The Well of Strands (Osric's Wand, Book Three)

by Jack D. Albrecht Jr.

  “Wands.” Gus corrected him as regret settled in.

  “Yes, wands. How many did he make before you realized what he was doing?”

  “One for each of the Maiden living in the grove. He left them as gifts, and they didn’t even notice them until they had unpacked their belongings at the barracks.” Gus looked away from Toby’s smile. The conversation wasn’t going the way he wanted it to.

  “That’s right.” Toby leaned in, apparently happy with the fact that Gus was now on the defense. “So, how many was that?”

  “Twelve. He even made one for that forsaken gnome that loves to torture me with his idiotic ideas.”

  “Twelve…” Toby traced two fingers down his cheek, accentuating the grin he wore like a badge on his face. “And they are all the same?”

  “Yes. He made twelve wands before I noticed them. But there was no polish to any of them.”

  “Well, no polish. That settles it. Just toss them out with the scraps at the end of the day.” Toby waved a lazy hand in the air and looked into the distance.

  “We can’t do that, and you know it!” Gus had had enough of the games. He had come to talk about far more important things.

  “That’s right. Because your son has, in his first attempt”—Toby held one finger up directly in front of Gus—“surpassed you as the world’s greatest Wand-Maker.”

  “Surpassed me?” Gus shook his head. “Any father would be proud to have his child surpass him. I would be the one standing at the corner proclaiming the child’s genius as he sells them. I would bring him to every connection I have, helping him spread his fame over all of Archana faster than I ever could have before I learned of spoken spells. But he did not surpass me.” Gus puffed out his small chest, but his words were a near whisper. “He reinvented the craft. And I can’t tell how he did it!”

  Toby leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk.

  “You can’t examine it with your gift?” The ryhain’s voice had lost its sarcasm. He was genuinely curious.

  “Of course I can; don’t be a dolt. The trick is that we can see it, but we can’t figure out how it was made.” Gus sat on the edge of the oak desktop and looked up.

  “So then it’s true, what I’ve heard about the wands?” There was a serious yet doubtful cast to Toby’s face as he looked down.

  “Yes, every word of it.” Gus rubbed at his leg again. “Jane let me test her wand, and I’ve got to say that power lock is entirely the wrong term for it now.” He glanced down with a knowing smile and shook his head.

  “I’ve never heard of a power lock taking that long.” Toby let out a long, slow whistle as he leaned back in his chair. “Well, except for the one Osric had with the wand you made, but that thing’s all tangled up in prophecy.”

  “Casting a spell with one of Pebble’s wands is no normal experience either. When witnessing a spell from one, you would wish you weren’t a Wand-Maker.”

  “Why is that?”

  “It was like looking into the sun. There was a white echo of the spell in my normal vision all day after that mistake. It bordered on visible even without using my gift. That led us to some more interesting discoveries concerning the shaft of light Osric can cast from his wand.” Gus stood up and walked back to the center of the desk, standing directly on top of the paper. “We will find Pebble eventually, but that isn’t why I am here.”

  “All right, you have indulged my curiosities long enough.” Toby nodded. “You have my attention.”

  “You and Osric have worked together for a long time, correct?”

  “I was there the day he was made a Vigile. Most days, the work of keeping Stanton safe would keep us far apart, but his name was known. I served a few assignments with him, though he was a subordinate until this last year.” His answer came easy and without hesitation.

  “And would you say that he respects you?”

  “The respect goes both ways,” Toby replied with an affirmative nod.

  “Would you say he would be willing to listen to advice if it came from someone other than myself?” Gus felt a bit ashamed about asking for help, but he needed it and asking Kenneth would be unbearable.

  A crease formed between Toby’s brows, but his lips formed a straight line. He gave Gus a hard look and spoke quickly. “How about you stop wasting my time and ask me what you want to ask me before you make me late for dinner with all this dancing about the subject.”

  “Look, we can’t locate Pebble to help us. The eagles are telling us the turgent’s troops are nearly ready to set sail. Osric senses a pull on his Portentist gift nearly every second he is in the barracks, so he can’t get any sleep. Our little battle here over the winter has sent the dragons into hiding, and we don’t know why. We can’t know at any specific moment which of the thirty-seven different gifts is working in him or how they are interacting with each other. We have twelve well-known authorities needing him to help them study magical theory, and we can’t use Kenneth because he is off dealing with the bandits that have been keeping deliveries out of Stanton. Not to mention the fact that Osric never wanted to do anything like what he has been doing for the last year.” Gus rattled the list off without pausing. Looking into Toby’s overwhelmed eyes, he took a deep, calming breath before continuing in a much slower and empathetic tone. “We need allies or we will lose this conflict, new magic or not. We need more income or we won't be able to feed the people we have managed to recruit, and there is more every day. Then, to top off all this pressure, the boy feels that his lady love just disappeared without so much as a farewell.”

  “You’re sure she wasn’t taken in the hunt?” Toby questioned cautiously.

  “Yes, she is very much alive; that much we can tell.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Well, we’ve discovered how the communication spells work,” Gus explained, ignoring Toby’s arched eyebrow. “No, we didn’t know how they worked before, just that they worked. What we discovered is that when a connection is made between two wands, a nearly imperceivable strand emerges from Archana and links itself to the tip of both wands. That is the start of the link, and that link only forms when the receiver is alive and in close proximity to the wand.”

  “And?”

  “When we attempt to contact Bridgett, that link forms. The next part of the spell, the part that carries the message, refuses to cooperate. All we can guess is that she must have learned how to block incoming communications. Knowing she is alive and avoiding all of us has nearly pushed Osric over the edge a few times.”

  “So, what do you need from me?”

  “Reason with him. Help him to see that the only way to protect the people of Archana, including Bridgett, is to shake off his melancholy and focus on the tasks at hand. Beg him, punch him. I don’t really care what you do as long as you can get through that thick head of his. Archana knows that nothing I have tried has worked in the least.”

  “I don’t think he deserves to be punched, but I’ll give the reasoning thing a try when I have some time to spend outside of this office.” Gus looked up at him rather humbly, nodded in agreement, and left the room.

  Gus could only hope that recruiting Toby, who was the newly appointed ryhain and Osric’s previous second in command, would net greater results than his own attempts to snap Osric out of his rut. Gus did not often venture into the palace, as he tended to spend almost all of his time in the barracks doing research or overseeing the scholars who worked in his department. He was impressed with the progress that had been made to rebuild the wreckage of the palace. Though construction was not yet complete, the portion that contained the ryhain’s new quarters were luxurious and tastefully decorated. It was a much better location for Toby than the temporary rooms he had been using while the palace was restored, though Toby didn’t seem to care where he was sitting, as long as he could tend to his duties in the interest of Stanton’s people.

  Gus was equally impressed with Toby’s ability to lead Stanton since Osric had nominated hi
m for the position of ryhain, the highest office within the city. Toby had the trade routes running smoothly again, and it had been entirely his idea to appoint Kenneth as the new Contege, the commander of the Vigiles, who patrol and maintain order in the city. Gus might have challenged him on that particular point if Kenneth hadn’t been doing such a fantastic job.

  It was Kenneth’s idea to have daily scheduled meetings with Toby to keep him apprised of new security concerns. He was instrumental in finding a use for the repentant guards who defected from Braya, and they were the brains behind the trade route patrols that kept supplies rolling into Stanton.

  Yes, Gus thought. What a cozy little town this has become. Now, if we could just get Osric on the same page as the rest of us, we could make something special out of this mess. He shook his head and scampered down the steps to his familiar work area. He hesitated momentarily in front of the door, surprised by the speed at which he had arrived, and then shook his head as he remembered traveling to just outside the barrier. That particular spell was the most difficult thing for him to get used to, but it seemed he was getting quite comfortable with it. He found himself speaking the spell to transport himself without even consciously realizing it.

  “All right, what idiocies do I need to refute today?” Gus bellowed, making his way slowly into the room as the door swung shut. Gus frowned at the two young men standing at the center table. “You will all have a very long learning curve before you can understand half of what you see in that device. Why don’t you leave this for those of us who were born with the gift? Willam, Kal, why can’t you be happy just gathering material for the rest of us? We can’t hope to duplicate it if we don’t have sticks.”

  “We will play fetch in a few minutes. You can’t blame us for stealing a moment to gaze at it. I’m sure young Wand-Makers look at a few items at the beginning of every day.” Kal pressed one eye against the viewing piece of the device. The copper ring at the end of a narrow tube was cold against his skin. The tube attached to a small, rapidly spinning sphere, a little larger than his fist. Beneath the sphere another set of tubes could be adjusted for length depending on the size of the item being viewed. Kal gazed through the device at his wand lying on the platform that supported the device's structure, and he held his breath in amazement at what he could see.

  “Who wouldn’t? This is fascinating!” Willam smiled back at Gus and sat down on a stool. “I don’t think I am ever going to go back to weaving cloth; this is a whole lot easier.”

  “And the pay is better,” Kal added with a slight roll of his eyes.

  “You both should be doing what Archana intended you to be doing, not wasting your time with a trinket.” Gus let his frustration show. He was growing more disgusted as the days passed. He glared at the contraption with disdain. He was tempted to cart it back to the gnomes who had managed to make it work and watch them try to stop him from destroying it. He had a sneaking suspicion they had only made it to spite him anyway.

  “I think they should call it a strandiscope.” Willam’s eyebrows darted up briefly as he followed Gus with his gaze.

  “No, it’s a strand-sight device.” Kal answered.

  Gus let out a long sigh while climbing a stack of books to his desk.

  “Why didn’t they at least put an age limit on the people we bring into our fold?”

  “Oh, come on Gus, they wanted you to name it.” Kal glared back at him and shook his head.

  “They only did that to torture me in the most cruel way.” Gus looked back with an exasperated shrug.

  “No they didn’t. This is the first union between your crafts. Each of you had a part in making it. If I’m not mistaken, you had the idea?”

  “I had nothing to do with the making of that… thing. They had Osric do that for them. And all I said was ‘Sure, if wand-making is so easy, why don’t you make a device that will allow anyone to do it?’ I had no idea those idiots would actually make it happen!”

  “This was only the most recent collaboration, wasn’t it?” Willam cocked his head questioningly.

  “Yes.” Gus stopped his retort short. He had to gain control over the exchange and over his emotions. There was no way he was going to let himself be bested in another conversation, as his pride was still stinging from his exchange with Toby. Then he smiled as he thought of another way to escape the endless drumming of voices. “But we need some more material to duplicate that wand. You two need to make yourselves useful and find us some sticks. I am tired of having to come here every morning to check on you. You are keeping me from checking on another one of our inventions.” The word felt bitter in his mouth, but he could think of no better way to extricate himself from their presence. A quick flip of his wrist and the door swung open.

  “Oh, the book!” Willam stood up, excited by the news. “How far have they translated? Are they going to let anyone have a copy when they get done, or are we going to have to take a class?”

  “While I am sure that is a great question, I am going to let you wait to ask someone less intelligent for an answer.” The door slammed shut and Gus turned to take the long walk to the library.

  “Nobody knows how we’re going to give them out. But I better be one of the first,” Gus muttered to himself as he scampered quickly through the halls, weighing the implications of having spoken spells available for masters to study. Better yet, having others be able to read something that had so far only been available to Osric would be nice.

  The dim, torch-lit hallways ended far sooner than he expected. Life began to bristle forth from the stairways, which always held too many people for a prairie dog to feel entirely comfortable. Pushing forward, Gus stepped into the large room laden with book-covered shelves as far as he could see.

  Gus grew calm as the musty odor of books filled his senses. There was something about the earthy texture and smell of the room that made him feel at home. It had been too long since he had returned to the damp, dark hole in the ground that he had called home, but with all the activity on the grounds outside the barracks, his many children had found a way to be useful in some small way. When it came to keeping the lush landscape in order and to preventing the overgrowth of unwanted foliage, the most diligent human gardener could not best one hundred or so prairie dogs.

  Gus still marveled at the number of books that had been acquired in the room over the short time since the maiden had moved their entire operation into the barracks and its grounds. Dozens of shelves were scattered throughout the room, and he could rarely make his way past any of them without a title grabbing at his attention. It was one more small annoyance that led Gus to despise that blasted gnome.

  This time, three separate books threatened to derail Gus’s thoughts as he traversed the labyrinth of over-tall shelves. The Abnormal Curvature of the Sync Strands by Kaleb Meldinge was one of the few books that he could remember from his early days of wand-making, and it brought back far more bad memories than good.

  The Observer’s Assessment of Iridescence in Wand-Craft by DeMikal Lulouvren was a book that had been making the rounds through the most prominent theorists in their primitive organization. Gus flagged down an attendant in the room and made sure to have the copy flagged to be delivered to his quarters. He wouldn’t let the man leave until the copy had been picked out of the stack. He wasn’t about to let another copy end up in the hands of lesser minds.

  The last book caught his attention more out of distaste than anything else. The Magical Adventures of Thomas the Tortoise by Legin Berrythorn was a vivid green leather-bound book setting askew in the lower shelf at the end of the row.

  “Just when I was thinking a library could be a useful tool for learning.” Gus huffed to himself and then made his way around the corner. Seven tables sat in the open area before him, and three had busy workers scribing the contents of the book that the eagles in the Caves of D’pareth had given to Osric not long ago.

  “Gus, what brings a busy gentleman like you to my humble section of this grand hall?” Eu
blin’s head poked out from behind a stack of books on the opposite side of the room. “When I hear breathing that contains that much contempt, I know it can only belong to you.”

  “A gnome should never be allowed to stand next to a stack of books that high.” Gus glared back at Eublin’s smirk.

  “And prairie dogs should never be allowed to be hunted.” Eublin lifted his head in anticipation of a reply. When sufficient time had passed with Gus making no attempt to continue their verbal exchange, Eublin continued. “I can tell by the look on your face that you have questions. However, I can never tell if those questions are for me or for another. All I can say for sure is that we will have a spoken spell book ready for your department by week’s end. These are all set aside for the folks in magical theory.”

  “I have instructed you numerous times that these books will not be set aside for my department. When a copy is ready, it should be delivered to my chambers and nowhere else. Those dolts have no idea what to do with this.”

  “Yes, yes. I recall your instructions. How could anyone forget to cater to your arrogance when you flaunt it so frequently? Your copy shall be delivered, as requested, within the week.”

  “Good, my arrogance will thank you profusely when I see the copy in my chambers.” The two shared a long silent stare before Eublin spoke.

  “Since you are here, I could use your help with a translation I have been struggling with.”

  “What makes you think I can help you with a translation? You are the one who has spent his life entombed in these dusty tomes, and only Osric can translate the spoken spells.”

  “Oh, I did not mean a translation for the spoken spells. I found an old journal that could be very useful in my research. Unfortunately, much of the writing is faded and some of it has been damaged over time by exposure. I did find a passage that indicates that the ink used was procured and processed from the blood of a dragon. I am sure it is a long shot, but I am hoping that your Wand-Maker’s sight might allow you to see more of the writing than I am able to without such a gift. Would you be willing to try?”