Hearthglen

by Daniel Schinhofen

  Binding Words

  Book Three:

  Hearthglen

  Daniel Schinhofen

  Copyright © 2019 Daniel J. Schinhofen

  No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form by an electronic or mechanical means – except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews – without the written permission from the publisher.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Copyright © 2019 Daniel J. Schinhofen

  All rights reserved.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter One

  The trip to Hearthglen was overcast, but thankfully without snow. The walls of the city rose twenty feet into the air, overlooking the farms that surrounded it. Guards paced along the top and were stationed where they could watch the road. Myna slowed the wagon when they approached the gate, putting a polite smile on her face.

  “Excuse me, where would I go if I’m looking for a place to lease?” Myna asked the guard closest to her before the fellow could speak.

  “Moving into the city?” the guard asked in return.

  “Master is wishing to set up shop here,” Myna replied, nodding.

  “You’ll be wanting to be near the crafters, then,” the guard said. He called a second guard over. “Who’s running property near the crafter section?”

  “It used to be Turviel, but…”

  “Oh, right,” the first guard blanched.

  “I take it the answer isn’t very clear,” Myna said.

  “Your best bet is to head to the Oaken Glen and ask the crafters when they come in for their nightly drink,” the guard admitted. “I could have been of more help a few months ago.”

  “We’ll do that,” Myna smiled. “How do I get to the Oaken Glen?”

  “Sir, the driver needs direction to the Oaken Glen. Can I show them?” the guard asked a man with different insignia on his uniform.

  “Make it quick, Johnson,” the man replied briefly.

  “Miss, if you don’t mind me taking your seat?” the guard asked Ryann. “I can get you there easier if I give you directions on the way.”

  “Of course,” Ryann said, sliding down the bench past the split canvas that divided the front from the back.

  Once Myna had the wagon moving again, Sean poked his head out through the canvas. “Thank you for your help.”

  “You’re welcome, sir. It’s nice being able to guide newcomers around the city. You’re the Holder of these Bonded?”

  “That’s me,” Sean smiled. “You mentioned that you would have been able to help us if we’d come a few months ago. Has something changed in that time?”

  The guard’s friendly smile went wooden, “Politics.”

  “Ah. I try to stay well out of that mess,” Sean laughed.

  “We would all like that,” the guard said affably. “Turn right at the square up here. This is Merchant Square; all the big merchants have shops here, with other shops running off down each street. If you went straight, you’d find Bazaar Square, which is where the street peddlers are allowed to set up.” Pausing as Myna took the turn, he continued, “The next square this way is Crafter Square. The Oaken Glen dominates the corner, and the quieter crafters are around the square. You’d have to head back toward the wall to find the smiths and such. This whole section of the city is devoted to crafting, from Shapers to good old manual labor.”

  “I’m sure we’ll find a place,” Sean chuckled.

  “What kind of crafting do you do?”

  “A little bit of woodwork, a little of metalwork,” Sean replied. “Even a combination of the two, if I can find the right subject and get paid for it.”

  “You’re a commission crafter?”

  “I do make things for general sale, but the most money can be found in commissions,” Sean replied, using what Fiona had taught him during the trip to make him sound more at home.

  “That is what they say, but commissions are a contentious business,” the guard said.

  “I’ll just have to find a niche between the others,” Sean shrugged.

  “That right there is the Oaken Glen,” the guard said, pointing at a two-story building. “I hope you enjoy your stay in Hearthglen,” he said as Myna pulled the wagon to a stop on the street.

  “I’m sure I will. Thank you for your time,” Sean replied, climbing down after the guard.

  “It got me away from gate duty, even if only for a little bit,” Johnson chuckled. “Good day.”

  “Master,” Fiona said, coming out of the back of the wagon, “the Crafter’s Guild hall is right there,” she motioned to the building across the square from the inn. “You should take Myna there to register. Ryann and I will settle the wagon and check into the inn for the night.”

  “Works,” Sean nodded.

  Myna came down from the driver’s seat, letting Fiona take the spot. “I’ll be your guard until we are back with Ryann,” she told Sean.

  “Thank you, Myna,” Ryann said as she took the spot on the driver bench next to Fiona. “I’ll look after your other Bonded, Sean.”

  Sean nodded, getting his mind set for formal titles and speech again. “Very well. Let’s get this out of the way, Myna.”

  As the two of them started to cross the square, Fiona got the wagon moving toward the attached stables around the corner of the inn. Sean took in the buildings and people as they walked.

  Sean saw all sorts of clothing being worn, from simple rustic homespun to something very close to a modern suit and lots of styles in between. The people he passed all reacted to each other initially based mostly on their clothing, as far as he could see. Make sure to get better clothes, Sean mentally noted.

  The buildings were stone, the majority either granite or sandstone, and were topped with slate roofs. The Crafter’s Guild hall was a light gray granite with fluted columns supporting the overhang in front of the door. Sean looked at the gentle lines of the architecture and realized that it had been Shaped rather than built.

  A smile on his lips, Sean nodded affably to those who greeted him in similar fashion. The populace seems to be generally happy, Sean thought as he and Myna paused for a coach to go past. Need to remember there are no real traffic laws here, and that the wagons and carriages likely have right of way due to size. Making it to the building, Sean shelved his thoughts as he opened one of the double doors.

  Myna shut the door behind them and Sean suppressed a whistle. The interior was done in golden wood and pink-white marble. There were chairs and tables all around t
he room, set up in small clusters to facilitate meetings. Near the center sat a circular desk staffed by a well-dressed lady, who openly examined Sean and Myna as they crossed the room.

  “Excuse me, miss,” Sean said, noting the thin band on one of her wrists, “I need to register with the guild.”

  She gave him a polite smile. “The registration fee for a year is five silver, or ten if you wish to register your maker’s mark. That’s for the basic registration. If you would care to become a notable member, the price increases.”

  Sean pulled out a large silver and set it on the desk. “I’m just starting out, so it’ll have to be the ground floor, for now.”

  “Of course, sir.” The receptionist stood up, her professional smile in place. “You’ll need to speak with Jared Donnel. He handles all the new crafters.” Picking up the coin, she opened the flap that allowed her out of the desk ring. “If you’ll follow me.”

  Trailing after the receptionist, Sean wondered about the cost of registration and why it was only good for a year. Looking around at the richly appointed building, his lips twisted. This is your money at work, Sean thought.

  Turning down one of the halls, the receptionist stopped just short of the first door and knocked politely. When she was told to enter, she opened the door and preceded the other two into the room.

  “Mr. Donnel, I have a new crafter to see you,” she informed him, placing the silver coin on the desk and stepping aside.

  Looking up from a book, Donnel sighed. “It’s been awhile since anyone new has come in.” Looking over Sean and Myna, the old man’s lips thinned. “Are you sure you wish to register?”

  “I need to,” Sean said calmly.

  “Very well,” Donnel replied. “You’re dismissed, Agatha.”

  Bowing her head fractionally, the receptionist left the room, her professional smile thinner than before. Donnel watched her walk out and, with a soft sigh, looked back at Sean once the door closed.

  Coughing, Donnel sat up straighter in his chair. “A new crafter registering your mark, is it?”

  “That is the long and short of it,” Sean said blandly.

  “Very well,” Donnel pulled a large tome from under his desk. “First, let’s see the mark so I can compare it to the others.”

  Sean pulled a hair clip out of his pouch and set it on the desk in front of Donnel. Brow knitting, Donnel picked up the bronze hair clip. Mumbling as he examined the piece from every angle, Donnel shook his head as he set it down.

  “I think I have misjudged you,” Donnel said, opening the book. “Give me a few moments.”

  Sean sat back and waited as the old man went page by page, comparing each mark with the one on the hair clip. When he finished, he left the book open at the first blank page and set the hair clip on it. Donnel’s brow creased in intense concentration as he stared at the clip. After a few long moments, the maker’s mark began to appear on the page in both large size as well as actual size.

  When the mark was fully inscribed on the page, Donnel let out a deep breath, pulling a handkerchief from his jacket pocket to wipe the sweat on his balding head. “That took more out of me than it used to,” Donnel muttered.

  “Is that all I needed to do?” Sean asked pleasantly.

  “We still need to do the other paperwork for you,” Donnel said, holding up a hand. “Just give me a moment, I’m not as young as I used to be. I knew breaking the century mark would change me some, but I wasn’t prepared for that strain.”

  Sean kept his mouth shut and his surprise off his features. Darragh had told him that those who had power would live longer, but the man sitting in front of him looked to be forty or fifty, not over a hundred. “Take your time, sir.”

  Donnel chuckled, “Nice to see that the younger generation still knows respect.”

  “My father was quite strict in that regard,” Sean replied.

  “Okay, I think I’m good now. Sorry to keep you,” Donnel said as he got up from his desk, going over to the shelving against a wall. “New crafter paperwork... here we are.” Donnel sat back down at his desk, spreading the papers out in front of him. “Let’s start with the easy stuff. What is your name?”

  Sean answered all of Donnel’s questions, getting a puzzled look at Sean’s last name and a shocked look when he claimed to be able to Shape both wood and metal. Sean had Myna take her hat off, attributing the wood Shaping to her. Donnel nodded, understanding. Once the forms were all filled out— with five copies— Donnel sat back with a pensive look on his face.

  “Where are you staying?” Donnel asked.

  “Currently at the Oaken Glen.”

  “You don’t have a place set up yet?”

  “That’s our next objective,” Sean chuckled. “I wanted to make sure the mark was registered. I’d also like to patent the hair clip, since I’m here.”

  Donnel’s lips thinned, “Of course. You’ll need to talk to Gertihs. His office is two doors down on the left.”

  “Thanks,” Sean said, getting to his feet with Myna copying him.

  “Of course,” Donnel said, standing to shake hands before they left the room. As Sean shut the door, he caught a mumbled comment from Donnel. “I was hoping he wouldn’t think of that…”

  Myna stiffened when she caught the same snippet. “He wants to steal your work,” Myna said quietly, her eyes flat.

  “Once we register it, that would be a crime,” Sean said. “Come on, no reason to get worked up over it.” Giving her uncovered ears a quick rub, he turned to find Gertihs’ office.

  Sean knocked on the door he had been directed to and a deep voice told them to enter. Opening the door, Sean found a scowling stocky man staring at him. “I’m looking for Gertihs to patent an item.”

  “I’m Gertihs,” the man waved them in, his accent giving away his Dwarven heritage. “Let’s see what you think is new enough to trouble me.”

  Sean set the bronze hair clip on the desk, and took the only other seat in the room. “This is a new style of hair clip that I think will become quite popular.”

  Gertihs pulled out a pair of pince-nez, taking a moment to get them settled on his nose before picking up the hair clip. Beard moving slightly as he looked over the entire thing, his teeth were briefly visible as he worked out how to open the clip. Fastening it into his beard, the Dwarf fiddled with it for a few minutes before removing it and setting it back on the desk.

  “I’ve never seen the like before, but give me a few minutes to check,” Gertihs said, crossing the room to the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that lined one wall.

  Moving the ladder over, he climbed up and selected a tome and came back to his desk. Minutes went by as the Dwarf flipped through each page carefully. The book held designs for various hair accessories, each one different from the others in some significant way.

  Finally coming to the first blank page, Gertihs sat back in his chair. “Your hair clip style is not in the book, so you can indeed patent it. The cost of a patent depends on the length of time you wish for it to be yours, and if you are willing to let others make it. If you opt for the second part, the guild will collect the licensing fee for you, which you can collect at any of the Quaditals.”

  “Can I take a year long patent, then extend it before it expires?”

  “That is possible,” Gertihs nodded. “You can even sell the patent to another registered crafter.”

  “For a year, what am I looking at?”

  “For an exclusive patent, you’re looking at a large silver. If you do a patent with rights, it’s half that,” Gertihs said.

  “Why the big cut?”

  “The guild takes a small fee for collecting and holding the money for you.”

  “How much?” Sean asked.

  “Ten percent of all collected revenue,” Gertihs replied evenly. “For this specialized clip, I’d suggest the rights. A number of crafters, once they see it, will want to be able to make them.”

  “How does that work?” Sean asked. “Do I set the price for the
rights, or does the guild?”

  “The guild does. We sell the right to make them in limited quantities. Frankly, this closure system you have is going to be hard to make for any but the most skilled metal Shaper, and almost impossible for a layman. Because of that, the price will go up, since only a few can make them.”

  “If I set it as exclusive, then only I can make them and I don’t have to think about making my way to one of the Quaditals,” Sean said.

  Brow furrowing, Gertihs frowned, “With the skill I see here, you’d be better served in one of them than out here.”

  “I like the more rural lifestyle not found in the Quaditals.”

  “You mean you hate politics, and I don’t blame you for that,” Gertihs’ frown vanished, replaced by a smile. “Would you be willing to sell the patent or to split it?”