by Sever Bronny
Yes it is, Augum thought, it certainly is …
“So what’s with the name thing?” Leera asked. “Why does One Eye get our names wrong?”
“If look like someone he know from when he young, he think name is same.” Marta’s forearm lit up with three rings of fire. “Shyneo,” and began drying their laundry with her fiery palm. “He remember some people names, but people must be … how you say … memorable? Ya, memorable. This is because that old fool try new memory spell but it not work. He hurt his brain. Shop was clean, now mess. He no want help. He fussy old man.”
Marta finished drying their things and instructed them to rinse off. They stepped out of the tubs, wrapping themselves in soft bathrobes, while Marta wiped her hands on her apron and excused herself.
Leera turned to Bridget. “Hair?”
“Definitely.”
In no time at all the girls were in one of the booths braiding each other’s hair and trying the many exotic scented oils and powders. They giggled and shared stories and babbled on about the caravan. Augum, meanwhile, sniffed Dramask, Iron Feather, Sweetbow, and Heartfire scents in a separate booth. He found most to be too strange or strong for him, but did enjoy the Heartfire, which had a subtle cedar aroma to it, reminding him of a cozy fire.
Staring into the mirror, he noticed his hair had reached his brows, and decided to give it a trim. He found a silver knife in a drawer and began slicing away.
After some time, the trio met in the central divide, ready to put on their now dry and freshly washed robes. When Augum spotted the girls, his mouth fell open—they looked stunning, particularly Leera, with her raven braids, shiny freckles, and dark eyes. Yet when she spotted him, her face went slack.
“Aug, what have you done!”
“What? What do you mean—?”
“Your hair! Ugh, here, let me fix it—” She grabbed his hand and dragged him back into his booth, pushing him down on the seat before the mirror. “You’re not allowed to cut your own hair ever again.”
“But I’ve always cut it myself—”
“Yeah, well, it’s a wonder you didn’t get flogged for it.”
He made no comment. He did get flogged—by Mr. Penderson and Dap and his cronies multiple times. He wondered how much his appearance had to do with it. No, it was probably the whole gutterborn thing. There was only one thing worse than being lowborn—being gutterborn, and Dap loved having someone worse off than him.
As Leera worked away, twisting his head this way and that, he felt his stomach go very light and tingly. A girl had never done anything like this for him.
“Oh my, somebody found a pleasant scent.” She sniffed his collar.
“Gah—Leera!” He laughed and wriggled away, but the truth was he wanted to say she wore a very nice scent as well, some kind of exotic berry. He avoided looking at her in the mirror, his cheeks burning.
“Stop squirming or I’ll cut off your ear!”
“What’s all this giggling about?” Bridget made an appearance holding a jar of cream. “What are you doing to our poor boy, Lee?”
“Fixing. He’s not allowed to cut his own hair anymore.”
Bridget laughed. “You’re acting like my mother.” She pinched his cheek, voice suddenly deep. “So handsome.”
“All right, that’s enough already,” he said, trying to stand, but Leera immediately shoved him back down.
“Wait, you little worm,” she said, biting her lower lip in concentration. ”Just … one … more … there! Done! Take a peek.”
He looked in the mirror, feeling his well-groomed hair. “Wow, that’s actually … nice, thanks.”
Leera did a kind of curtsy. “You’re welcome.”
He stood up and gestured at the chair. “All right, my turn to do some cutting—” but before he was even able to finish, the girls squealed and scurried out of there, giggling.
“Ah, such beautiful girls!” Marta said upon re-entering. “Make boys very jealous.”
The girls giggled some more.
“And such a handsome boy! Will make ladies swoon.”
Augum shuffled his feet.
“Okay, you clean, blankets clean, robes clean. Happy?”
“Very,” they said, nodding.
“Good. You change and have fun.”
They finished up and reluctantly departed, still teasing each other, wearing freshly-washed robes and carrying freshly-washed Dramask blankets.
They soon joined One Eye in the red and orange supper wagon. The inside was grand, with elaborate gilt-accents and a long empire table down the middle. There were enough seats to entertain a king’s host, reminding Augum of Castle Arinthian’s dining room. It was just the four of them, attended to by three plain-dressed servants running back and forth from a partitioned section in the back of the wagon, which Augum assumed was some sort of arcane kitchen.
One Eye greeted them by names from his past—Brett for Augum, Stephanie for Leera, and Grundvelda for Bridget. Leera definitely didn’t think she looked anything like a Stephanie, though jokingly said Grundvelda was a most appropriate name for Bridget, who promptly flashed a sour look.
The food was simply divine—assorted exotic cheeses, smoked oysters, boar’s ribs, slow-roast chicken breast, hot-buttered garlic soft bread, salted salmon steak seasoned with dill and lime, creamed potato, and a wide array of vegetables and even some fruit. Beverages consisted of freshly squeezed sugared root juice for the trio and exotic Odemai red wine for One Eye.
Bridget cleared her throat politely. “Sir, I’m having trouble with the extension to the Shine spell.”
“Is that so, my dear? Do tell.”
“I’m unable to figure out how to grab things with my vine.”
“That spell is a peach of a thing. You must concentrate on …” One Eye frowned.
“Sir …?”
“Huh?”
“Concentrate on what, sir?”
“What?”
“We were talking about my Shine extension.”
“Right, of course we were, you think me daft?”
“No, sir, I just—”
“Right, well, make an effort to pay attention, Grundvelda.”
They sat there, One Eye smacking his lips, until Bridget again cleared her throat politely.
“What!”
“The extension, sir—?”
“Right!” He squeezed two bony fingers together and drew a line in midair. “The spell requires finesse. Watch.” He made a graceful motion with his hand and entwined a wine glass, then an entire chair.
“Wouldn’t he make the perfect mentor for her?” Augum whispered into Leera’s ear as One Eye lectured on the details.
Leera hid her grin behind her hand. “It’s the only chance she’s got of him ever getting her name right.”
“Now you try it,” the old man said.
It took Bridget many failed attempts, One Eye commentating on what she was doing wrong, before she was able to entwine a spoon.
Bridget’s face brightened. “Did you see that?”
Augum and Leera nodded dutifully.
“So what kind of uses does the extension have?” Bridget asked, beaming.
One Eye set a crystal goblet of wine down onto the table with a shaking hand. “Why Grundvelda, I would have thought you could figure that out. It is in fact useful for many a thing. On more than one occasion, I found myself entwining an attacker’s arm, or climbing up a difficult surface. It is also perfect for reaching into tight spaces. Eventually you will learn how to extend and manipulate your vine as if it were your own hand. Granted, there are higher degrees involved, what with other spells that further build on the extension, but I have no doubt a clever young lady such as yourself will eventually get there.”
Bridget examined her vine-lit palm anew.
“Shyneo.” Leera frowned at her own palm. “Sir, is there some fancy trick I can do with my Shine spell? Augum can shock, Bridget can entwine things—so what can I do?”
One Eye gave her
a lost look.
“Oh, right—I mean Brett can shock and, um, Grundvelda can wrap things with her vine—so what is it that I can do?”
He scratched his beard while considering Leera’s light with his good eye. The water glistened as it slowly revolved around her hand and wrist, as if perpetually trickling downhill. “To be perfectly honest, I do not remember, though you must understand it is not my element.”
Leera extinguished her hand, a sour look on her face.
“My stableman, Fargswabe, has some training in the water element. Perhaps you should inquire with him.”
“Farzwabay?” Leera repeated.
Augum could tell she was skeptical about the name. He was too—it sounded made up.
“Quite right, quite right.” He raised his goblet to his lips, cheeks as red as the wine now. “I do say we could use a bit of music here. Do you three like music? I personally fancy the flute. Odo, please fetch that fine instrument of yours.”
A thin dark-haired servant with a pointy nose and a resigned look on his face bowed and left, returning shortly with an ebony flute. He stood at the far end of the table and played calm melodies. One Eye relaxed in his chair, pouring himself another cup of wine. He stuck in his ear trumpet.
“Such a wonderful talent should be playing in one of the great concert halls.”
Judging by the look on Odo’s face, that exact thought appeared to be running through his mind.
One Eye swished his goblet. “War is coming, you know. That is why we travel south, though I suspect there shan’t be a place far enough to hide from Lord Sparkstone’s ambitions.”
“You mean war with Tiberra,” Augum said.
“I fear Tiberra is but the beginning. Lord Sparkstone strikes east to test his armies, build up his forces. The Blackhaven Herald reports nothing, but rumor says he has Dreadnoughts at his command now. If that be true, they will have already begun forging the finest weapons and armor.”
“It is true, sir,” Bridget said, sweeping a braided lock from her eyes. “A Dreadnought came along with Sparkstone to Tornvale. We were listening in through the window of Commander Tridian’s headquarters. We heard him speak but didn’t see him.”
One Eye chuckled and took a sip of wine. “Now that is quite bold. You remind me of my younger days.” He sighed wistfully. “Commander Tridian—or the Blade of Sorrows as he has come to be known. I dealt with him before, you know. A very tough bargainer. He has no arcane talent but is one of the most ruthless men I have ever had the misfortune to stumble across.”
“Sir?” Augum hoped to get One Eye to elaborate. Funny how the man could remember certain details about people but completely forget others.
“Well, last we met, I talked my way out of him taking my men for the Legion’s cause, arguing that Lord Sparkstone encourages and needs people like me and that I am a vital trading link between the cities. I told him I bring in precious supplies and emphasized the fact there is a famine in some parts of Solia. He said I was, what did he say now, ah yes—he said I was merely an ‘entertainer’. Cost a fortune in wines and ale just to keep him on my good side. I hope to never lay my good eye on him again.”
Odo played on as the other two servants cleared the table and brought in dessert, which consisted of lemon sugar pie and candied ginger. Barely able to take another bite, Augum nonetheless forced himself to eat a whole slice and a piece of ginger. At the Penderson farm, he had picked up the habit of eating quickly, perpetually unsure of when he would next eat a proper meal.
He lay back in his chair with a groan, content but bloated. Bridget and Leera had not eaten nearly as much, having left most of their food on the plate. Now they slowly picked away at dessert, enjoying it bite by bite.
“One of my wagons is a private quarter for guests,” One Eye said after taking only one bite of pie. “Truth be told, it is really for bribes. In any case, I will have someone prepare it for you. Feel free to mill around camp until Bartholomew returns, just be sure to keep your ears open for a call from the watch. You did, after all, leave quite an easy trail to follow. Should a call arise, it would be most wise to hide.”
The trio thanked One Eye for the delicious meal and staggered to the door, leaving him to his music and wine. At the last moment, Augum turned around with an idea. One Eye reached for his ear trumpet.
“Sir, we’ve been trying this new spell and, um, I was thinking maybe we could get your help with it. It’s kind of difficult to do without a mentor.”
One Eye smacked his lips, bleary-eyed with wine. “And which spell might that be, young sapling?”
“The Slam spell, sir.”
“Ah, another elemental spell …” His face brightened, though it could have been from the wine. “I suppose I could give you a few pointers, though I cannot even remember the last time I mentored someone.” He gestured to one of his servants. “Strong coffee if you please, Norda, and take the wine.”
Norda, face impassive, cleared the wine and left.
“Come see me after my coffee then.”
The trio understood themselves dismissed, thanked One Eye once again, and left.
“That was a good idea to ask, Aug,” Bridget said. “We need the help.”
Leera looked around. “So where is this Fardabie, anyway?”
“It’s Fargswabe,” Bridget said.
“Whatever, I bet you it’s not even his real name. Anyway, let’s find him.” Leera walked past wagon after wagon, asking servants and workmen where Fargswabe was, constantly getting the name wrong. She received amused looks, leaving Augum to wonder if this person even existed. At last, an older man pointed them to a wagon that appeared to be a stable on wheels, full of horses and hay, with drop-ramps across one side. A tall youth a few years older than them was tending to a large stallion. He had close-cropped black hair filled with bits of hay, a small face, and wore loose trousers. He looked bored mechanically brushing the horse.
“Um, excuse us but, we’re looking for Fazabie,” Leera said, checking with Bridget if she got the name right. Bridget just shook her head, not bothering to correct her anymore. Leera reddened as the youth frowned.
“Curse that white-eyed lunatic, still thinking I’m someone I’m not. It’s Justinius, not Fargswabe.”
“Oh, um, sorry, didn’t mean offence. If it makes you feel any better, he mixes ours up too.”
“It doesn’t, actually.”
Leera chuckled anxiously. “So, um, why is he calling you by that name?”
Leera’s acting funny, Augum thought.
Justinius shrugged. “Some old Sierran stableman of his I apparently remind him of. I don’t care, I don’t exactly plan to stick around long. So what do you want anyway? And I know I’m supposed to be tending to your horses. I’ve sent a boy to retrieve them already.
“Oh … no, it’s … it’s nothing like that. We’re just—well it’s really me that is, um, that needs, well … you know—” She played with her hair, trying to find the right words, a silly expression on her face that annoyed Augum for some reason.
Justinius wiped his hands on a dirty cloth. “Spit it out already, I don’t have all day.”
“She needs help with the Shine spell,” Bridget said, a small smirk playing across her lips. Leera gave her a quieting look before turning back to Justinius, forcing a toothy smile.
Justinius snorted. “Forget it, freckles, I hate performing any kind of arcanery. I’m destined to become the finest soldier in all of Solia. Besides, I don’t train babies.” He turned back to his horse.
Leera stood gaping.
“Forget it, Lee,” Bridget said, taking her arm. “Guess he doesn’t need the money—”
“Whoa there, you didn’t say anything about money—”
Bridget took her time rummaging through the rucksack, flashing Augum an are you all right with this? look. He shrugged. She paused a moment, brow raised, before he assented a reluctant nod.
“How much?” Justinius asked, eyeing the pouch Augum had snagged from Tridi
an’s quarters.
Bridget turned her back on him and counted out the coins—15 silver, 29 copper in total. “Ten silver?”
Justinius scoffed. “I’m not going to train some little girl the Shine spell for ten measly silvers.”
Leera looked like she was either going to slap him or cry, Augum was unsure which. “I don’t need training on the entire Shine spell,” she said. “I just want to learn the extension, that’s all. I already know the main part. Shyneo!” Her palm lit up, the gesture coming across as rather rude.
“Just the extension, huh?” He took the silver. “Fine, but I don’t have much time. The water element extension for Shine is simple—you can extend the light from your palm into a small body of water.”
Leera’s mouth hung open.
“Trying to catch mosquitoes in winter?”
“What—?”
“Never mind.”
“No, I mean … that’s it? I can extend light to water? That’s useless—!”
Justinius shrugged. “To be honest, it kind of is. I’ve never even used it except to show off for a girl.”
“Aww, can’t be that bad, Lee,” Augum said, trying to keep a straight face. “I’m sure it’d be a neat trick to do for celebrations … or something.”
Leera’s eyes narrowed. “That’s exactly my point. It’s just a stupid trick! It’s like plain magic—totally useless.”
Augum, annoyed she had been giving this rude youth so much attention, turned back to Justinius. “So why do you hate performing arcanery, anyway?” He wondered how anybody could possibly hate spell casting. To him, it was the most awesome thing in the world.
“Father forced me to go to the academy but I hit the ceiling at the 2nd degree and dropped out. It was a big embarrassment, but Father never understood that all I ever wanted was to become a swordsman, not some weak warlock like him.”
“You talk like you’re from the city,” Bridget said. “How did you end up here?”
Justinius’ eyes flicked to the pouch again. “I’m from Blackhaven. My father was a stablemaster. Convinced One Eye to take me on as stableman, though I don’t think he needed much convincing—soon as he saw me he thought I was this Fargswabe person and asked me where I’ve been all these years. Nothing I said or did could convince him otherwise. Anyway, Father figured that if I joined the caravan, it would get me out of the Legion’s army. Been right so far, though to be honest, I think I’d have rather joined up. Bored to death here.”