An Unexpected Magician, page 3
“Grant was the smart one, though,” Hubert said.
“I thought you all had to be smart?” Justin said.
“Grant was smarter,” Buck said. “Hubert and I were muscle, Winston was the one stuck with reporting, and Grant was the strategist. Others were doing their thing. No more talk about the past. All I want to concentrate on is the present.” Buck grinned at the four mugs on the table.
“Not yet,” Grant said. “I called you to this classroom to help me teach Justin the finer points of ale tasting.”
“Isn’t he a little young? Shouldn’t you first wait for a little kitty fuzz on the upper lip?” Buck asked.
“Tasting, not drinking,” Grant said with a tiny grin.
“Aww,” Buck said. “What will you do with what is left over?”
“That is to be determined,” Grant said, raising his eyebrows at his friends.
Justin sat back. He thought he’d be drinking with Grant until dinnertime. But, he sighed, four tastes were better than none at all.
Grant plopped a mug in front of Justin.
“A sip is all you need. Drink too much, and you won’t be able to judge the taste,” Hubert said with a sly grin.
“That’s because it just means more for you,” Justin said, taking the mug and sniffing the ale’s aroma. The smell didn’t mean much to him then, but that would change as he continued.
He closed his eyes and took a sip. It seemed to taste a little sweeter and grainier, if that was a term, than the ale he had at his grandfather’s. He suspected something else, but that would have to wait.
Justin pushed the mug away. “Next.”
Hubert put the next one in front of Justin. It tasted the same as the third. Grant was playing a game with him. Justin made up different descriptions, and he could see the three men almost giggling.
The fourth was different. The smell seemed to clear his nose. The taste was more like his grandfather’s ale, and Justin guessed the difference. Alcohol. The first three had no punch to them, and the fourth burned his throat all the way down. Justin couldn’t resist coughing.
“Which do you like better?” Buck asked.
“The fourth one, of course. It is the only mug of ale on the table. I don’t know what the other stuff is, but the first three came from the same keg.”
“But your descriptions?” Hubert said.
“Were false after the first. I was playing along,” Justin said with a smile of his own. He took a larger swig from the mug and set it down, making sure he didn’t spit any of the potent brew out as it hit his throat.
“Were the three drinkable?” Grant asked.
“They were, but I think I like tea better,” Justin said.
“Do you want to try some coffee?” Hubert asked.
“I’ve only heard about it,” Justin said. “Uncle Turpin would go to wine bars in Pancel to drink coffee. He wouldn’t waste money on me, so I was never invited.”
“It probably was your money,” Grant said.
Justin nodded.
“Coffee, it is,” Grant said and summoned the server. “Three mugs of ale, without the fortification this time, and a sugared coffee for the lad.”
“Fortification?” Justin asked.
“A little more alcohol to make your taste test more interesting,” Grant said.
Hubert grabbed the fourth mug and took a swig. He had to clear his throat and take a breath. “Potent and not for normal consumption.”
The new drinks arrived, and Grant put his own mug in front of Justin. “Taste it. This is the normal ale for this place.”
Justin took a sip, and the alcohol toned down the sweetness and the grainy taste. “This is much better.”
“You get the non-alcoholic version for another year when we return to this place,” Grant said.
“When the kitten fuzz appears,” Buck said.
The coffee came last. “Have you had this?” Justin asked Grant.
The man nodded. “It’s more of a morning drink for me. Melanie knows how to make it. You must toast the beans and crush them to get the most flavor. I tried to make some and realized that I had other talents.”
Justin took a sip. The drink was hot. He guessed the crushed beans were boiled like tea leaves. The taste was dark, like the coffee’s color. The sugar offset the bitterness of the flavor underneath, but Justin liked the taste, although coffee was too strong to drink a lot of it.
“This isn’t a drinking kind of drink,” Justin said.
“No, it isn’t,” Buck said. “I like it unsweetened, but only a small cup at a time.”
“There are a few coffee establishments in town,” Hubert said. “One is a bookstore where young people go. You might want to try it there when you are a bit older. Hawser Book and Coffee Shop, it’s called.”
“I’m too young to be let in?” Justin asked.
“No, most patrons are in their late teens and early twenties. They wouldn’t treat you nicely,” Hubert said. “We are much better company.”
“Especially now,” Grant said. “Gentlemen, we are going help Justin become a military man.”
“A project?” Buck asked. “We haven’t had one of those since the army. Are you going to include Winston?”
“I will, but I couldn’t get word to him or Lisiane. The boy will need firearm training, so Winston’s the one for that.”
“Firearms,” Justin said. “I’d like to learn about them.”
“Don’t worry about that, now. Winston has a big farm to the north, way past Grant’s place. You can shoot all day long, and no one will care.”
“I’ll care if I have to pay for all the powder and ammunition,” Grant said.
“Maybe Winston can use the boy around his place to help defray the cost,” Hubert said.
“Perhaps he can,” Grant said. “Another round?”
Justin looked at the mug with coffee filling a third of it. “None for me.”
The server took their order and looked at Justin.
“I’ll get you some of our fizzy fruit juice. It is the pub's specialty down the street, but we have an arrangement.”
“The girls and Melanie like it,” Grant said.
“I’ll try one for them,” Justin said, popping a tiny ball of fried and seasoned bread into his mouth.
Chapter Four
~
A lmost a year later, Justin sat back and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and stood up, completing the provincial competency test. Most of the others in the room had finished their formal schooling at Manford’s private and public schools and were still toiling over the questions.
“All done?” the woman proctor said.
Justin nodded. “When do I find out if I passed?”
The woman looked out into the room as if counting noses. “A week or less. The results will be posted on the board outside this room.”
A few other test takers scowled as Justin walked out of the room. It had been a tough road, but he had learned more than he thought possible, and he was still a month shy of his sixteenth birthday.
His accelerated pace of study had precluded learning any of the military subjects that Grant had promised, but that hadn’t stopped Grant from forcing Justin to stay focused on his physical training.
Grant and Melinda rose from a bench in the hallway when Justin left the testing room.
“You passed?” Melinda asked.
“I won’t know officially for a week, but I’m sure I did,” Justin said with a grin.
Grant clapped Justin on the back. When Justin first arrived, the blow might have knocked him to the ground, but with almost two years’ worth of growth and constant workouts, Justin took it in stride. “What’s next?”
“Time to spend a summer with Winston Barry and his wife. They are close enough that you can sneak out often enough to poke around Manford and give my girls the teasing they need,” Grant said.
Justin nodded. The promised lessons on firearms hadn’t happened yet, and he had little enough time to practice with hand weapons. “Will I have to do a lot of farm work?”
“It will keep you in shape, and Winston has to do his farm work, although his children are getting old enough to be of real help. His oldest son just turned thirteen.”
Justin already knew that. He was ready to leave the basic lessons behind. Aunt Melinda had told him he needed more study to qualify for an academy or a university.
The whole study thing had become easier for Justin when he didn’t feel like he was fighting with everyone, and his Aunt Melinda had helped him work through that.
A few days later, Justin rode down the lane to Winston Barry’s farm with Grant. The fields on both sides of the track were filled with rows of vegetables. Justin had met Winston a few times since he had arrived, but Justin hadn’t met the rest of Winston’s family.
“He raises cattle on most of his land,” Grant said as Justin gawked at all the weeding work that might be his.
They rode through a curve, and Justin spotted four men working side by side, plucking weeds from rows of herbs.
“Winston doesn’t do all the work on his farm?” Justin asked.
Grant laughed. “He has ten helpers. Sometimes the Manford constabulary sends those with minor offenses to work on his farm.”
“I didn’t know,” Justin said.
“Winston keeps more things to himself than the rest of us. Part of that is Lisiane’s doing. She’s a healer.”
“Magical?”
Grant flashed a smile. “And a good one. She’s made Winston a better man than he could ever be alone.”
“There is more to that?”
Grant nodded. “There is, but not something we need to talk about.”
The farmhouse came into view. Justin guessed it was almost as big as Grant’s “manor.” A pretty, freckled woman ran out with a little boy and an older girl.
“Uncle Grant!” the little boy said.
The girl just smiled. The woman shaded her eyes as she looked up at Grant. “Winston is in the upper pasture. This must be Justin,” she said.
“It is. We’ll see Winston first, and then we can get Justin settled in.” Grant nodded to the woman.
“This is Lisiane, Justin. Don’t let her looks fool you. She could shoot you in the right eye at fifty paces,” Grant said.
“Not that I’d ever think of doing such a thing unless you don’t behave,” Lisiane said with a sly smile.
Justin had thought Lisiane would be like Aunt Melinda, but this woman had an edge to her speaking that his aunt lacked. He wondered if she would be as tolerant.
“Nice to meet you,” Justin said, giving her a little bow from horseback.
“Let’s hope you think I’m still nice after a couple of weeks,” Lisiane said, maintaining her smile. “Bring Winston back with you. It’s about time for lunch.”
“Will do, ma’am,” Grant said. He glanced at Justin. “Time to head out.”
Justin followed Grant through a stretch of woods that bordered a vast meadow.
“The pasture is on the other side of this. The sheep have been herded to another farm for shearing.”
“Why isn’t your farm this big?” Justin asked.
“I’m not a farmer and don’t want to be one,” Grant said. “I have some tiny crops and a few livestock. It is enough to tide me over between pension checks and the odd jobs that come my way. Winston and Lisiane are the rich ones in our little group, and that is fine with me. Melinda and I are as happy as we could be.”
Justin had witnessed the happiness. He wondered if Winston and Lisiane’s family was as close. As for wealth, Uncle Grant seemed more than comfortable.
The pasture was on the other side of another stretch of woods. There were cows, horses, goats, and wooly animals with long necks separated by stone fences. Winston, two farmhands, and Winston’s son worked on a stretch of tumbled-down fence.
“One of the cows decided to get a little frisky,” Winston said as Grant and Justin arrived. “Help us finish this stretch, and we can head back to the house.”
“You mean work?” Justin blurted out. He should have known better, but he couldn’t retract his words.
“I do,” Winston said.
The farmhands laughed, and the boy scowled.
Grant and Justin used their horses to drag rocks. Justin quickly realized that the work was almost finished, and within half an hour, everyone was headed back through the meadow.
“Get used to the effort, Justin,” Winston said. “We don’t have to exercise much to maintain our strength.”
“You are in better shape than I thought,” Felix, the thirteen-year-old son, said to Justin.
Felix looked young, but he was Justin’s age when his parents had been killed. The boy’s scowl hadn’t lasted long once Justin pitched in.
“I’m going to teach Felix the outside stuff along with you,” Winston said. “Lisiane will give you some healing instruction along with other subjects.”
“But I don’t have any magic.”
“Most healing is not magical. Lisiane taught army medics healing when we weren’t on assignment,” Winston said. “Felix already knows what they’ve been taught.”
“Do you have magic?” Justin asked Felix.
“Not yet. I have a good chance of inheriting some. Dad has a few sparks. That’s what Mom calls them. She is a bolt of lightning in comparison.”
“I suppose healing can always come in handy,” Justin said, thinking about the deaths of his family. If he knew healing, would he have been able to save any of them? He sighed. Most likely, he would have been buried alongside them.
~
“Pay attention, Justin,” Lisiane said as she wrapped a bandage around the leg of Winston’s youngest son. He giggled as his mother wrapped the long strip of cloth around a wound marked with a line of red ink. “Is this too tight or too loose?”
“Too tight!” the boy said.
“He’s right,” Justin said after feeling the wrapping and slipping his finger in the bandage. “It’s too tight for a normal wound, but if it was a deep gash and you didn’t have sewing tools, you’d wrap it this tight while transporting the patient to a proper healer.”
“Why would I do that? I’m a proper healer. Aren’t I?” Lisiane said.
“You are, but I’m not,” Justin said.
Lisiane smiled. “Right. A magical healer would seal the wound after disinfecting it. Magic isn’t the best disinfectant. Letting a wound bleed a bit can let the bad blood seep out. What about ale?”
“It isn’t either. Clear spirits are preferred. Cooled boiled water can be used to clean the wound,” Justin said.
“Rewrap the bandage,” Lisiane said.
Justin had wrapped a few hundred bandages and knew what to do. He ran his finger inside and grasped Mitchie’s leg. “There.”
“Good. I think you’ve passed injuries,” Lisiane said. “Broken bones are next.”
Justin coughed for a few minutes. The tips of his fingers began to tingle, and then the feeling ran through his whole body.
“Something is happening to me!” Justin said.
“Lie down on the couch in the sitting room. I’ll fetch a damp towel. You should be developing a fever,” Lisiane said with half a grin.
“You know what’s happening?”
“The fun is just beginning. Your magic is awakening,” she said.
“Are you sure?”
Lisiane raised her eyebrows and nodded with a smile on her face. “In a few days, your healing classes will change dramatically, judging by your body’s reaction.”
“But my family doesn’t have magic,” Justin said. “Is that what’s happening to me?”
“Is Justin sick, Mommy?” Mitchie said.
“A good sickness,” Lisiane said, “At least I hope it will be good.”
Justin didn’t like the flash of worry on her face. Lisiane touched Justin’s forehead, and he fell asleep.
~
Justin woke and sat up. Uncle Grant was in the room with Winston, Aunt Melinda, and Lisiane, with Lisiane sitting at his side. The faces looked more relieved than happy.
“How long did I sleep?” Justin asked.
“It’s the afternoon after your awakening,” Lisiane said. “I gave you a pulse of magic to wake you up. We have a few tests to perform, and your uncle and aunt wanted to see what happened. They don’t believe you have magic.”
“You can test me?” Justin asked.
“Oh, yes. The awakening is complete. Your magic will grow after the awakening, but you can complete spells now,” Lisiane said. “Magic requires three components, a physical focus, which is generally a spoken incantation. Initiating a spell by thought alone never works well. The second component is will, and the third is your innate magical power.”
“So magic is always available?” Justin asked.
“No. It’s like physical strength, your magical strength gets exhausted, but it always comes back with rest. If I expend a lot of healing magic, my ability to help someone gets depleted, but it generally is back to full power after a good night’s sleep,” Lisiane said. She took Justin’s hand and placed a feather on his open palm.
“What do I do now?”
“The spoken spell is “upara”. Other words can be used, but which works best is a matter of training. Upara always will get a reaction. Say the word and think of the feather rising. The spell and your intent will pull from your magic,” Lisiane said.
“Did you have your body tingle when you awakened?” Justin asked.
“It did, just like you,” Lisiane said with a smile.
Justin stared at the feather. “Upara.”
Nothing happened.
“It may take a few times. Concentrate a little harder,” Lisiane said.
“Upara,” Justin said. The feather lifted about six inches from his palm and stayed there.
“Command it to rise to six feet,” Lisiane asked.
Justin narrowed his eyes, and the feather rose to the ceiling and stayed there.
“Will the spell to stop,” Lisiane said.
The feather dropped, dancing in the air until it fell on Aunt Melinda’s lap. She picked the feather up and examined it before looking at Melinda. “Where did his power come from?”
