by M. L. Forman
The rain continued for most of the next day as well, making them all less than comfortable. Alex wondered if there was some magic he could use to push the storms away, and if his own magic would be strong enough to change the weather.
“Spring rains don’t often last more than a day or two,” Andy said as they went along. “But they can be heavy and cold.”
“If it was much colder, it would be snow,” replied Val as he tried to pull his cloak closer to him.
“I’m glad it’s not snow,” said Halfdan, tucking his beard into his shirt. “If it was cold enough to snow, we’d be stuck in Oslansk for some time to come.”
“We’re not going north yet,” Bregnest said from ahead of them. “And I don’t think the rain will last much longer.”
Bregnest was right, and the rain stopped falling as they made their camp. They all changed into dry clothes once their camp was set up, and then Halfdan started working on their evening meal.
“Can’t get a spark to catch,” Halfdan huffed as he stood over a pile of twigs. “Everything is soaked through.”
“Perhaps I can help,” said Alex.
“No doubt you can. Why don’t you magic up a fire while I go and get some water.”
“As you wish,” Alex replied.
Halfdan nodded, then picked up a large, cast-iron cauldron and started off for a nearby spring. Alex watched him go and then turned his attention back to the wet pile of wood in front of him.
“It will take some real magic to get that burning,” said Andy.
“Not often that a dwarf can’t get a fire started,” Val added.
“True enough,” said Alex. “There’s a spell I’ve been wanting to try. I think it should do the job.”
Alex focused his thoughts on the pile of wood and started moving his right hand in a circle. This was a new spell, and he wasn’t sure how well it would work. For a few seconds nothing seemed to happen, and then a bright yellow flame sprang up in the middle of the wet wood.
“Amazing,” said Andy as the flames continued to grow.
The flames didn’t just catch hold on the wood, but seemed to be burning alone in the air as well. Alex kept moving his hand in a circle, and the flames grew into a four-foot-tall tornado in front of him.
“An impressive bit of magic,” Sindar commented as he joined them.
“You’ve learned some new tricks, I see,” added Bregnest. “Not simply conjuring fire anymore, but making it do as you wish.”
“I’ve been studying—” Alex started but was interrupted.
“What the—!” Halfdan said loudly.
Alex looked toward his friend, and immediately the whirlwind of flames moved away from the burning logs and darted toward Halfdan.
“Agghh!” Halfdan yelled in fear.
Dropping the water he was carrying, Halfdan dove behind one of the tents. Alex could hear him crawling wildly away from the flaming whirlwind that was racing to the spot where his friend had been standing. Alex lowered his hand to break the spell, but he wasn’t quick enough to save Halfdan’s cauldron. The flames hit the half-full cauldron of water and sent up a cloud of steam. There was a loud, sharp hiss, and an even louder bang as the flames vanished.
“Halfdan, are you all right?” Alex questioned as he ran toward the tent.
“Hardly,” said Halfdan, getting to his feet. “Stars and stones, Alex, what was that?”
“Just a bit of magic to light the fire,” said Alex, trying not to laugh at the look on Halfdan’s face.
“I thought for a minute that you’d conjured up a fire demon or something worse,” said Halfdan, brushing mud off his pants.
“I’m sorry,” said Alex, forcing the smile from his face. “I didn’t know the whirlwind would go where I was looking.”
“It’s a good thing you are so quick on your feet,” Sindar said to Halfdan from the other side of the tent.
“What do you mean?” Halfdan asked.
“Come and see.”
They moved around the tent to see that the cauldron Halfdan had been carrying was lying on the ground, bone-dry and shattered into a dozen pieces.
“Oh, no,” said Halfdan in a pained voice. “That was my best cooking pot. It’s been in my family for three generations.”
“I’m sorry,” said Alex. “I didn’t mean to . . .”
He felt terrible for destroying Halfdan’s cauldron, and worse now that he knew it had been in Halfdan’s family for so long.
“Perhaps I can mend it,” Alex offered as he bent down to pick up the broken metal pieces.
“Careful. It’s still hot,” said Sindar as he caught Alex’s hand.
“No, it’s no good,” Halfdan said sadly. “Not even the best dwarf smith could repair it now.”
“I’m really sorry,” said Alex, looking from the broken metal to Halfdan. “I’ll be happy to buy you a new pot, and pay you for your loss.”
“No, no—that’s not necessary,” said Halfdan, his eyes lingering on the broken metal fragments. “I have other pots, and it’s no good crying over spilled milk.”
Alex didn’t say anything else, but he continued to feel bad about what he had done even though Halfdan tried to make light of it, as if the pot wasn’t all that important. Alex knew it wasn’t the broken pot that really mattered to Halfdan; it was the memories that the pot brought back. There was nothing Alex could do to replace those memories, and that made him feel even worse about what had happened.
There was little talk as they ate that night. Finally, when the rest of the company started for their tents to get some sleep, Alex went back to the broken bits of metal. They had cooled off, and he picked them up and put them inside his magic bag. He had read something about repairing broken objects, but he didn’t remember exactly how the magic worked. He did know, however, that he had to try to repair the broken pot, even if Halfdan thought it was hopeless.
On their third day away from Oslansk, Alex asked Andy about returning magic bags in Norsland. On his last adventure, Alex had returned a bag to a dwarf in Vargland, and there had been a large ceremony. Alex had learned quite a bit at the time. Now he wondered if he’d have to go through another ceremony, and if so, he wanted to know about it in advance.
“Oh, it’s very simple here,” said Andy. “You and one other person you choose as a witness meet with the heir and his witness. You agree on a reward for returning the bag, which is almost always a share in whatever treasure the bag holds. Once you agree on the reward, the heir will tell you the password for the bag and you both go into the bag and see what’s there.”
“We both go in?” Alex questioned.
“Of course,” said Andy. “Normally the bag holder goes in first and the heir follows him.”
“And then what happens?”
“Then, after looking at what’s in the bag, you both come out again. The heir will restate the reward you’ve agreed on, and the witness will say that they are witnesses,” Andy replied. “Then you and the heir make the arrangements for the payment to be made. That’s about it.”
“That’s all?” Alex pressed, thinking that it sounded too simple.
“Mostly,” said Andy with a shrug.
“What else is there, Andy?” Alex narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
“Well, once you and your witness leave, you tell your witness how much treasure you think the bag holds, and how much you think you should get,” Andy answered. “Then when you and your witness return to collect your reward, if you, or your witness, think you’ve been cheated, you reject the payment. If that happens, then the magistrate has to settle the whole thing.”
“Sounds fairly simple,” said Alex, relaxing a little.
“It is,” said Andy. “It only gets difficult if you reject payment and the magistrate has to get involved.”
“Why? What happens then?”
“If the magistrate gets involved, the heir has to tell him the passwords. Then the magistrate checks the bag and the payment and decides if you’re being cheated or n
ot. If the heir is trying to cheat you, you get double the original offer, and the city gets half of whatever is left in the bag.”
“And if he’s not trying to cheat me?” Alex asked.
“Then you get half the payment and the city gets the other half,” said Andy.
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Alex said thoughtfully. “So all I need to know now is what kind of offer would be considered fair, and what might be considered too small. I wouldn’t want to insult the heir by asking for too little.”
“I’ve only heard about a few bags being returned,” Andy said in a thoughtful tone. “I mean, it’s not like lost bags get returned all the time. I think the heir will offer you something like one in four or one in five of everything the bag holds. If you think that’s too much—or not enough—you can make a counteroffer.”
“And how little would be considered an insult?” Alex asked, remembering the last time he’d done this.
“Oh, you might go as low as one in eight or even one in ten,” said Andy thoughtfully. “Anything less would certainly be an insult, so don’t let your generosity get the better of you.”
It seemed that Andy also remembered the last time Alex had returned a bag. Of course, that bag had belonged to a dwarf, and dwarfs were a little touchy when it came to saying they’d offered too much.
That night, as they ate their evening meal, Bregnest said that they would start keeping watch. Alex thought Bregnest looked worried, but Bregnest was often moody, and Alex thought that the idea of keeping watch had more to do with Bregnest’s own worries than any real danger.
Alex drew the last watch, which meant that he would have to get up an hour before anyone else. He thought that taking the last watch would be hard, but as it turned out, it was both easy and useful. The early morning quiet gave him time to study his books and practice his magic in peace. Alex felt lucky, too, because Sindar had drawn the watch before his, and he would normally allow Alex to study his books while he continued to watch.
* * *
On their seventh morning away from Oslansk, Alex was practicing magic and turned a large stone into a rabbit. To Alex’s dismay, however, the rabbit ran off into the tall grass before he could change it back into a stone. Sindar thought it was extremely funny, but Alex wasn’t pleased at all.
“So there’s one more rabbit in Norsland,” said Sindar. “I’m sure there is no harm in that.”
“Well, perhaps not,” Alex agreed. “But the book says I should change things back into what they were, if I can.”
“And why is that?”
“The book doesn’t say. I suppose it’s so there aren’t too many rabbits all over the place.”
Sindar and Alex both laughed, but then Sindar became serious.
“Could you change rocks into gold?”
“I guess so,” said Alex. “Why do you ask?”
“I was just thinking that if a greedy wizard could change rocks into gold, he could make himself very rich.”
“Yes, I suppose he could, if he had enough rocks.”
Sindar smiled and looked thoughtful. “I have seen your generosity, so I suspect that such an idea has never entered your mind.”
“No, it hasn’t. But now I wonder if it would work.”
“Well, a gold coin couldn’t run away from you.”
Alex picked up a small rock and focused his thoughts on what he wanted it to be. He felt the weight in his hand change as his magic worked, and without looking, he tossed the coin to Sindar.
“A useful trick, if ever you are in need,” said Sindar as he looked at the coin. “But for me, it was better as a rock.”
Alex nodded and took the coin back. He looked at it for a moment to make sure it really was solid gold, and then he changed it back into a rock.
“You are learning quickly,” said Sindar, his tone growing even more serious. “Soon, your friend Vankin will ask you to take a staff.”
“Ask me to take a staff?”
“Whalen has not spoken to you about this?”
Alex shook his head.
“Perhaps I should say no more, then.”
“No, please,” said Alex. “At least tell me what you meant.”
“To take a staff means you are willing to accept greater responsibility,” said Sindar slowly. “If Whalen asks you to take a staff, you will be bound by wizard law and connected magically to your staff. The staff will be more powerful because of this connection, and so will you. I suppose you could buy a staff and use it, though it would not work as well.”
“How do you know so much about wizards and staffs?” Alex asked.
“I have known many wizards in my time,” Sindar answered. “I have also known many who pretended to be wizards. The pretenders are sometimes good, and some of them do great deeds. But their power is nothing—nothing—compared to that of a true wizard.”
Alex thought about what Sindar said and it seemed to make sense. In a way, he felt like he was still pretending to be a wizard—using magic as a helpful tool, but not like a real wizard would. He knew nothing about wizard law, or staffs, or the true power of real wizards like Whalen. Alex wondered why Whalen had never mentioned any of this to him before. He decided to ask Whalen about it in his next letter.
“Whalen said you might be able to help me learn to control my emotions,” Alex commented as he put his books away.
“Control your emotions,” Sindar repeated and then grinned and nodded his head.
“What?” Alex questioned, confused.
“Vankin knows things that others do not, and he has ways to use his knowledge that most would not see.”
“What?”
“He knows that I was once, shall we say, hotheaded,” Sindar answered as he piled wood on the fire. “I worked for many years to gain control of my temper, and he is telling me something about you without actually saying it out loud.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re not supposed to.”
“Fine,” said Alex, shaking his head. “Can you help me or not?”
“Help you control your temper? Yes, I can do that.”
* * *
It was just before noon on the twelfth day when the company reached the town of Ollvi. They found the tavern where Argus Goodseed had suggested they stay, and they were soon settled in.
“Have you chosen your witness?” Bregnest asked Alex, as the company sat down in the common room.
“I’ve asked Andy to be my witness,” Alex replied.
“Then you both should go and find the heir,” said Bregnest. “We will remain in Ollvi until your business is finished.”
“Even if we find the heir quickly, it might take some time for payment to be arranged,” said Alex. “Perhaps I can have the payment postponed until we are on our way back to Alusia.”
“The return of a lost bag is an important event,” said Bregnest in a thoughtful tone. “It would be best to take care of everything at once. If it costs us a few days, or even a few weeks, then that is the price we will pay. I wish that, well . . .”
“If it would aid our quest, I can hold the bag and return it some other time,” Alex offered.
“No, that would not be right. You are here, now. The bag should be returned,” Bregnest said firmly. “Who knows, but perhaps it is fate that brought us here at this time. We will not tempt fate.”
Alex nodded, and then motioned for Andy to join him. Alex decided that the best way to find the heir to the lost bag would be to ask the owner of the tavern if he knew the Cain family since the name on the bag was Jonathan Cain.
“Oh, yes, old Jon Cain,” said the man, as if remembering something from long ago. “Been a long time since he left Ollvi.”
“Do you know where we might find his family?” Alex asked hopefully.
“I expect his son is working down at the town stables,” the man answered. “His name is Tom Cain, and he helps me out now and again, but I don’t have enough business to keep him on permanently.”
“An
d where would we find the town stables?” Alex questioned.
“Why are you looking for Tom?” the man asked, looking at Alex and Andy sharply.
“Our business with him is of a private nature,” said Alex.
“Oh, I see,” said the man, nodding and touching the side of his nose as if he knew a secret. “Got a message for him from his old dad, have ya? Well, I hope it’s good news. Tom and his family could use some.”
