Wizard's Alley

by James Haddock

  “Some. I can sense if there is anyone around me, so I'm sure I could do the same riding ahead or checking possible ambush sights.” That last thought came from some of the sergeant's experiences.

  “Good. I will lean on you to keep us out of those types of situations. If you think of anything else you can help us with, let me know.”

  “Yes, Sergeant.”

  “Okay, go back to roving. Learn who is part of our caravan so you'll recognize any new faces that may try to slip in on us.” I nodded and went back to work.

  On one of my rounds, I saw a group of men around a wagon. A few of them were laying under it, looking at something. My curiosity got the best of me, and I went over.

  “It's not broken, but there is the beginning of a crack on the top side of the axle,” said one man laying on the ground.

  One of the men snatched his hat off and threw it. I assumed he was the owner of the wagon.

  “It'll take you two days to fix it, if you can get someone straight away. I can't let you join the caravan with a wagon in that condition,” the Caravan Master said.

  “I know, I know. I'm not arguing with ya. I'd do the same in your shoes,” the wagon owner said. “Just bad luck I reckon.”

  I put my hand on the wagon and felt the wood it was made of. It was an older wagon and had more problems than the axle. That was just the most obvious issue.

  “How much would it cost to have it fixed?” I asked.

  The owner was rubbing his head. “Two days down time and four to six silvers.”

  “I'll fix it right now for two silvers,” I said. They all turned to look at me.

  “You can do that, Wizard?” the Caravan Master asked.

  I nodded. “One of those many things I mentioned to you.” He took my meaning and looked away.

  “If you can fix it now, I'll gladly pay you two silvers.”

  I concentrated on the cracked axle and grew the wood back together. “Done,” I said. A man still under the wagon looked at the cracked area and felt around it.

  “He's right; it's done, like new it is.” The owner climbed under to look. He got back up, smiling.

  “Best two silvers I've ever spent,” he said, laughing. “Thank you, Sir Wizard.”

  I took the offered silvers. “You are welcome, sir.”

  The story of me repairing the broken axle made it around the caravan before I made my next lap. I saw the Caravan Master approaching me.

  “I wanted to apologize for any unintended disrespect, Sir Wizard.”

  “I took none, Master. I am young and inexperienced, as far as you know. You have a responsibility to the caravan. I would have done the same.”

  “Thank you for understanding. May I call on you for other needs outside of your guard duties?” he asked.

  “I work for the caravan. Whatever I can do to help, I will. However, I may charge for my services outside of our arrangement. But I assure you, I will not take advantage of anyone's misfortune.”

  “That's fair, and thank you.” I nodded, and he continued on his way, as did I.

  I was now known throughout the caravan and probably the caravan yard. So much for keeping a low profile. Maybe I could make it work for me. I was now hiding in plain sight. Everyone knows me, so no one would suspect me of working with the Roomas.

  “Anna,” someone shouted behind me. I turned to see a little girl running toward me. “Anna, stop!” the woman called. I took her to be the child's mother. I stopped and waited.

  The little girl kept running toward me, waving. I smiled at that.

  “Are you the wizard?” the little girl asked.

  I nodded. “I am, little miss.”

  “I'm sorry, sir. She moves faster than a rabbit sometimes,” the woman said.

  “No harm, Mistress.”

  “Can you help me, Master Wizard?” the little one asked.

  “Help you with what?” I inquired.

  She handed me her wooded doll. “My Dolly fell and hurt her leg. Everyone says you fixed the wagon, so I wanted to see if you could fix Dolly.”

  “Anna, the wizard doesn't have time for that,” her mother said.

  “Well, let me look at Dolly; maybe it's not too bad.” I took her doll; its wooden leg was cracked and bending. I ran my hand over it and made the leg new. Then, I made a show of looking it over for the little girl who was all eyes.

  “I think she'll be all right now, but her leg may be a little sore for a while. You'll have to take care of her.”

  She was nodding her head. “I will; I promise.” I handed Dolly back to her, and she hugged it close. “Thank you, Master Wizard,” she said.

  I bowed. “Of course, Miss Anna.”

  “Look Mama, Dolly is all better now.”

  “I see that; run along back to the wagon.”

  “Yes, Mama,” she said, turning back toward their wagon.

  “I'm sorry if Anna was any trouble, Sir Wizard.”

  I waved her apology off. “She was no trouble, Mistress. Besides, Dolly was in a bad way and needed help,” I said, smiling.

  Anna's mother chuckled. “Thank you again, Master Wizard.”

  I bowed: “Mistress.” I was definitely a known person now. Even the children knew me, and after fixing Dolly, my fame would spread far and wide. I snickered at the thought.

  I continued on my laps, learning everyone's faces and the wagons that were part of our caravan. I fixed a few more wagons, but none was as bad as the first. Most of these people were not rich, or even well-to-do merchants. They were families that made their living on the road. They would buy in one place and sell in the next. They weren't getting rich, but by the looks of it, most were well fed and relatively healthy. I only charged a copper or two for the few minor things I fixed.

  I was passing by the caravan's mess wagon when I saw one of the men wave me over. I walked over to him.

  “Master Gray, is it?” I nodded. “Everyone calls me Cookie. As you can guess, I'm the cook.”

  “Well met, Master Cook,” I said.

  He waved me off. “Just Cookie. Anyway, the reason I waved you over is Sergeant Vince told me you have a way with the earth.”

  I nodded. “A little. What can I do for you?”

  “Could you make me a fire pit with an oven? If you can, we'll have bread more often than normal.”

  “I'm always up for fresh bread,” I said, laughing. “Tell me what you have in mind.” He took a stick and drew what he wanted in the dirt. “So, an open pit for you to hang your pots over and an oven at one end.”

  “Yep,” he said, looking at the drawing.

  I concentrated and lowered the ground for the pit and raised up and formed the oven he wanted. “Is that what you had in mind? Is it big enough?”

  He was looking at it. “Can you make something to hang my rod on—the one that my pots hang from?”

  I rose what I thought he wanted. “Like that?”

  “Yes, that will work. Now, can you make the oven a little bigger and the inside a little taller?” I made the corrections he wanted, and he was grinning from ear to ear. “Now, the big question is can you do that every time we stop for the night?”

  “Sure. As long as you keep baking bread, I'll keep conjuring your ovens.”

  “Deal!” We laughed. True to his word, we had fresh bread for dinner. I didn't have to conjure the latrine ditch yet; the caravan yards already had them.

  The wagons were parked in a double line here in the yard, but once on the road, they would be parked in a circle. We would walk guard outside the wagon's circle. The wagon owners would guard their own wagons, and it was easier for them to do inside the circle. Our guards were here for the security of the caravan as a whole.

  “I see Cookie found you.” I turned to Sergeant Vince.

  “He did. I think we'll both be happy with the deal; I know I will,” I said, smiling.

  “Oh, he's definitely happy. That man enjoys cooking, but he really loves baking breads. You made his day.”

  �
��Good, because I love to eat it.” We laughed.

  “We aren't expecting any trouble here in the park, but you can never be sure. I want you to just be around to get a feel of how everything flows in and around a caravan. If I need you, I'll call you. Just let me know where you bed down.”

  “Yes, Sergeant.”

  It was a nice night—not too cool, no wind blowing. There were several small fires along each side of the caravan, and everyone seemed to be in a good mood. They were looking forward to getting the trip started.

  As I passed the Rooma's wagon, Jacob called to me. “Sir Wizard?”

  “Yes, sir, how may I be of service?” I asked. There were others around him, and they looked at me as I answered.

  “They say you can fix wagons.”

  I nodded. “I can, sir, do you have a problem?”

  “Not that I know of, but perhaps you can use your magic to ensure we don’t.”

  “I can do that,” I answered. I lay my hand on the wagon. It was in good shape. I could also tell there was a lot of gold in it. There was also some magic at work around the gold. I suspected it had something to do with the weight of the gold itself. Otherwise, one wagon couldn't carry that much weight without failing. “Your wagon is fine, sir. You shouldn't have any trouble, but if something should happen, I'll come around and we'll get you back in shape.”

  He handed me a few coppers. “Good, glad to have a wizard with us who can fix wagons. You could probably make a good living just doing that.”

  “That thought has crossed my mind, sir, thank you.” I bowed and continued on my rounds.

  The rest of the night was quiet. I told Sergeant Vince where I slept before lying down. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the earth. I could feel the wagons of our caravan and the people moving around. I thought back through the Red and Blue Wizards’ memories for something I could use to tell me when anyone came close to us, just in case I needed to wake up if I was asleep.

  I let my hand sink down into the earth for a better connection, or I should say a closer connection with the earth and the living things around me—the grass, small plants, insects, and small animals. Everything seemed so alive. I fell asleep while enjoying the wonder of it all, but I knew instantly when someone approached me.

  I opened my eyes but did not move. “Gray,” the guard said.

  “Yes?” I answered.

  “Sarge wants you to make a few rounds with me.”

  “Got it,” I said, sitting up and slipping my boots on. I was ready in less than a minute, and the guard and I walked around the caravan.

  “Been quiet?” I asked.

  “Yeah, just the way I like it. Quiet and boring is good. Excitement can get you hurt or worse, dead.”

  “Yep, I'm all for quiet,” I said.

  I spent time with two of the guard shifts before turning back in. I sank my hand back into the ground and slept soundly the rest of the night.

  Chapter 10

  I was up before dawn, did my exercises, and practiced my dance. I made sure my mount was ready, saddled her, and packed my gear. We all got a quick breakfast of a roll and meat. Everyone was packing up to move.

  The caravan was on the road one hour after dawn. Sergeant Vince had teamed me with Burton, who everyone called Burt. He was the guard's scout, and I was to work with him.

  “Learn everything you can from him. Don't always rely on your magic to save you,” Sergeant Vince said. That sounded like sound advice. Burt was almost as old as Sergeant Vince. They usually worked together and had done so for years.

  Burt didn't talk much, but when he did, I listened. I knew from Vince's memories that Burt didn't like to talk when he was scouting, so I didn't speak unless spoken to. I think he liked that, so we got along fine. He seemed to take an interest in me and started teaching me what he was looking for—not only looking, but also listening and smelling for.

  I was reaching out with my senses and felt the trees and all the life of the forest. So far there were no people around us. We were far enough away from the caravan that I could barely feel them at the edge of my senses.

  “How do you scout?” Burt asked.

  “It's a spell that allows me to feel things around me, and I can stretch that feeling out a good way from us.”

  He nodded, keeping his eyes moving. “Do you feel anything?”

  “Small animals, nothing more.” That wasn't exactly true, but close enough. I'm sure he didn't want to hear about the trees.

  When we arrived at the place we would stop at for the night, we scouted around the area, making sure we were alone. I already knew we were, but I followed Burt, nonetheless. Once he was satisfied, we stopped and rested for a while. One of us would head back to the caravan to report to them.

  We loosed the cinch straps on our horses and let them rest. I concentrated on Burt.

  “Give me all the knowledge I need.” Burt stopped moving for a moment, and I now knew all he knew about scouting. Teaching me the normal way would have taken years for me to learn; this was better.

  Burt shook his head and continued working with his horse. I would still listen to him. Again, all the knowledge I had gained was theory; I needed practical experience to perfect it.

  “This is where we normally stop on the first day,” Burt said over his shoulder. “It will get everyone and the animals used to moving again. Tomorrow we'll go farther.”

  I looked around at the open area. It was flat, but I didn't see any water. I felt the surrounding earth. There was a creek a hundred yards from the clearing. “They use the creek as their water source?”

  He smiled and nodded. “Good,” was all he said. I guess I had passed his little test. “Another job we do while we are out scouting is take the game. Usually toward the end of the day, we'll take a deer, elk, or boar. That will help stretch the caravan supplies, and they pay us for bringing in the meat.”

  I nodded. “Which do you fancy?”

  “I like boar myself, but they are usually harder to find and more dangerous.”

  After we had rested the horses, he said, “I'll head back to the caravan; you see if you can bag us some meat. Don't get killed. Vince would beat your corpse for dying.” We laughed.

  “I'll do my best,” I answered.

  Burt tightened his saddle and rode back the way we had come. I cast my mind around, looking for game. I felt what I was looking for on the edge of my senses, so I dropped into the earth and moved toward the boar I felt.

  I was getting better at moving underground. I just pulled myself along with my mind in the direction I wanted to go. I was up to speeds of what I thought might be as fast as I could run, but it was not tiring to me. It seemed to take no exertion to travel through the earth.

  There were several in the herd, but I found the boar I was feeling. He was large and not too old. I thought he would be the best for eating, as he was rooting around in the dirt, looking for something to eat.

  I waited for his nose to be deep in the dirt. “Hold.” The dirt held his snout and feet fast. He tried to break the hold the earth had on him, but using my dagger, I slit his throat. The rest of the herd ran when they smelled the blood and heard him fighting to get loose.

  After the herd was well away from me, I emerged from the ground. I needed to hang the hog up to clean him. I looked around at the trees; one had vines running throughout it.

  “It's worth a try.”

  Touching the tree, I concentrated on what I wanted to happen. The vines snaked over to the hog and wrapped themselves around its legs. They pulled the hog up into the tree. Once he was off the ground, I stopped them from pulling.

  “That'll work,” I said and got busy dressing out my kill.

  I left the offal where they fell. Others in the forest needed to eat too. When I finished, I asked the vines to lower the carcass to the ground. I took hold of my kill, carried it into the earth with me, and headed back to the clearing where my horse was. Even with the extra weight of the boar, I felt no increased burden while tra
velling underground.

  I stopped at the creek to wash off, but there was nothing for me to wash off. As I entered or exited the earth, I guess the blood and mess stayed behind. I was clean and so was the boar. I didn't even have the smell of the kill on me. In order to cool the meat, I let the boar lay in the creek.

  A memory from the Red came to mind. I went back to the clearing and lowered a hole in the ground. I called up rocks from below and lined the bottom of the hole.

  I looked at the rocks. “Hot.” The rocks became red hot, and I covered them with a layer of dirt and leaves. Then, I ported the pig into the pit, covered it with leaves, and then a layer of dirt. Red's memories said it would cook the pig and be delicious.

  To save time, I raised Cookie's cooking pit and oven in the same area as the boar was cooking. I kept casting my mind about to ensure I was still alone. I found where the latrine ditch had been before and lowered our latrine ditch just up from there. It was early evening when the caravan arrived. The wagons came in, forming a circle. Cookie was smiling when he pulled up to his pit.

  “Good lad,” he said, as he jumped down from his wagon. I told him what I had done to the pig. He was nodding while he listened. “We'll let it cook a while longer while I get everything else ready. Can you do that same trick with the heated rocks in my pit? It would save work not having to chop and haul wood.”

  I nodded. “Sure, no problem.” I called the rocks up to the bottom of his pit.

  “Hot.” And with that, the rocks became red hot. That made his day. With Cookie taken care of, I went to find Sergeant Vince.

  “Burt said you did well today, and I see you've already made the latrine ditch,” Sergeant Vince said. I nodded.

  “I enjoyed working with Burt and learned a lot from him,” I answered. “I even had time to kill a boar, so we should have plenty of meat tonight.”

  “Even better! I love boar meat.”

  The boar cooked in the ground was a big hit. It came out so tender the meat fell off the bone. Cookie made sure I got a good portion and a big hunk of fresh bread.

  “It's good to be friends with the cook.” I thought to myself, smiling.

  After I ate, I found Sergeant Vince. We had a guard wagon that carried extra gear; everyone usually slept around the wagon.