Just before noon the day following Lord Effrin’s visit, Simon shuffled fretfully into the laboratory. “Master Azerick, there is, ah, a large contingent of armed men outside, and they are, ah, asking for you.”
Azerick sighed in frustration, glad that his potions were at the point where they only needed to be stored, but he was aggravated at the interruption nonetheless. He poured the brew into several opaque glass vials, tightly seated the stoppers, and stored them in a small rack in a closet against the wall.
The sorcerer climbed the stairs and walked out onto the steps in front of the keep where he saw a contingent of armed and armored men wearing the colors of the North Haven city watch. There were six men in all, all on horses except for the one standing on the top level of the stairs leading to the front doors of the keep. The watch sergeant took two paces forward and stood three paces away from Azerick as the sorcerer walked out onto the portico with Simon shadowing his steps.
The watch sergeant brought himself to his full height and used his most authoritative voice. “Magus Azerick, you are hereby placed under arrest and commanded to present yourself forthwith to Her Grace, Duchess Mellina of North Haven, to answer for your crimes against a lord of the city.”
Azerick’s blood red and arcanum-tipped staff sprang into his hands without a word, and a shimmering aura appeared around his form, visible only for a brief moment.
“And what if I don’t want to present myself forthwith, watchman?” Azerick snarled.
Simon ducked back behind the relative safety of the heavy front door. “Oh my, oh my, dear me,” he stammered as he hid.
The sergeant’s hand reached for his sword in a blink, but he only managed to pull it out about six inches before Azerick brought the arcanum ball on the end of his staff down, slamming the blade back home and cracking at least one bone in the sergeant’s hand. With a thought and a flick of his wrist, the silvery ball extended into a twelve-inch spear tip and gently pricked the skin just below the sergeant’s adam’s apple.
“If one of your men so much as moves, you get a new breathing hole,” Azerick coldly warned.
The watch sergeant held his hand up to tell his men to stay where they were since he could not talk or even swallow without risking the razor-sharp point piercing his throat.
“Now, why don’t you tell me exactly what the Duchess said and to whom she said it.”
The sergeant swallowed when Azerick moved the tip of his spear away from his throat an inch. He could feel the droplet of blood running down his throat and mix with his sweat, but made no move to wipe it away.
“Her Grace requested your presence and sent a runner to deliver her summons. One of Lord Effrin’s men accompanied the runner with instructions for me and my men to bring you back under guard and issued the arrest warrant…milord.”
The sergeant relaxed a little as the sorcerer fully withdrew the spear and it became a visibly less threatening staff once more. “In the future, sergeant, I recommend that you follow the orders of your Duchess as opposed to those of a pompous popinjay who wears a harlot’s makeup.” Azerick’s comment brought a small laugh from some of the guardsmen. “You will depart my premises with your men and inform the Duchess that I will attend her shortly.”
“Yes, milord,” the sergeant replied without hesitation and mounted his horse.
Azerick turned toward the stables as he watched the guards make an expeditious retreat back to the city. “Peck!”
“Yes, milord,” Peck called back.
Azerick saw that Peck was standing at the corner of the building with a steel-tined pitchfork in his hands and thought he saw the black blur of movement he was certain was Ghost and Wolf ducking back into the shadows. The half-elf probably saw the armed men as they rode up the path to the keep.
“Saddle Horse and bring him around, please.”
“Aye, Master Azerick, right away.”
Less than an hour later, Azerick strode down the palace hall in the company of a single guardsman who passed him off to another guard waiting in the antechamber of the reception room before promptly returning to his post.
Azerick heard the guard announce his presence then motioned Azerick to enter the reception hall. The sorcerer, wearing a deep burgundy cloak over his black shirt and pants and carrying his staff just for effect, walked briskly to within two paces of the foot of the dais.
Lord Effrin was already present, so he purposely stood close to him. Azerick’s proximity had the desired effect as the lord nervously and purposely sidestepped to put more distance between them. This left Azerick standing in the center of the rich green and gold carpet and the arrogant minister standing uncomfortably half on and half off.
“Magus Azerick, thank you for accepting my invitation so promptly. I know you are quite busy,” Duchess Mellina said sincerely but without warmth.
“You are quite welcome, but you can thank Lord Effrin for my timeliness. After all, it was he who sent a contingent of guards with an arrest warrant,” Azerick replied and looked pointedly at the minister.
Captain Brague took two steps forward from where he stood to the left of the dais. “You will answer the Duchess with Your Grace when you address her!”
“Forgive me, Your Grace, I meant no discourtesy,” Azerick corrected and smiled at the captain.
“Stand down, Captain, the magus is a friend of this court and is under no formal charges.” The Duchess turned her attention toward Lord Effrin. “As for you, I will speak to you regarding your changing my instructions and issuing arrest warrants without my authority later.” The Duchess’ eyes turned on Azerick next. “However, Magus, I do need to speak with you about a very serious incident that I cannot allow.”
“What is that, Your Grace?” Azerick asked innocently.
Duchess Mellina’s face became even sterner. “Do not bandy words with me, Magus. You know very well of what I am speaking. Just look at Lord Effrin.”
Azerick turned his head and looked at the minister. The nobleman’s entire head had elongated, his eyes were nearly on the sides of his head, and his ears came to a point and stood nearly a foot tall. A black bristly tail hung uncomfortably out of the back of his blue velvet trousers.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace, but I do not see the problem. If you are talking about his wardrobe, I agree it is ridiculous, but I am afraid I lack the fashion sense to give an honest appraisal.”
“You turned my minister into an ass!” Mellina almost shouted. “He hid in his rooms all day yesterday wailing. It took us until this morning to coax him out and explain what had befallen him. Now what do you have to say for yourself, Magus?”
“Your Grace, I cannot take responsibility for his being an ass. He was an ass long before I ever met him. I simply removed the illusion of his humanity.”
Lady Miranda, who stood next to and just behind her mother, had to cover her smile with her hand.
The Duchess was less amused. “Magus, I do not find this humorous in the least nor can I have you going about turning my nobles into quasi-farm animals. Why did you feel the need to inflict such a curse on a member of my court?”
“He was beyond rude and presumed to give me orders like a servant. I am no man’s—or woman’s—servant, and I thought making a visual example out of the lord was appropriate.”
Captain Brague shouted his outrage. “You dare make veiled threats against the Duchess in her very own hall? I should have your head!”
“You should be so lucky seeing as yours in such dire need of replacing,” Azerick returned.
“Enough, both of you!” the Duchess commanded. “From what I have heard and witnessed, I can imagine Lord Effrin’s behavior, and I will discuss such things with him at length. Kindly return him to normal immediately. I can hardly converse with him as he is.”
“I am sorry, Your Grace, but I cannot do that. However the spell will wear off on its own by morning.”
“Very well, Magus Azerick. I hope that in the future you will inform me of any impropriety regarding
my citizens and allow me to deal with them myself.”
“I shall endeavor to do so…Your Grace,” Azerick said, deliberately pausing for emphasis.
“Magus, allow me to escort you out,” Captain Brague offered.
“Oh, I think I know my way, Captain.”
“Oh, but I insist,” the captain persisted with false politeness and guided Azerick out of the hall with a gentle hand on his elbow. “Now you listen to me, wizard, there are proper forms of protocol that will be maintained. The Duchess may allow you a small measure of informality but I will not! You may have snowed over the Duchess and Lady Miranda with your exploits, but not me. I know exactly what kind of character you are, and know you that I am watching.”
Azerick turned to Captain Brague as they reached the portico of the palace. “Thank you, Captain, for that informative lecture. I shall take it under advisement.”
“You had better, wizard,” the captain warned as he turned away and tramped back down the hall.
As soon as the captain turned his back, Azerick made a quick gesture and whispered a word of power. A loud squeal of metal on metal accompanied Captain Brague’s next step. The captain stopped and cocked his ear. Not hearing any further noise, he resumed his pace but stopped as the screeching sound echoed through the marbled hall once more.
Brague shrugged his shoulders, which produced the noise once again. Grabbing the bottom of his well-polished breastplate, he adjusted his armor and took another step, which elicited another irritating screech. Frustrated, he stomped down the passage with every step producing the obnoxious noise.
Azerick smiled at his childish revenge, mounted Horse who was waiting for him in the hands of a groom just outside, and rode out of the palace gates and into the city. He decided that he would visit the docks since he was hereto find out if anyone had heard anything about Captain Zeb or his ship. Horse’s iron shoes rang against the cobbled streets as he plodded along, the street traffic and his own lethargy dictating Horse’s pace.
Even moving at a walk, it did not take long for Azerick to reach the shipping district and the docks. North Haven’s harbor was considerably smaller than Southport’s was, sporting only four long docks reaching out into the bay to allow ships to load and unload their precious cargos.
Even if North Haven had twice as many, it would not have taken Azerick long to spot Toron’s large, horned head as he helped unload cargo from the ship’s hold. Azerick forced Horse into a gallop, oblivious of the shouts and curses of the pedestrians, and rode right out onto the wooden dock. Horse came to a skidding halt as Azerick reined in hard.
“Toron!” Azerick shouted and waved.
The big minotaur looked up from where he was guiding a large cargo net laden with crates out of the ship’s hold the name Freedom Wind emblazoned across the bow. As soon as the big cog-wheeled hoist lifted the crates clear of the ship’s deck, Toron yelled for Zeb and Balor and ran down the gangplank toward Azerick.
“I knew you would be coming back,” Toron’s deep voice rumbled as he slapped Azerick on his thigh. “Zeb stored your books for me at the bank here in town.”
Even sitting on Horse, Azerick was level with the tips of Toron’s horns. “I know; I picked them up a couple weeks ago, thank you, Toron. I knew you would not let me down.”
“Azerick, my boy!” Zeb shouted as he and Balor ran down the dock toward him.
Azerick swung off Horse’s back to meet them and was immediately wrapped in a fierce hug by his former captain and shipmate.
“Where have you been, lad? Did you fight that dragon? What happened?” Zeb and Balor asked excitedly.
“It’s a long story. Let’s talk over a drink,” Azerick suggested.
“Toron,” Zeb said, “tell the men to finish unloading Freedom and meet us at Barnacles.”
Zeb and Balor took Azerick to Barnacles, a favorite tavern of the sailors and dockworkers. Azerick was impressed with the establishment the moment he entered. Although not as fancy and quiet as the Golden Glade, the tavern was big and clean. The bar was a large square where two bartenders catered to the dozens of customers who were already keeping them busy even at this early hour. When the sun set, it was all they could do to service their customers efficiently with the four bartenders and six serving women who worked the nightshift. Even with the number of patrons already eating and drinking, the trio had no problem finding an open table.
“Now tell me what all happened after you went to face that scaly monster,” Zeb urged.
Azerick shook his head. “No, if I tell you now I will have to repeat everything a dozen times by the time everyone else gets here. You tell me what happened to you all after you set sail.”
Zeb leaned back in his chair, his expression making it clear he would be more than happy to talk about his ship. Technically, the ship belonged to a large portion of the entire crew since most of the men had a hand in building it, but they all unanimously voted Zeb as captain. Most of the men who crewed Freedom Winds had sailed with Zeb before and escaped from the psyling city with him and Azerick.
“We christened the ship Freedom Winds the day after you left to have at it with that dragon. We loaded up a good amount of raw iron and topped off the hold with timbers we cut ourselves. We guided her downriver for several days before we hit the first big town in the plains along the river.”
Zeb had to pause and take a hefty swig of beer. “We dropped anchor at a town called Bruneford’s Mill. We made a good amount of coin and still filled our hold with dried wheat, oats, corn, and rice. The river kept getting wider but lost depth the farther we sailed downriver. Twice we had to throw out lines and pull the ship off a sandbar, and once we even had to pay a man to hook up his mules to pull us free, but we made it. Once we reached the sea, we had a choice of going to Southport or North Haven. Even though I could get a better price in North Haven, I chose Southport because they have a larger market and a better chance of finding another load of cargo. Since then, we’ve been running cargo up and down the coast. She’s got a shallow draft, having been built to get down the river, so we stay pretty much in sight of land, but we’re making it. A couple of years and we may have enough to get us a proper seagoing ship.”
Azerick leaned forward in his chair. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that. How would you like to have five ships under your command with me as a silent partner?”
“What are you saying, lad? It would take a king’s ransom to float that many ships. I know of a few decent boats that some of the merchants are being forced to sell because of the lousy economy right now, but even at auction, you’re talking thousands of gold crowns. Where would we get that kind of money? None of us even have enough collateral to get that kind of credit.”
Azerick leaned back in his chair once more. “You don’t think I just grabbed my own stuff in that dragon’s cave do you?”
Both Zeb and Balor sputtered in their beers. “You mean to tell me you got a dragon’s hoard of gold?” Balor whispered sharply. “How the devils did you manage to haul it all the way over here?”
“That is my little secret, but trust me, I have the capital to make us the largest shipping company in North Haven.”
“Do you know what that means, lad?” Zeb asked conspiratorially.
“What?”
“It means you’re buyin'!”
Azerick saw Toron and the rest of Freedom’s crew walk in and take up seats near him, Zeb, and Balor. The sorcerer got up and walked over to the bar. One of the bartenders finished pouring a man his ale and approached Azerick as he waited patiently.
“What can I get you, sir?” the barkeep asked.
Azerick dropped a three-inch stack of gold coins on the bar. “As long as my shipmates are in this bar, everyone drinks on me!” Azerick shouted jubilantly and tossed and extra gold coin to the bartender.
Azerick’s declaration was met with a round of cheers and applause as the bartenders and serving women began getting flooded with orders. Azerick took two trays loaded with beer
and ale to his former crewmembers who cheered and patted him on the back, but not until he set the precarious beverage-laden trays down for fear of him spilling them.
“Lad, there’s gonna be a few captains and dock foremen that’s not gonna be pleased with your generosity,” Zeb told him humorously.
Azerick spent the next hour telling his friends about his battle with the dragon, his time spent with the dwarves, and how he took over the keep outside of the city.
“Only you could have pulled off antics of that magnitude,” Zeb told him. “I think the god’s have an interest in you, son, whether for good or ill, they are looking at you.”
“I just wish they would mind their own damn business and leave me alone. I have found a sense of peace, and I would like to keep it that way,” Azerick replied irritably.
“So are you serious about financing that shipping business?” Zeb asked.
“Absolutely. Do you know a former sailor named Ewen?”
“Is old Ewen still kicking about? He was first mate on one of your father’s ships when I was just a young sailor.”
Azerick nodded. “He is living in the city with his family. They moved out of Southport about a year ago. He said I should invest my wealth instead of just letting it gather dust, and my accountant agrees with him.”
“How do you want to go about it?” Zeb asked.
“The next chance you get, come up to the keep and meet with my accountant, Simon. Better yet, I will send him to meet you down here with scripts of purchase. You can bid on ships at auction, buy them outright, or commission some to be built, whatever you think is best.”
“We’ll need crews, supplies, and equipment.”
“Again, I will leave it all up to you and Simon to work out the details. I am a silent partner in this.”
CHAPTER 7
Langdon’s Crossing was a quiet, medium-sized town whose greatest commodity was its wool exports. Massive herds of sheep and silkwool goats roamed the open grasslands under the watchful eyes of their herders and trained dogs. It was also the primary southern trading town between many of the smaller towns in the southern portion of the Habberback Plains and the desert nomads of Sumara.
The Sorcerer's Path Box Set: Book 1-4 Page 79