An Apprentice Without Magic, page 5
part #2 of Magic Missing Series
Sam could see they were for the house. “The house is yours?”
Bentwick looked around the room and said quietly. “Yes, but keep it to yourself. It isn’t my house, but my late sister’s.”
“Oh,” Sam said. “Did you lower the rent?”
“Not as much as you wanted, but I split the difference. Will that be acceptable?”
Sam felt like he couldn’t negotiate any further. “As long as I am free to make improvements as I see fit. If you could change the wording in the contract to reflect that, I’ll recommend that my brother sign the document.”
Bentwick leaned over Dickey’s desk and found the offending language and lined it out before placing his initial in the margin. “It is a deal. Just don’t burn the thing down.”
“I won’t,” Sam said. “Since I have the rest of the morning free, I will take this to Tru for his signature.”
“No nursemaid?” Dickey said.
Sam shook his head. “I will take my wand. You never know.”
“I’ll be on my way,” Bentwick said, looking a bit uncomfortable.
“And you’ll be on yours, I imagine?” Dickey asked Sam. “You might as well take the keys to the place.” His partner presented him with the keys.
“I should be back before lunch,” Sam said.
~
Sam approached Potter’s Decorative Iron. He showed up at the gate and asked to see Tru. He pulled off his spectacles to clean them when the frame bent. He tried to straighten the frame, but Sam could see the pollen had begun to soften underneath. They would be useless before long.
Potter stepped out of his office and walked over to Sam. “Are you here for your brother again?”
Sam nodded. “I am. We are renting a house, and I have the agreement for him to sign.”
The owner snorted. “Good. I don’t like my journeymen lying about with the apprentices. They are a bad influence.”
“The journeymen or the apprentices?” Sam said, smiling.
Potter grunted and didn’t respond. “What is wrong with your spectacles?”
“The frame has softened. I think I need to have my lenses mounted in a metal frame. Do you know of anyone that does that kind of work?” Sam asked.
Potter scratched his chin whiskers while he thought. His eyebrows rose as he snapped his fingers.
“A woman jeweler does custom work. She is a little odd, being a foreigner and all, but I’m sure she can do the job. Her name is Antina Mulch. She isn’t too far from here. I’ll go get her address. She has bought from me before.” Potter disappeared into his office.
Tru showed up. His clothes were filthy. “I’m showing the apprentices how to properly stoke the forges. What brings you here?”
“This,” Sam said raising the agreement. “I think you have to sign each copy.”
Tru produced a pencil, and they found a shelf where he signed the document. “You are paying all the rent at once?”
Sam nodded. “I got a 25% discount on the rent by doing that.”
Tru whistled. “I can’t pay you back.”
“Just do what you can. Father gave me the gold tips. I’m using less than half of one, for our rent, so consider it his doing.”
Tru put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You are a good brother.”
“Just so I am your better brother.”
Tru nodded. “There is no competition for that spot.”
Potter walked up to the pair of them. He eyed Tru. “If your business is finished then get back to doing mine,” Potter said without a hint of friendliness. The owner looked at Sam and gave him a scrap of paper before disappearing into his office.
“You can move in at any time. Dickey gave me the keys. Here is your set. I have to see a lady about my spectacles.” He showed Tru the bending frame. “They will only get worse.”
“I have to go,” Tru said, glancing nervously at the office building.
Sam felt bad that his brother had ended up in such a place. Potter was nice enough to give him the referral, but it was plain he didn’t think of Tru as much more than an apprentice.
He sighed as he read the address and had to stop a woman on the street for directions. She looked at his bloodstained shirt and nearly didn’t talk to him, but eventually, Sam stood in front of Mulch Jewelry and Curios. He took off his spectacles and guessed they were curios, and in a real sense, he was one, too.
He stepped inside the shop. It smelled different. Mulch did something to the air. Sam wondered what it was.
“Hello?” he called out to the empty shop.
An older woman walked out into the room. Sam put his spectacles to his face to see if the person wore a mask, but she looked the same.
“Can I help you, young man?” the woman said with accented voice.
He held out his spectacles. “These frames are beginning to soften. Potter of Potter Decorative Iron sent me to you, saying you might be able to help me.”
She gave him a smile, but it didn’t fill her face. She held out her hand. “How long ago were these made?”
“Mid-summer.”
She flexed them. “Maybe it is the gold wash on the lenses? I haven’t seen the technique used in Toraltia before. There shouldn’t be enough of the stuff to soften it like this.”
“I have a pollen aversion,” Sam said.
“A what?”
“Pollen aversion. Pollen softens when I touch it, just like it does with gold, but not quite as fast,” Sam said.
“I’ve never heard of such a thing. What do you use these spectacles for? Do you have sensitive eyes?”
Sam felt he had to explain his situation to get the woman to help. “As part of my pollen aversion, I can’t see pollen.”
“Impossible.”
She peered up at Sam. She was a short, stout woman who smelled like her shop.
“I was struck by lightning when I was five years old, and my pollen abilities were burned out of me. I can’t perform pollen magic, and I can’t see the stuff, except through the lenses.”
Antina put her hands on ample hips. “You are like a blind man.”
“Without those, I am. I have two other pairs, and I’m afraid they will soften up soon, too.”
“Frames, I can do, but I don’t have the metal that I need to make them. I use an alloy that melts at a lower temperature than iron. That will take some time to acquire.”
Sam grinned. “My brother is a journeyman at Potter’s. Maybe he can make the alloy.”
“Perhaps he can,” Antina said. “I will give you the recipe and wait for the metal. Otherwise, it may take a few months to get the alloy produced in Baskin.” She looked a bit more intent at Sam. “Tell me your story. It must be interesting.”
Antina took him to a small sitting area. They took chairs facing each other across a small table. Sam was a bit overwhelmed by the woman, the strange smell in the shop, and her interest in him.
“Did you have trouble growing up?”
Sam nodded. He found himself telling her of his difficulties in school and ended with a brief description of his time with Harrison Dimple.
“I have heard of him. His name isn’t popular with some in Baskin, you know.”
“I didn’t know,” Sam said.
“Ah. I will give you a very condensed version. Prince Dimple was once next in line for the throne of Toraltia, being the king’s cousin. He was thrust into the army on a questionable situation occurring when he visited a relative in Mountain View. It was thought, at the time, that the king was behind it. Both were much younger men. The king thought Dimple would be killed in the army, but the youth took to the austere life in the military. He was known for his battlefield prowess, but Dimple was given a choice, become a healer, or he was sure to die on the battlefield. He became a healer and faded into obscurity.”
Although the royal aspects of the story surprised Sam, he could see glimpses of the tale in the few comments the healer made about his past. He was stunned his traveling companion was a prince. Harrison didn’t seem like a noble at all. He had no pretensions, and Sam considered him a friend.
“He hasn’t given up all his contacts. Harrison still reports to people in Baskin.”
“From what you’ve told me, he still has supporters, but I am sure he knows his boundaries. That is why he lives so modestly away from Baskin,” Antina said. She leaned over and patted Sam’s hand. “I am sure you are a loyal friend. I suspect he has many.”
“I am a friend. We saved each other’s lives last summer.”
Antina gave him a measured smile. “A friendship you should keep,” she said.
“I need to go,” Sam said, a bit overwhelmed by the new information, “as soon as you give me the details of the metal mixture.”
She stood and wrote something out on her counter while Sam still sat, gazing at the trinkets on all the shelves. He saw a large dog’s collar and went to the shelf. Emmy’s was a simple black leather strap. The collar in the shop was a dark red with silver-colored pointed studs. “How much is this?”
Antina looked up from her writing. “You’d need a big dog for that,” she said.
“I have a Great Sanchian, if you know the breed. Her name is Emmy.”
The woman’s eyes grew. “A breed from my home country. That collar will fit nicely. Great Sanchians are very rare in Toraltia. May I see her sometime?”
Sam smiled. “You can.”
Antina gave Sam a price, and after some dickering, Sam walked out of Antina Mulch’s shop with a recipe for an alloy for Tru and a new dog collar for Emmy.
Chapter Five
~
S am dreaded going back to Potter’s shop, but he could thank Tru’s boss for the directions to use as an excuse to see his brother. Tru spotted him from across the yard and ran up to him.
“Is something wrong?”
Sam shook his head. “My spectacle frames are softening up. I found a lady who could make new ones, but she needs some kind of alloy. Could you make it?” He handed Tru the recipe.
“Sure. This is low-temperature work. Low temperature for a smith. I can have a batch this small made in a few days. The ingredients aren’t cheap.”
Sam pulled out his purse. “Can you get it for what is in here?”
Tru poured out a pile of coins in his hand and picked out silver foxes. “This is more than enough, but you never know.”
“Let me know when it is done. You can move into the house, but I can’t until I have two more weeks’ training under my belt,” Sam said.
Potter walked out of his office. “Bothering my journeyman again?” He didn’t say it as a threat.
“No. I had to give him something. Thank you for referring Antina Mulch. She will make my frames.” Sam didn’t mention Tru’s task. “She is an interesting lady. I bought a collar for my dog.” Sam smiled at Potter.
“You must have a big dog.”
Sam nodded. “I do. I’ll see you both again.” He gave them both a little bow and headed back to the constabulary.
“Did you get new frames for your eyes?” Dickey asked.
“Not yet,” Sam said. “Antina Mulch needs some materials. I had to arrange for them. Have you ever heard of her?”
Dickey smiled. “She is an interesting lady, that is for sure. She married a Baskin ship’s captain in Vaarek or Ristaria, I don’t remember which, and settled here with him. His ship went down, but she stayed in Toraltia. The woman is very smart, and I’ve consulted with her on occasion.”
“What does she know that you don’t?”
“She sells jewelry to the upper strata of Baskin and knows most of the noblewomen. She also is the best pollen expert in Toraltia, and maybe the rest of Holding, so she is the right kind of contact when you need information from an indirect source.”
“An indirect source,” Sam said. “I like that term. It means not having to ask the person face-to-face, right?”
Dickey nodded. “It does indeed. Did Tru sign the agreement?”
Sam gave his partner the paperwork. “I also bought a new collar for Emmy.” He showed the red leather collar with the metal studs.
“Handsome…I guess,” Dickey said. “I still like cats better.”
Sam shrugged. “Do you need me? I’ll put this on Emmy.”
Dickey looked at the clock in the room. “Come back after lunch. We have lots of paperwork to do.”
Sam walked out of the constabulary stables and found Emmy sitting in front of a horse stall watching a stableboy groom another horse. She turned her head, probably picking up Sam’s scent and ran to him.
“Emmy! We have a new home in Baskin. In a few weeks, I’ll move you there.” Sam grinned as Emmy began to lick his face. “No, no, girl. Now I’ll have to wash. You look happy enough.”
“She is,” the stable master said. “I never thought of a Great Sanchian as a good stable dog, but Emmy, here, has done a great job of calming my horses with her presence. If I didn’t know she was so expensive, I’d ask permission to buy her.”
Sam felt a shock of alarm.
The stable master put out his hands. “Don’t get upset. I wouldn’t split the two of you up. If you ever need to board Emmy or take her with you on your rounds, you can keep her here while you are inside,” The man pointed to the main constabulary with his chin.
Sam sighed with relief. “I will probably take you up on that,” he said. “I have something new for her.” He showed him the studded red leather collar.
“Handsome for a beautiful dog. It suits her very well, I think.”
Sam buckled the collar around Emmy’s neck after removing the plain black leather affair she had worn ever since her purchase. Sam stood back and admired the look. “Very good.” He leaned over and gave Emmy a hug before turning and heading back inside. The other apprentices had already eaten and were leaving the commissary in a group as Sam walked in. Mark was the only one who recognized Sam with a greeting.
After a tasteless lunch, Sam found Dickey talking to another snoop, as usual.
“Ah, there you are. Come over to my desk,” Dickey said. He plopped down the notebook the pair of them had worked on. “I want you to transcribe this.” Dickey pointed to a thick binder. “It needs to look like this one from another case. Can you do it?”
“I know how to follow orders,” Sam said. He tried to make his comment as non-offensive as he could. The project looked boring, but then as he took the completed binder, he noticed the date was less than a year old, and it looked like Dickey had done it all on his own. He looked at his partner. “It is part of the job, isn’t it?”
Dickey nodded. “I’ve already needed that for another case,” he said looking at his own work. “A snoop’s work involves a lot of routine, but not as much as a regular constable,” he said in a lower voice. He gave Sam an unexpected wink and left the office with the other investigative constable.
Sam began the arduous task of duplicating the drawings and interpreting the comments they had made. Not all of them made sense after a day, but he continued. The format of Dickey’s work wasn’t much different from how Dickey had laid out Sam’s work while he had documented the comings and goings at the ironmongery.
He kept a separate sheet, listing the times of the visitors in a chart, something they hadn’t done. Dickey had just annotated the drawings and Sam had followed the practice. It made more sense to organize the activities. He worked until dark and still wasn’t finished when Dickey returned.
“That is enough for today. You can complete it tomorrow after your classes, then we will go out on another job.”
Sam shook his head. “I have nothing to do. The apprentices ignore me, so I will have a bite to eat and continue to work.”
Dickey shook his head and smirked. “Suit yourself, apprentice. You don’t have to knock yourself out to impress me, you know.”
“I’ve got that figured out,” Sam said. “I’ll head upstairs when I get tired.”
“I’ll check your work when I see you. I’m out for dinner with a few of my fellow constables.” Dickey gave him a casual wave as he walked out of the office.
Sam organized his work and left for another lonely dinner, and soon he returned. The office was empty, and Sam had to re-light the lantern on the desk. He could have taken Emmy for a walk, but he had already committed to getting the observation notes completed.
The constabulary got quieter as the evening wore in, except for constables bringing in a few drunken citizens. Most of the disorderly cases were handled at the satellite offices, or so Sam had been told. Nothing matched the chaos from the night they had been attacked.
The last entry finally came up. It appeared that their work lost a bit of its quality as time went on. Sam smiled at the observation. The subject’s drawing needed a few revisions. Sam remembered the person better than how he had first drawn it. He finally finished with the chart and rubbed his eyes. He wanted to go over the papers to see if he could snoop something out of their work.
Twenty-eight people had entered the shop, and nineteen people had exited. That wasn’t surprising, but as he totaled the time spent in the shop by the customers, he found that there were well-dressed people who had spent as much as two hours in the ironmongery. In fact, only seven people had gone in and come out in less than twenty minutes.
Sam had been intent on drawing the people that he had seen enter and leave the establishment, as well as document the times. Did his partner know about the extent of those staying at the ironmongery? If he had to draw a conclusion, and he remembered what Harrison had told him about wild guesses, only seven or so of the customers were legitimate, and many more were part of the gang, even a majority of the well-dressed patrons.
As he finished his notes and observations, adhering to the same format that Dickey had used to write his opinions in the other report, Sam yawned and blinked his eyes. It was very late. He struggled to his feet, doused the lamp, and headed towards the apprentice dormitory.
“Have you been out partying?” Mark said as Sam sat on his bed, taking off his clothes in the dim light of a single lamp lit for the whole room.
Sam shook his head. “I had to write a report on the observation job Dickey and I were on yesterday afternoon.” He couldn’t stop a yawn.
