by Unknown
She laughed. “You go right ahead. I don’t hold to the belief that girls must go first.”
Slag smiled as he watched Zeal and Liddea’s byplay and appreciated how considerate Zeal was of her.
Kaid placed a small crock on the table, removed the lid, scooped out a spoonful of the contents, and then replaced the cover. “Chew this and do not spit it out. You are not allowed to swallow till I tell you.” He lifted the bottom of Zeal’s hood just enough to access his mouth. “Okay, open wide.”
Slag wondered if Zeal’s time spent with Cook in the Temple’s kitchen would help with this test. He watched Zeal accept the spoon’s offering and waited, along with Kaid and Liddea, as Zeal slowly chewed. He only gagged twice before Kaid allowed him to swallow.
Kaid sat with quill, paper, and ink, ready to record Zeal’s summary. “Zeal, what did you just eat?”
Zeal emitted a loud burp. “Ugh, that was the worst stew I have ever had.”
Kaid grinned at his sightless charges. “I want you to know that I spent half the night creating the fine swill you just sampled. Tell me the ingredients.”
Zeal sat straighter. Slag could see Zeal was about to use the memory technique the apprentices had been taught to precisely report information. “I tasted bitter root, fish oil, fire spice, rancid cream, pearled grain, and a heavy hand with the salt. I also think you spit in it.”
“Zeal, stop that,” Liddea cried out.
Kaid laughed. “Zeal is right, you know, Liddea. I did spit in it. But he didn’t mention the skunk meat.”
Zeal burped again. “I’ve never eaten skunk before. No wonder I didn’t recognize the flavor.”
Slag left the table before started laughing and gave his presence away. He decided to see how Tulip and Nester were doing. If Zeal had the stew’s ingredients correct, he didn’t want to see Liddea’s reaction when she sampled Kaid’s next concoction.
He approached Bell, Tulip, and Nester, whose turn it was on the wire strung nearly twice an average man’s height above the floor. If the boy doesn’t continue to keep his feet in contact with the cable, he will be in trouble, Slag noted. Nester made a misstep. Unable to regain his balance, he fell hard onto the mat below, landing awkwardly on his side.
Slag knelt to help Bell roll Nester onto his back and waited while Bell examined him.
“Breathe easy.” Bell turned her head toward Slag. “He has had the wind knocked out of him.”
She continued to check for evidence of injury. Nester yelped when she inspected the arm he cradled. “Your wrist is broken.”
Slag stood. “I’ll go outside and signal for a healer to be fetched. Make him comfortable. I will return shortly.” He kept his concern from showing on his face as he walked away.
After exiting the building, he stood just outside the door. Even though there was no one in sight, he signed for a healer and heard a piercing whistle acknowledge the request. Everyone seems to be off to a good start, he thought to himself before stepping back into the warehouse.
***
Zeal enjoyed Night Work, as he and the others called the change in their training schedule, which had become mostly nocturnal, the past two moons. As he traveled the High Road, he tried to keep up with Kaid. Slag had informed them that it was impossible for a herd of apprentices to train undetected out in the open, even at night, so they took turns learning with Kaid, one on one.
It was three marks before sunrise. Crossing Arlanda from roof to roof was much more enjoyable than when they had to travel through the sewers. The temperature dropped with the approaching darkness, now that fall was coming to an end. Frost, winter’s first blush, coated exposed surfaces.
Kaid leaped the narrow alley that separated the building they were on from its neighbor. Zeal appreciated how gracefully Kaid crossed the space. He himself felt as graceful as a fledgling diddle-duck chick making its first attempt at flight each time he leaped from one roof to the next.
Anticipating the jump ahead, he sped up. As he planted his foot, an unseen protrusion caught it. Instead of the graceful spring he’d planned, his body was awkwardly launched toward the opposite ledge.
A small gap to hurdle suddenly became a wide fissure. Zeal knew his body lacked the force to propel him the needed distance. Desperately, silently, he reached out to grasp any part of the building. His body seemed to take forever to draw near it. His hands brushed the roof’s edge. Skin scraped off his fingers, and several nails broke. He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see the road when it appeared out of the darkness to shatter him.
The journey ended much too quickly. Something clamped around his wrist. Abruptly, the angle of his body changed. He jerked to a stop, slammed against a hard surface, and opened his eyes to discover he had struck the side of the building. He looked up. Kaid held him by the wrist.
Kaid pulled Zeal up onto the roof beside him. “Can you continue?”
Zeal grimaced. “My body aches but my shoulder hurts worse.” He nodded toward the arm Kaid had caught him by. “I can’t move it.” He had never before felt pain this intense. As he concentrated on holding back his tears and trying to distract himself from the ache in his shoulder, he began to sweat.
“Let’s head to a safe place where I can get you checked out. Come this way.”
Zeal cradled his arm close and followed. When they approached the opposite corner, Kaid stopped and surveyed the street below. There were very few travelers about this time of the night. Kaid used a rope to lower Zeal to the street before climbing down the side of the building. Zeal bit his lip to keep from crying out in pain. For half a mark, they traveled quietly, staying in the shadows till Kaid stopped them at a dark doorway and tapped out a patterned knock that was soon answered by an older gentleman. The man, not dressed for sleep, came to the door so quickly, Zeal thought he must have already been awake. It was the healer who had treated Nester two moons previously.
He opened the door wide. “Come in. Don’t stand there and draw attention.”
Kaid nudged Zeal forward, as the door was shut behind them.
“Master Shell, I have a little bird with an injured wing for you to attend.”
“Does this chick have a name?” Master Shell guided them to his work space.
“Sir, my name is Zeal.” Zeal looked around the chamber lined with shelves that held small jars full of a rainbow of liquids and powders. On a stand was a tray covered by a white cloth. A padded table occupied the room’s center. Glancing at himself in a mirror, Zeal thought he looked pale and drawn.
“Well, Zeal, sit here and let me take a gander at you. I understand you live at the Temple, where I obtain most of my supplies. How did you receive your injury?”
Zeal sat on the table and allowed Master Shell to assist him in the painful removal of his shirt, thankful he had strapped the Fang to his thigh that night.
Kaid answered. “He made a leap of faith and failed. I caught him by the wrist before the street had a chance to alter his features.”
As Zeal lay down, he clenched his teeth at the discomfort of Master Shell’s examination.
“Shoulder is dislocated. Close the door so we don’t wake anyone.” Master Shell continued to speak while Kaid did his bidding. “Zeal, putting you back to rights is going to hurt. I will give you something to bite down on. Cry out if you wish.”
Zeal thought of Iris and knew he was her champion and would be brave for her sake. He took the piece of leather between his teeth, and then nodded once, to indicate he was ready for Master Shell to proceed. Kaid held him firmly. Master Shell pulled Zeal’s arm. Zeal felt the bone wrench, grinding into place, right before he slid into darkness.
When Zeal awakened, he was alone with Kaid, who sat on a stool next to him. His arm was in a sling and the shoulder still hurt. Maybe a little less, he thought to himself. “Where is Master Shell?”
Kaid offered him a drink of water. “He is checking to see if we disturbed his life mate with his ministrations. You didn’t make a peep before you passed out. I
am proud of you. What happened back on the roof?”
Zeal looked away. “I didn’t check the roof’s surface before attempting the crossing, as you have always instructed. My foot caught on something just as I made my jump.”
“You can’t always play it safe, but you can try to eliminate risk.”
Zeal thought a change in subject was in order. “Tell me more about Master Shell.”
Kaid sat quiet for several heartbeats before answering. “Master Shell is a retired member of our family. In time, you will meet others who have given up the more demanding activities of our profession due to choice or because of injury. Some decide to run our businesses, hold civic positions, or become information gatherers. After Slag became Trade Master, he made sure a portion of the tithes we pay are used to support retired members. I think all the apprentices would benefit from the wisdom our senior associates have to offer. It’s time you met more of them.”
Zeal suddenly felt very tired. “I think I would like that.”
Kaid helped him put on a shirt with ties on the front. Grateful, Zeal didn’t think he could manage slipping his arm into his own shirt sleeve, let alone pull it over his head.
“As soon as Master Shell says you can leave, I will take you back to the Temple. Via the street, mind you.”
Zeal protested. “But we have more training to do.”
“You don’t. I want you to rest and recover the next half moon and heal.” Kaid turned toward the closed door. “I hear Master Shell returning. Let’s see if he’ll agree to let me get you out of here.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
ZEAL PALMED A MEAT pie off the vender’s cart then smiled innocently at the owner, who winked back at him. As he savored the spices used in the sauce, he thought back on the nearly five seasons since he had been selected by Slag to be apprenticed to the Trade. The Trade was his family, even if it hadn’t provided someone he could call mother or father. Definitely Master Slag didn’t fit the bill. He chuckled to himself, imagining the Trade Master as Papa Slag. Iris would be more of a great aunt, had she been a family member.
He meandered into an alley near his destination outside of the building across from Talley’s Clocks. He bounded up a narrow set of stairs to a balcony that overlooked the marketplace below and found Mehrle and Fronc already waiting.
“Did you bring us one of those?” Mehrle glanced at Fronc then looked back at Zeal, who shoved the last bite of meat pie into his mouth.
“Nope. I am afraid you will have to go get your own.” After a moment, he reached under his shirt and handed a pie to Mehrle and Fronc before beginning to eat his last one.
Fronc slowly ate his snack. “Zeal, I don’t know where you keep putting that food. You eat twice as much as any of the rest of us and are still scrawny and small.”
Mehrle chuckled and turned to Fronc. “Don’t you know that’s why he always gets in trouble and sent to kitchen duty? So he can be closer to the food.”
“Not so. I’m not the only one who trouble often finds,” Zeal muttered, glancing down into the market to see if he could judge its temperament from the patterns he saw.
“Unfortunately for us, it is almost always guilt by association, according to Charion.” Mehrle smiled.
“You’re right, Mehrle. Maybe we should let him suffer and do his extra kitchen duty by himself, instead of offering to help.” Fronc looked to Mehrle for confirmation.
Zeal smiled back at his two friends. “I enjoy helping Cook. She is teaching me how to bake.”
Sensing a presence above him, he turned as Liddea, followed by Nester, jumped silently onto the balcony from the roof above.
She reached toward Zeal’s partially eaten meat pie. “Zeal, you definitely need to practice your cooking more. One day, you might actually prepare something edible.”
Zeal stuck his tongue out at her and moved his food away.
“Who is the person we are supposed to meet with today?” Fronc asked Mehrle.
Tulip stepped out onto the balcony from the doorway of the building. “His name is Master Qwen. He lives on Bay Street and resides in the last house on the right.”
Zeal joined Liddea. “It’s my turn with Liddea as a partner. Let’s head there, meet out front, and then go in together.”
Liddea dramatically rolled her eyes skyward. “Can’t wait to see what mischief you get me into today.”
Nester turned to Mehrle. “It is you and me.”
Fronc bowed to Tulip. “Shall we?”
“Stay paired. Kaid told me there has been another kidnapping reported,” Mehrle informed them.
***
A half mark later, Zeal and the other apprentices approached the door of a well-kept, light blue cottage. Fragrant blue flowers bloomed in the beds. The door had a secure-appearing lock that Zeal didn’t think had a standard three-pin construction.
He was about to knock when the door opened on its own, and he heard a male voice yell from inside, “Don’t stand on ceremony! Come on in!”
Zeal allowed his companions to precede him through the door then stepped into a light, airy room with comfortable chairs; a warm blaze burned in the fireplace. The space led to a dining area adjacent to a neat kitchen, where they were greeted by their host and the aroma of freshly baked honey cakes.
“Welcome, young ones. I am Qwen. Now, you must be Zeal, Liddea, and Nester. The lady with the frown must be Tulip. Let’s see, you are Fronc and Mehrle.”
Master Qwen, a small man of short statue dressed in shades of blue, had correctly identified each of them. As he finished setting the table, he said, “I have honey cakes and beryl tea all ready. Find a place to sit.”
Zeal pulled out a chair and sat at the table. What a strange looking man, he thought. If Qwen were wearing a few more colors, he could pass as street entertainer, possibly a juggler. “Pleased to meet you, Master Qwen. Why do you dress the way you do?”
“Zeal!” Liddea hissed.
Qwen laughed. “I see we are off to a good start. I treasure honesty and want you to feel free to discuss any subject with me. Why do you think I dress this as I do?”
Zeal shrugged. “Because blue is your favorite color?”
Qwen sat a little straighter. Although he still smiled, his voice took on an instructor’s tone. “To answer you, Zeal, during the training you all received, you have been taught to not be seen, stand out, or be remembered. I, on the other, hand choose to hide in plain sight by doing the opposite. I want others to judge me by my appearance and let them see an eccentric simpleton who is easily dismissed and underestimated. Now, tell me about yourselves. How did you all become members of the Trade?”
All eyes looked to Mehrle.
She put down her cup of tea, shook her head, and sighed. “Well, Master Qwen, each of us was taken to live in the Temple by the Ladies of Life when we were much younger. I was four when my parents, who were fisherfolk, were lost at sea in a sudden storm, along with two of my uncles. There was no one left to care for me, so I was taken to the Temple. That was eight seasons ago. Tulip had been left at the front gates as an infant two seasons before I arrived. No one knows by whom.”
Tulip continued the explanation. “Fronc was three when he was delivered to the Temple by a member of the Watch, one season after me.”
Fronc refilled his cup. “Nester was two seasons when he came to live at the Ladies of Life nine seasons ago. The caravan in which he was traveling to Arlanda was attacked by bandits. His family was killed during the assault. The caravan leader didn’t know who to contact, so Nester was brought to stay.”
Nester nodded toward Liddea. “Liddea’s mother worked the Night Walks, and her mother gave her up as a babe ten seasons ago. Her mother didn’t say who Liddea’s father was, and he never came for her.”
Liddea pointed to Zeal. “It has been almost eleven seasons since Zeal, also a babe, was brought by an unknown man to the Temple gates.”
Zeal turned to Qwen. “I am sure you already know that almost five seasons ago we were all cho
sen by Master Slag to apprentice in the Trade.”
Qwen sat at the head of the table and poured a cup of tea. “Your lives have been eventful for being so short.”
Tulip spoke through of a mouthful of honey cake. “Master Qwen, who are you? Why did Master Slag send us to you?”
Qwen took a sip of tea. “You see before you a humble Practitioner of the Arts. I was given a task by the Trade Master to evaluate each apprentice and determine whether there is one or more amongst you with the ability to conjure. I wanted to meet with all of you together before testing you individually.”
Liddea, who sat on Qwen’s right, caught his attention to say, “I don’t understand what it is you do.”
Qwen pointed to the light over the table. “Look closely. There is no flame inside the globe. If you touch the glass, you will feel no heat. The source of illumination was created using conjure. Let me demonstrate for you.”
Zeal paid close attention to Qwen. He no longer sensed a blithe individual, easily overlooked. Qwen’s poise, bearing, and substance had changed. He watched his eyes narrow slightly and his pupils dilate. Suddenly, Qwen was a man who should be paid attention to and respected, a Master who’d stepped forward to begin his work.
Qwen studied Liddea a moment and then spoke a phrase too softly for Zeal to hear. He gestured with one hand and waved the other in front of Liddea’s face.
A gray shape took form on top of the center of the table. It morphed and then solidified into a doll-sized replica of Liddea, which curtsied toward Qwen, who bowed his head toward the figure in return. The miniature Liddea skipped over to the platter of honey cakes, leaned over one, and took a bite. She chewed contentedly and rubbed her belly in obvious pleasure.
Zeal noticed Qwen scrutinize each of them in turn. More than any, Liddea’s eyes sparkled with wonder and delight.
Qwen waved his hand. The little Liddea waved goodbye to everyone and faded away.
Nester mirrored Zeal’s thoughts when he said, “That was amazing. You want to see if we can do what you just did?”
The more unassuming Qwen replied, “I was discovered to have the potential to conjure as my body began to move into adulthood, during my fourteenth season. Shortly thereafter, it was discovered that I was also a Tzefire.”
