When Quinn finally decided to retire for the night, Brianna got up and helped stretch Mansel out on the floor near the fire. The apprentice carpenter just didn’t know when to stop drinking. She had planned to stay in the main room of the inn all night as the other townspeople did, just in case Zollin returned, but the stranger made her uneasy. She hadn’t been able to stop herself from looking into the shadows. So she followed Quinn back to their room.
“There’s a stranger at the inn tonight,” she whispered slowly.
“I saw him,” said Quinn.
“You did? Didn’t you think he looked...” she wasn’t sure how to describe the man. “Dangerous or something? He looked dangerous to me.”
“Why should we care?” Quinn asked as he opened the door to their tiny room.
There were two beds and an accordion screen that could be folded against the wall or straightened to provide privacy. She didn’t have a nightgown and was used to sleeping in her clothes. There was a small woodstove in the room, but it did little to keep the cold at bay. Brianna wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and sat on the tiny bed as she watched Quinn in the light of the single candle he had lit.
“It doesn’t bother you that a potentially dangerous man is now in the inn?”
“Should it?”
“Of course, what if he kills us?”
Quinn took a deep breath before explaining himself. “Yes, I saw the man, and yes, I’m a little wary of any stranger who sits in the shadows all night. I noticed that no one spoke to him and that only the innkeeper himself served the man. But I don’t know that he’s any more dangerous than the tailor who sat across the room and nursed his cups without speaking to anyone.”
“The tailor is harmless.”
“You think that because you know him,” Quinn said. “You suspect the other man because you don’t. It’s good to be wary of strangers, especially now, but until the man makes his intentions known, I can do nothing.”
“What if his intention is to kill you?”
Quinn smiled. He liked Brianna’s straightforward approach and protective manner. She was perceptive, too. She would get by in this world just fine, Quinn thought.
“If he intends to kill me, I’ll just have to stop him.”
“Oh, well, never mind then,” she said, falling back on her bed. “I don’t know what I was worrying about. You’ll just stop him.”
“I meant that I can’t worry about it. It won’t help me and it would only make me miserable,” Quinn said, then changed his tone. “Look at you, worried sick over Zollin. He’s probably cuddled up to a warm fire with some nice mulled wine without a care in the world.”
“Who said anything about Zollin?” Brianna snapped as she rolled over and faced the wall beside her bed.
“I did,” Quinn said under his breath.
***
Zollin slept through the night and late into the morning. He woke up famished again and found his clothes laid out on a small wooden chair beside the bed. The smell of eggs and bacon frying was coming from the main room of the cabin. He was still shaky and weak, but he managed to get dressed without the nagging dizziness he had battled the day before.
“Ah, you’re up,” said Kelvich, as Zollin slowly entered the room. “Here, have some breakfast.”
The sorcerer sat a plate heaped high with eggs, bacon, bread, and cheese on the table. Zollin ate ravenously, tearing the bread with his teeth and biting into the cheese without slicing it first. The sorcerer chuckled and rubbed his stomach.
“Ah, the appetite of youth is wasted on the young,” he said.
Zollin ignored him and continued eating until his plate was empty. He was beginning to feel his strength returning but had no desire to practice magic again.
“I’m not doing anything else today,” Zollin said in a sulky tone.
Kelvich just raised an eyebrow and stared at the young wizard. Zollin felt a little embarrassed at his behavior, but he remembered being tied to the post and being left out in the snow. He stood up and went back to the little room, where he promptly fell asleep again.
When Zollin woke up, it was late afternoon. The snow was still falling, big, soft flakes that were covering everything in a beautiful blanket of white. He was hungry once again and wished that he were back at the inn. He missed Brianna, but he tried desperately to keep the girl from his mind. She was still a source of sticky feelings and desires. He knew nothing could ever happen between them, and he constantly reaffirmed his pledge to Todrek, but he still couldn’t keep his mind from returning to her every few minutes. It was frustrating and exhilarating at the same time.
There was a nagging thought that kept returning to his mind, though: would she care about him if he were just a simple carpenter like his father? Was she drawn to him or to his power? He told himself that it didn’t matter because they were just friends, but the possibility that she cared for him simply because of the excitement, because he was different, nagged at his resolve. He tried to push her out of his mind and think about something else, but suddenly he was worried. What if more rough men, like the miners, showed up at the inn? What if they were mistreating Brianna? Worse yet, what if she had forgotten about him? Perhaps she was content there without a thought for him at all. Or what if some other boy had caught her attention? The thoughts made him feel queasy and he tried once again to think of something else.
He walked into the main room of the little cabin and found Kelvich in his chair, dozing by the fire. He decided to cook something. He was hungry and needed something to keep his mind occupied. He found onions and potatoes in the pantry, along with the remnants of the pork tenderloin that Kelvich had apparently eaten the night before. Zollin took the kettle from the fireplace and stepped outside to fill it with snow. The snow was thick, having built up past Zollin’s knees, and it was still snowing. He sighed as he wondered how long it would take before he was able to return to the village and see Brianna.
He cursed himself for letting the girl slip back into his thoughts and scooped up snow with his hands. He went back inside and hung the kettle over the fire, which was snapping and popping from moisture in the wood. While the snow melted and began to boil, Zollin cut up the potatoes. When he was finished, he dropped them in the water and let them boil while he cut up the onions into small pieces and searched for butter. He found a crock of soft butter and put a thick glob into a large pan. He removed the kettle and carefully situated the pan on a small metal frame above the fire. He fished the potatoes out of the water and dropped them into the pan, along with the diced onions. He sprinkled salt into the pan as the butter crackled and popped. He stirred the potatoes and onions, letting them cook down and get soft before he added the pork tenderloin he had chopped up.
A rich, homey aroma filled the cabin, and woke Kelvich up.
“I see you’re not totally helpless,” the sorcerer said.
“Not completely,” Zollin replied. “Thanks for sharing the pork with me, by the way.”
“I was sharing my bed,” Kelvich said. “My generosity only goes so far. Tonight you can sleep in the rocking chair.”
Zollin felt a stab of guilt but ignored it as he found two plates. He scooped out the food and handed a plate to Kelvich. They sat at the little table and stared at each other until Zollin felt like he would scream if he didn’t say something. Kelvich seemed unfazed by the lack of conversation.
“Aren’t you going to say something?” Zollin asked.
“I didn’t think you wanted me to,” Kelvich said. “As I recall, you said you were finished with me.”
“Well, I was angry,” Zollin said in frustration. “You left me outside in a snowstorm tied to a post.”
“It was for your own good,” the sorcerer said.
“How could that possibly be good for me?”
“If I don’t push you, who will?”
“Why do I need to be pushed?”
“If you don’t, you’ll spoil,” Kelvich said. “You have a gift, Zollin. You must lea
rn to develop it.”
“Why? Why must I learn to develop it? It’s my gift and I like it just the way it is.”
“But don’t you see,” Kelvich pleaded, “your power was meant for something more than just entertainment.”
“You think that’s what I want, to do tricks and entertain people? In case you forgot, I didn’t come here for a winter holiday. I was pursued by wizards and mercenaries.”
“Isn’t that enough for you to want to develop your skills?”
“Sure, I want to develop my skills, but I don’t want to be your target dummy that you leave outside tied to a post when you get bored.”
“Oh, poor Zollin, tied to a post. Don’t you understand that you could have gotten loose if you had just tried?”
“I did try. I was exhausted,” Zollin was almost shouting now. “I needed my staff and belt to do more.”
“Those are just crutches.”
“No, they’re not,” Zollin said. He felt like Kelvich was insulting him somehow. It was odd, he thought, to take offense for his staff and belt, but he had come to rely on them so much they were like friends to him.
“I can only do so much,” Zollin insisted.
“That is where you are mistaken. You have a depth of power you haven’t imagined yet, but you have to find that place inside of you, the source of it all. That’s what I’m pushing you to find.”
“I think you’re crazy,” Zollin said, stuffing his mouth full of fried potatoes.
“One day you’ll thank me.”
“I doubt it.”
“Does that mean you are resuming your studies?” Kelvich asked with his eyebrows raised.
“Only because I’m bored out of my mind,” Zollin said.
Kelvich grunted and continued eating.
***
The thin man was back in the main room of the inn when Brianna arrived the next morning. She had left Quinn snoring in his bed and gone back to the dining hall to see what the weather had done in the night. Many of the townsfolk were still asleep, rolled in their cloaks by the fire. Some were stretched out, others huddled together. Mansel was still where she had left him the night before, but the thin man was now in a chair next to the door. There was the sound of bustling work in the kitchens, but no one was eating yet. Brianna made a show of checking on Mansel and then returned to her room. Zollin had not returned, and a wave of panic ran up and down her spine. What if the man is another wizard? What if he’s here to kill Zollin when he returns? She paced in her room, wishing Quinn would wake up so that she could tell him what she had discovered. Although it was only a theory, she was sure it was right. Would Zollin know the man was there waiting for him or would he walk in the door totally unaware and be killed before she could tell him how she felt?
She sat swiftly on the bed, shocked at the thoughts in her head. She had felt drawn to Zollin and knew she cared about him. But thinking about declaring her feelings made her heart race and her knees feel shaky. She lay back on the bed and thought about his face, sweet and honest. A pain pierced her heart and she felt tears stinging her eyes. He carried his power so lightly, never burdening anyone with the weight of it, never throwing it around to show off. Perhaps he knew the man was at the inn, she thought. That would explain why he hadn’t returned. He could sense the man was waiting to kill him—and suddenly she felt relieved. Of course he hadn’t come back—he was probably planning to rescue her even now. She closed her eyes and thought of him as she drifted back to sleep.
She dozed through the morning until she heard Quinn stirring. She got up and checked her appearance in the polished sheet of brass the inn used for a mirror. After some minor adjustments, she felt better about herself. She was hungry and glad they would soon be getting some food. She looked at Quinn, who seemed older. He sat on the edge of his bed, his hair sticking up in odd directions. His shirt was untucked and his eyes were bloodshot. His face was lined with gray stubble, his skin pale. He wasn’t looking forward to breakfast, Brianna thought. Why did men have to drink so much? It was ridiculous to drink all night when you knew perfectly well that it would leave you feeling so terrible in the morning.
“Are you going to sit there forever?” she asked him. “Or are we going to breakfast?”
He covered his face with his hands and shook his head.
“The man from last night is still here,” she said.
“Of course he is,” Quinn croaked, his voice ragged and scratchy. “Where else is he going to go in this weather? Stop worrying about him.”
“I can’t...” she paused as he looked at her. “Well, what if he’s a wizard here to kill Zollin? What if—”
“Stop,” Quinn said, holding up his hand and rising slowly to his feet. “If we go and get you some breakfast, will you just stop talking?”
Brianna frowned, but she knew Quinn was just sick from too much drink the night before, his head probably throbbing with her every word. She walked past him and opened the door, motioning with her arm for him to go before her. He moved slowly out the door. It was hard to match his slow, careful pace, but she remained behind him. When they reached the main room, they found most of the townsfolk stirring. They looked just as miserable as Quinn did, most holding their heads and keeping their eyes closed. Quinn sat at the first table and was consequently straight across the room from the thin man, whose chair was still propped against the wall beside the door.
Mansel was still asleep, but no one seemed to mind stepping over him. Ollie came out of the kitchen with a tray of steaming mugs. She set one before Quinn and spoke quietly.
“Best remedy for a night of too much fun,” she said, smiling. “Drink it slow and it’ll stay down, guaranteed.” Quinn nodded but looked doubtful. “I’ll send Ellie out with your breakfast in just a moment, dear.”
Brianna started to say thank you, but before she could speak, a man sat down opposite Quinn without an invitation. It was the thin man, and he laid a knife on the table in front of him.
“I hear that some men started some trouble in here a while back,” said the man in a low voice that seemed too deep to come from such a thin person.
“That so?” said Quinn. He was staring hard at the man, the look of sickness gone completely.
“Word is, it was you that they ran into,” said the man. “Seeing how you aren’t beaten to death or full of wounds in your back, I’d say you’re ex-army, King’s Guard maybe.”
Quinn didn’t speak. He just stared at the man.
“Personally, I didn’t care for that bunch. We’re all better off without them. But the boss pays me to ensure that nothing disrupts his business. And while for the most part those three were worthless, they were in charge of bringing supplies back to our camp.”
“What is it you want?” Brianna said, her voice shaking. She wasn’t sure if it was from fear or anger. How dare this man come to them and defend those barbaric miners!
“I just want to hear what happened,” said the man.
“I expect you’ve heard enough,” Quinn said.
“I’ve heard quite a bit, and I know my boss will want to meet you when he comes to town, but I’ve also heard about a group of people that were run out of a small village called Tranaugh Shire. I heard a lot about wizards and mercenaries and battles. Of course, you can’t believe everything you hear. But then again, we’ve been getting our supplies from this little village for a while and no one ever made a play before.”
Brianna looked at Quinn, but the master carpenter was still staring straight at the man across from him. Brianna looked at the knife on the table. It was the length of a man’s hand, from palm to finger tips. It was forged entirely from one piece of metal, the handle merely wrapped with leather. It was exactly like Quinn’s dagger, the one he had thrown and killed the miner with.
“I’m also wondering if there might be a more lucrative reward for a group that’s being chased by so many,” said the man. “I could report to my boss, tell him I found the man responsible. He’d be glad to hear it, but so
mething tells me that I could do a lot better if I just took you south.”
“We aren’t who you think,” Quinn said. “I’m just a carpenter. We’re from a village called Winsel. Don’t want no trouble.”
“Most people don’t, but trouble has a way of coming around, don’t it?”
“Don’t think that because I don’t want it that I’m not prepared for it,” Quinn said.
The man smiled. “That’s what I figured,” said the man. “Be seeing you around.”
The man stood up and walked away, leaving the knife on the table.
Chapter 22
Branock rode through the falling snow and pondered his future. He knew that he could not return to the Torr without Zollin, but even if he managed to capture the boy, he had no desire to remain subservient to his master. His battle with Zollin and the resulting wounds had changed him. He wanted to enjoy the life his power provided him before he was too old to experience anything except cruelty. He wanted to rule, but he could never truly do that while his master lived. Still, he wasn’t strong enough alone to challenge the Torr. His master was much too powerful for him to overcome alone. He also needed to deal with Wytlethane. The elder wizard did not rival Branock in strength, but he could not allow his foe to rejoin their master, and a prolonged battle would severely weaken him in his attempt to gain Zollin’s allegiance.
He closed his eyes and let the cold seep into his body. He could feel the ragged toughness of his scar tissue just below the surface of his skin. He had full movement, but the damage was still there—he had merely been able to bypass it. He knew that he needed to move quickly, but he also desperately needed an ally. Wytlethane would be in Osis City, but Branock had turned his farm horse south and headed toward Orrock. He knew there was no turning back now. If he failed in his attempt at freedom, he would be hunted down. The best he could hope for would be a quick death. If his master captured him, he would die slowly.
Still, he knew there was no reward where there was no risk. He had always felt that he could sense opportunities. Some people saw the unexpected as setbacks, but Zollin’s escape seemed to Branock to be a blessing in disguise. Wytlethane was alone and vulnerable. Their master was certainly aware that Cassis had been defeated, but he could not foresee Branock’s plan. That was just the edge that Branock needed.
Wizard Rising Page 18
