by Sever Bronny
“Bridget, sir, and this is Leera and Augum.”
“What’s that now?”
“Bridget, and that’s Leera and Augum!”
The old man’s eyes briefly flitted over Augum’s lightning ring.
Augum extinguished his arm. “Sir, did you happen to know a Mrs. Stone at the academy?”
“Mrs. Stone? You mean Anna Atticus Stone?”
“Yes, exactly—”
One Eye smiled fondly as a twinkle came into his eye. “Oh, I certainly knew Anna. We were friends, in fact. That was a very long time ago now.”
“Friends, sir?”
One Eye waved his cane, forcing Augum to take a step back. “Oh yes, we were very good friends. Got into all sorts of trouble. Constantly in the Headmaster’s office. We were quite the fearsome trio. There was Jordan Winters, the wickedest prankster you would ever have the displeasure of meeting; Anna, the most talented sorceress of our time; and I of course, the most brilliant plotter ever born in all of Solia, if I do say so myself. That’s right, back then I was known as William Smith the Plotter. I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”
“Uh …”
“Of course you have. Now, how about some bellcandy?” The old man hobbled to a bowl of sweets, drew out three pink and blue candies in the shapes of bells, and handed them out.
They popped them in their mouths.
“Good, isn’t it?”
The trio nodded, Leera’s eyes already back on the bowl.
“Know where it comes from? City of the Iron Feather. There’s a sweetshop there that’ll make your teeth jump out of your skull.”
“I have a new goal in life,” Leera mumbled.
“Not to mention the city has the best Canterran food. That’s where my caravan’s headed.”
Augum found himself intrigued by this strange man, a man from the time of his great-grandmother. “Sir, did you also know a Thomas Stone?”
One Eye’s face suddenly went cold. He waved his cane dismissively. “Thomas? No, I don’t think I recall a Thomas … never heard of him.” Suddenly his good eye narrowed in suspicion. “Why are you asking all these questions anyway? Are you a Legion spy?”
“Oh, no, sir—far from it. Anna Stone is … she’s my great-grandmother, actually.”
The old man sputtered, nearly dropping his cane. “Dear me, I knew there was something familiar about you.” He drew close to Augum to inspect him anew. “Yes, yes, I can certainly see the resemblance now.” He shook his head. “You would have been my great-grandson if that no-good fool hadn’t gotten in the way … I would have named you Brett, after my late brother.”
“You mean my great-grandfather, Thomas? But I thought you said—”
“Never mind what I said—!” One Eye turned his back and shuffled off, leaning against the counter and expelling a long breath. “You wouldn’t understand. It was … it was a very, very long time ago, Brett.”
“My name is—”
“What? What’s that?” One Eye fumbled for his ear trumpet.
“Sir, we’re actually trying to get to Mrs. Stone right now,” Bridget said. “The Legion is racing ahead. They want to lay a trap for her. If she’s—”
One Eye snorted. “Someone’s always been after her, or rather, after that darn globe of hers.”
“You mean the scion?” Leera asked, chewing on a second piece of candy she had somehow acquired.
“Quite right, my dear Stephanie, quite right indeed.”
Leera stopped her chewing. “It’s Leer—”
“—Jordan and I were the only ones she told,” One Eye continued, idly fingering something hidden around his neck. “We were best friends, you see, but people still found out. After all, the Arinthian line goes back a very long way. That is how we got into so much trouble most of the time—we were simply defending the scion. Jordan and I were just beginning to understand the arcane way, but Anna … Anna excelled even the teachers. Her knowledge and acumen was vast. She was brilliant, just brilliant. We called her the ‘Arcane Artist’. Should have seen what she could do with the Chameleon spell—certainly gave Jordan plenty of ideas.”
“Sir, please, will you help us find her?” Augum asked. “The Legion is following us, and we’ve still got a long way to go.”
“A very long way,” Bridget added. “We’re going to the Northern Peaks, to—”
“—to seek the mountain monks of the north, or more likely, the Seers.” One Eye looked to the trinket-infested ceiling and tugged on his beard.
“How … how did you know?” Bridget asked.
“You are conversing with an old adventurer, young lady. There would be no other reason for Anna to travel there. She seeks wisdom, wisdom only the Seers could provide. That can only mean she has a big question on her mind. Everyone is allowed to ask the Seers one question—one precious question per lifetime, and no more.”
“Did you ask a question of the Seers?” Augum asked.
“I did. Darn wasted it though. I asked them if I was allowed to get comfortable before asking my question.”
Leera snorted, spattering bits of candy, before pretending to cough.
One Eye frowned at her then turned to Bridget. “So you say the Legion is following you, is that it?”
“Yes. Can you help us?”
“We’re very tired as are our horses,” Augum said. “We’ve left a trail anyone could follow, and if we don’t find some other way to reach Nana before my … before the Lord of the Legion does—”
But One Eye was already shaking his head. “I cannot teleport you to the Northern Peaks, not even individually. I am too old, too weak, and it is too far. I am also one degree short of attaining the Group Teleport spell. To be perfectly honest, I am surprised I had not hit my ceiling earlier. Though I suppose you could use a scroll.”
“Scroll, sir?”
“Yes, if you could get your hands on a Group Teleport scroll, you can get yourselves there, Brett. I’m afraid that’s the only way I know of.”
“It’s Augum, sir. Maybe we can find a scroll for you—”
“—’find a scroll’, the boy says.” One Eye turned his milky eye on him. “You can’t just ‘find’ a Group Teleport scroll, young man. Do you know how much trouble it is to make one of those, how much time is involved? Do you even have the slightest idea just how much it would cost? Hmm? Or how you would get into town in the first place, with those Legion crooks prowling the streets?” He waved a dismissive hand. “You might as well forget it, Brett.”
“Sir, which town do you mean?” Augum said, giving up on correcting the old man about his name.
“Candledale, but like I said, you need a lot of gold to buy something that expensive.”
The trio exchanged determined looks. They were definitely going to give it a shot. Gold or no gold, they were going to get their hands on that scroll.
“I see that look. Foolish kids, you have no idea what you are doing, do you? Are you aware that all unsanctioned spell scrolls have been declared forbidden? Even being caught with a lesser scroll could mean death, let alone a Spell of Legend … No, I can’t let you go on this errand. If anything …” One Eye shook his head in a manner suggesting he couldn’t believe what he was going to do next. He wandered back behind his counter to retrieve a piece of parchment, dipped a large peacock feather into a tiny ink bottle, and began scribbling as the trio exchanged curious looks.
When he finished, he banged the wagon wall with his cane. Soon the bells jingled and in came the man with the woolen winter coat. He had scruffy black hair and a round face with the beginnings of a beard. His breath stank of strong spirits.
“M’lord?”
“Bartholomew here is my most trusted, able servant.” He turned to the pudgy man. “You are going on a merchant run.”
Augum wondered if Bartholomew was his real name, or if he too had given up on correcting the old man.
“But m’lord, we’re still leagues from Iron Feather—”
“Yes yes, I know, this is a
special case, however.” One Eye handed Bartholomew the piece of parchment, giving him a moment to read it.
“M’lord! This is sheer lunacy, should I get caught—”
“I am quite aware of the consequences on this trade, Bartholomew. It will be your choice.”
Bartholomew took a good long look at the note and sighed. “What will m’lord be giving up in trade?”
One Eye turned to the trio. “Oh, I won’t be giving up a thing.”
Taking the hint, the trio dug out everything they owned in search of something worth trading for a forbidden Group Teleport scroll. The contents of their rucksack lay strewn about on the well-worn wooden floor.
“Dramask blankets—very nice, very nice indeed,” One Eye said, pawing at the fine wool. “But not nearly adequate enough. Oh, what do we have here? Is that—? Surely it cannot be …” He gently picked up the orb, face lighting up.
“That’s just a seeing orb,” Leera said. “It comes with a pearl that allows—”
“—‘just a seeing orb’? My dear child, this is not ‘just a seeing orb’. This is, why I cannot believe you do not know your history, what are they teaching kids these days up at the academy—?”
When One Eye spotted the vacant looks the trio gave him, he scoffed.
“Unnameable gods be good, they do not know. This is the Orb of Orion, gifted to the Academy of Arcane Arts a thousand years ago upon its grand opening. But how could you possibly have come to possess this artifact?”
“Actually it’s a bit of a long story,” Augum mumbled.
One Eye raised his trumpet to his ear.
“We rescued it from an evil sorceress!” Leera said.
“Well, you cannot trade this, not for anything. This has to be returned to the academy, but not until the Legion have been well cleared out of there. If they got a hold of this it would just be a tremendous disgrace on the institution of honorable arcanery.”
“Sir, why is it so special?” Bridget asked. “We have already discovered its powers, you can look through it and listen—”
“—oh, no, no, no! It’s about the story!” He shook his head. “It’s just tragic how little you know. Yes yes, it is an orb of seeing, sure, but legend has it that the Orb of Orion can summon dragons.”
Leera snickered, composing herself after noticing the looks she was getting. “Sir, dragons are tales for children,” she said more politely.
One Eye nodded with a knowing smile. He retrieved an amulet that hung around his neck, obscured by his sapphire vest. “See this?” He dangled what appeared to be a giant black tooth before them. “I retrieved this myself—with a bit of help from Anna and Jordan that is—from an ancient abandoned mine called Shaftspur. Dragons once lived, my dear child, they once lived …”
One Eye removed the amulet to let the trio inspect the tooth. It was large, sure, but Augum thought it looked exactly like a bear tooth. Leera also seemed skeptical, rolling her eyes and passing it on. Bridget studied it carefully before returning it to One Eye with reverence.
“Anna once tried having a go at it, you know,” One Eye said, gesturing at the Orb of Orion. “Believe it or not, I once acquired the orb myself, as a prank of course. Did we get in trouble for that one—almost got expelled, all three of us. Detention for a whole year. Broke an academy record. Anyway, when Anna saw it, after the tongue lashing she gave me, she simply had to try unlocking its secrets. Ambitious, that one, I tell you. Once she saw something she did not understand, she could not help but try to figure it out. She tried everything she could think of. Studied it for days on end …” He chuckled to himself, eyes focused on some distant adventure in the past.
“Well, sir, did she figure it out—?” Augum asked.
“Of course not, my dear boy! Warlocks and arcaneologists have been studying it for a thousand years. No one has cracked its secret. Jordan—bless his dark-skinned soul—thought the whole dragon thing was an ancient prank made up by the warlocks that gifted the object. After all, they were from a rival school. I know better though, and finding this tooth was the proof.”
Augum and Leera exchanged skeptical glances.
“Um, well, we’ll be sure to return the Orb of Orion to the academy as soon as the Legion is gone,” Augum said, thinking One Eye lost a few of his marbles in that mine. He made a mental note to ask Mrs. Stone about him when they next met—if they met—they had to beat Sparkstone to her first. The thought brought him back to their stuff, splayed out on the floor.
“Sir, is there not anything else we can trade for the scroll?”
One Eye blinked. “Oh, right, the scroll. Let us have a look. Hmm … I am sorry but I see nothing else here.”
The trio’s faces fell.
“Wait—what is that on your hip there, Grundvelda? Show it to me …”
Bridget looked around before realizing One Eye was addressing her. She hesitated a moment before handing Blackbite over.
“ ‘Grundvelda’?” Leera mouthed to Augum.
“If I did not know any better, I would swear this is a Dreadnought Blade,” One Eye muttered, inspecting the dagger with shaking hands. “Yes yes, it has the telltale signs of master forging—the steel, the weight … but is it arcane?” He looked to Bridget, expecting her to answer that very question.
“Its name is Blackbite, and it is a Dreadnought piercing blade.” She sounded hesitant. Augum realized she had probably become fond of the blade, as he had with Burden’s Edge.
One Eye gave a stiff nod. “Yes, I do believe this will more than suffice.”
“Is that all right with you, Bridge?” Leera asked.
Bridget gave the Dreadnought Blade a longing look then pursed her lips. “Of course it is. I’d give up a thousand of those to see Mrs. Stone safe.”
One Eye handed the jeweled blade over to Bartholomew. “Use this as barter and keep any profit for yourself for the risks.”
Bartholomew’s eyes lit up upon receiving the fine dagger. “Most kind of you, m’lord, most kind.” He turned the dagger over in his hands, smiling to himself.
“Be sure to give that to Jeremiah the merchant and no other. Tell him he owes me one.”
“Of course, m’lord. When should I depart?”
“Immediately. I want you to take the fastest horse and return as soon as you can.”
“As you wish, m’lord.”
“Good, Bartholomew—away with you then.” One Eye waved him off with his cane. The bells jingled as he stepped outside.
“If the job can be done, Bartholomew can do it. You can trust him.”
Bridget forced a smile as Augum placed a hand on her shoulder. “Thanks Bridge, that was noble.”
Leera gave her a quick hug. “Don’t worry, we’ll find you another one in some other castle, and you too, Aug. And then we can find me one.”
He waved the thought aside. “We’ve had our turn. Yours is next.”
One Eye yawned. “I do believe it is about time for my afternoon nap.” He poked at Augum’s robe with his cane. “I happen to have a fine bath wagon with a competent attendant. Perhaps you three would like to enjoy it?”
“Oh, that would be most grand, sir,” Bridget said.
One Eye filled out another piece of parchment. “It is settled then. Take this to Marta the bath attendant. Let us convene again for supper.”
The trio took the note, gathered their things, and trooped out of the colorful wagon, checking for any sign of the Legion. They did notice a guard stationed at the crest of the hill, acting as a scout. Satisfied, they trundled along in search of Marta the bath attendant.
Comforts
The bath wagon sported four side-by-side wooden tubs separated by elegant semi-translucent screens. Just like the shop wagon, it was far larger on the inside than seemed possible, an arcane room that perplexed the mind. In the center stood a series of stone hearths to keep the room warm. On the other side of the divide were booths fitted with sconce candles and vanity dressers.
They met Marta, a heavyset woman
with tan skin. She took one look at the note, nodded, and told them to undress in the private booths, assigning each a soft white robe. Soon they were relaxing in steaming tubs while she washed their clothing and blankets. The scars on Augum’s back from the Penderson farm tingled in the hot water.
“You very lucky,” Marta said in her thick eastern accent. “Youth is best time to be warlock. Before joining caravan, I go Dramask academy. Stop at 3rd degree.”
“What’s your element?” Bridget asked.
“Fire. I go back to Tiberra when make money for family.” She squeezed their laundry through a drying roller.
“What’s Tiberra like? I’ve never been there.”
“Is beautiful place. You see blankets? Is that beautiful. Bright color everywhere. Color, color, color. You come visit. Then you taste spices, have tea ceremony, buy from market. I miss Tiberran men. I miss dance. Husband die sick. Solia no place for me. People too cold, think war too much. Caravan dancers and singers here no good. And it not smell right here. Smell like tree and fire and snow. There, it smell like food and spices and laughter and family.”
“But it’s north enough you get snow too, don’t you?”
“Oh, ya, we have snow too. But it … different. Me know not how explain.”
Augum quickly averted his eyes from Leera’s vague form in the booth next door as she began lathering her hair. “How did One Eye get these wagons to be so big inside?”
“He hire great warlock.” Marta squeezed their robes through a drying roller. “They work on wagons long time. Cost too much gold.”
“Is there any news about the coming war?”
“Please you no talk about war here. I sick of war.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Of course she didn’t want to talk about it—her family was there! He decided to ask about something light-hearted. “So this caravan has dancers and singers too?”
“Oh, ya ya ya. But they no good. Tiberran better. Much better. Full of soul. Here they weep. One Eye come to villages and put on arcane show, sell trinkets. He good man. We happy have jobs. We safe. He barter to keep us safe. But he old man. Very, very old man. I worry he sick. I worry he die. Too many people hungry. Legion take too many for war. Is no good. Solia hungry and sick.”
