As Bridgett sat and grappled with the implications of the sight, she heard footsteps approach and stop just outside of her cell. The small stone lights that lined the tunnel lit as the iruas approached, and she could clearly see the space of her confinement. She was so stunned by the past moment’s realization that she did not even rise to her feet as the key was turned in the lock.
17 – Naming the Crew
“You need a storefront, little one, a way to engage the common folk. If you don’t do that, you are going to be held to these meager earnings for a long time.”
Pebble studied the older man’s face curiously as he watched him place a small bag of gold on the table. Is the man joking? he wondered. It was exactly this sort of trading that supported the barracks in Stanton. Pebble had held a half-dozen meetings a day with wealthy officials for weeks, just to demonstrate the power of his new wands. Those meetings had allowed him to eat well, as well as provide rather steadily for a growing population of recruits. One thing he had learned from his father was that the common man could not afford as much as the upper class could—and he had to make every day count until his brand could stand on its own. A wealthy merchant from Stanton had introduced Pebble to the Hain of Beoforth, the second in command to the ryhain of the small fishing community a few miles west of Stanton. Pebble hoped that if this sale went well, he would have the opportunity to meet with the ryhain and other government officials of the surrounding cities.
Pebble was sure that if his wands were on the hips and in the hands of the realm’s leaders while they rode through each town, and they were only available to the socially elite, they would fly out faster than he could produce them when he made them available to the common man. He had already built up a considerable stockpile of wands in a special hidden location, but he would need to spend another few months making wands before he would be ready to open a shop.
Pebble considered his response as he carefully levitated the bag of gold into the chest he had brought with him. Careful not to let the man see him make the gold travel to a temporary safe hold, Pebble withdrew a staff he had crafted into a truly unique wand for his most recent customer.
The prairie dog pup prided himself on how well he had learned proper manners and etiquette when dealing with nobility. Still, his greatest achievement was mastering a way of speech that would not cause them to immediately cast him out, but rather endeared them to him. He felt that he finally, at long last, understood the way the world worked. He smiled.
“They don’t have as many fine gentlemen in the streets. What need do I have of a cart when I have such good arrangements with you’s folks?” Pebble cringed at the way his last line had climbed in pitch. He had relaxed too much and slipped into his former speech pattern as well.
Dressed in a finely tailored white trench coat, the man reached out for the staff with eager hands. He noticed the worried expression on Pebble’s face with a smile. Then he set to studying the wand for sturdiness, pacing from one side of the room to the other. Walking toward a mirrored wall, he studied his reflection. His narrow eyes strolled carefully over the whole of his appearance. Pebble admired the man’s posture as he watched. The tall, slender human held himself with pride, tucking his hand in the breast of his jacket. He looked regal with the elaborate staff in his heavily jeweled grasp. He twirled the staff in his right hand as he took a few steps to a chair and sat down, laying the staff across his lap.
Pebble watched as the top of the staff was lit. He loved to watch this part of the exchange, knowing what was being experienced and knowing how pleased each customer was with their purchase. However, he did not dare to watch this part with his gift. A power lock was far too bright to be witnessed with anything other than everyday, normal eyes. In spite of this fact, he could see a great deal to indicate the quality of the wand by just watching the length and brightness of the power lock, as well as the expression on the user’s face.
A few minutes later, the brilliance of the light in the room began to fade. Pebble watched the man's face transition from rapture to surrender to peace to gratitude and then to a look of sheer befuddlement as his eyes opened once again.
After searching the ceiling with his gaze for a moment, the hain let out a short, loud laugh and turned back toward Pebble with a smile.
“Can I offer you a bit of wisdom, little one?”
“Yes, sir.” Pebble bowed his head slightly, not knowing what to expect.
“You see, Wand-Makers are in a class of their own. Many of the more well-known ones have been entertained by some of the most powerful men in all of Archana.”
“My pa has too. He’s the best Wand-Maker in the world,” Pebble said excitedly. The man donned a curious expression, and Pebble assumed he doubted the truth of his words. Feeling like he wasn’t being taken serious, he continued. “My pa is the best. His name is Gus, I’s promise.” He panicked again at his vocal slip, hoping that it wouldn’t cost him an introduction to another customer with a purse as giving as the man’s had been.
“What I am trying to tell you is this,” the hain said with a sympathetic smile. “Wand-Makers are a social order of their own. They have no official standing within the government, with the exception of those born into the right family with the gift. But even the turgent would feel lucky to be in the company of a Wand-Maker of note. If you had met many of the more prominent ones in the craft, you would know that they all come with very distinct personalities.” He chuckled. “Being a noble myself, I can tell you that I have been cursed at more than once by your kind. I have no hard feelings toward any of them either. I count myself lucky to be in the presence of any famous Wand-Maker.”
In driving his point home, the hain emphasized words that evidently meant something to him, but Pebble was at a loss.
“You don’t need to worry so much about the words you choose. All that matters to us is this,” the hain said abruptly, butting the base of his staff on the stone floor quickly and decisively. “You can fart, cuss, trip, insult, stammer, and burp your way around anywhere in this world.” He held up a thick finger for Pebble to wait. “Just don’t steal, and keep making these. Your age was evident to me the moment I met you, and I have absolutely no issue with having a child make me a wand of this quality. If Gus is your father, I think I understand how you could accomplish this so early in your career. I can only imagine what you will be able to do when you are his age.” He nodded, satisfied with his explanation.
As the hain ran his free hand down the front of his tailored coat, Pebble felt his worry subside.
“Now, let’s transfer everything out of my old stick, and then I’ll speak to a few men that would love to own a Pebble wand. I won’t get to boast for very long, but I did own one first. That ought to count for something, right?” he said with a wink.
Pebble followed the hain across the luxuriously furnished room to a large desk, still doubtful that his age and inexperience in the world would not hurt his business. Yet, the hain’s reassurance gave him some hope that he could one day be as famous as his father. The man noticed Pebble’s doubtful expression, and he laughed at some private joke before turning toward the pup with a measuring eye.
“You said Gus is your father?”
“Yep,” Pebble said, always eager to discuss his dad.
“I would have thought you'd do more farting, cursing, and insulting. This cute act you have, now that’s a winner. I wish we could teach more Wand-Makers to act like you.”
* * *
Pebble appeared on a mountaintop, happy to be back after weeks of gathering gold from strangers in unfamiliar towns. There was an abundance of eagles about, but none of the ones he had gotten to know were around, though he knew it was safe for him to come and go as he pleased.
He scurried into the entrance, eager to get to his goal but a bit disappointed that his friends were not there when he arrived. The familiar sulfur smell greeted him as he entered D’pareth. Scampering through the tunnels, Pebble greeted the giant birds as he passed
by. He knew the route well, and soon he was jumping up the thick steps and deactivating the shield across an opening with a whispered word. Inside the chamber, his meager earnings remained safe and hidden until Pebble could deliver them discreetly in Stanton. He wished that he could just give the coin to Gus, but he still feared that his father was angry about something he had done. Perhaps if he made enough money selling wands to help Osric his dad would forgive him.
Looking around the large space, Pebble remembered the first time he had journeyed to the Caves of D’pareth. He had accidentally stowed away in the baggage when Osric, Gus, and the others had left Stanton on dragonback. His father had been angry with him then too. A young eagle had attacked the travelers, and Greyback the dragon had been too injured to fly. While she healed, they had stayed in the eagle city high up on the mountain peaks, and Pebble had seen the scariest fire telling of his whole life in the chamber where he currently stood.
Osric had placed the cart of Dwarven weapons in the very same chamber after they had freed the dragons at Braya. Naturally, it was the place Pebble felt his gold would be safest until he had saved up enough to risk a trip to Stanton. When he did return, he kept a wary eye out for his father. He didn’t want to get yelled at, so he hoped that his hiding place would remain a secret until he had the nerve to return and find out what he had done wrong.
Everything was as he had left it. The chamber was almost empty, since Osric had collected the wagon of weapons a few months back. There were a few small artifacts on shelves near the door, and Pebble’s savings were piled against the far wall. The last few weeks, he had met more nobility than in any of the months before, leaving him with twelve large sacks of coin and causing him to seek the chamber as a hiding place. Ero had been happy to let him use it when he asked, although the eagle was curious as to why Pebble was traveling all alone. Pebble had puffed out his tiny chest and claimed that he was old enough to be independent. The longer he was away, though, the more he missed his home. Yet, he still felt timid about returning. If it wasn’t for the fact that it was his birthday, he may have waited another week.
His birthday had him longing to see his family. He felt lonely in spite of the accomplishments he had made selling wands to provide for his friends, though they were really more like family. He wanted nothing more than to forget all of the work and have fun for a day. This was, after all, the day to do it, if there ever was such a day.
He had spent a great deal of time working lately. After he had fled from Stanton, he was determined to show Pa that his wands could sell. He didn’t understand why his father had reacted the way he had. Wasn’t a Wand-Maker supposed to find his own way to make wands? He could have duplicated Gus’s wands for some time, but he had been challenged to find his own version for his whole life.
With a determined mind, he had set out to do just that, knowing that he could return at any time with just a few words. In spite of his desire to return, everyone he had encountered on his last few trips had indicated that his father was still upset. Every time someone who knew his father saw him, they yelled at him. Pebble couldn’t figure out why his dad was mad. Did he not notice how well Pebble was doing with his sales? Had he made a mistake by leaving the bags on doorsteps with notes? Had someone taken the gold and used it for themselves? Pebble hoped that when he returned with stories of his success his father would be proud instead of angry.
Pebble had met the first lord who purchased one of his new wands by the most clever of means. He was proud of how he had done it and of how much he had sold the wand for. He had walked straight up to the door and knocked. He planned to give each of the people who objected to him meeting the owner of the immense home a free wand to demonstrate the quality. Luckily, when he had brandished the wand and pitched the plan to the woman at the door, he was hurried straight into the master’s chambers for an audience, and he hadn’t had to give her anything.
“Do you know how much clout there is for the first person to purchase a great wand?” the man had asked.
Pebble had no idea what it meant, but the man demonstrated how happy he was to have bought the first one by making arrangements for Pebble to meet two dozen of his closest friends later that same day over dinner. He quickly realized that he should raise the price of his wands. He had chosen ten gold, the same price his father charged his noble patrons, but it seemed that the men who gathered for the introduction were willing to pay much more.
He had nearly doubled the cost since that day, and none of those purchasing his wands had thought to haggle. His father had taught him that prices weren’t set correctly until they offer you less at least once in the transaction. Those who purchased from him not only paid what he asked, but they had contacted several of their acquaintances by wand and made introductions. He knew the wands had been sold before he had ever set out to their homes.
Traveling was also becoming quite familiar. Albeit scary at first, he learned it was rather easy as long as he got good directions from the customers. He was able to traverse great distances in a short amount of time by traveling to the furthest point his vision could reach and by repeating the process while following the route they had described. He could complete a three-day journey in the time it took the sun to move a quarter of its daily path, and he had been to places that his father had never mentioned in his travel stories.
He didn’t understand why his pa was mad, but he knew that he needed to get the bags to them in case they were needed. Sitting in the same chamber that he and his pa had been in together almost a year earlier made him even more anxious to return. Surely, he wouldn’t be in trouble if he could show that he had earned as much as he had on this trip. So, he quickly tied the sacks together with some twine to link them with him. Holding the end of the twine in his paw and shaking slightly with apprehension, he traveled back to Stanton. He hoped he would be able to at least get a glimpse of his pa.
* * *
Osric sat in the center of the cave with four eyes watching him attentively. Each time he moved his hand or shifted his weight, the eager eyes followed every nuance of movement. Osric carefully formed a small ball of fire above his outstretched hand, keeping the elemental shape but withholding the heat. One of the paun grew excited and blinked out of sight, and Osric immediately withdrew the magic, and the fire disappeared. The paun reappeared, its head drooping, and both paun whined with garbled growls of frustration. Osric watched them silently until they were both sitting quietly again in the visible realm. He reformed the fireball. After a moment, as both paun sat watching without making a sound or going invisible, Osric threw the ball through the cave entrance in a high arc. The paun trembled, but they remained seated on the cave floor. Osric smiled and whistled sharply, signaling for the paun to go.
The two paun sprang from their positions and leapt after the fireball. Their limbs moved at a blurred speed, the multiple joints of their legs allowing them to move faster than any four-legged animal Osric had ever seen. One of the young paun was slightly larger than the other and tended to have the advantage in these contests Osric had created. This time, though, the smaller and more excitable paun jumped onto its sibling’s back and launched itself into the air, snapping through the ball of fire with its powerful jaws before it reached the ground.
The larger paun nipped at the other’s hind legs with a vicious growl, but they both came galloping back to the cave without Osric having to whistle the return signal. When they entered the cave, sliding to a stop on the stone floor, Osric awarded the winner the hindquarters of a rabbit, while the slower and less resourceful paun received a smaller morsel of meat.
Over the past couple of weeks, Osric had worried constantly about what to do with the young paun. He certainly couldn’t take them back to Stanton with him, because he had no idea how they would behave among so many people. He was amazed at how quickly they learned and at how well they responded to his system of awards and affection, but they were still wild and unpredictable beasts. They quarreled frequently with each oth
er, oftentimes drawing blood with their razor sharp teeth before Osric could cast a shield of energy between them that would sting their skin on contact. Gradually, they were becoming less aggressive to each other, and they never showed any sign of being a threat to Osric, but they had not encountered any other people in the time he had spent with them. The paun could hunt for themselves, and Osric had successfully trained them to respond to a few basic hand signals and various whistle lengths and tones. Still, he could not stay with them, and they could not go to the city.
Suddenly, a shrill ringing sound cut through the silence, and Osric pulled out his wand to quiet the spell while the paun whined pitifully at the high-pitched noise. He quickly gathered his things, strapping on his sword and slinging his pack over one shoulder. Osric had designed the spell so that it would signal him before it triggered, and there was a lot at stake in him being there at the time it all happened. So, he signaled the two paun to stay in the cave, knowing they would hunt when hungry but otherwise await his return, and he traveled to Stanton.
The Well of Strands (Osric's Wand, Book Three) Page 21