The Apprentice to Zdrell

by David K Bennett

  “So what are you going to see first at the Festival, Roald?”

  “I don’t know,” Roald said, distractedly, still focusing on book.

  “You work too much, Roald. Is that one of Feldor’s ledgers? Has he got you doing his work for him?”

  During these questions, Roald had continued writing until Jonny had asked the last question, whereupon Roald slammed down the quill, carefully avoiding the book, and turned angrily to look at Jonny.

  “Yes, Jonny, this is one of Master Feldor’s ledgers. And I am doing a small part to help him with his work. I feel privileged to be allowed to help.” He glared at Jonny, who sat looking puzzled at the outburst.

  “Do you have any idea how important Master Feldor is?”

  Jonny shrugged. “He runs all the stuff around the castle Master Silurian doesn’t want to deal with, supplies, chores, and stuff.”

  “That’s nothing, Jonny. He runs all the stuff in the entire kingdom that Master Silurian doesn’t want to deal with. He handles most of the administrative and governing in the three cities that isn’t handled by their city councils. He answers requests and settles most matters, so that The Master can spend most of his time concentrating on magic, and not on running the kingdom. He’s the second most important person in the realm.”

  Roald glared at Jonny, who sat back, face blank, and said nothing.

  “So, if I can do a little work to help Master Feldor, I do. You have no idea how much extra work there is putting on the Harvest Festival.”

  “Roald,” Jonny said, interrupting what looked like it would be another tirade, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. I was only joking. We hardly ever see each other anymore. I was just trying to be funny, you know?”

  “Sorry, Jonny. I guess I’m just cross. Working with Feldor is great, but I never knew before how much work there is, and now I’m getting to be part of it. I just wanted to get this done so we can have fun tomorrow.”

  “That’s okay, Roald. Finish your work. I was just trying to have some fun. It seems like we never get to do anything together anymore.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. We can have fun together tomorrow, at least most of the day. I have to do an errand for Feldor in the middle of the morning, then I have the whole rest of the day free. So what do you want to do?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Everything. Nothing. I just can’t wait to actually spend a Harvest Festival when I can do what I want and actually have some money to buy something. I can’t really remember what my first festival was like when my parents were still alive, but I have no trouble remembering the two after they died. They were miserable. I had to work while everyone else played.” Jonny looked down at the floor shaking his head.

  “Well, I think we are gonna have a lot of fun, don’t you, Jonny?”

  “Yeah,” Jonny said, looking up with what might have been a tear in his eye. “Yeah, this is going to be the best Harvest Festival ever.” He smiled.

  Chapter 25

  Both boys woke early the next morning.

  The harvest festival was the biggest celebration of the year. The festival was not so much about the harvest as about the abundance found at this time of year. There was food and entertainment and every merchant in town tried to find some way to celebrate in a grander fashion than his neighbor. Food, drink and lodgings could be found freely and even slaves and servants were allowed to celebrate, though they were still expected to work some of the time.

  Nearly the entire complement of the castle went to town. Jonny and Roald were both dressed in their apprentice robes. The wizard’s apprentice robes were very plain. They were made of a medium gray cloth and came well below the boys’ knees. The only thing that marked them out was the band of bright red satin cloth at the bottom hem and at the end cuffs of the long sleeves. Jonny’s robe was new, as he had outgrown his last one.

  They caught one of the large open wagons heading into town and rode with the other apprentices. The journeymen had their own wagon and Master Silurian and Feldor rode in the carriage Jonny had once arrived in. There was much excited talking and joking among the apprentices as the wagon traveled down the road. For once, the other apprentices included Jonny and Roald in the banter.

  They arrived at Alavar and everyone went in separate directions. Jonny and Roald headed towards the central market. Neither of them had much money, but during the festival that did not matter much. They ate their breakfast from the fruits vendor. Fruit that other days would have been expensive was free during the festival. There were many street performers playing instruments, telling tales, or performing acrobatics. The crowds would show their appreciation by throwing small coins at the performers.

  The two boys slowly walked through the market, taking in the unusual sights and sounds. In the afternoon, there would be various sorts of competitions. Jonny also knew from his time as a cresdin that there was also non-stop gambling, drinking, and womanizing for those who preferred those sorts of entertainments.

  North of the main market a stage was set up for formal performances. There were plays and singing groups, and occasionally there would be a magician who would perform wonders for the crowd. Much of the magic performed was what Jonny now knew as sleight of hand, or “manipulation.” It was not true magic, but the crowds did like to see it. Occasionally one of the journeymen from the castle would perform, but The Master never did. He claimed he had grown bored with that sort of thing centuries ago, and had never performed in a Harvest Festival in Salaways, nor did anyone expect him to do so. He was much too important to be involved in such petty things, or so everyone said.

  After wandering the whole of the market area where the main part of the festival took place, Jonny came back to the stage to watch the performers. Roald said he had to run off to do the errand he had promised Master Feldor but that he would meet up with Jonny later at the soldier trials. Jonny hardly noticed him leave. He was engrossed watching a master of sleight of hand doing coin tricks.

  Jonny found now that he could see using his zdrell sight as well as his eyes, much of the wizard’s deception did not work on him. He could clearly see when a coin was palmed or pocketed unobtrusively. He even spent several minutes with his eyes closed watching purely using his sight. He was really enjoying seeing the world through different eyes and was so captivated he did not even notice trouble until he felt a rough hand on his shoulder.

  “Well what have we here?” a voice Jonny knew all too well chortled. Jonny opened his eyes as he was spun roughly around to face a young man who he probably would not have recognized but for his mocking voice. It belonged to his old nemesis Gareselin.

  In the year since Jonny last saw him, Gareselin had gotten much bigger, and in Jonny’s opinion much uglier. He now stood over six feet tall and weighed well over two hundred pounds. He was already missing one of his front teeth and Jonny could smell the strong scent of ale on his breath. His same two sidekicks, Foresel and Ryalor, flanked him. They too were much bigger than Jonny remembered them, but neither of them approached the size or bulk of Gareselin.

  “If it isn’t the little sewer rat we got rid of last year,” Gareselin taunted. “Come to see the sights have you, nit for brains?” He had a firm grip on Jonny’s shoulder and shook him by it. “What, you got nothing to say?”

  Jonny glared up at the hideous face of his old tormenter, but was unafraid. “Let go of me,” was all he said.

  “Oh ho! He wants me to let go of him,” Gareselin laughed. His accomplices laughed too. “Why should I do that?” he sneered, not laughing now. “What are you going to do, apprentice? Turn me into a frog?”

  Ryalor and Foresel laughed at the suggestion. “Yeah,” Ryalor laughed, “why don’t you turn him into a big toad if you can?” This earned him a glare from Gareselin who did not like the idea of being compared to a toad.

  Jonny ignored the comments. “Turn me loose or you’ll be sorry.”

  “What will you do, nit head,” Gareselin taunted, “call your mommy, I m
ean your master to save you?” He hooted derisively.

  Jonny could indeed have invoked The Master’s help but he did not want to do that. This was his battle. Whether they were drunk or not, he was not going to let them make a fool of him, not again.

  “No, I won’t bother my master with pitiful slime like you. But you do know he has killed men for less than you’re doing now,” Jonny said with a low hard voice.

  Gareselin momentarily was taken aback by Jonny’s quiet defiance, but only for a moment. “Oh he does know how to talk tough don’t he,” he said laughing, but with a little less confidence in his manner.

  “Your master isn’t here now and you don’t want to trouble him, so we don’t have anything to worry about then, do we?”

  “You do if you don’t let me go right now,” Jonny replied, still serious.

  “I think I’ve had just about enough of this out of you nit head,” Gareselin growled.

  Just as he was about to pull Jonny closer to him, Jonny squatted and twisted sideways releasing Gareselin’s hold on his shoulder. He jumped to the side and yelled.

  “Catch me if you can. Toad breath!”

  The chase was on. Jonny was still fairly small and could worm his way through the crowd much faster than the older boys. He knew that in time they could spread out and corral him as they had done when he was younger, but this time his objective was not escape. He headed for a wagon in the middle of the square that was loaded with large summer melons. He made sure he did not get there too fast. He wanted them close, so he could use the plan that had popped into his head as soon as Gareselin had grabbed him.

  He worked his way around to the far side of the wagon where there was a pile of bruised and cracked discarded melons. He stopped deliberately making it easy for Gareselin to see him, and then he jumped up on the side of the wagon and yelled loud enough to be heard over the din of the crowd.

  “Gareselin, you fat pig. You’re so fat and slow I could have gotten away from you ten times if I’d wanted. In fact you’re so fat, I bet you couldn’t hit me with one of those melons if your life depended on it!”

  Gareselin’s face flamed red. He roared, further catching the attention of the crowd, “I’ll get you, you little swamp monkey. Think I can’t hit you with a melon, well you’re about to find out how wrong you are.”

  Jonny’s challenge and Gareselin’s angry reply had attracted a fair amount of attention from the crowd. The area separating Jonny and Gareselin quickly cleared of people, as they understood that pieces of rotten melon would soon be flying. People also stopped to watch the confrontation. Fights between drunken revelers were a common spectator event during the festival and it was early enough in the day that this face off was one of the first.

  Gareselin noted the attention of the crowd and grabbed a partially rotten melon from the pile and yelled “Here, sewer rat. Have a rotten fruit to go with your rotten brains!”

  He drew back to throw, but the melon shifted further backward and fell out of his hand, then burst on the ground. The crowd roared with laughter as Gareselin’s face turned purple with rage.

  “Hands a little slippery there, frog face,” Jonny taunted loudly from his perch on the side of the wagon.

  “I’ll show you, you little . . .” Gareselin grumbled. He picked up another melon, drew back, and threw it right at Jonny who was no more than twenty feet away. This time he completed his throw, but instead of flying at Jonny, it looped up, over twenty feet in the air, and came back down and burst on Gareselin’s left shoulder. He screamed in rage and embarrassment, but his scream was lost in the midst of the roaring of the crowd who found the whole thing funny beyond words.

  Now Gareselin picked up two melons, one in each hand. He threw them both at Jonny with great force, but both went hardly four feet before they went straight into the ground, exploding their contents in every direction.

  “I told you, you couldn’t hit me if your life depended on it,” Jonny taunted. The crowd watching had grown quite large and was greatly enjoying the spectacle. There were even bets being placed by some at the edge of the crowd as to whether Jonny would be hit.

  Gareselin raged as he picked up melon after melon and tried to hit Jonny, but none of them came close. Finally, after the third melon he threw had somehow gone straight up and then come down on his head, he gave up. The crowd hooted their derision at him. He tried to leave and melt into the crowd, but Jonny was not done with him yet.

  “Are you going to slink off like the frog scum that you are then?” Jonny yelled. Gareselin glared at him with impotent rage. He knew he could not attack a boy less than half his size with the crowd watching, so he only turned his back and began to walk into the crowd.

  “Wait!” Jonny yelled. “I have one more present to give you!”

  Gareselin looked back at Jonny, but then noticed what was happening below him. At the edge of the pile was a tremendous melon, easily two feet across, it was cracked but now it was slowly starting to lift up off the ground. Jonny was still hanging from the side of the wagon but now his eyes were closed. The cracked melon continued to rise until it was nearly fifteen feet in the air. A hush fell over the crowd. Jonny opened his eyes and looked at Gareselin who was staring dumbfounded at the melon hanging in the air.

  “I just wanted to give you something to remember me by,” Jonny said with a touch of harshness in his voice. “A little gift for all of our old times together.”

  Gareselin’s eyes opened wide as he saw how the melon was coming to hover directly above him. He turned and started to run as the crowd scattered wide on either side of him. He made it only two steps before the enormous melon crashed down on the back of his head spilling its putrid contents all over him and knocking him to the ground. He lay on the ground groaning as the crowd laughed at him.

  Jonny used the crowd’s distraction to leap down from the wagon and head off in the opposite direction. He felt happy about finally being able to pay Gareselin back for years of torment, but he was a little worried about what The Master’s reaction would be. He was sure The Master would not mind what he had done to Gareselin, but he was not sure The Master would approve of his having done so publicly. He actually had not thought he would make it so obvious he was using his magic. He originally just wanted to make him miss badly and look like a fool, but as he had done it more and more he just could not stop with making him look like a buffoon. He had to completely humiliate him so he would never try to come back against Jonny again, so he did.

  Jonny tried to melt back into the crowd and continue moving through the festival as he had earlier in the day. But while most people did not notice him among the throng, every now and then he would see someone pointing at him and would hear muttered comments of “Look! That’s him.” After some time, it felt too uncomfortable so he left the main festival area and wandered the alleyways he had known as a slave.

  § § §

  Jonny wandered through many areas and saw how little things had changed in the year, but he had changed. Everything seemed smaller, smellier, and dirtier. He decided he was glad he did not have to go back and live in the city again. He headed out to the fields east of town where the soldier trials would take place.

  The soldier trials were one of the biggest events of the Harvest Festival. The professional soldiers of Salaways were a small but very efficient group. The Master had set it up so only those who wanted to be soldiers were admitted, unlike armies in most other kingdoms where mostly conscripts formed the armies. The trials were a way for serving soldiers to demonstrate their prowess and buck for advancement. They were also a way for young men who aspired to be soldiers to prove they were skillful enough to join the service.

  The trials included many contests, individual combat with blunted weapons, wrestling, knife and unarmed combat as well as full scale mock battles where the soldier commanding the troops proved his skills in tactics and strategy. The trials started early on the afternoon of the first day of the festival and went on round the clock until
the morning of the third day, which culminated in the largest mock battle. On the afternoon of the last day of the festival, the latest recruits to the army were announced.

  Since all of the individual competition and some of the smaller battles were open to anyone who wanted to participate, there was a warm competition between soldiers and townspeople. Occasionally soldiers were bested by men of other trades who happened to be particularly skilled in some area of combat, but the soldiers or would be soldiers, nearly always won.

  It was exciting to watch and was accompanied by much wagering on the part of the spectators. The crowd had clear favorites, and several of the squads had fans who watched and cheered for them at every event.

  Jonny had always loved to watch the trials. He felt no desire to be a soldier, but he marveled at the skill and grace of these deadly men. Walking through town had been a partially depressing experience to him, but his spirits lifted as he watched the beginning matches of the trials.

  He was watching two men fighting with long sword and shield when Roald came up to stand beside him.

  “It sounds to me like you had a fun morning,” Roald snickered.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What do you mean?” Roald mocked, waving his hand dramatically. “Does dropping a melon on a journeyman slaver’s head ring any bells?”

  “Oh yeah, that.”

  “Yeah, that. I wish I could have seen it, Jonny. That must have the funniest thing in the world.”