Moonstone, Magic That Binds (Book 1)

by Guy Antibes

  “I will.” Lotto thought about Mander’s comment about the Oringians. “Is Restella in danger?”

  Mander’s good nature fled. “I’m afraid she is. The girl wanted to be a soldier—excuse me, warrior princess. The only way she can do that is to be out there amongst the men in real soldiering circumstances. She can fend for herself, though. Lieutenant Silver is quite competent and will keep her safe enough.”

  “Who’s Lieutenant Silver?”

  “He’s a scout and one of the best. I volunteered him to be Restella’s servant. She thinks he’s just an enlisted man, but he’s there to teach her as much as he can without her letting on.”

  Lotto nodded. “She wouldn’t be a good student if he was introduced as her teacher, right?”

  Mander leaned over and ruffed up Lotto’s hair. “Right, young man. That’s an astute observation and you don’t know her.”

  “You’ve talked enough about Princess Restella.”

  “Have I?”

  Lotto smiled. “You and Fessano are exasperated with her. It doesn’t take much to figure that out.”

  “Perceptive. Keep it up.” Mander finished his mug. “I’ve got to get going. I need to do an errand before I deliver this,” he flashed this little volume “Don’t finish those books before I get back tomorrow.” He hurried into his office as Lotto took the empty mugs to wash them out in the little kitchen.

  Mander waved with the book, now wrapped in brown paper and tied up in the red twine that he used for special orders, and left with a quick good-bye.

  Lotto sat back down and picked up the gold piece and would add it to the two upstairs in his room. A sword and a dagger, like a real knight. However knights and a feudal economy had given way to a standing royal army and the title had dwindled away. There were still plenty of novels with stories of knights, even among the lofty books that Mander sold. He did remember cataloguing a book that described the finer points of swords—perhaps a quick look at that before he locked the shop and walked to the market.

  ~

  The sea of people at Beckondale’s main market square never failed to amaze Lotto. There were more markets spread throughout the city, but this was where the nice old man with the cart had dropped him off. His thoughts turned to Jessie and he hoped she had found her new village to be more appreciative than Heron’s Pond.

  He wandered through the myriad of alleys and lanes caused by the carts and tents of the merchants. He passed a few weapons tents, but they didn’t have a reputable feel to them until he passed a shabby red one. Perhaps this was the Serytar’s tent that sold the used weapons Mander talked about.

  A man walked out and grabbed his arm. “Can I help you? I’ve waited all day for a customer like you.” The tall, burly man gently took him into his tent. Lotto let him lead him into the tent, not wanting to cause a scene.

  Lotto could see that there were plenty of weapons, but the tent was much smaller than the other ones. He didn’t know what kind of customer the man thought him to be. He first wanted to leave after being manhandled, but then he looked around to realize that this might be the right kind of place to find an excellent used sword. The book he read said that good used swords were better than poorly crafted new ones. Mander was right, as usual.

  “I live alone above a bookshop and wanted some protection.”

  The man nodded in agreement. “A sword’s not much good for close quarters lad and a dagger probably doesn’t have the reach that you need.” He seemed gruff with that strange accent of his, but Lotto could sense humor behind the eyes.

  “Then what do you recommend?”

  “Swords take training, so maybe the best weapon is just a good poker. It’s a long rod with a pointy end generally used for managing a fire. You don’t have to sharpen any edges, just the point and with a sturdy guard, it’ll do for close quarters self defense and they’re cheap. Weapon pokers have much better balance than the one you probably use in the fireplace back at your shop. Here’s one.”

  The man rummaged around in a barrel and pulled out a poker. A black finish ran up the rod except for the sharpened tip and it had a round thick brass guard about thumb length all around. “This is the best that I’ve got. A shilling’ll do. You can even use the guard to punch your assailant in the face, if you wish.” The man demonstrated on Lotto, making him step back a bit. “If you’d rather not shed any blood, the rod will raise some ugly bruises.” His eyes twinkled as he said it.

  Lotto looked around the room. “I’d still like a sword. I’ve got a gold or two to spend.”

  “A gold? You want to spend it all at once? Well I think I’ve got something if you’ve got your heart set on getting a sword and paying that much. Wait here.”

  Lotto looked around the tent. There were shelves filled with used knives of all lengths, some swords and other weapons, some with edges and some without. He walked over to a rack of spears and pulled one out, surprised at how much it weighed.

  “That one has a metal rod inside to give it more punch. You’ve got to be exceptionally strong, like me, to use one.” The man scratched his mangy head of salt and pepper hair after he laid an old wooden box on a counter. “I only sell used in the marketplace and all of my goods are serviceable, like you asked. They may not be pretty, but the metal is good and there’s plenty of it, not like my competitors… even the ones who claim they sell ‘new’ weapons.”

  He opened the box to reveal a long slightly curved sword with two slim runnels in the middle, but it held only had one sharp edge. The grip was what the book described as a hand and a half and the hilt consisted of a thick guard that rounded at the ends with a black stone mounted at each end. Fraying cordage wrapped around the grip and a long single-sided knife with a single runnel and the same curve lay next to it. The grip on the long knife showed even more signs of age, but where the guard met the blade smaller, flatter black stones were embedded around the edge of the thick guard. The inside of the box was lined with velvet that had seen better days.

  “This is my best sword and a worthy weapon for any noble. They need new grips and a bit of polish, but they’ll take a sharp enough edge after a lot of work. If the steel is too soft the edge is ruined in a few encounters.”

  Lotto looked at them in wonder. The pair seemed so much better than the other things in the shop. The steel had the right look. The weapons set looked familiar, but when would Lotto have seen a sword out of its scabbard. “One gold?”

  The man pursed his lips. “Two, but I wanted to show you what a good blade looks like.”

  Lotto had to have that set. It sang to him. He’d never imagined himself to be a soldier, but he’d never seen anything like the sword. He picked the blade up. Like the spear, it was heavier than he thought it would be. He knocked his knuckles on the blade and it gave off a deep soft ring, like the book said a good blade did. “Swords killed my father. I’d like to own this and I’ll find someone to teach me. I’ve got the two golds.”

  “You do?” The man’s face showed that he approved of Lotto’s decision. “Do you need a teacher?”

  Lotto nodded. He looked at the weapons and began to have second thoughts. What if he couldn’t learn how to use them properly? If he couldn’t use the sword and knife, they were a waste of his precious gold pieces.

  “I’ve got a shop in the Orange district with a large training room in the back. I come out here when there are a lot of customers to sell my lesser stock. I’ve had this set for years trying to find the right buyer. I’ve a mind to sell you this, if you’ll let me train you to use it right. I’ll even throw in the poker. Deal?”

  “Deal.” Lotto continued to wonder what he had done as he put the two gold coins in the man’s hand. “And from whom have I bought my weapons?”

  “Kenyr.”

  “That’s an odd name,” Lotto said.

  “It is. I came to Beckondale long ago from Serytar.”

  “I’m Lotto.” This was definitely the man Mander Hart had recommended. Now he felt better about his purc
hase.

  “A fool’s name.”

  “I used to be a fool. I hope I haven’t been one today.”

  Kenyr looked into Lotto’s face. “You could be taken for a Serytaran, yourself and this is a Serytar blade, you know. It used to be my master’s.”

  Lotto nodded. “I’ve been told I have some Serytaran blood in my veins.” Could these be his father’s weapons? No, he told himself.

  “Wonderful,” Kenyr said as his eyes brightened and he grinned. “Pick this up in two days. I’ll put a little polish on it and pop them both into some old scabbards sitting around my shop. It’s called the Golden Blade.” Kenyr shook his head. “I didn’t name it. That’s what it was called when I bought the shop. Everyone knows where it is. Have you heard of anything so stupid as a golden blade? The sword you just bought would cut one in two.” Kenyr laughed. Lotto thought the man probably made the same joke all the time.

  Five men, a bit older than Lotto, walked into the shop. Kenyr quickly closed the box and put it in the back.

  “How can I help you?” he said to the group of men as he emerged from the back.

  “We’re just looking.”

  Kenyr pushed the poker in a round leather sleeve and placed it Lotto’s hands. “Two days? The Golden Blade?”

  Lotto nodded and left, when one of the men asked a question of Kenyr. As he walked through the busy lanes made by the market tents, he wished he had the sword in his hands to just look at the twin runnels and the feel of the blade. He bought a meat pie and a mug of ale and sat by himself at an outside eatery.

  He pulled out his poker and touched the tip. His finger came back with a spot of blood where he tested the point. Lotto knew he wouldn’t want it pointed at him. He finished his pie and walked around the market for a bit more. He slipped inside the biggest weapons tent that he had passed and looked a their pokers. Although the grip on his own weapon was simple, he could see the difference.

  A man grabbed his sleeve as he turned to leave the tent. “Hold on there, lad. You’ve got one of my weapons.”

  “No I don’t.”

  “Give it here.”

  Lotto presented his poker to the man. He definitely didn’t like his face and took an instant dislike to him, but the man’s eyebrows shot up when he took the poker out of it’s sleeve and looked at a brand on the leather that Lotto didn’t notice. “The Golden Blade. This is very nice. Ours are lighter, though. More maneuverable. I’ll give you two of my own for this one.”

  Lotto smiled. The man had told him more about Kenyr than he realized. “That’s okay. I’ve never had one before and I wanted to compare. This one will do me just fine.”

  The man snorted and left him abruptly for another customer. Lotto took a look at the swords on display. Nothing matched the look of his new weapon, even though the swords were priced much higher. The second thoughts of splurging on the sword fled Lotto’s mind.

  Thoughts of his new sword caught at Lotto with each step back to the shop. He wanted to see if he could spot anything like the one he just bought.

  After waiting on the two customers, that stood at the bookshop door waiting for Lotto to return, he hurried back to the table in the back where he had left the sword book. He smiled as he grabbed the book about swords. It had contained lots of drawings in the back that Lotto ignored when he first thumbed through the volume.

  He kept searching for the sword design until, close to the end, he found a section on foreign blades. There was a picture of a blade with the same shape. It only showed a single thin runnel, but the guard looked similar.

  Kenyr had told him the truth. The book described the sword as an eagle wing because of the curve of the blade. The style had been associated with Serytar nobility and had distinguished itself on the battleground and the dueling floor. Lotto didn’t know what a dueling floor was, but he knew he had purchased a distinguished sword. He smiled. He had never had the opportunity to indulge himself before and the anticipation of holding his purchase in two days nearly distracted him from his magic studies.

  ~

  Lotto showed Mander the poker, but didn’t tell him about the sword and long knife. He decided he’d show him instead. The shopkeeper handed the poker and flashed it around.

  “Good weight and very high quality. You made a very good purchase. I’ll teach you some techniques with this. In my younger days, I trained with such a weapon.” Mander gazed at the metal shaft and Lotto could tell memories were being relived behind those eyes. “Did you buy your sword?”

  Lotto cleared his throat and changed the subject. He’d wanted to surprise Mander with his weapons. “I’ve read the first magic book, but there are words I just don’t understand. Do we have something that can help?”

  Mander smashed his forehead with his palm. “Of course. You need a dictionary. They tell you the meaning of words.”

  “Oh. We have a whole shelf of them. I didn’t know what ‘dictionary’ meant.”

  As he had when Lotto mentioned magic texts, Mander disappeared up the stairs and returned with three dictionaries. “Between these three, you should be able to manage. If you get stuck, write the word down and we can talk about it when I’m around. If we both can’t puzzle it out, we can always consult with Fessano.”

  “Write?” Lotto gulped. “I can read, but I can’t write.”

  Mander laughed and slapped Lotto on the shoulder. “Of course you can’t. If you can read, writing is duplicating what you read, but it takes practice.” He went to his office and brought back a pen, inkwell, blotting leather and sheaf of papers.

  “These have writing on them already,” Lotto said, thumbing thought the stack.

  “If you’re going to practice, you write on the back. It’s much, much cheaper that way,” Mander said, smiling. “Try it on your own. Look at my lists and you can copy my handwriting style.”

  “I will.” Lotto would give it a try, but now the practice would set him back in his studies, especially now that he would be learning swordsmanship. Well, he cautioned himself, learning not to cut himself too badly.

  ~~~

  CHAPTER TEN

  ~

  LOTTO ASKED TO GO OUT ON SOME PERSONAL ERRANDS and Mander gladly let him leave the shop. The Orange district was a good long walk from the shop and half an hour later he spotted the sign of the Golden Blade, a yellow sword, point down. As he got closer he could see that the sign badly needed a new paint job. He stepped into the two-story shop filled with more weapons than he had ever seen before, new and used.

  Kenyr walked through a dark curtain that hid the back.

  “Your tent didn’t look like this.”

  The man laughed. “I go to the market every few weeks to sell my used stock. No experienced swordsman would buy a new blade in the market, except for young Serytars who don’t know any better. Let me lock the door and put out a sign that says I’m closed.”

  “I don’t want to take away from your shop time.”

  “Most of my customers come by appointment.”

  “If it’s inconvenient…”

  “I said two days. That’s an appointment.” He gently pushed Lotto back through the curtain. They walked through a workshop of sorts that included sharpening wheels and cording and leather strips mounted on spools and other things that Lotto didn’t have time to notice other than windows cut into the roof that lit up the area. He’d never seen such a thing before.

  They walked out onto a wooden practice floor. The ceiling went all the way up to the second story. Skylights lit up the large room as well. The walls went up the full two stories. He looked up at the many-paned glass windows. Those must have been very expensive.

  “One of the reasons I bought this place was the lighting.” He walked over to a rack holding swords. Other racks of various weapons, wooden and real, lined one side of the room. “Come over here.” He had already put his sword and long knife in their scabbards on the counter.

  Lotto pulled out the sword. It slid smoothly out of the scabbard with hardly a
sound. “I thought swords made a scraping noise when you pulled them out.”

  “Not this and not for you. If you’re sneaking up behind someone, you need to pull out your weapon silently.”

  His comment made Lotto laugh. “When am I going to do anything like that?”

  Kenyr’s eyes turned serious. “You have to train as if you mean it. Don’t treat anything I say lightly. Unless I laugh after I say something, I’m giving you vital knowledge that might save your life.”

  Lotto had to blink his eyes as he made a mental adjustment. A shock of fear shot through him. What had he gotten himself into? He just hadn’t thought of his training as a serious undertaking.

  He looked at the newly cleaned blade of the sword. The fear left him, replaced by awe as he looked at the blade. The metal didn’t shine like a mirror like other swords he’d seen, but it looked bright and solid. He’d even term it wicked and certainly more valuable than two golds.

  “This is too valuable,” Lotto said, his breath nearly taken away as he slid the sword silently back into its sheath. The knife had more shine, but he could more easily judge its perfect balance. “You didn’t replace the grips.”

  Kenyr laughed. “I’ll teach you to wind your own. That will make the weapons feel more like yours.” He walked to the center of the ring with a dull practice sword. “Come on out.”

  Holding the sword in his hand, Lotto approached his new teacher.

  “Lift it up.”

  Lotto lifted the sword up and it felt too heavy.

  “Swing it around.”

  The sword didn’t work very well and Lotto felt deeply disappointed. “I can’t use it.”

  “Here.” Kenyr traded swords.