He brushed out the horses and saddled them up as he had been instructed. Just as he finished, the master of the livery arrived. Kalsh was no ordinary man. He stood more than a head taller than Zhimosom. He was powerful, yet he had a gentle way with the horses that Zhimosom wished the man had with his workers.
He limped over to Zhimosom and sniffed the air. "When is the last time you had a bath?" He grasped Zhimosom by the arm and turned him around, inspecting his clothing.
"Last week, Sir. I try to bathe at least every week."
"Hmph ... seems like you won't offend the high and mighty. Stay right here. They'll be down shortly." He headed towards the stables but stopped and turned back to Zhimosom. "I don't need to tell you to mind your manners, do I?"
"No, Sir," Zhimosom replied.
"Look sharp, then."
Two Guards wearing the Baron's colors arrived. They searched the livery and stable area for threats and, finding none, took up station next to the entryway doors. One of the Guards waved to someone outside and two high born women strode in. They were dressed in riding gear and had a regal air to them.
The older woman walked several paces ahead. She was middle aged, tall, and thin. She looked somehow familiar, but Zhimosom didn't know why.
A servant ran ahead and grabbed the wooden stairs, setting them next to the larger horse. The servant stood to the side and bowed his head deeply.
Zhimosom steadied the animal until the Baroness was seated. He held the reins and handed them to her while avoiding eye contact. The woman looked at him as if he were not there and stepped up to mount.
He turned to the other horse as the servant rushed around with the step to aid the younger woman.
It was Rotiaqua.
He had only caught a glimpse of her in person when she had freed him from the gaol. He had secretly hoped she would come and visit him almost as much as he feared any contact with royalty.
In his wool gathering, Zhimosom absentmindedly stepped back when he should have been steadying the horse. The horse obligingly followed his lead and stepped away from the stairs just as Rotiaqua was starting to mount. She stopped and looked over at him with a flash of anger.
Zhimosom lowered his eyes. "Sorry, Ma'am."
He quickly led the horse back into position and handed her the reins. She slid into the saddle and looked down at Zhimosom. "Boy!" she said firmly.
Zhimosom looked up at her. He almost stepped away again, worried about making eye contact with the Baron's daughter. Panic threatened to overwhelm him, but he was able to keep his composure so as not to spook the horse again.
"It's you," she said quietly. She backed the horse up a pace, leaned down until her head was near his and whispered. "You're more handsome in person than in my visions." She reached out and touched his cheek with her gloved hand, then gently shook the reins and trotted out of the stable.
That evening Zhimosom reached out to Rotiaqua as he was becoming accustomed to. He no longer needed the fire to see her image, she was just there. It was almost as if they were somehow joined together through their magic.
"How was your ride today?" he asked her when she appeared.
"It was pleasant. It was so good to see you in person."
Zhimosom felt his face grow warm. He was not used to women talking that way to him. He wasn't used to women talking to him at all. He'd had little opportunity for that back on the farm.
She reached out of the fire and touched his cheek. It was insubstantial, but he felt it, feather light and airy. He drew back from her touch.
"Are you shy?" she asked with a smile. "No need to be shy with me. We're becoming close friends, you and I. You have nothing to fear from me. Someday soon we will meet for more than a brief exchange at the stables."
"Please, Your Ladyship."
Rotiaqua's face grew stern. "Don't call me that. I'm not Your Ladyship. I'm your friend."
Rotiaqua's face softened. She lowered her eyes as if she was blinking back tears.
Maybe being Your Ladyship was less fun than Zhimosom imagined. "I'm sorry."
"I want you to treat me like a friend. I don't have any friends." Rotiaqua looked up and forced a smile. "Now, about our Wizard. Shall we have a look and see what he's up to?"
The saw mill had been demolished and the new Temple was taking shape. The foundations and exterior framing were already in place, but it was the interior where Sulrad could be found. The Temple workmen had completed a study and lavish private quarters for Sulrad, along with a dormitory, a communal eating area, and a kitchen.
Sulrad sat before the candle in his study, reading from a scroll, and making notes on sheets of parchment. He bent over his task, diligently scrawling away. His image was murky and indistinct.
Sulrad sat back and made motions in the air before him. A small cloud of silver dust formed and coalesced into the form of a building. The room and the Priest came into sharp focus almost as if Zhimosom and Rotiaqua were standing in the study with Sulrad.
"What was that?" Rotiaqua asked.
"I think he's casting a spell. Do you think that he's more visible because he's performing magic?" Zhimosom panicked at the thought. "Are we?"
"I don't know that much about magic. Maybe it works that way."
"We'd better be careful. If we can see him when he does magic, he can probably see us, too." Zhimosom was worried now. If the Priest could sense them, Rotiaqua would be in danger. Sulrad was a frequent visitor to the castle and came in contact with her quite often.
"What can we do about it?"
"We need to find a way to hide ourselves, so he can't see us." Zhimosom thought about the idea of creating a shield. He felt that they could find a way to hide their magic. If only he had someone to ask. Other more experienced Wizards must have figured this out already, but the only Wizard he knew was Sulrad.
"Wouldn't he have seen us already?" Rotiaqua sounded worried, too.
"Maybe he's not looking." Zhimosom tried to reassure her. "Let's not do anything to attract his attention."
Zhimosom spent the next several moons working with Rotiaqua to develop a way to shield their magic. He figured that if they could hide their magic from each other, they should be safe from Sulrad. At first, his attempts didn't work, but eventually he was able to do simple conjurations without her being able to sense him. When he was not trying to hide, she was able to feel it when he used magic. Soon they had spells that protected them both from discovery while performing their magic.
They continued to spy on Sulrad as the temple rose around him. He spent most of his time in his study filing page after page of parchment until he had several large books bound. He was clearly getting ready for something; they just couldn't figure out what.
Zhimosom was sleeping peacefully after a long day's work at the stables, when he was jarred awake by Rotiaqua's magic. "Sulrad has a mini dragon," she said without introduction. "He demanded it as payment for his continuing support. He confronted the King's men again and killed two dozen of them.
"I don't know where my father located a mini-dragon, but Sulrad said he needs it to power the spells he is using to overcome our enemies."
"What's so special about a mini dragon?" Zhimosom asked.
"They're magic. When I was a little girl, one came to me. It landed on my arm. My father killed it, but not before its blood mixed with mine. I can still feel that magic. It's in me. That's how I became a Sorceress."
Zhimosom wasn't sure about the mini dragon. He had never heard of such creatures. "What do you think he means to do with the mini dragon?"
"He's going to sacrifice it and take its magic."
"Why would he sacrifice it?"
"Why else would he want a mini dragon? If it was life force he wanted, anything would do. He was insistent that it be a mini dragon. He knows they have magic."
"We had better see what he's up to, then."
They had become quite adept at spying on the Wizard and Zhimosom felt no qualms about dropping in on him at any time.
/>
Zhimosom and Rotiaqua watched as Sulrad prepared the mini dragon, just as he had done before with the rabbit. Sulrad sat quietly with the knife pressed between his palms, hands expressing his prayer, eyes closed, until the moment the moonbeam struck the animal.
Sulrad slashed the creature's throat and stood by as power floated from the mini dragon and settled on him. After the flash that signaled the completion of the transfer, Sulrad looked up.
Zhimosom felt Rotiaqua draw back in shock. Her quick withdrawal unbalanced his shields and Zhimosom knew he had exposed his observation to Sulrad. The Priest turned and looked straight at him.
"Ah, an intruder," Sulrad said. "Welcome, welcome. No need to rush away, come talk with me." He motioned to the table where the animal had been sacrificed.
A magical pull drew Zhimosom into the room in the Temple. He fought back, but Sulrad was strong, too strong. He felt his will weakening as Sulrad tugged at him. The mini dragon's magic must have added to Sulrad's own. He had pierced Zhimosom's shield with ease, and was drawing Zhimosom to him.
Zhimosom fought the pull, but he felt himself losing the battle. He saw the room flicker around him as he was pulled to the Temple. The walls of his room began to fade, to be replaced by Sulrad's sacrifice chamber.
"Hold on," Rotiaqua said.
Rotiaqua joined her magic back to Zhimosom's and pulled. Zhimosom raised the shield they had practiced, fighting against the Priest until suddenly the room was dark and Sulrad was gone.
"He saw me!" Zhimosom tried to calm his breathing, but the fear threatened to overwhelm him.
"He doesn't know who you are. If you can keep your shields up, you should be safe. I don't think he saw me, though. He would have recognized me."
"That was too close. Maybe we'd better stay away from him for a while." Zhimosom dropped the connection to Rotiaqua and tried to get back to sleep, but the brush with Sulrad had unnerved him and he could only lay there wondering what he had gotten himself into.
The Temple was nearing completion. Zhimosom and Rotiaqua had often watched Sulrad as he worked in his study or performed sacrifices in the Temple. They were becoming close and spoke almost daily.
One morning, Zhimosom was told to prepare the horses for Rotiaqua and the Baroness, he was excited to see her in person again, yet he was still nervous about being around a Royal.
He busied himself by brushing and saddling the horses and preparing for the arrival of the Baroness. Two Guards entered the stable.
"The Baroness Rieck and the Mistress Rotiaqua," one of them shouted. The Guard glanced over at Zhimosom and nodded.
The Baroness strode in confidently ahead of her daughter. She was arguing with Rotiaqua about her dress. Zhimosom didn't understand what they were fighting about. Apparently, the Baroness though Rotiaqua was improperly dressed for the outing or was going to be improperly dressed for some future outing. It was hard to follow as Zhimosom watched Rotiaqua climb up on her horse.
Rotiaqua was distracted, arguing with her mother and was not paying attention to her horse. The horse startled as she mounted and stepped away from the step. Rotiaqua lost her balance and swung her arms out to steady herself.
Zhimosom let go of the horse and ran to catch her. She tumbled off the step and landed squarely in his arms. He almost buckled under her sudden weight, but managed to keep his balance.
Rotiaqua looked up at him. "My, you're strong. Thanks for catching me."
Zhimosom blushed and quickly lowered her to her feet. "Sorry, Your Ladyship."
He lowered his gaze, knowing what trouble he could get into just for looking at her. It was a fear he lived with since they had first spoken many moons ago.
She reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. "You're getting tall."
He flinched as she touched him. He knew she wanted him to look at her, but he kept his eyes averted.
"Guard," shouted the Baroness.
Zhimosom turned to see the Baroness looking at him in rage.
"Take that man to the stocks. No commoner looks at my daughter, much less touches her."
The Guards grabbed him and knocked him to his knees. Zhimosom hung his head, avoiding eye contact with the Baroness as she raged on. "How dare you look at my daughter, you filthy swine? You will sorely regret taking that liberty by the time the sun goes down."
"Mother!" Rotiaqua stomped over to the Baroness. "He only saved me from getting hurt. He did nothing wrong."
"I'm done arguing with you." The Baroness turned to the Guard. "I said take him to the stocks and lock him there until dusk. That should give him time to think about touching his betters."
She turned back to Rotiaqua. "You get on your horse. I've planned a pleasant ride and you're not spoiling it, not over a dress, and not over a stable hand who doesn't know his place."
"Mother, please," Rotiaqua begged. "He did nothing wrong."
"I said I was done arguing with you. Get moving." The Baroness reined her horse and headed out of the stables.
"Please don't do this," Rotiaqua begged the Guard.
"Orders, Your Ladyship." He jerked Zhimosom to his feet.
"You don't have to do this," Rotiaqua said. "Please."
"Sorry, My Lady. The Baroness will check to see that it was done. You know that."
Rotiaqua turned to Zhimosom. "I'm sorry. Truly, I am."
Zhimosom lowered his eyes to the ground without a word. The Guard pulled at his arm, dragging him out of the stables.
The trek to the market was punctuated with jeers and cat calls from the onlookers. Zhimosom tried to keep his head down and subservient throughout the walk of shame.
They placed him in the stocks, slamming the heavy wooden clamps closed with a thud. The Guard placed a peg in the stocks to lock them shut and laughed. "Have fun today, son. We'll be back to get you at dusk. Unless we get distracted by some fair maiden."
"Don't forget me!" Zhimosom shouted.
The Guard laughed. "Don't worry, boy. Someone will take pity on you and let you out. They always do."
Zhimosom pulled at the rough wood, but it was no use. He was held fast. His back was bent and his legs cramped as he was forced to stoop.
A young boy and girl were the first ones to pass his way. The boy looked up at him and nudged his sister. She giggled and turned her head away as they hurried by.
A boy of about eight summers came along next. He stopped before the stocks and put his hands on his hips. "You, there!" He picked up a rotten tomato from a nearby stall and threw it at Zhimosom. It struck the stocks and splattered red juice across Zhimosom's face. The boy searched the ground, looking for another missile.
A woman in simple dress appeared from behind the stall. "Don't waste food on the likes of that." She grabbed him by the ear and pulled him along.
As the day wore on, the ache in Zhimosom's legs become intolerable. A few youngsters had come by to kick at him or spit in his face, but most were quickly hauled off by their parents, or lost interest when he didn't react.
Zhimosom used the time to practice his shields until he was able to protect himself adequately. Early in the afternoon, a crowd of youngsters arrived, milling around a boy of about ten summers in age. The youth separated himself from the crowd and approached the stocks.
"What'd you do?" he demanded. "Did you get caught having relations with a swine?"
Zhimosom remained silent. He hoped the youth would go away, but it didn't look like he would. Zhimosom raised his shields in preparation for whatever the youth had in mind. He steeled himself and waited.
The youth stepped back and looked around. He found a stone, about the size of his closed fist. He hauled back and screamed at Zhimosom.
"Didn't you hear me? I asked you what you did. Do you want me to throw this rock at your head?"
Zhimosom remained silent.
The other boys taunted the youth with the rock. "Throw it. He's just a stable boy. Throw it. That's why he's here, so we can have a little fun."
Zhimosom looked at t
he boy. He hardened his shields and focused his attention on the rock the youth held. He envisioned it getting hotter and hotter. He saw it as red hot and hissing, sitting there in the boy's hand.
The youth suddenly dropped the rock. He shook his hand as if it had been burned, and stuck it in his armpit. He looked back at Zhimosom with fear in his eye, then down at the rock. He reached down to touch it, only to have it sizzle and hiss as his finger came in contact. He pulled his hand away quickly, sticking the finger in his mouth.
"Come on, throw it," taunted the other boys. The youth looked at his friends and shook his head, then turned and walked slowly away.
Zhimosom breathed a sigh of relief. He was able to tolerate the occasional clod of dirt or spoiled fruit, but rocks were another matter. He raised his eyes to watch the boys run off, pushing and shoving as they taunted the youth who had dropped the rock.
Off in the crowd, Zhimosom caught sight of the black robes of the Priest he and Rotiaqua had been observing. Sulrad turned to look at him and Zhimosom knew that Sulrad had sensed the magic when Zhimosom protected himself from the boy.
Sulrad turned and strode towards Zhimosom.
Zhimosom struggled in the stocks. He reached out with his magic to pull the pin that secured them shut. He wanted to run, to get away from the Priest. He felt the pin wriggle loose and fall to the ground just as a young girl dressed in ragged clothes with a yoke around her neck and two pails of water crashed into Sulrad.
It was Brill!
She turned her head to him and motioned him to run while she apologized profusely but kept Sulrad focused on her and the water that was turning the ground beneath him to mud.
Zhimosom pulled free of the stocks and ran off into the crowd, silently thanking the girl for interfering on his behalf.
Temple
Rotiaqua had watched as the factor's lot was cleared and the new structure rose. It was a grand Temple with room for hundreds of followers. There were as yet few, but word was getting around that those who embraced the new god Ran had found fortune in their business and were plagued by fewer illnesses.
Wizard Pair (Book 3) Page 8