Inconvenient Magic 01 - Potatoes, Come Forth! Page 5
He made a couple of false turns but managed to navigate to Boulevard de Berast without mishap. Both the palace of Baron Winstead Heimgelberg, situated on the rugged, prominent rise at the center of the city, and the neighborhood of posh homes that surrounded it were inside the Old City Wall, but the propped-open gates were untended and no guards were present to offer challenge as they entered. A left at the first intersection beyond the gate brought them to Berast, a broad lane that wound around the foot of the hill. With wide promenades and a grassy median sprouting mature live oaks, the avenue was an opulent reflection of the character of the district.
It still lacked better than an hour before nightfall when they arrived, but two wardens in the butternut and gold livery of Heimgelberg had already begun to light the pole mounted oil lamps that lined the thoroughfare.
Seeing no need to rush, Everett, with Sarah still on his arm, began to stroll down the promenade on the left side of the boulevard, casually taking in the shop window displays. Among the various milliners, chapelleries, confiseries, fine goods shops, and banks, there proved to be five wizard and four magicker shops. All of them, as expected, where shut tight, but all had printed cards or elaborate signs posted to advertise their wares. They checked each one in turn, finding everything from a Human Behavior Modification (Loose that extra weight now!) to a Plant Lifecycle Advancement (Apples One Month Early Guaranteed!) The last shop that they came to was that of a Master Wizard by the name of Gerald D’Ange. His list of eleven spells was on an ornately carved board mounted to the right of his garishly-red door.
Everett ran his finger down the silver inlaid letters. “Well, looks like it’s your lucky day! Here’s one – Large Mass Vital/Non-vital Transportation (Group, Potent, One Way and Round Trip).”
“Great! What does it cost?”
“Just a second.” Everett read the next line. “Specific Location Only. Vacation on the fantastic equatorial Isle of Baelgru! White sand and warm sun even in the dead of winter!”
“Oh.”
“Sorry.”
“Not your fault. Well, I mean, it is your fault that I’m here, but you know what I mean.”
“Right.” He did not know what to say next, so he remained quiet while she stood in thought.
“Your spell is simply too limited. It would take forever to get to Kleinsvench,” she pondered out loud.
Everett did some swift mental calculations. Transportation over a journey of twelve hundred miles probably would take no more than fifteen or so days, but being unable to carry more than a minimum of supplies and having no way to determine a proper course would no doubt cause the trip to take double or triple that.
Not that he actually wanted to attempt it. “Right.”
“There’s no other option, I suppose, but to head down the river and then catch a coastal steamer?”
“That would probably be the quickest way,” he ventured, pleased that she did not press him to use his eighth spell.
“Do we have enough money to buy passage all that way?”
He gave a slight wince at the inclusive and presumptuous “we” and the claim that it implied to the banknotes in his pocket. Still, it could not do any harm to travel with her. Despite his best efforts, it was time to admit that he did not have the proper spells to earn his keep here in the Baronies. It was just possible that he might have better luck in the more populous and metropolitan western part of the continent. If the brewing conflict did explode into war, he could always return to Eriis or perhaps one of the coastal ports like New Zindersberg, the large trading port at the mouth of the Edze.
“I doubt it,” he opined. “If prices are rising as sharply as the grocer said, then two hundred might not even buy us both a ticket on a boat from here to the gulf.”
“Could we work our passage? Sign on as deck hands?”
“I don’t know.” It actually sounded like a really juvenile, half-baked idea to him, but he thought it would be better if she found that out for herself. “We could ask at the docks tomorrow, I suppose.”
Sarah nodded. “Do you know of a place where we could lodge for the night?”
“Inns are fairly expensive here. I usually sleep in a hayloft outside the city.” He did not think it necessary to mention that he did so without permission and always had to sneak out before daybreak to avoid begin caught.
“I’m tired enough to sleep anywhere. Let’s go.”
Away from the prosperous district, the streets were unlit, but the soft evening twilight of middle summer prevailed and they had no trouble retracing their steps. Once outside the Old Wall, Everett detoured south along Garker Street, the main north-south artery, explaining to Sarah that his preferred hayloft lay in that direction. Garker passed through several residential neighborhoods and then edged by an area predominated by small workshops and warehouses. By this time, the twilight had all but succumbed to full darkness and the streets were mostly deserted. The windows of the city began to show lights, mostly the yellow, inconsistent illumination of oil lamps, but occasionally the white glare of the new battery fed electric bulbs.
Just beyond a cotton warehouse, with the Main Southern Gate of the New City Wall in sight and the street otherwise vacant, a man sidled from a side road and stopped when he saw them. He was rather common: average height, work clothes, a fancy moustache. Smiling pleasantly, he said, “Good evening!”
Everett also stopped and laid a restraining hand on Sarah’s arm, so that they were still several paces from the man. His father, afflicted by a terminal predisposition to adages, had had another frequent saying: “Just because a man looks friendly, doesn’t mean he is.”
“Evening,” Everett replied neutrally.
“Out for a walk with the wife? Good night for it.” The man had an even baritone and hands that danced as he talked.
“Right.”
“I hate to ask, but could I bother you for a few coppers? I’ve lost my job and haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
Everett relaxed slightly. He had an intense, personal understanding of the man’s plight and had once or twice had to do a little begging himself. He began to fish in his pocket and, without thinking, pulled out the fold of banknotes to get at the coins.
The man’s eyes widened at the sight of the money, and, then he grinned, showing the patent enamel of a full set of false teeth. Then, with studied casualness, he slid a long dirk from a sheath at the back of his belt. His easy motions indicated that he was more than comfortable with the weapon. His tone still pleasant, he twitched the end of the knife at the paper bills. “That’ll do. Just let me have it all.”
Sarah sucked in her breath sharply.
Cursing himself for an idiot, Everett jammed the banknotes back in his pocket and raised his fists. He was not going to give up the money. He had earned it, for Magic’s sake! No two pence thief was going to take it away from him! As he readied himself to attack the cutpurse, he heard a swift sound behind him and something struck him on the back of the head. Stunned, he staggered and dropped to his knees. Immediately, rough hands pinned his arms.
Sarah said loudly, “Flammables, ignite anon!”
White light flared and someone, maybe the first man, began screaming. The rough hands released Everett and, head spinning, he tried to stand. Sarah cast again. Again, light flared, brighter, and another man screamed in pain.
Sarah took hold of his arm and hauled him upright, then slung her arms about him. “Get us out of here!”
He shook his head, trying to clear it. “What?”
“Transport us!”
Looking about through blurred vision and ignoring the horrifying images of two men leaping about and swatting at flaming clothing, he caught sight of the pool of light from a lamp at the gate far down the street. He focused and cast.
When they appeared in front of them, the two Baronial Gendarmes lounging in the gatehouse jumped up, shouting, and went for their pistols. Beyond the gate, Everett saw the wavering glint of starlight on something far out in the gath
ering night and cast again.
Water exploded outward from them in a huge burst of spray and then rushed back, cold and solid, to swamp them. Sputtering, he kicked to bring his head above the surface, saw Sarah’s head bob up near by, and swam toward her. Treading water, she sculled about and then launched herself in a practiced breaststroke. Following, he saw her emerge from the water after only a few yards and he also soon encountered the sloping bottom of the pond. He followed her up the cow-mucked bank and into the cropped grass of a large pasture.
As water dripped from the end of his nose, he glared accusingly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a Magicker?”
She pinched her lips together. “You didn’t ask.”
He choked back a curse, blew out air to ease his aggravation, and rubbed the painful swelling on the back of his head. A monstrous headache had already begun. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“What rank are you? How many spells do you have?”
“Six, currently.”
“It might have helped if you had told me that in the beginning.”
“I don’t agree. None of my spells is any kind of Transportation Variant.”
Seething once again, he stared at her gritting his teeth for a moment and then with cold determination reached in his pocket to extract the soaking banknotes. He carefully separated five and tossed them down at her feet.
“That’s half of what I have. Goodbye.” He turned about and started marching across the pasture. He did not pick a direction; he just left her. She did not call after him.
After a hundred yards, Everett came to a rail fence. Beyond were another pasture and a large herd of dairy cattle settling for the night. Not wanting to disturb the animals into a racket, he turned and followed the fence and started looking for a place to bed down. He was cold, tired, and hungry and the only condition of the three that he could remedy at the moment was the second.
The fast Inner Moon had risen, and though not quite full, it provided enough light for him to see his general surroundings. There were the dark silhouettes of trees far ahead of him, but most of the land was given over to rolling pasture. Something more than two miles off of his left shoulder, the lights of Eriis were visible. Eventually, the fence guided him by a meandering path to a dark, sagging old cottage that had been converted to a hay shed. The windows were empty holes, no paint remained on the weathered siding, one entire end wall had been wrecked out, and the stars and moonlight shone through the slate roof, but the night had already begun to cool and it was better than sleeping among the cow patties. Most of the bales had already been taken out, but there remained sufficient loose straw scattered inside to ruck into a meager bed. He burrowed into it, damp clothes and all, and tried to relax in spite of his throbbing skull.
He was almost asleep when he heard steps stirring the grass outside.
“Who’s there?” he called, sitting up. Sometimes these farmers could be rather unreasonable about uninvited guests. Their unreasonableness generally involved pitchforks and cudgels.
“It’s me,” Sarah, plainly visible in the moonlight, answered from the just outside the house. “I’ve come to return your money. I don’t have any right to it.”
Everett got up, stalked toward her, and stuck out his hand. “Suit yourself.”
She laid the damp bills in his palm and then walked with calm assurance by him into the dim interior.
“What are you doing?” he demanded indignantly.
“I’m going to sleep. This is the only place close and I’m tired.”
Flabbergasted, he followed her, rolling the bills carefully and shoving them into a shirt pocket. “You can’t sleep here.”
“Of course I can.” She found his pile of hay, looked it over, then sat down and started rearranging it to suit her.
“That’s mine.”
“We can share it.”
“Not hardly. Now, what did you tell me? Oh, yes. There’s absolutely no chance of us developing a romantic relationship.”
“Don’t be absurd. All I’m interested in is sleep.”
Grumbling, but not willing to throw her out bodily, he flopped down to secure claim to his own portion of the musty hay.
She slipped out of her jacket, spread it aside to dry and then began to tug the sleeves of the shirt in order to remove it.
“Now what are you doing?”
“I’m not going to sleep in these wet clothes and neither should you.”
“What?”
She looked at him, smiled amusedly, and said, “Good night and sweet dreams!”
SIX
Everett woke just after dawn. Feeling rested and warm, he did not stir for several moments. When he finally deigned to open his eyes, he immediately saw Sarah sitting in her now dry clothes nearby, trying to comb out her fluffed hair with her fingers.
“You cast a spell on me,” he said without ire.
“Of course.”
“What is it, a Short Term Soporific?”
“Yes, but without a set duration. It makes the target sleep for a period of normal rest. It works great on babies. When I was young, I was in great demand as a baby sitter.”
“Huh,” he grunted. He started to sit up, realized that he was nude and covered only by his own nearly dry clothing, and clutched at them in sudden panic. “I’m naked!”
“I wasn’t about to let you sleep in your wet clothes.”
“But – you undressed me?”
“You’ve seen me without my clothes on,” she pointed out.
This brought him up short. She had a point.
Managing to keep all the pertinent bits covered with his shirt, he drew on his small clothes and pants, then stood up to finish dressing, all the while marveling at the strange detour his life had taken. This thought raised logically obvious suspicions.
“Have you cast any other spells on me?” he interrogated while buttoning his shirt.
She awarded him an obviously insincere pout. “No, of course not.”
Not bothering to mention that he did not believe her, he hopped on one foot to slip on one sock, then the other, and then slid on his boots. They squelched unpleasantly. If he walked far in them, he would wear blisters. He noticed that Sarah was also now wearing a pair of sturdy, lace-up shoes and white socks.
“Where’d you get the shoes?”
She did not smile. “I encountered them nearby.”
“Ah.” Encountering needed items was a practice he had often had to employ himself.
The night’s rest had considerably lightened his mood. His headache was gone and he felt more refreshed than he had in some time, likely a side effect of her Soporific. He debated with himself for just a moment, then offered, “Help me transport myself back to the city and I’ll buy breakfast.” At least his spell could save him some foot sores.
“Deal.”
Two clandestine hops and a short stroll brought them to Eriis’s North Main Gate. On a previous visit to the Baron Heimgelberg’s capital, he had eaten a very good meal at a place in the northern borough of the city. He could not recall the name of the street-side café, but he did remember that they had served excellent cornbread. After a ten-minute walk along the gradually awakening streets, he easily found it again and the two of them grabbed a small table as the morning clientele began to crowd in. Then, moved to benign largesse by the comforting and exhilarating feel of money in his pocket and cognizant of his many missed meals, he ordered pancakes and link sausage, biscuits with jam and bacon, grits, scrambled eggs, and a tall glass of milk for them both. He did defer, however, the offer of hash browns; he felt sure that his companion would not be enthused by more potatoes. He then surprised himself by eating his entire portion, finishing by swabbing the last dregs of the grits from his plate with his final bite of biscuit. Sarah also surprised him by devouring her own meal with a voracious appetite, except for the two biscuits and bacon, which she folded in a paper napkin and stuffed in her jacket pocket against, she informed him, future need.
“Ouch,” Everett complained, handing the man a twenty.
The waiter shook his head in sympathy and made change from his apron. “At the rate things are going, it’ll be twice that in a couple of months.”
Everett accepted his change, all in crumpled banknotes except for the coppers, then handed the man back a five. “For you and your sister, for excellent service and an excellent meal.”
When they left the café, Everett made his way back to Garker Street, in order to guide Sarah to the docks. His full stomach made him disinclined to be disagreeable and he deferred the question of whether he would part ways with her until they arrived.
As they made their way along the street, mixing in with the increasing but still light traffic of workmen headed to their labors, distracted accountants and other professional types, casual shoppers, school children, and the like, Sarah suggested quite seriously, “You shouldn’t have given that man such a large tip. You can’t afford it.”
“It’s my money. I’ll blow it any way that I please.”
“At the rate of twelve and twenty a meal, you’ll be broke in four days.”
“Not if I only buy one portion.”
“Fine. You’ll be broke in eight days.”
“I’ll find other work.”
Sarah stopped abruptly alongside a patisserie’s display window, grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the flow of pedestrians. Giving the semblance of examining the enticing arrangement of cookies and candies just beyond the glass, she told him, “You don’t have to. Get me back to Kleinsvench and I’ll pay you five thousand silver in coin.”
“Do you actually have five thousand silver?” In his experience, the wealthy tended to have a generally elitist demeanor that she clearly lacked.
“Not in cash, no,” she admitted easily. “But the Elector does and she’ll honor my pledge.”
Everett found the offer sorely tempting. Five thousand silver, even if the west were suffering the same rising prices as here in Eriis, would buy him an excellent fresh start. Such a financial cushion would give him plenty of time to research the demand for his spells and establish a regular clientele. Indeed, he might even be able to take some time simply to enjoy life for a while.