It was definitely two syllables, Randall said to himself, lost in thought. Something short and choppy.
Lost in thought, he lazily let the syllables he was pronouncing elongate and drift, playing with the word in a sing-song way like little children do. As he repeated the words, he half-heartedly tried to push his gathered power into them.
“Mochin, Jo’chin... Schocheen... Losheen... Yosheen... Yaosheen.”
Drawled and elongated sounding, the last word barely resembled the spell that Master Erliand had used. And yet, Randall felt the familiar tug as power flowed into the spell. As the magic mingled with the Word, a tiny translucent bubble popped into existence directly in front of Randall’s face. It looked exactly like a tiny blue soap bubble, only it was completely stationary.
The bubble only lasted for a moment before a tiny pencil of flame shot toward it, smashing it out of existence. Randall shot his eyes toward the campfire. He couldn’t be sure, but he was convinced that there was just the faintest hint of a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of the donnan’s mouth.
“Berry! How could you?” Randall admonished with mock distress. “Have you been listening to me start campfires? Bet you can’t do it again!”
The shielding spell, weak as it was, had only used a tiny fraction of the magic Randall had gathered. When the bubble had burst, he felt a tug on his power reserves, but he had clamped down on the flow reflexively. He was sure that had he allowed more power to flow into the spell at the moment Berry had struck, the bubble could have withstood a stronger attack.
From then on, magic practice became a game that Randall and Berry shared. Randall would evoke a shield around something, and Berry would try to destroy it. Sometimes Berry would invoke a shield, and Randall would try to bring it down. The donnan seemed to have a knack for learning magic, picking up spells after hearing only a few repetitions, like some sort of fae parrot. Randall didn’t give much thought to why his shield was so different than Master Erliand’s, but it worked, and that was really all that mattered in the end.
And Randall had guessed correctly: the more power he pushed into the shield, the more solid the bubble would become and the longer it would take Berry to smash it down. He also discovered that his little friend was capable of wielding an enormous amount of power. The donnan seemed capable of bringing down every one of his shields, no matter how powerful he made them. The effort was as rewarding as it was exhausting, and he could feel himself improving every day.
One day, Randall finally managed to create a shield that Berry couldn’t breach. The little imp battered it over and over again with lightning and fire, until finally he gave up, throwing his arms up in the air melodramatically and falling back into the grass. A little punch-drunk from exhaustion, Randall fell back into the grass too, laughing hysterically at his friend.
Eventually, the pair made it to Ninove, though it was hard to know exactly when they passed into the city itself. Randall knew he was getting close when he began running into small farmsteads along the road, few and far between. At the first sign of civilization, he asked the donnan to hide. Rather than disappearing, Berry scampered down from his place on Randall’s shoulder and crawled into the travel sack.
“Aw, Berry,” Randall said sadly. “You don’t want to just turn invisible and hang out on my shoulder?”
The little imp petulantly pulled the sack shut.
“C’mon Berry,” Randall said. “You know I hate to hide you away. But what else can I do? At least there’s some food in there! It’ll only be for a couple of days, I promise!”
As they traveled, the farmsteads became more common until eventually homes were clustered close enough together to give Randall the feeling that he was passing through a small village. Further down the road, and he felt like he was in a large town. Soon after that, he was in the city proper.
Once in the city, Randall quickly became hopelessly lost. Ninove, being the capital, was the largest city on Tallia. Wandering around, he turned down half a dozen side streets, and easily passed up dozens more. At first, he had hoped that he could just spend some time looking around the city and he would eventually find what he was after. After meandering aimlessly for a couple of more hours, he realized how foolish that notion was. Eventually he stopped, hitching his horse outside of a small shop with brightly colored candles lining the windowsills.
Inside the shop was a cheerful young woman sitting by a fireplace. As Randall walked in, she pushed up a long plank, lifting a neat row of thin candles from a pot of tallow, hanging from the board by their wicks. She rested the plank on a peg, leaving the candles to harden, and then rose from her chair with a smile. She has a very pretty smile, he caught himself thinking.
“What can I do for you, love?” she asked, wiping her hands on her apron. “Needin’ some candles, I take it?”
Love? The easy familiarity caught Randall off guard, and he found himself blushing furiously. In Geldorn, you would only use such a term with your own true love, and even then, it would be awkward to speak it in public. He found himself staring at the ground at his feet as he struggled for words.
“No, miss. I’m looking for shoes. No, wait! That’s not it. I have shoes. I just need to get them fixed.” Randall struggled to regain his composure as he continued to stare at the floor.
The young woman giggled delightfully. “Aren’t you just darling! First time in the city? I can tell.” She took his arm and steered him toward the door. She had an overpowering personality, but in the most pleasant of ways. Randall found himself being led back out of her shop, and all he could think about was her hand on his arm.
“All right. Look up there,” she said, pointing toward a tall tower that rose up above the city buildings in the distance. “That’s the East Tower. Head that direction, but keep that tower on your right hand side. You’ll eventually get to the tailors and cobblers shops. And if you ever need some candles, you come on back this way! And don’t call me miss. My name’s Estelle!”
“Thank you miss...” Randall started before catching himself. “...Estelle.” He turned and caught her looking at him in amusement, smiling warmly. Blushing again, he turned and hurriedly unhitched his horse and rode off in the direction that she had pointed him toward.
Ten minutes later, he was kicking himself.
“I’m so stupid!” he grumbled to himself. “Why didn’t I tell her my name! I’m pretty sure she liked me. I’m such an idiot!”
* * *
After a couple of false starts, Randall finally found the area of town that Estelle had referred to. After that, it only took a few minutes to find the shop of Edwin the Cobbler, which was the name that Shawncy had given back in Paranol. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to talk to the man about since he had decided against trying to escape to Salianca, but he was pretty sure that Edwin was a fellow Mage. It wouldn’t hurt at all to talk to a sympathetic ear and find out the lay of the land here in Ninove. It might also help Randall from making any glaring, and potentially fatal, mistakes.
Entering the cobbler’s shop, Randall was struck once again by how unlike a Mage the shopkeeper looked. Master Erliand, Shawncy, and finally Edwin all looked like terribly ordinary people. Then again, Randall supposed that he didn’t look like much of a Mage himself, being an under-developed teenage boy. The shopkeeper was rather short and heavyset, with a bulbous nose and a large bald spot threatening to engulf the remainder of his mousey brown hair.
“Hello?” Randall asked the busy cobbler. “Are you Edwin the Cobbler?”
“So what if I am?’ the cobbler snapped. “Can’t you see I’m working?”
Randall was shocked by the man’s rudeness. He surely couldn’t do much business with such a poor attitude! The rude behavior must be part of the cobbler’s cover to keep from having too many customers and thus, too much work. But to Randall’s dismay, the cobbler’s table was practically engulfed by a huge pile of shoes and boots in various states of disrepair. It seemed that the crabby little man had more work
than he could keep up with!
“I was told that you were the man to see,” Randall started before being interrupted by the irascible old man.
“Yes, yes. Best cobbler in all of Ninove,” the man spat sarcastically without looking up from his work. He gestured toward the huge pile of shoes on the table beside him. “Throw your shoes in there. Be at least a week before I get to them.”
“Oh, wait” Randall said, unsure of how to take the conversation further. “My friend, uh, Shawncy, said I should talk to you.”
The man stopped working and peered at Randall . “Shawncy, eh? Good customer, lotta repeat business. Well, have a seat, then, and kick your boots off,” he said, winking while gesturing to a tiny stool against one wall of the shop.
The light of recognition had flared in Edwin’s eyes the instant the young Mage had mentioned Shawncy’s name. Randall wasn’t sure why he was being asked to take his boots off, but after seeing how much effort these men put into their cover stories, he guessed that it was some kind of ruse to allow them to speak without drawing suspicion.
Edwin pulled up another stool and made a show of measuring Randall’s feet. “So, what’s your name?” he asked as he worked.
“Randall, sir,” he replied.
“Well, Randall, your boots are terrible. Can’t say as I can even fix them up proper. Have to sell you something new. I have just the thing,” the cobbler said as he stood up and began rummaging in a cupboard full of haphazardly stored shoes. “Ah, here they are. Used, but in good shape. I’ll give ‘em to you for a couple of ringets.” Before Randall could say a word, the cobbler had slipped the pair of shoes onto Randall’s feet.
“Ah yes, a perfect fit!” the cobbler crowed, puffing up with pride.
The fact of the matter was that Randall’s boots were in pretty bad shape. But he hadn’t come to the cobbler’s shop to buy a new pair. “I didn’t really come for shoes, sir.” Randall said. “My friend, Shawncy of Paranol, he said I should talk to you.”
“Look kid,” Edwin snapped . “I don’t have time for foolishness. If you have no use for shoes, then I have no use for you. Go away and find someone else to pester.”
“But...Shawncy said that you would help me.” Randall protested. “I’m a Mage!” The words had spilled out of him before he even had realized what he was about to say.
“Oh you are, are you?” Edwin replied, his voice menacing. “Magic’s illegal, you know. I have half a mind to report you and your friend Shawncy to the Rooks. Where did you say you met him again?”
“In Paranol,” Randall answered. “He was pretending to be an apothecary.” He didn’t know why he was answering the cobbler so freely. The words seemed to tumble out of him before he had a chance to stop them.
“Paranol, huh? And did you go to his house? Do you know where he lives?” Edwin leaned in as he continued the questioning so that he seemed to fill Randall’s vision.
“Yessir,” Randall said. “Well, to a ‘safe house’, he called it. I don’t know if it was his real house.”
He had tried to stop himself from answering the last question, but the words had come out regardless! Something was forcing Randall to answer. It had to be magic! Randall’s heart raced as he anticipated the next question.
“I see.” Edwin said slowly, leaning closer. “Who are you working for?” he snapped suddenly.
“No one!” Randall cried indignantly. He realized that Edwin must think he was working for Aidan!
“No one? So, you’ve come all this way all by yourself have you? Just pranced from there to here with no help along the way?” Edwin wheedled.
“Well no, of course not. It’s been me and...” Randall’s voice caught in his throat. He had almost said “me and Berry,” but instead he caught himself at the last moment and said “me and...anyone I’ve managed to get to help me.” He wasn’t sure how he had managed to weasel around the answer that time, but he knew that any mention of his friend could lead to dire consequences.
Edwin’s face grew hard. “Like who?” he barked. Randall’s mind spun as he felt the power of Llandra compelling him to answer the question.
“Like...like my ma. She gave me a magic dagger!” he answered, but Edwin just sat there, and Randall realized he was waiting for more. And the longer he waited, the stronger the compulsion to answer tore at his throat.
“And..and Brody and Declan and Tobsen. I met them on the trail and they took me to Paranol, but they ended up kidnapping me.” Edwin continued to wait with pursed lips.
It seemed like the man would continue to dig until the secret about the donnan was pried from Randall’s lips. After Shawncy’s reaction to the creature, Randall felt certain that if he let the secret out, he wouldn’t leave this room alive.
The compulsion he was under didn’t seem to mind about the quality of the answer, so long as it was truthful. Randall hoped that if he named enough boring details, the old man would eventually tire of the questioning and release him from the spell before he was forced to reveal the existence of his friend.
“And some guys on a ferry. They gave me a ride to Varna on the Lake after I helped ‘em get unstuck. The caravan master there offered me a job. Once I got here, I got directions to your place from a girl who makes candles. Her name was Estelle.” And still, Edwin waited.
Randall wracked his mind, desperate to think of anyone else who may have helped him on his journey other than the donnan, while the pressure to answer continued to mount. He knew he could not hold out much longer.
“And...and...”
“Why don’t you cut the kid some slack, you old codger. He’s come a long way,” said a familiar voice from the doorway, startling Randall and breaking the spell. The tug of compulsion was still there, but it was diminished greatly.
“Shawncy!” Randall cried. It was both an answer to Edwin’s question and a cry of relief.
“Hadda test the boy, didn’t I?” Edwin retorted hotly. “Never know who to trust these days. He could’a been anyone, nosing around, tossing your name about like that. Hadda be sure, didn’t I?”
“Yes, of course you did,” Shawncy replied, in a tone more patronizing than it was placating. “But I’ve met the boy, and can vouch for him. He is who he says he is.”
“Fine,” the old cobbler said, pulling the shoes from Randall’s feet. “He’s your problem, then.” The feeling of compulsion left him completely the instant the shoes were off of his feet.
Edwin tossed the pair of shoes he was holding back into the cupboard and made his way back to his workbench, muttering grumpily. He looked up from the pile of shoes and snapped “Well, go on, get out of here and leave me to my work!”
It was clear to Randall that the bad-tempered behavior wasn’t simply a display put on to fool the public, but was an ingrained part of the man’s personality. Still, Shawncy seemed more amused than annoyed by the man’s crabby demeanor.
“Fair enough,” he said with a laugh, guiding Randall out of the door with one hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go, and leave the maestro to his art.” Randall was more than happy to put the shop as far behind him as possible.
Soon enough, Randall found himself comfortably seated in a corner of a pub. The establishment was fairly empty, though a few patrons were scattered throughout and taking their afternoon meal. Shawncy seemed much more relaxed and at ease in this environment, which was a far cry from his behavior in Paranol. Randall, on the other hand, felt paranoid and on edge. It seemed like he was always getting into trouble in pubs. After the barmaid brought their drinks, Randall found himself abstractedly sniffing the brew to make sure that it wasn’t drugged.
“So, what brings you to Ninove?” Shawncy started, cocking an eyebrow at Randall’s odd behavior. “I saw you up the road from Edwin’s, but I didn’t see your caravaner friends.”
“It’s a long story,” Randall said, pulling a face.
“Well, we have nothing but time. Edwin will be at the shop for a few hours yet, and so we might as well swap stories un
til then.
So, Randall found himself telling Shawncy the story of his kidnapping, and the bandit attack, carefully leaving out any mention of Berry. When he got to the fighting, Shawncy knitted his brows and steepled his fingers but said nothing. Randall glossed over his travels from Varna on the Lake to Ninove and when he finished, Shawncy blew out a large sigh.
“Well, that’s quite a tale,” he said. “My own journey to the capital wasn’t nearly so exciting. I’m sorry that you had to go through that.”
“Speaking of your travels, what brings you to Ninove? I didn’t expect to see you here” Randall asked with a touch of bitterness. “I thought you were going to lie low. Save your own skin and all of that.”
Shawncy winced at the denunciation in Randall’s tone. “I deserve that, I suppose. But I got to thinking about what you said. And you were right—we should do more than hide in the shadows. As a group, we have saved a number of lives by getting Mages off of the continent. But every now and then, one of us gets caught. None of us can face Aidan alone and win. Together, though, we might have a chance against the Rooks.”
This was the opportunity Randall had been waiting for, without even realizing it. He felt his throat tighten and hot tears well up in his eyes as he realized that he had a chance to strike back at the man who had ruined his whole life and killed his family. He took a long pull from his flagon of ale and steeled his nerves so that he wouldn’t embarrass himself by breaking out into real tears.
“So, you’re going to fight then?” Randall asked, softly.
“We all are, Randall,” Shawncy said with a grim smile. “Every Mage that we could contact is gathering here in Ninove. It is going to be war.”
Chapter 17
The next several days were filled with frustration and boredom. After being on the road for so long, Randall felt cooped up and useless tucked away in Shawncy’s safe house. Not that the safe house wasn’t comfortable. Unlike the last one, this dwelling was well furnished, clean, and in a fairly well-to-do neighborhood.
A Touch of Magic Page 28
