“Llachar!” she commanded while blindly treading water.
Fercha was distracted from the chill by the echoes of her voice reflecting in the underground space. Then balls of bright light appeared near the cavern’s ceiling, dancing around the stalactites and casting strange shadows all around her.
Now that Fercha could see, she identified the tall upright stone pillar she’d placed on the shore to mark the easiest place to get out of the water. Behind the stone, in a high niche on the wall where rising water levels wouldn’t damage it, was her emergency kit. She swam to the pillar and crawled out of the lake, water dripping from her robes. Fercha pulled herself up the pillar get to her feet. Once standing, she removed her clothing. She was still a blue wizard—at least her lips were blue.
There were towels in her kit, but before she dried her body she retrieved a silver pendant holding a small blue magestone and placed its delicate chain around her neck. When the stone touched her skin, she could feel its energy.
The pendant held her original training stone. It was the first artifact she’d received when she was an apprentice and its familiar resonance reassured her, even as she considered how far her understanding of magic had increased since she’d been given it. Losing her fully-linked true artifact was like losing a limb, but wearing her original training pendant somewhat eased the ache inside her.
With a word, she magically added heat-energy to a towel and wrapped it around her body, savoring its warmth. She preferred that approach to spells that increased her temperature directly. Color returned to her lips and she donned the dry blue robes in her kit. It was cool in the cavern, so she put a dark blue cloak around her shoulders as well.
Fercha turned her shoulders left, then right, feeling the cloak’s fabric swirl around her long legs and tall, muscular body. She’d almost defeated Verro with wizardry alone, even though he was taller, with a greater reach. Still, they were equally matched in magical talent. Their duel could have gone either way.
It’s a good thing I used my crossbow to end things quickly!
She summoned one of the balls of light to float above her head with a gesture and extinguished the others with a one-syllable command. It was time to find her lost true artifact and confront Verro, the arrogant, green-clad Tamloch crown wizard, once again. This time, she promised herself, the outcome would be different.
Fercha had hidden a spare flying disk just inside the entrance to the cave complex. She set off to retrieve it.
Chapter 4
“Rivers are older than mountains and stubborn
enough to wear right through them.”
— Ealdamon’s Epigrams
Derry and his daughter had gotten everything on board the boat quickly and seemed to know exactly what to put where. After a few minutes of observation, Eynon realized he was seeing a process refined over many repetitions, much like his routine for feeding the stock back home.
Eynon was glad this boat was much larger and wasn’t round. It looked like a river cargo vessel Robin Oddfellow had described in Peregrinations. Eynon guessed it was close to forty feet long with a flat bottom, a pointed front, and a raised back. He knew he had a lot to learn about boats, but didn’t know if he could learn much from Merry. Her hostility to his presence was palpable.
At least Eynon had managed to follow Derry’s advice and get a good night’s sleep. As the current took them downstream, he considered that the trip itself must not be too dangerous or Merry wouldn’t have been planning to travel to Tyford on her own before Eynon arrived. The real danger, Eynon realized, was from Merry. Days of forced proximity to her could easily end up with more than lost tempers. Eynon took comfort in knowing he was bigger than Merry—but her tongue was sharper. He took slow, deep breaths.
“Did they teach you anything about boats in the Coombe?” asked Merry. “Or wasn’t that part of a farm boy’s education?”
Merry was seated at the raised rear of the boat, setting its course with a broad-bladed sweep rudder. The four very large barrels of hard cider were carefully stowed amidships on curved bases designed to hold them securely in place. Derry had called them tuns and they were not what Eynon had expected. He’d initially thought they’d be much smaller, the sort of barrel that would serve as a convenient seat if set upright, but had learned differently last night when he’d helped stage them for loading. They were huge—five feet in diameter and closer to six feet tall, from flat bottom to top.
People in Tyford must love their cider, thought Eynon.
The boat wasn’t even eight feet wide, so there was barely enough space to squeeze through sideways to get from the front to the back. Eynon sat facing Merry on a board—a thwart, he remembered—that went from side to side near the front. Looking at the narrow space on either side of the barrels, he thought it would be easier to climb over them than to make his way beside them if he ever wanted to reach the rear of the vessel.
In front of Eynon, two dozen crockery jugs with oak-heartwood stoppers rested on the bottom of the boat between him and the tuns. Derry had said the jugs held hard cider when they’d loaded them before the sun was fully up this morning. Eynon had passed the jugs down to Derry from the dock. He felt like the farmer was trying to give him something to do, rather than truly needing his help.
A coil of rope, a tent, food, supplies and sleeping gear were packed in the space under the raised part at the back, below where Merry sat. Eynon tossed his bedroll in with the rest. He looked over the side and smiled when he noticed colorful knotwork patterns intertwined with red apples painted there all the way from the back to the front.
“Is your tongue glued to the roof of your mouth?” asked Merry. “Or is it just a matter of having manure between your ears?”
Eynon didn’t rise to her bait and respond in anger. He hoped staying calm would put her off balance.
“We don’t have anywhere to put boats in my part of the Coombe,” he said. “All we have are small ponds and a narrow stream.”
Merry sniffed, loud enough so Eynon could hear it forty feet away at the other end of the boat.
“It can’t be much of a place to live if it doesn’t have any lakes or rivers.”
“We have excellent farm land and fine forage for sheep, goats, and cattle,” said Eynon. “There’s also a quarry for green slate, marble, limestone and soapstone.”
“Manure and rocks in your head, then,” said Merry. “Turn around.”
“What?” asked Eynon.
“Turn around,” Merry repeated. “The bow man needs to watch the river and call out rocks.”
“I thought you said I was a farm boy,” replied Eynon.
He carefully shifted on the board until he was facing downstream.
“Good,” said Merry. “Look for rocks sticking out above the surface and ripples from rocks underneath it. The river is high, so we shouldn’t have too much trouble, but it’s also moving fast, so I’ll have less time to steer around them.
Eynon observed the water flowing ahead of him. There were ripples on the left, but if they kept going straight they’d miss them.
“Do you want me to tell you which way to steer or where the rocks are?” asked Eynon.
“Where the rocks are,” said Merry. “Other than the ones in your head, of course.”
“Are you always this charming?”
“You’re seeing me on a good day,” said Merry. “I love it when my father and mother stick me with a useless stray and expect me to get him to Tyford.”
“Sorry,” said Eynon. He rolled his eyes, but then remembered Merry couldn’t see his face. “Rock right,” he called out.
“I see it,” said Merry.
She adjusted their course to miss the rock—it was two feet out of the water and impossible to overlook.
“I like to take these trips on my own,” she said. “They give me
time to think.”
“What do you think about?” asked Eynon. “Rock left.”
Merry corrected their path through the water and didn’t reply. Eynon didn’t say anything. He scanned the river and the river banks. The right bank was a thick marsh, choked with marshapple reeds. The left bank alternated between fields showing green shoots and orchards with apple, pear, plum, and cherry trees in bloom. Tiny white and pink blossoms blown by the wind dotted the surface of the river nearby.
“I like to think about the world outside the Coombe,” said Eynon. “I want to travel, like Robin Oddfellow, and maybe become wise someday, like Ealdamon.”
“Wisdom is a journey,” said Merry. “It’s unwise to think you’ve arrived at your destination.”
Eynon recognized the quote. “You’ve read Ealdamon’s Epigrams?” he asked.
“Every word,” said Merry. “Four or five times. My father has a copy. I think I’ve memorized most of the aphorisms.”
“You’re lucky,” said Eynon. “I had to read my uncle’s copy and he lived a two-hour walk away.”
“My father also has a copy of The Venerable History of Dâron from the First Ships,” said Merry proudly. “It’s so big and heavy I couldn’t pick it up when he bought it.”
“How old were you then?” asked Eynon.
“Seven,” said Merry. “I read it cover to cover before I was ten.”
“You’re lucky,” said Eynon. “I wish I could read it.”
“Father likes you,” said Merry. “If you stop back at Applegarth after you’ve dealt with what you found, I’m sure he’d let you.”
“That would be wonderful,” said Eynon.
He turned back to face Merry and she could see his excitement.
“Watch for rocks,” she instructed.
Eynon reluctantly turned around and scanned the river.
“Where did he find such a treasure?” he asked.
“On the street of the booksellers in Tyford,” said Merry.
“There’s a street of booksellers?” said Eynon, his voice rising in pitch.
“A whole block of them, anyway,” said Merry. “They’re near the street of wizards.”
“A street of wizards, too?” asked Eynon. “There’s only one hedge wizard in the entire Coombe and she’s at the baron’s castle in Caercadel. She mostly makes charms so men and women can choose when to have children. She also helps with healing, when she can get there in time. My cousin’s right foot was crushed by an ox’s hoof while bringing Brynhill’s tithe to the baron and she saved it for him. He says he can tell the weather with it now.”
Merry laughed. “My mother’s shoulder can do that,” she said. “I think the best wizards prefer cities or remote towers. We’re not so different from the Coombe on this side of the mountain. There’s only one hedge wizard for all the holdings along this part of the Rhuthro. We’ll be passing his cottage in a few hours.”
“Do you think he can advise me on what to do with what I found?” asked Eynon. He turned around and looked at his pack leaning against one of the crockery jugs.
“From what you told me, I think you’ll need more than a hedge wizard to figure out what to do about that,” said Merry. “You’ll need someone in the Conclave—a crown wizard or one of the stronger free wizards.”
“I know as much about wizards as I do about boats,” said Eynon. “Rock right.”
Merry laughed. It sounded as melodic as rippling water. Eynon realized she hadn’t insulted him for several minutes.
“The front is the bow, the rear is the stern, the center is amidships, and I’m guiding our course with a sweep oar or rudder,” she said in a teasing voice as she made a minor adjustment to the boat’s direction. “Starboard is right and port is left.”
“Large rocks port and starboard,” said Eynon, his tone light. Maybe he could learn from Merry, he thought.
“I see them,” said Merry. “Those are old friends. They mean we’ll be stopping soon.”
“But we just started!”
“We have to pay our first toll,” said Merry. “And I have to off-load the ale I had for breakfast.”
“I was going to ask you about that,” said Eynon.
He could have handled the situation by doing what was necessary over the side, but Merry’s presence observing him from the stern made him reluctant to do so.
Merry laughed again.
“Will you tell me about wizards—and history—after we stop?”
“If you ask politely.”
“I’m always polite.”
“I’ve noticed,” said Merry with another sniff.
Eynon turned around and saw Merry grinning. He grinned back and dipped his head in a quick bow to demonstrate how polite he could be.
When he faced downriver again, he saw a pair of squat buildings made from limestone blocks, one on either side of a narrow point in the river, a few hundred yards ahead. There was a stone dock next to the building on the western bank. Half a dozen links of a heavy chain, each as big as a newly weaned piglet, were wrapped around a foot-thick log standing vertical near the end. The chain trailed off into the water and surfaced at the building on the opposite bank.
“Is that where we’re stopping?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Merry. “Do they have their chain up?”
“What?” asked Eynon.
“Their chain,” said Merry. “To block our path.”
“No,” said Eynon. “Or not that I can tell. It looks slack. There’s a tall, solid-looking man with yellow hair and a sword on the dock. He’s waving at us.”
Merry sighed.
“He’s waving at me,” she said. “That’s Gruffyd. I’ve known him all my life and he’s been trying to woo me since before he left on his wander year. I was afraid he’d be back now. It’s too bad he didn’t find some nice girl farther downriver and decide to stay with her and her family.”
“You’re not in favor of his courtship?” asked Eynon.
“He’s a nice enough sort, but has even more rocks and manure between his ears than you do.”
“Thank you, I think,” said Eynon.
“You’re welcome,” said Merry. “Gruffyd doesn’t know how to take no for an answer.”
Eynon heard a note of anger in Merry’s voice, but before he could comment, she continued.
“He also doesn’t know how to read. His mother tried to teach him, but didn’t have much luck. I can’t talk to him about books.”
Merry shifted the boat toward the west bank of the river where the current was slower. She talked as she worked.
“Gruffyd wants to be a soldier and serve in the royal guard. He cares more about his sword than any future wife.”
They were getting close to the river toll station. Merry spoke softly, but urgently enough to carry from the stern and get his attention.
“Eynon,” she asked. “Can you help me?”
Eynon turned.
“How may I be of service, dear lady?”
“Pretend to be my suitor,” she said, reluctantly. “If Gruffyd thinks I’ve decided to accept you, maybe he’ll focus his unwanted attentions elsewhere. Calling me ‘dear lady’ is perfect.”
“Yes, dear lady,” said Eynon.
He winked at Merry. She looked exasperated for a moment, then pasted a sweet, but insincere smile on her face.
Eynon faced forward and admired the way she maneuvered the boat up to the dock. Without being told, he tied a rope he found near the bow to a convenient and well-worn cleat close at hand. Gruffyd helped Merry out of the boat after she tied off the stern. She moved to stand a few feet away from him and beckoned to Eynon. He jumped awkwardly from the bow thwart to the dock. Three strides from his long legs later, he was standing next to Merry.
&n
bsp; To his surprise, she hugged him, holding him in a pleasingly tight embrace. Her auburn hair smelled like apple blossoms. When they separated a few seconds later, Merry turned Eynon around to face the other youth.
“Eynon, this is Gruffyd,” she said. “We’ve been friends since we were children. We’re practically brother and sister.”
Smiling at Merry’s tactic, Eynon extended his hand to Gruffyd.
“I’m very pleased to meet you,” said Eynon. “My dear, sweet Merry has told me so much about you. Best of luck traveling to Brendinas to serve in the royal guard.”
“Uh, thanks,” said Gruffyd. He was a bit slow to process the unexpected situation.
Merry rested her hand on Eynon’s forearm, as if claiming him. Eynon admired the way she was sending an unambiguous message to her childhood friend.
Eynon was a few inches taller than Gruffyd, but the yellow-haired young man outweighed him by seventy or eighty pounds. His upper arms were larger than Eynon’s thighs and his wrists were thick from sword practice. Eynon had no trouble carrying large sacks of grain from the mill to his family’s kitchen for making porridge and bread, or lifting hay up to the second level of their barn, but his muscles didn’t bulge like Gruffyd’s. He stood before the larger youth, feigning a confidence he didn’t feel.
“You two get acquainted,” said Merry. “I’ll fetch a jug for your father.”
Merry left them and headed farther out the dock. Eynon searched his mind for a safe topic of conversation.
“How was your wander year?” he asked. “Did you travel far?”
The Congruent Apprentice (The Congruent Mage Series Book 1) Page 5