Foundling Wizard (Book 1)

by James Eggebeen

  Gareb and Yerlow were up before dawn with Lorit and Chihon. Yerlow placed a plate of bread and cheese in front of each of them, taking her own seat. Lorit was anxious to get going. The sooner they started, the sooner he would have his revenge.

  “I’ve packed your travel bag with a few things to tide you over. You should be good for at least two weeks before you need to forage, or buy food,” she said. Yerlow turned to Chihon and said, “I understand that, as part of your passage, you’ll be assisting the cook.”

  “Yes. Lorit arranged it for me.”

  “I’m sure the crew will be glad of a woman’s touch in the galley,” she reassured her. “At least you won’t have to break into your travel stock before you reach land.”

  “How long do they expect the trip to take?” Gareb asked. He seated himself and poured a steaming mug of dark tea.

  “It should take just over a week,” Lorit said. “This early in the season, they’re worried about running into ice floes, so they take it slow.”

  “For your sakes, I hope they don’t run into any trouble,” Yerlow said. “A week cramped up on a ship like that with a bunch of unwashed sailors isn’t something I’d look forward to.”

  “It’s no worse than the farm or the slaughterhouse,” Lorit said, “you get used to the smell and, after a while, you don’t even notice it.” He picked up his empty plate and headed for the kitchen. He’d grown accustomed to helping out in the kitchen, something his mother had never been able to instill in him. He felt as if he were an imposition on Yerlow if he didn’t help out.

  Yerlow stopped him, taking the plate out of his hand. “I’ll take care of that once you’re gone,” she said. “You two get ready and get going. It’s a long walk to the wharf in the dark.”

  “I guess we’d better get going,” Chihon said as she stood, shouldering her pack. She hugged Yerlow tightly for a moment, and then held her by the shoulders. “You’ve been so gracious to us,” she said. “You’ve been like a sister to me.” She kissed Yerlow on the cheek and turned to Gareb.

  “You’ve also been so kind, and such a great teacher,” she told him. “I will not forget your lessons.”

  “You’re a great student,” he said. “Please remember me fondly when you become one of the mighty ones.”

  Gareb came over, grasped Lorit’s hand, and shook it firmly. “Lorit,” he said. “I’ve never met a wizard quite like you.” He hugged Lorit and patted his shoulder. “Take care of Chihon, and give those priests what they deserve. If you can’t do it, then I don’t know who can.”

  Yerlow reached up to Lorit and grasped his chin in her calloused hand. She directed his gaze toward her eyes. “You take care of this young lady, or I’ll come after you myself. You let them hurt her and you’ll have me to deal with. Wizard or not, I have a few tricks that will work on you, young man.”

  She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, turned him toward the door, and gave him a shove. “On with you, then,” she said.

  The wharf was bustling when they arrived, just after sunrise. The air was so cold that Lorit could see the breath steaming from the people rushing about their business. Lorit spotted an old man sitting at a table near the wharf entrance.

  “Do you know where we can find the Silver Sun?” Lorit asked him. He had one eye covered with a patch and a scar that ran from his cheek ending in a large welt on his forehead.

  “She’s the ship on the second pier to the left once you get to the water,” he said. He looked up at Lorit examining him for a moment and then cast his eye on Chihon.

  “Are you taking passage on the Silver Sun?” he asked, “Both of you?” He kept his gaze focused on Chihon even as he spoke to Lorit.

  “Yes, we are. Is she a good ship?”

  The old man slowly transferred his gaze to Lorit examining him with his good eye. “She’s a good ship, that she is.”

  “You look somewhat skeptical about that,” Lorit said in response to the man’s hesitant answer.

  “She’s a good ship, as I said,” he answered. “Have you met the Captain, then?”

  “Yes, I’ve met Captain Bukelach,” Lorit answered, “He’s the one who arranged our passage.”

  “You should be just fine, then,” the old man commented. He reached over to a battered brass cup sitting at the edge of the table. He stretched out a finger and gave it a slight shove towards Lorit.

  Lorit looked into the cup. There were a few coppers sitting at the bottom. The old man looked up at him plaintively. Lorit rummaged through his pockets and came up with a couple of coppers. He added them to the cup.

  “Thanks for your kindness,” he said. “Have a safe trip, then.”

  The Silver Sun was no different from the others docked at the piers. She was tied up to the dock just where the old man said it would be. Lorit recognized it by the large painting that adorned the bow, of a mermaid holding a silver sun in her palm.

  “This looks like the one,” Lorit said. He gestured to the gang plank with its rough steps attached every few spans to provide traction. Chihon headed up the plank, then stepped over the railing and down onto the deck via a set of worn steps that were tied to the inside. The deck was clean but worn so much that the boards no longer formed a smooth surface, but rather rippled across it.

  Just aft of the plank were the rear quarters. A door opened onto the deck, and a large seaman exited, ducking to clear the doorway as he did. He had short cropped blond hair, and a beard to match. His black pants were tucked into heavy boots. He wore a broad belt that sported a saber, a knife and a club. His shirt was clean and white beneath the worn and stained red jacket.

  “I’m Darves,” he said. “The Captain told me to expect you two.” He looked over the pair and pointed to their packs resting on the deck.

  “That all you have?” he asked.

  “Yes, that’s all we have,” Lorit said.

  “Good, then you won’t have to stow anything below decks. It’ll all fit in my cabin.”

  “Your cabin?” Lorit asked.

  “Aye, my cabin,” Darves answered him. “When the Captain told me he’d booked passage for a female, I was demoted to the crew quarters for the trip.” He turned towards the rear deck. “It won’t do to have a young woman such as yourself bunked with the crew.”

  He motioned them to follow. Lorit picked up both packs to steady himself and let Chihon precede him. They squeezed through a narrow passageway until they came to a door in the side. Darves opened the door and motioned Chihon into the cabin.

  The cabin was small but serviceable. A single narrow bunk protruded from the side wall. Across from the bunk were a small desk and an open wardrobe. There was a stand for a pan of wash water with a honey bucket beneath the washstand.

  “Packs there,” Darves said pointing to the wardrobe. He did not enter the cabin with them. Lorit and Chihon had to squeeze to get by each other as they stowed their belongings.

  “You are going to help in the galley?” he asked Chihon.

  “Yes,” she answered. She placed her pack in the wardrobe, atop Lorit’s.

  “Come on, then,” Darves said. “Let me show you the way below.” He motioned to her. “Both of you should know where the galley is. I’ll take you there and then show the young man where we need his help,” he said, glancing over his shoulder to make sure they were following him.

  They exited the cabin and climbed down the ladder amid ship. The galley was two decks below the main deck and forward of the main mast. They had to squeeze around the thick mast that occupied the center of the below deck passageway.

  The galley was crowded, with two rows of tables, each with benches on both sides. There looked to be enough space to seat about a dozen men at a sitting. The kitchen was fore of the dining room, serviced by a wide opening in the bulkhead. In the kitchen, a short stocky man toiled away at a large griddle. A bucket of water sat atop the griddle. He plunged a greasy rag into the bucket and wrung it out, wiping down a portion of the flat, black iron.

  “I h
ave your helper here,” Darves said in a raised voice.

  “He doesn’t hear so well,” Darves said in a quiet voice to Chihon.

  “What is that you say?” the cook asked. He turned towards Chihon as she entered the kitchen.

  “Your helper! Captain said you get extra help on this trip,” he shouted, pointing to Chihon.

  “Too bad it weren’t later in the season,” Darves commented to Lorit. “The men have been eating on land all winter. They won’t appreciate a good meal until they have been out for a few months.

  “Come; let me show you to your job.” He tugged at Lorit’s arm, guiding him back the way they’d come.

  He led him back up on deck where several sailors scrambled around, loosening the ropes that bound the sail to the cross beam. They dropped the ties to the deck without looking below. The deck was strewn with ropes in a tangle.

  “Pick these up and roll them up. Arm length coils,” he said. He held up his hands indicating that the coils of rope should be about as wide as Lorit’s forearm was long. “Once they’re coiled up, hang them over there,” he indicated, pointing to a row of pegs sticking out of the rear cabin wall. The pegs were hung with short bits of thin rope.

  “Use the rope on the pegs to bind up the coils, four hitches per coil,” he explained. “You know how to tie a proper knot, don’t you?”

  Lorit shrugged, “I am not sure.”

  “Square knots to bind the coils. You’re going to need to untie them quickly when we furl the sail again so make sure they’re nice and square,” he explained. He quickly tied and untied a few knots until Lorit got it right.

  “I understand,” Lorit answered.

  “When the mooring lines come up, help the deck hands with those, too. The men will show you how to stow them.” He turned and headed back towards the aft cabin.

  Lorit grabbed one of the ropes and started coiling it up.

  Freshen Sea

  Lorit spent the day stowing ropes, hauling kegs of supplies up and down the ladders between the decks and running and fetching things for every sailor who asked. By nightfall, he was exhausted.

  “You look beat,” Chihon said. “They’ve kept you pretty busy, haven’t they?”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever worked harder than I have today. Compared to this, the farm, and even the butcher shop were restful,” Lorit answered. He spread his blanket out on the hard wood deck next to the bunk. “Even this hard floor is going to feel good tonight.”

  “You can have the bunk,” Chihon said. “I’ve had a pretty easy day myself.”

  “No. The floor’s just fine for me.” Lorit curled up and pulled the blanket around him. “Besides, I have to get in touch with Zhimosom and see what he’s discovered since our last conversation. I doubt I’ll actually get much rest tonight.”

  “Try to get some sleep,” Chihon said. She placed her hand behind the single burning candle and blew it out, plunging the cabin into darkness.

  Lorit felt the Wizard’s study form around him as he established the link. The old Wizard sat behind his desk amid the usual haphazard pile of books and references. He looked up as Lorit materialized before him.

  “I see your journey has begun,” Zhimosom said. He closed the book he was reading and looked up at Lorit.

  “Yes, we’re aboard the Silver Sun, bound for Nebrook.”

  “No trouble, then?”

  “No, nothing,” Lorit said, “but the voyage has just begun. What have you discovered since our last meeting?”

  “I have a name for you,” Zhimosom said. “The name is Vorathorm. He is the high priest at the temple of Ran in Veldwaite.”

  “Vorathorm? I thought the one behind my troubles was Sulrad?” Lorit asked.

  “He is,” Zhimosom said. He pulled open one of the books and pointed to the map. Vorathorm is in Veldwaite. He has been sending trouble your way. Sulrad is his superior. Sulrad has targeted you, but Vorathorm is the one actually pursuing you. He is the one responsible for the death of several young boys we have identified recently.”

  “So you want me to take on Vorathorm before I go after Sulrad?” Lorit asked. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he felt the ship rocking beneath his body.

  The Wizard pushed out a chair and motioned to it. “Please, take a seat.”

  “But I’m not really there, what will taking a seat do?” Lorit asked.

  “It will keep you steady as the boat sways,” the Wizard explained. “I am particularly susceptible to sea sickness.” He motioned once more to the chair.

  Lorit took the seat. He could feel both the chair and his blankets as he did so. “When will I be able to travel there to you physically?”

  “You may be capable of that already. You just have no pressing need to do so, so you can only send your image for now. Don’t be hasty, my boy.”

  “Why do you want me to take on Vorathorm first?”

  “Lorit,” Zhimosom said, “I have discovered that he was behind the death of your family.”

  “Vorathorm it is, then,” Lorit said. He started to release the connection. If it was Vorathorm who had killed his sister, then he would gladly make time to deal with him on his way to Quineshua.

  “Wait, Lorit. There is more,” the Wizard said, holding up his hand.

  “What is it?”

  “You are now paired to the Sorceress Chihon,” he said. “Your fates are one, intertwined.”

  “Paired?” Lorit asked. “Chihon keeps talking about pairing. She says that’s why we can work together so much better than apart. So we can share power. Is that so special? What else is there?”

  “I’m not doing this justice,” Zhimosom said. “Maybe another perspective will help.” He waved his hand to someone that Lorit could not see off to his side.

  The candle on Zhimosom’s desk flickered. The air beside him wavered as the image of Rotiaqua formed next to Zhimosom, and solidified. She pulled out a chair and sat down, drawing herself close to the table, as Lorit had done.

  “I think I can explain it a little better,” she said. “Zhimosom has always had a difficult time articulating the connection we have.”

  The Wizard huffed but stopped his wandering across the books long enough to focus on Lorit. “She can explain it better than I,” he said. He looked back to Rotiaqua and said, “Please go on.”

  “Pairing is when a Wizard and a Sorceress develop a strong bond between them,” she explained. “They can feel each other, no matter the circumstances. They can sense the feelings of the other and know when one is in danger or afraid. Their life forces are intertwined. They live or die together. If one dies or is killed, the other dies with them, so strong is the connection.

  “We believe that you were first connected with your sister, Onolt. That is why the priests went after her. They felt the bond between you and decided to strike at her first. That’s why they keep coming after you.”

  “But I didn’t die when they killed Onolt,” Lorit said. “I felt it, but I survived it.”

  “You were not truly paired with Onolt yet,” Rotiaqua explained. “When she died, you were released. Since then, you have become paired with Chihon. That is why you two must take special care for each other.”

  “I’m not sure I’m ready for this,” Lorit said.

  “There are advantages. Pairing is rare and powerful. The two of us have been paired for a frightfully long time. We cannot die until we are replaced by another Wizard and Sorceress who are also paired. They will pick up the burden until such time as another pair comes along to replace them.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad,” Lorit said. “There must be pairs coming along all the time.”

  “No,” Rotiaqua said. “There are very few girls born with the power. Most of those with the power are born boys.

  “Secondly,” she continued, “the paring must happen just as the two are equal in power and maturity, and it is rare for a Wizard and Sorceress to cross paths at such a time.”

  She held up her hand to sil
ence Lorit. “Yes, we believe Chihon is one of these. We didn’t know of her until you found her. We’ve been watching the two of you progress, and are quite confident that you are pairing nicely.

  “The pair bonding must grow through adversity and challenge until you learn to rely on one another and trust each other with your very lives. You must grow in power together and gain in wisdom. Only then will you complete the pairing.”

  “So, it’s rare, then,” Lorit said. “And not a sure thing.”

  “Yes, it’s rare. How old do you think we are?” she asked Lorit, rising from her chair. She pulled the Wizard up, out of his. The two of them stood before Lorit.

  “I’m no judge of age, but I would think you’re older than my grandparents,” Lorit said. He thought that the two were ancient, but he had no real concept of age. He’d only experienced eighteen summers and still had his whole life ahead of him.

  “We are older than that by quite a bit,” Rotiaqua said. “We were first paired almost four hundred years ago.” She seated herself once again. The Wizard lowered himself into his chair carefully, leaning on his staff. He looked up at Lorit.

  “You look surprised,” he said.

  “Have you been training young wizards all this time?” Lorit asked.

  “Not all the time, we spent quite a few years on the road as you are now,” Zhimosom said. “We traveled around, learning the lay of the land, getting acquainted with the peoples and customs and, yes, looking for more young boys and even girls while we traveled.

  “We saw the rise of the temple from a few scatted priests into the pervasive and oppressive religion that you see now. They were just an itinerant band of mediocre wizards peddling a bunch of foolishness to ignorant folk. It’s only been in the last two hundred years that they’ve become so strong.

  “Vorathorm and Sulrad are two of the most powerful priests of their generation. They are ruthless and bloodthirsty, and will stop at nothing to protect and expand their powers. We have contemplated how to stop the spread of the temple and reverse this trend for many years now.”