Foundling Wizard

by James Eggebeen

  “You are paired,” Chihon said. It was a statement, not a question.

  “Yes, child. We are,” she answered. “For many years have we worked at our common causes.”

  “Are you married, then?” Chihon asked.

  “Married?” Zhimosom looked up from his book as if in shock.

  “No, child. We’re not married,” Rotiaqua answered with a chuckle. “We share a bond that is closer than man and wife, but different. We share power and empathy and a common goal, nothing more.”

  “I should hope not!” Zhimosom exclaimed. He pointed to the book he had so diligently been examining. “I fear our young man is trapped in the web of Kalwor-Raden-dan. That would explain it. Why we’re not able to sense him, and why he’s being drained of his life’s energy.”

  “How can we break it?” Chihon asked.

  “The wizard Gareb, is he there?” Zhimosom asked. He peered out from the candle flame as if searching the room.

  “He’s near,” Chihon answered. “Would you like me to fetch him?”

  “Please bring him,” Zhimosom requested.

  “One moment,” Chihon said. She ran to the kitchen, where Gareb and Yerlow sat talking quietly.

  She cleared her throat to announce her presence. “They wish to talk with you,” she said.

  “They wish to talk to me?” Gareb asked. He looked at Yerlow with a look comprised of both worry and fear.

  “Yes, they asked for you,” Chihon assured him. “Please, come with me.”

  Gareb followed her back to the guest room, where the strange candle flame showed the images of the wizard and sorceress. He bowed before the flames, first to Zhimosom, then to Rotiaqua. “Your mightiness,” he said.

  Zhimosom looked up from his book. “Ah, young Gareb. You’ve been of some assistance to this young girl?”

  “I have tried my meager best,” Gareb said, bowing his head once again.

  “We are grateful,” Zhimosom said. “She will need your assistance further, I fear. The boy is caught up in the web of Kalwor-Raden-dan.”

  “Kalwor-Raden-dan?” asked Gareb.

  “It is an ancient and powerful spell that is intended to bind and mask one such as he,” Zhimosom explained. “You will need to gather a few special herbs so she can prepare the proper remedy.”

  Gareb looked worried. “Special herbs?”

  “Don’t worry,” the wizard laughed, “it will not be too arduous for you, my boy. You can purchase almost all of the ingredients in your local market. Some you will need to get from the Apothecary, but they are readily available.”

  “Yes, mightiness.” Gareb relaxed only slightly at the wizard’s words.

  “The incantation is complex. You will need to teach the girl a few of the basics so she can perform the release. I trust that will cause you no hardship?”

  “None, mightiness. I’m only happy to lend my meager assistance.”

  “Your efforts are not near as meager as you are inclined to believe, young Gareb,” the wizard said. “You could make a good wizard, should you so choose.” Zhimosom held out his hand, palm upward, and touched it with a wrinkled finger. A small pile of coins appeared. He tossed them toward Gareb. The jingling sound of the coins striking the table startled Chihon.

  “These will aid you in purchasing the herbs you need,” he said, “and compensate you for your hospitality in sheltering our young charges. You will find the remedy you need to prepare listed in the catalog of herbal remedies and incantations. You were provided one and still have it, I presume.”

  “Yes, mightiness. I still have mine,” Gareb replied.

  “Good. Look under Lor-rothlor. There, you will find a list of remedies for binding spells. You will need to modify it somewhat.”

  Gareb fished in the drawer for a paper and the ink well. He dipped the quill in the ink and began scratching down the modifications as the wizard read them out. After an endless litany of ingredients, the wizard finally stated, “And that should do it.”

  “Thank you for your confidence in me, mightiness,” Gareb said.

  “Thank you for your help,” Rotiaqua said. “And thank your wife for her hospitality to our young charges. She has been most kind.”

  “I will thank her for you,” Gareb said, bowing deeply to each of the figures and adding, “mightiness.” He backed out of the door, leaving Chihon alone with the two.

  “He’s a good man,” Chihon said.

  “He’s a good wizard,” Zhimosom added.

  “He will help you,” Rotiaqua explained. “Learn from him and free the young wizard. We will all gather again once you have set him free. I fear my plans have changed, and I will no longer be able to meet you.”

  “I will learn from him and free Lorit,” Chihon said. “Thank you for your help.”

  The images faded and the candle flame returned to normal. Chihon pushed her chair back exhausted from the effort of contact. On the bed, Lorit turned and coughed. His breathing quickly returned to its shallow rhythm.

  Chihon and Gareb headed for the market as soon as the sun was up. The vendors’ carts were just pulling into place as they arrived. The smell of bread reminded Chihon of her own Grandma’am. She wondered how the old woman was making out and if she missed her.

  “Here,” Gareb said. “Yarrow and Angelica.” He pointed to a cart loaded with herbs and lined with jars of dried and crushed powders. He picked up a few jars, examining them carefully. One jar contained a small amount of yellow powder. He held it up to the proprietor.

  “This Lemon Balm,” he asked. “How fresh is it?”

  “The freshest kind, sir,” the shopkeeper replied. He was an older man with a permanent stoop from spending his days picking herbs and grinding compounds.

  “From this season or last?” Gareb asked him, shaking the bottle again.

  “Only the freshest kind, sir. Only the freshest. I picked that myself only a few weeks ago.”

  “Have you any Hydrangea?” Gareb asked, placing the small jar next to the bundle of herbs he’d already selected. “How about Sandalwood?”

  Chihon carefully placed the bottle and the herbs into her pack. She quietly worked her way behind the cart as Gareb questioned the proprietor.

  “Sandalwood I have,” the man said. He reached beneath the stacks of herbs and pulled out a small, flat sliver of brown, dried bark. He raised it to his nose and inhaled deeply, then handed it to Gareb.

  “Alas, I have no Hydrangea. None flower this late in the season and I’ve sold my stock from the spring.”

  “Belladonna or Foxglove?” Gareb asked.

  “Surely you jest, kind sir,” the proprietor said with a sheepish look. “I’m only an herbalist. I sell herbs that enhance the flavor of foods and dishes, or to treat common ailments. I carry none such as those.”

  Chihon reached around the man and pulled out a small bottle that bore a hand-printed, red label. The bottle contained a thick black liquid that flowed like syrup as she shook the bottle. “Star Anise,” she said, tossing the bottle to Gareb.

  “Simple herbalist?” Gareb asked the man. “How much for all these?”

  “Five silvers and two coppers,” he answered.

  “Five silvers? Are you sure about that?”

  Chihon reached into the cart, once more rummaging through the stoppered bottles. The man moved his body to shield the contents from her. “Perhaps I can afford to make a discount for one such as you,” he said hesitantly. “Say, four silvers for everything?”

  “That’s better,” Gareb said. He inclined his head to Chihon, who moved back around to the front of the cart. She placed the Star Anise in her pack, along with the rest of the ingredients.

  Gareb pulled out the silvers and made a grand show of counting them out for the man. “One, two, three, four,” he said as he dropped each coin into the proprietor’s hand.

  The man quickly closed his stained fingers around the coins as if they were going to jump out of it. He shoved his hand into his apron and came out with an open p
alm.

  “Thank you, kind sir,” he said as Gareb and Chihon walked away.

  The Apothecary was located near the hospital building, several blocks from the market. They reached it just as the chemist was opening his store. He pulled open the shades covering the windows and propped open the front door.

  The shop was lined with shelves reaching from floor to ceiling. The shelves were protected by locked glass doors that allowed patrons to view the contents, but prevented them from touching anything.

  On one side, there were rows of powders in different colors, textures, and sizes. On the opposite side, the shelves were stacked with jars of liquids in an even wider variety of colors.

  The chemist looked up as they entered the shop. Chihon browsed the shelves for a while, looking at the powders and liquids. The names were often unusual and unfamiliar.

  “May I be of service, ma’am?” the chemist asked. He wiped his hands on his white apron, even though they were clean.

  “I need a few things I cannot get in the market,” she said. “Do you have Perennial Foxglove or Belladonna?”

  “Why, miss, you must know that those are only available to physicians. Perhaps I can interest you in Lavender or Rosemary?” He stepped back behind the counter, as if to put some distance between himself and the girl.

  “I’m quite sure that I asked for Perennial Foxglove and Belladonna. Those are the herbs I need,” she reiterated. She stepped toward the counter where the chemist had taken refuge. “I’m quite certain.”

  The chemist backed away from the counter. He bumped into the shelf behind him, setting the jars rattling. “Please, miss, I don’t want any trouble,” he said, raising his hands to ward off her advance.

  Chihon placed her hands on the counter palms down. “I’m not going to touch you,” she said. She rubbed her hands gently back and forth across the counter top, as if dusting it off. She looked up at the chemist, who relaxed slightly at her words, but didn’t move.

  “I don’t need to touch you,” Chihon said. She raised one hand toward the chemist, and envisioned him burning in fire. She could feel the power flowing out of her and into the short balding man.

  He pulled at his collar as his forehead burst out in sweat. He wrung his hands together, but suddenly released his grasp and waved them around as if to cool them off. His breathing became labored and halting. His skin turned red as sweat poured from his whole body.

  “Please,” he croaked. “I’ll get them for you,” he gasped. “Just leave me alone.”

  Chihon reined in her power. She could feel him cooling almost as fast as he’d heated up. He reached inside the counter and brought out a vial of dark liquid that bore the skull and crossbones of poison. He placed it on the counter.

  “I’ll have to go in the back for the Foxglove,” he said.

  Chihon tilted her head toward Gareb. “Go with him, so he doesn’t get lost.”

  Gareb followed the chemist into the back room. They quickly reemerged with a small box tied with string. He placed it on the counter, next to the liquid.

  “How much?” Chihon asked.

  “Just take it,” he said. “I don’t want any trouble.” He stepped back from the counter, once again setting the jars to rattling.

  “We’re not thieves,” Chihon stated. “How much for these?”

  “They’re very dear. Six silvers for the Foxglove. One gold for the Belladonna,” he said hesitantly.

  Chihon looked at Gareb, who nodded his agreements. “That’s a fair price,” he said.

  “Pay the man,” Chihon said as she scooped up the herbs and stowed them in her pouch, along with the rest of the morning’s purchase.

  She leaned over toward the chemist after he’d accepted the payment. “Please keep this just between us,” she said. She smiled at him, favoring him with her prettiest smile. “We don’t need any patrollers coming around looking for us, now, do we?”

  “No ma’am, we’re just fine. You have a nice day,” he said as she turned to leave.

  “How is Lorit?” Chihon asked Yerlow when they arrived at the cooperage.

  “He’s resting,” she said. “He was restless while you were out, but for a while, he’s been sleeping soundly.”

  “Thank you for watching over him,” Chihon said.

  “Were you able to get everything you needed? Did you have any trouble?” She cleared the kitchen table for Chihon.

  “Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Chihon said. She placed the pack on the table and removed the ingredients they’d purchased. She arrayed them around her.

  “Nothing you couldn’t handle,” Gareb said. “My powers are not as great as yours. I couldn’t have done what you did.”

  “What she did?” Yerlow asked, raising one eyebrow.

  “You may want to avoid the Apothecary for a while,” he said with a smile. “She had to do a little convincing.”

  “Nothing too drastic, I hope.” She rummaged in the cupboard next to the stove and fished out an old, battered mortar and pestle, and placed them on the table in front of Chihon.

  “Nothing permanent,” Chihon replied.

  Chihon labored to prepare the various mixtures they needed. She carefully measured and prepared the powders as instructed. She painstakingly combined the mixtures, and heated and blended the ingredients not only for the remedy for Lorit to drink, but also for a compress to be pressed to his forehead. She also prepared scented oil to be applied to his skin.

  It was nearly dusk before everything was ready. They completed their labors just as Yerlow finished preparing the evening meal.

  “Please, let’s eat before you begin,” she said. “You’ll need all your strength for this, I fear.”

  They ate in silence, and Chihon worried about Lorit. She knew the formulas were complex, but she’d followed the directions exactly. She could feel the correctness of the preparations.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Yerlow said to Chihon. “Are you worried?”

  “I’m worried. Yes, that’s true. I just can’t help wondering who did this to Lorit and why,” she explained.

  “It takes powerful magic to confound the mighty ones,” Gareb said. “They’re not to be trifled with.”

  “Who would have such powers? Surely not the priests of Ran in a place like Bebrook, or even Trickby.”

  “Most likely not,” Gareb said. “There are those of the temple who come close to the powers of the mighty ones.”

  “What would they want with Lorit?” she asked. “I just don’t understand it.”

  “Lorit is coming into his powers quickly. With the pairing, the two of you will soon equal to any of the mighty ones,” Gareb explained. “I’m sure of it.”

  “Me? One of the mighty ones?”

  “You. You’re going to be one of the mighty ones. Mark my words.”

  Chihon fell silent for the rest of the meal, pondering what Gareb had said.

  Chihon prepared to revive Lorit. She had newly dipped candles, clean towels, and fresh water heated to just the right temperature. She laid out the preparations carefully and knelt down to minister to him.

  His skin was cold and lifeless to the touch, and the illusion of the ropes that bound him was even stronger. She dipped a cloth into the first mixture and carefully washed his chest. She propped him up and washed his back with the same preparation. She spoke to him as she went, explaining each step.

  “This is a preparation to sooth your skin and stimulate the blood flow,” she said. She carefully washed his arms, gently massaging them as she went. When she reached his hands, she individually washed and rubbed each of his fingers, flexing the joints one after another, until finally she reached his nails.

  She paused there and placed a poultice on his forehead. “This will soothe your mind while I work,” she said. She massaged the poultice with her palm, slowly rocking the warm, moist mixture back and forth across his forehead. She patted it gently with her hand and said, “Rest while I clean you up.”

  She produced a razor
and soap that Gareb had loaned her. She quickly shaved the growth of beard from his chin, pausing periodically to refresh the poultice on his forehead.

  When she’d finished with his beard, she carefully trimmed his fingernails and massaged his fingers once more. She washed them in the solution she’d prepared. She could feel the power of the ropes diminish as she worked. It felt as if they were fading ever so slowly.

  She raised his head and lifted a bottle to his lips. “Here, drink this,” she said, tilting it just enough to spill a few drops onto his tongue. He swallowed reflexively, so she added a few more drops.

  He moaned softly as she placed his head back on the pillow. His eyes fluttered beneath the lids, but he did not wake. Chihon replaced the poultice and continued washing his chest and arms, softly repeating the words of liberation and freedom as she worked. She could feel it taking hold, but Lorit remained fast asleep.

  After several hours, Yerlow entered the room. She carried a tray of bread and cheese and a few pieces of fowl meat left over from dinner.

  “You must be hungry,” she said, as she placed the tray on the table.

  “I’m exhausted,” Chihon said. “I can feel the spell lifting, but he’s still fast asleep. I fear I may not be strong enough.”

  “My husband says you are one of the mighty ones,” she assured Chihon. “I’m certain you will succeed.

  “Come take some food and rest a bit. You need your energy for this. You can’t stay up all night without something to sustain you.”

  Chihon ceased her ministrations long enough to wolf down the food that Yerlow brought. “Forgive my manners,” she said, realizing that Yerlow had prepared this for her, and she’d eaten it as if it were an obligation or a task she’d rather have avoided.

  “My mind is elsewhere,” Chihon said as she wiped her mouth. She gulped from the glass of cold water.

  “Have some tea,” Yerlow said. “It will help calm you.”

  “Thank you,” Chihon said. She carefully enfolded the cup in her hands. She’d spent so much time rubbing the mixture into Lorit’s skin that her hands were as cold and unfeeling as his. The warmth of the tea seeped through the cup and warmed her as she drank.