by Megan Derr
By Megan Derr
Published by Less Than Three Press
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.
Edited by Katherine Bittner Cover designed by Megan Derr
This book is a work of fiction and as such all characters and situations are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental. Second Edition February 2011
Copyright © 2011 by Megan Derr Printed in the United States of America
ISBN 978-1-936202-66-9
Megan Derr
The Search for Secret 5 Seacrist Sacrifice 28
The Search for Secret
Tolan passed the time by alternating between tidying up the shop, catching up the
paperwork, and plotting his master's demise. He really shouldn't be resentful—it was standard practice to make the apprentice work while the master caroused with the rest of the city during the three day Winter Solstice festival. Still, he was a third year apprentice. Just two years away from making journeyman. He was a bit past being made to babysit the shop, especially when everyone was too busy getting drunk and having fun to require his services.
Scowling at a group of revelers who stumbled past the front window, he returned to the ledger he'd been working on, adding in the last of the receipts that his master had failed—as usual—to add when he should have. Instead, the bastard just let the work pile up and pile up, then skipped off to have fun, sticking Tolan with all of it.
It might be his master's name on the shop sign, but pretty much everyone knew who really did all the work.
Tolan sighed and closed the ledger, then replaced it in its proper drawer in the desk. Even on an ordinary day, their shop was quiet. Oh, people needed their services—but as often as not, they didn't want to speak too loudly of that which they had lost. If only he did not have his damnable ethics, he could retire on blackmail money and never work another day.
Rolling his eyes, Tolan pulled out another book and began with disinterest to study it. He didn't particularly need to; he was well ahead of his training. If only his master was not a lazy bastard, he could give Tolan more of his tests, and speed him right on through to journeyman. But no, his master never did anything before he absolutely had to—except run off to carouse.
Sighing, Tolan focused on his book. Left to do the bulk of the work, he had learned all his lessons well ahead of schedule. By the time he was able to move to journeyman, he would probably be at a master level.
All he lacked was the license to practice most of the magic he used every day—the other reason he could not retire on blackmail money. All his customers knew his dirty secret too; an unlicensed apprentice practicing high level magic. Even with his master's permission, it wasn't legal.
But, there was no point in being a Finder without the high level spells. Apprentice spells were for finding lost combs and other nonsense people preferred not to pay others to find. No, people only came to Finders to figure out at which house they had left their jewels, or where their spouse was hiding incriminating letters from a lover.
Sometimes, they cut to the chase, and simply asked where the cheating spouse had gone. Things of that nature. It was intriguing work, if not always pleasant—especially since, barring very particular circumstances, it was illegal to search for people. Invasion of privacy and all that, not that anyone believed Finders respected privacy.
He wondered, occasionally, just what he had been thinking when he'd decided to pursue Finder magic. It could be such interesting work, though—and he did like it when someone simply wanted to locate a missing cat, when a wedding band that had gotten lost while doing laundry, or a stolen purse.
Tolan sighed and daydreamed about finding a missing purse, and the grateful customer giving him the abundant contents of it in gratitude. He was just about to doze off from sheer boredom when the bell above the door tinkled, and he jerked upright in his seat.
Straightening his clothes, he stood up and strode to the counter that kept people from the backrooms. The main area was composed of simple tables, chairs, sofas—various ways of sitting, to offer customers whatever made them most comfortable. An oversized parlor, really, suitable for figuring out where Fluffy had gone off to this time, the damned cat.
For those requiring more privacy, there were the backrooms.
He frowned as he spotted his customer, and drew to an uncertain halt as the visitor saw him. The child began to wail, and clearly he had been crying something fierce for the past while. Tears and snot and dirt covered the little boy's face, his hair was badly mussed, and his clothes were beyond saving.
"Secret! Secret!" The boy wailed, and reached out with tiny, grubby hands to cling as best he could to Tolan's breeches. "Secret! Find secret!"
Tolan knelt, and took the dirty hands in his own, frowning. "Where is your mother?"
The little boy began to cry in earnest. "Secret," he choked out miserably. "Find secret." Oh, bother it. Scooping the boy up, utterly confounded when he clung for dear life, Tolan moved to one of the small sofas and settled the boy in his lap.Honestly, shouldn't the child know better than to be so easy with strangers? What sort of idiot parent had let the boy from his sight? "Now, then, we will find secret," he said briskly, wishing suddenly he'd paid a bit more attention to how his mother talked to his siblings when they were babies.
"Find secret?" the boy asked. What the devil did that mean?
"Where is your mother?" Tolan asked again. "Your father? Guardian?"
"Secret!" the boy said, lighting up.
Tolan felt a headache coming on. "Secret?" "Find secret! Find secret!" The boy reached out and grabbed at the gold broach pinned to Tolan's jacket—the Eye of the Finders, though his was marked with runes denoting his apprentice status. The boy looked up at him, and any thought of saying no fled forever as the plaintive green eyes stared up at him full of misery, confusion, and need. Argh!What the hell was he supposed to do with a child? And what did 'find secret' mean?
"What is secret?" Tolan asked, stifling a sigh. Honestly, he had no idea what to do with a child. Was he more than five? Less than five? How did one tell? Less than five, he decided. Surely much, much younger, but he had no idea, really.
"Secret mine," the boy said firmly. "Gardy. Secret mine gardy."
"Secret…mine…oh! Secret is your guardian?"
The boy nodded and resumed his litany of 'Find Secret'.
"What is your name?" Tolan asked.
"Goz," the boy said. "Find Secret?"
Tolan stifled a sigh. "Yes, I will help you find Secret."
He had no idea how he was going to find 'Secret' and what kind of name was that? "Did you get lost in the crowd?"
The boy nodded, and began to sniffle again. Tolan awkwardly patted his back, and ruffled his hair, grimacing when his hand came away covered in muck. "I think, Master Goz, that you will first need a bit of a cleaning. Then we shall find Secret, or try anyway. What does he look like?"
Goz frowned at him, looking so helplessly confused and frustrated that Tolan almost laughed.
"Secret big? Small?" "Big!" Goz replied eagerly. Tolan suddenly realized that to a small child who was still struggling with sentences, everyone was probably big. "Hair?" he asked. "Like mine? Like yours?" His own hair was a fairly common brown, to go with his equally common brown eyes.
Goz frowned, then shook his head, and tugged at Tolan's jacket, which was a severe black.
So, big and had black hair. "Let's get you cleaned up," Tolan said, and stood up, still cradling Goz in his arms. Moving to the front door, he flipped the sign to closed with only a faint niggling of guilt, then strode toward the backrooms to see what could be done about an
impromptu bath.
Nearly an hour later, both he and Goz were dry and dressed in clean clothes—well, Goz was dressed in what Tolan had managed to fit on him while his clothes dried. His own had suffered while getting Goz cleaned, and he stifled another sigh at the thought of the laundry he would now have to do two days early.
Why, he wondered, did people seek to have children? He'd only had this one an hour or so, and it was already driving him mad. Plopping Goz down in one of the overstuffed chairs, admonishing him not to fall out of it, he went to fetch his tools.
Finding people was illegal—people had a right to their privacy, after all. If a man wanted to cheat on his spouse, well, that was his decision. The wife had a right to know, naturally, that she was being dishonored, but that did not mean she had the right to invade his privacy, however illicitly he spent it.
There were, however, exceptions. Missing children was one of those exceptions. Tolan hoped the missing Secret had sought out a Finder of his own, and that shortly this entire mess would be cleared right up.
On the chance no one had hired a Finder, however…surely finding the missing Guardian of a lost child was sufficient grounds for breaking the rules?
Anyway, if he was caught for it—as an apprentice, his master would get the brunt of it for leaving him unsupervised and the necessary equipment easily accessible.
"Find Secret?" Goz asked, looking so hopeful that Tolan could not stay irritated. "Try to find," he corrected. Throughout the bath, he had worked painstakingly to compile the best description he could of the missing Secret. Big, black hair, gray eyes—he thought—had a sword, wearing green and black. He had worked with less.
Writing out the proper runes on the scry board, he then pulled out the crystal he kept on a silver chain around his neck. Goz' eyes went wide, and he promptly pulled his fingers from his mouth to reach out toward the sparkling, sharp-pointed crystal.
"No," Tolan said firmly, then continued more gently when Goz flinched, "I need it to find Secret. You can play with it later, okay?"
Sniffling a little bit, Goz nodded. "Find Secret," he said. Tolan nodded, and ruffled his hair, then looked over his work. The description, as well as Goz', to connect seeker and sought. Their names, the city marks written in, hopefully he would not have to expand the search area…
That should do it. He hoped.
Holding the silver chain, he let the crystal hover over the scry board and closed his eyes. "Be quiet, okay, Goz? Finding Secret."
Goz said nothing, and Tolan nodded, then mentally recited the necessary incantations. Several long, frustrating minutes later, he gave upwith a sigh and rubbed his aching forehead. It was no good. The crystal could not find Secret. Something in the information he had was flawed—the crystal was confused, and could not find what was sought. Best guess, the names weren't right. What did he expect, really, from a child who could barely talk?
"Find Secret?" Goz asked, lower lip trembling, eyes watering. "Not yet," Tolan said, trying to sound soothing. "We'll go look for him." It would just have to be the hard way, and wasn't that going to make for a fun day? Surely someone was looking for Goz—why wouldn't they? Didn't someone want his son back? His nephew? His whatever? What sort of Guardian lost a child, anyway?
Tolan sighed. "Want a snack, Goz? Food?"
"Snack!" Goz said, tears forgotten in the joys of food. Then he said, "Secret?" "Soon," Tolan said, sighing again, and picked Goz up before ambling back to his own bedroom to fetch his coin purse and suitable gear for the elements. Goz' clothes weren't dry, but there was no real help for it—they would be in the city likely all day, and winter was no time of year to be walking around in wet clothes. Never mind the festival.
It occurred to him suddenly that it was likely being dragged around through the festival that had gotten Goz lost in the first place. Well, he'd simply have to be more careful than Secret. Settling his purse, throwing a few basic Finder tools into a satchel, he locked up the shop and tucked away the key. He settled Goz more comfortably in his arms and headed out to the one place he would hopefully be able to find information in addition to food.
The Fat Rabbit was a small but prosperous inn and tavern at the end of his street, Rabbit Lane. Back when he had first moved here, and had nowhere else to stay, they had let him stay on for little more than chores until he'd finally gotten his odious master to accept him as an apprentice. He still wished he could simply pack up and head to the larger cities to find a master, but that required more coin than he had, and an explanation as to why he had left a perfectly good apprenticeship—not that he would ever describe it that way.
Anyway, Saltmore was as large a city as he wanted to go. He didn't like the grander cities, even if the pay and opportunity would be better for a Finder. He didn't want to be good enough to find criminals and such for the King—he just wanted to keep finding lost jewels and naughty letters.
He also wanted to find Secret, before he and Goz froze to death. The Fat Rabbit was a crowded mess when he reached it, so full that more than a few well-marinated patrons had taken over the space in front of the inn. Normally, this would annoy the shop keeps in the area, but tonight he saw all of them in the crowd. Shoving his way through them, holding tightly to Goz, who had begun to cry, he threw himself into the inn and muscled his way to the bar.
"Layla," he gasped out to the woman tending bar like a general would his battlefield. "Help." She shoved some drinks at a handful of woodsmen, then quirked a brow at him. Wiping her hands on a cloth, she muscled aside some other workers and came up to him. "What have we here now? Do you even know what that is, young Master Lakeith?"
He glared at her. "It's a baby. A child. It's a bloody nuisance, is what it is. Can't we sit down somewhere?" "Oh, aye," she said. "If only so I can hear the whole of this tale.It looks a right good one. Come on, then." She scowled as someone crashed into her, and gave the man a shove. "Here, now, you lummox, watch it!"
"Sorry, Layla!" the man said, and fled. Snorting at him, Layla motioned for Tolan to follow her, laying into people here and there when they got in her way and somehow in the middle of the chaos managing to lead him to a quiet table and set down a full tray of food and drink as they sat.
"What a cute little thing," she cooed, smiling in a way that would have the whole of the inn gawking at her in disbelief. Layla didn't smile or coo at anything. She might have been a beautiful woman, in a softer life, but the hard life of running the inn after her husband died had left her simply pretty, in a rough, untamed sort of way. "Master Lakeith, what in the name of the gods, be they praised, are you doing with a baby?"
Goz stopped sucking and gnawing on the soft, mushy fruit she'd given him. "Find Secret."
Tolan smiled, then caught himself and scowled.
Layla laughed. "He's hired you to find something? Gods bless!" "Not something," Tolan said, "someone. I think he got separated from his guardian in this damnable mess. He wandered into the shop and demanded I 'find Secret'."
"Strange name," Layla said idly, and began to feed Goz more food, small bits and pieces that Goz took eagerly. "Friendly tyke," she said. "Not at all afraid of people. I swear, my children shrieked if I let them go too long, at this age."
Tolan shrugged, and drank his ale. "I just hope I can find the man soon. I tried a spell, but it didn't work. So, the hard way it will have to be. I don't suppose you'd keep an ear to the wind for me?"
"Of course," Layla said, then frowned. "Did you spell him? What's this one mean?'
"Huh?" Tolan asked, then stared as she pushed back Goz's hair to reveal a small rune, inked in blue, just behind Goz's ear. "Well, I'll be damned."
"You will if you keep using that sort of language around a child," Layla said disapprovingly. "You didn't put that there." "No," Tolan said. "That's diamond ink—most Finders don't need such fancy stuff, and I couldn't afford it even if I did. But the mark…" He started to swear,caught Layla's glare, and bit it back. "That's a Block rune. It renders him essentially invisible to all ma
gic—which means he can't be Found." He silently rattled off every curse he knew. How had he not noticed the mark?
What the hell sort of child had a Block rune marked in diamond ink on his skin? That was at least a 500 gold spell. It took a highly competent mage to successfully write such a mark on skin. If Tolan tried such a thing, he'd just wind up with a poor tattoo and wasted time and money. Such powerful magic was the stuff of his dreams, and likely to stay that way.
But, it did tell him something interesting—whoever Secret was, he was a powerful mage, and likely a Finder, or frequently dealt with Finders. No one else would think of or bother to Block a Finder. Which led him right back to wondering who the hell Goz was, to warrant such a spell. It made his head throb, and his blood run cold. Ultimately, however, it didn't matter, because his duty remained unchanged. Reunite Goz with Secret.
"So where are you going next, Tolan?" Layla asked, dropping the playful 'Master Lakeith' as she grew serious. Tolan sighed. "I don't know. Ask around, I guess. Hit a few more inns, see if I can find a sober City Guard, maybe." They both grimaced at that—the City Guard was about as disciplined and useful as his master. No one bothered them unless there was no other choice. Right now, he had other choices.
Layla nodded. "I'll spread word about, tell them to call at your shop…?"
"Yeah, after dark, cause I'll keep looking myself until then," Tolan replied. "Thank you, Layla."
"Of course, of course. We can't let this little thing go without his Secret, now can we?" She pinched Goz's cheek lightly, laughing when Goz pulled awayand burrowed into Tolan's side. "He likes you." "He likes everyone," Tolan said. "You said yourself he's awfully friendly for a baby." Layla laughed. "Yes, but he is particularly attached to you, I think." She patted Goz's hair. "Tolan find Secret."
"Torn find Secret," Goz repeated, then looked up at Tolan. "Torn find Secret?"
"Yes," Tolan said, stifling another crazy urge to smile. "Tolan find Secret."
"Torn find Secret! Torn find Secret!" Matter settled to his satisfaction, Goz returned to decimating the little bits of food Layla had given him, wearing most of it by the end.