“I asked you a question, fuckwit,” reminded the ring.
Will took hold of himself. “He died protecting me and my mother. Soldiers from Darrow invaded Barrowden. Why can’t you remember that?”
The ring sighed. “I call bullshit. He didn’t care enough about anyone to throw his life away. And the reason I don’t remember is because the last few years of his life were lost. Recent events, recent knowledge, they don’t remain with the intellect after death. Only memories that have had time to mature are kept. What was your mother’s name?”
“Erisa.”
“I remember her, pretty young thing, though her mother was a self-righteous fool. She stayed with him for a while. You’re saying you’re her brat?”
“Yes.”
“Nice try. You really did your research, but I still don’t believe you—sorcerer!”
Frustrated, Will tried again. “I’m not a sorcerer. Why haven’t you spoken before now?”
“Hmm. You haven’t figured out much, have you?”
“It’s the limnthal, isn’t it?” said Will. “I haven’t looked at it since Aislinn gave me the ring. It wakes you up somehow.”
“You mean since you stole the ring, and the limnthal.”
Will scratched his head. “How would a sorcerer steal your limnthal? They don’t even know what a limnthal is. I barely do. You gave me the limnthal.”
“Good point,” agreed the ring. “But I still don’t trust you. If you were really his apprentice, tell me something only an apprentice would know.”
He thought carefully for a minute. “There was a cat, he called it ‘the goddamn cat.’ He said it was our landlord.”
“Not bad, but not enough.”
“He hated the Lord of the Hunt. Aislinn was his wife, before she became one of the fae.”
The ring growled again. “Now you’re pissing me off. Still not good enough.”
“He was a tailor before he became Aislinn’s apprentice. He gave her a pillow he made as a gift. I returned it to her with his body after he died,” said Will.
“He wouldn’t have told you that. You’re trying too hard.”
“No. Aislinn told me, after I returned the pillow. All he ever told me was not to touch it. He was as mean as the day is long.” The ring remained silent, so Will asked, “Now do you believe me?” Still no answer. “What are you thinking?”
“How sad,” said the ring.
“Well, he had to deal with a lot of hardship during—”
“No, how sad that he was forced to scrape the bottom of the barrel and take a simpleton like you as an apprentice.”
Will’s eyes began to water. “It really is you. You don’t know how much I’ve missed you.”
“Don’t get sappy. I already told you I’m not really him. Most emotions arise from the soul. Don’t expect me to reciprocate your feelings,” said the ring.
He still had hope, though. “You said most emotions. That means you have something left, right?”
“Certainly. I’m pissed off and angry. Is there any chance you’d be willing to have the ring melted down? I don’t think you have much chance of accomplishing anything useful, and you’ll probably wind up losing me to some pinheaded sorcerer. Better to just nip disaster in the bud and get rid of me.”
“Seriously?” Will was aghast. Even Arrogan hadn’t been quite that dark. Or maybe I’m just remembering him at his best. “I’m not doing that, so you might as well make yourself useful.”
“How?”
“Can you teach me some spells? My teacher never got very far with that.”
“Not really.”
“Why not?”
“First, I can’t see. That means I can’t observe and advise you as you try to learn. Second, me trying to teach you by reciting the order of runes for a spell isn’t going to get you very far. Third, I only remember the spells he used regularly. Arrogan had forgotten more than you’re ever likely to learn. If he needed something particular, he looked it up. Fourth, I don’t have to do a damn thing I don’t want to do. Talk to me when you’re less ignorant and slightly more useful. Maybe I’ll feel like sharing something then.”
Will ground his teeth in frustration.
“Putting me in a slag pit is starting to sound better and better, isn’t it?” observed the ring.
“Don’t tempt me,” said Will sourly. Then he thought of a different question. “Aislinn gave me another gift. She put something in the limnthal. Do you know how I can figure out what it is?”
“Try looking at it? Are you really this slow?”
He ignored the insult. “What do you mean look at it? The limnthal looks the same as it did when you gave it to me.”
“Didn’t he show you how to open it?”
“Open it? Is it like a container?”
“Every limnthal connects to an extradimensional space. Wizards use them to store all manner of small items. That was part of the reason they were so useful,” answered the ring.
The possibilities of such a thing struck Will like a thunderbolt from the sky. How often he could have used such an ability! It also cleared up a few other questions. He had figured out that Arrogan made regular trips to Branscombe to buy supplies, things like butter. But he hadn’t found any perishables stored at the house after his grandfather had passed. And he was my grandfather, thought Will stubbornly. Whether we shared blood or not.
“How much stuff can be stored inside one?” asked Will.
“It varies, but Arrogan’s limnthal could hold quite a bit. The interior dimension was roughly the size of a wardrobe or closet.”
There could be anything inside! Will’s eyes became round as he imagined all manner of valuable and arcane materials that might be held within. There might even be gold. He could be rich! Or there might be long-forgotten magical artifacts. “How do I open it?”
“The limnthal has a built-in conjuration function that connects to the pocket dimension. On the left side there are two runes that serve as control points. They’re right next to each other. Senket is the rune that summons, and raylin is the rune that stores. You just touch senket with your other hand and imagine the object you wish to call out. It will appear in your hands,” explained the ring.
“But I don’t know what’s inside.”
“Then you simply have to think ‘empty’ when you touch it. That will eject everything at once, but be warned, you’ll have a mess if you do.”
Chapter 8
Holding out his hand, Will prepared to follow the ring’s advice, until he heard a warning. “If you’re planning to empty the limnthal you may want to make sure you have plenty of room. Where are you now?”
“In bed.”
A low chuckle issued from the gold band. “Go ahead. Forget I said anything.” The ring’s tone did nothing to inspire confidence.
Will glared at the sinister piece of jewelry adorning his finger, which accomplished nothing since it couldn’t see his expression. “Thanks for the warning,” he said dryly. He eased out of the bed and climbed down the ladder. Seth was still snoring steadily, putting his mind at ease.
He moved to the center of the room, and after a moment’s thought, sat down. If any of the items were breakable, he didn’t want them falling to the floor. With his left hand he touched the senket rune on his limnthal and formed the thought, empty.
His ears were assaulted by the sound of dozens of heavy items falling to the wooden floor. It was immediately obvious that his decision to sit was a good one. He was surrounded by boxes and clay jars, large and small. In between the containers were a variety of smaller items. Will’s head swiveled as he looked behind him and to the sides. The floor of the room was littered with flotsam and jetsam. Holy hell.
Afflicted by a sudden onslaught of paranoia, he studied his roommate. Incredibly, Seth was still snoring, though Will couldn’t imagine how the noise hadn’t woken the other boy. Priority one is putting everything back before he wakes. All I need to do is look at it, remember it, then put it away a
gain. In future, assuming the ring had been truthful, he could recover any individual item without needing to create a chaotic mess as he had just done.
The large clay pot in front of him had a lid. He opened it and was instantly caught by the smell of freshly baked bread. Looking inside he could feel warmth rising from the loaves piled within. It’s almost as though they just came from the oven. Making note of the clay pot’s exterior, he saw the word ‘bread’ written across the lid. Putting his hand over the pot, he touched the raylin rune with his thumb and sent it back whence it had come.
The next pot was filled with fresh cuts of meat: lamb, pork, beef. There was enough to cook a feast for thirty men or more. The flesh was still pink, as though a butcher had just cut it. He stored it as well. And that cheap bastard forced me to make do with carrots and turnips, thought Will ruefully.
He moved on, discovering jars filled with water, salt, peppercorns, and most notably, a vast supply of butter. Will counted the small butter jars. There must be twenty pounds of butter in those, and that jerk used to punish me by not sharing.
That was the end of the jars, so he began opening crates and boxes. The largest crate held a collection of wine bottles. Will knew nothing of wine vintages, but he had a suspicion that some of them were probably valuable. The next box held carrots, and the one after that turnips, all of them looking as though they had been freshly harvested and washed. A heavy burlap sack held onions. Was he obsessed with food? Will shook his head. He knew better. The old man had definitely been passionate about cooking.
A slim wooden case with hinges contained a variety of knives, from paring knives all the way up to an enormous butcher’s cleaver. All of them were honed to a keen edge. A smaller case held whetstones.
There was definitely a pattern emerging.
The collection of pots, pans—and a complete set of fine porcelain plates, cups, and bowls—confirmed his hypothesis. Will stored them away, feeling disappointed. If he was willing to sell them, he could probably finance several more terms. The silver tea set and cutlery cinched that idea, but he couldn’t bring himself to consider it. I bet those are from Aislinn’s dowry when they got married.
Even more valuable, he discovered a wide case filled with smaller square compartments. It was a spice box, and as with everything else, the contents were still fresh and fragrant. Thus far, Will had found everything one might need to prepare a meal for a prince. The old man had been rich. But where’s the money?
A tall pile of neatly folded blankets, sheets, and two pillows appeared once he had put the boxes back in storage. Will smiled. He was saved from purchasing bedding. Moving those aside, he found a collection of vials sitting loose on the floorboards. They were labeled ‘elixir of turyn,’ and when he counted them, he arrived at the number twenty-three. He couldn’t imagine why Arrogan had stored so many, though. Elixir of turyn wasn’t that useful unless you were starved for turyn, and that was something his training had ensured wouldn’t be a problem.
Near the door to the room, Will found something he was intimately familiar with, his grandfather’s antler cap. Near it was a modestly sized tent, something he had frequently dealt with in the army. Beside it was a large coil of rope. He stored them both away and surveyed the empty room, feeling somewhat letdown. While he wouldn’t have to worry about starving for a very long time, and all of the items were useful, there hadn’t been any magical artifacts or money.
He found a neatly folded item of clothing on the floor underneath where the tent had lain. It was dark in color, though since he had adjusted his vision for starlight he couldn’t be entirely sure what color it might be in the light of day. Unfolding it, he saw that it was an elegantly made robe. The material was soft and smooth, and the edges were decorated with silver embroidery. Will saw no sign of magic, however. He admired it for a moment, then stored it.
What the hell had Aislinn given him? He seriously doubted it was a clay jar filled with meat. Perhaps it was the porcelain? Then his eye lit upon a small object in the corner of the room—a book.
Will grinned. He picked it up and read the title, Practical Magic. “Yes!” he exclaimed.
“What did you find, your virginity? Never mind, a bumbling blockhead like you would never manage to lose that,” said the ring.
“A book,” whispered Will. “Practical Magic.”
“Oh, that old thing,” said the ring. “You might find that useful. He wrote that back when he was just getting started. It’s full of simple spells, though most of them have the potential to get you tossed in prison if they catch you using them.”
Will frowned. “Why’s that?”
“Thumb through the pages. Even an idiot like you will see what I mean.”
He dismissed the limnthal. He was getting tired of the ring’s constant criticism. Will then climbed back into his bunk and opened the book. There was no title page or preamble. The first page was blank, and the second held a detailed diagram and description for a spell that was titled ‘Silent Thief.’ From what he could see, it was identical in function to the spell that Selene had used to keep his armor quiet when they had raided the camp in Barrowden.
The next page held a spell for light, with two variants. One produced normal light, but the other created a mage light, meaning it gave off light in the same manner turyn did, so non-mages wouldn’t be able to see it. Neither version interested Will much. The trick Tailtiu had taught him for adjusting his vision was superior in most instances. It might be useful if he wanted to provide light for others, though.
He began to chuckle when he turned to the third page. It was titled ‘A Universal Spell for Unlocking.’ Was Arrogan a thief when he was younger? Given how firm the old man had been about debts and obligations it seemed unlikely, but then again, a person could probably change a lot over the course of six-hundred years. He decided he would ask the ring tomorrow.
Tucking the book underneath one of his newly acquired pillows, Will drifted off to sleep.
***
“Will.” Seth was shaking his shoulder.
He opened bleary eyes and stared at his roommate. Dawn was just beginning to filter through the window, blinding him. Will closed his eyes and returned his eyesight to normal, making the soft light bearable. “What?”
“Did you go somewhere last night?”
“Why?”
Seth held something up. “I found this on the floor.”
Once his eyes focused, Will realized it was a large and somewhat bloody steak. His mouth fell open as he struggled to think of an explanation that his roommate would accept. “Uh—”
“Do you think someone’s playing a prank on us?” asked Seth.
That’s a damned expensive prank, thought Will. Who would waste a prime cut to play a joke? He didn’t say that, however. Instead he replied, “Probably.”
“Do you think it’s still good?”
Will sat up and shrugged. “It’s been on the floor overnight, and who knows what they did to it before that. You should get rid of it.” It hurt him to say. The cut of beef weighed at least two pounds and he was sure if it was still good, a few hours on the floor weren’t enough to spoil it. A quick rinse and it could easily be made into a stew or pie.
Seth stopped beside their small trash bin, uncertainty in his eyes.
“Don’t put it in there,” snapped Will. “It’ll stink up the whole room.”
Unsure what to do, Seth eyed the window.
Channeling his grandfather, Will found himself swearing internally, Fucking moron. “Don’t you dare toss it out the window. Put it in the chamber pot.”
“Then what?” asked his roommate.
Will smiled evilly. “Today it’s your turn to empty it.”
“I didn’t even use it!” protested Seth.
“Sorry. Them’s the rules. I just abide by them.” Will pulled on his trousers and ran out of the room laughing. He didn’t want to be late for fencing practice.
Chapter 9
His classes passed uneventful
ly, though he was continuing to get a sinking feeling in his stomach every time he went to Composition. Professor Conrad had assigned them an essay with what she felt was a simple topic, a self-introduction, but Will had no idea what he should write.
After Spell Theory, he was interested to discover what Professor Dulaney would start him on, but he was disappointed when it turned out to be a spell for changing colors.
“No! What are you doing?” interrupted the professor for perhaps the tenth time. “Keep your runes thin and delicate. If you put that much turyn into them you’ll not only be wasting your life but you’ll also color far more than the vase you’re working on.”
Will kept his eyes on the vase. “It’s a temporary effect anyway. It doesn’t matter if I color more than the vase.”
“You’d still be wasting your life. Besides, this spell is a preliminary for a spell that is permanent. Mess that one up and you’ll ruin my desk. Hell, you might even permanently stain me some hideous shade of purple,” argued the professor.
“You could just overwrite it,” suggested Will.
“No. You could. I wouldn’t waste my life on something like that. Besides, do you realize how hard it is to match skin tones? How would I explain that to my wife? ‘Sure, honey, I’ve gotten a permanent tan,’ or ‘No, dear, I love being the color of milk.’ I’d prefer to just stay the shade I was born with.”
Will couldn’t help but chuckle.
“You may think it sounds funny, but it would be far better for you to just learn to do the spell properly.”
“I thought you told me the color change remains limited to the object I define during the casting,” countered Will.
“It should, but if you put that much power into it it’s almost guaranteed to bleed over. A bucket can only hold so much water. Even if you don’t care about wasting your life, you still need to learn finesse or your spells will only ruin whatever they touch,” lectured Dulaney.
Secrets and Spellcraft Page 7
