch and laid them on the table with a heavy-sounding clink. Randall’s father was mesmerized by them as well. He gingerly picked one up and unconsciously brought it to his teeth to bite it as he stared at the other. His eyes widened as the soft metal gave slightly under the pressure. It was gold.
“Now, I understand there’ll be a bit of a fuss from all of the other merchants and craftsmen if I snatch your boy up today before they’ve all had a fair bid on him. I imagine that baker chap will be especially steamed. But I’m aiming to leave tonight if I’m to make my run on time, and it’d be a shame if I left without such a fine young lad.” Earl said. “For your trouble, I think I can throw in an extra four florn”. Earl stacked the silver coins on the table next to the remaining talen. Randall’s father still had the one talen between his teeth, looking dumbfounded. “All told, that should just about cover all of the boy’s wages during training, plus a little extra to smooth over any ruffled feathers,” Earl finished.
Randall’s father let the gold coin drop from his mouth into his hand, never taking his eyes off the small fortune sitting on his table. If Randall had apprenticed as a baker or woodworker, the elder Miller could have expected to get a ringet or two in apprentice wages every couple of months. A single talen was worth more than his father could earn in profit over several years, and there were two of them sitting in front of him, in addition to a small stack of silver. It was enough money for Randall’s father to effect a modest retirement, if he so chose. He didn’t hesitate an instant.
“Done. Randall, go to your room and pack your things,” Randall’s father spoke with the finality of a horse-trader closing a deal. He raked the rest of the coins from the table to join the talen in his hand.
Randall was shocked out of his near trance, and his eyes shot to his father. Tears started to well up, as the gravity of his situation hit home. His father shot him a sharp look, and spoke in his no-nonsense voice.
“Look Randall, I know it’s sudden. But you impressed Earl here with your ability to be a man. Now it’s time to be one and not embarrass me with any blubbering. Caravanning will be more exciting than baking, and I’m told you can earn a good fortune doing it.” His eyes returned to the coins in his hand, as he rubbed them between his fingers. Randall realized that his father had probably never seen a talen before in his life either.
Randall ran back to his room, tears streaming down his cheeks. He began hastily stuffing tunics into a travel sack, muttering to himself the entire time. I can’t believe Pa! He sold me like I was no different than a big sack of flour! Sold to a devil touched magicker. I never even had a say in the matter! Randall started really crying in earnest then, sobbing and snuffling as he stuffed a pair breeches on top of his tunics. It took a quite a while for him to finish his packing, but by the time he did, he’d pretty much cried himself out. His eyes were red-rimmed but dry as he left his room, resigned to his fate. He heard his mother talking in the kitchen, and went in to say his goodbyes.
His mother, Joshua and Eric were sitting at the table there, but it was obvious she hadn’t even started dinner yet. All of them looked like they had been crying recently, too. Randall ran to his mother and threw his arms around her. She hugged him back for a long moment.
“I don’t wanna go Momma,” Randall whine
d. At the sound of Randall’s voice, Joshua started crying again.
Randall’s mother pushed him back and held him at arm’s length. “Hush child. I’ve known this day was coming for a while. I just didn’t know it’d be so soon. You’re growing up to be a young man, and you’d be leaving us soon enough anyway. Waiting wouldn’t make it any easier when that day came. Now John tells me you’ve got good prospects, and the chance to make us proud.” She ruffled his hair and turned him around. “Now you go on, before I start bawling again.”
Randall spun back around to give his mother one more quick hug before turning and marching his way back to the front room. His father had relit his pipe, and Earl was standing near the front door, already wearing his journey cloak.
“Just one thing before we set off, boy.” Earl said. “Law says I gotta do this in front of witnesses, and your Pa seems like an upstanding and honest man.” Randall’s father smiled broadly around his pipe stem, his hand still clutching his money so tightly his knuckles were white. “I’ll give you the short version. I, Earl, promise to take you as my apprentice, to teach you my craft, treat you fairly, and to lead you into manhood as if my own flesh and blood.” He looked over at Randall’s father. “Fair enough?”
I notice he didn’t mention what his ‘craft’ was, Randall thought sarcastically.
After receiving a nod of acceptance from Randall’s father, Earl continued. “Do you, Randall Miller, swear your oath before this witness to apply yourself diligently to your lessons, to perform any tasks and related chores that I may see fit to assign, and to obey me as if I were your own father?”
A Touch of Magic Page 3
