“The sun is up, boy! It’s time to go!”
There was a rattling at the door, and Harpyn sat up, looking around wildly. A loud thump punctuated the quiet morning as the old volume slid off the bed and hit the floor. Afraid that Geor would unlock the door with his magic at any second, Harpyn rolled to the ground, scooping the book up and shoving it under his pillow.
Gulping down a breath to steady himself, he rubbed at his face and then rose to go to the door.
On the other side, Geor was waiting impatiently, dressed up in a traveling robe unlike anything Harpyn had ever seen the man wear. It was a deep blue color with threads of silver sparkling through it. Around the hem, a curious pattern of creatures was embroidered, as if running in a circle round his feet.
Harpyn scratched his head, observing his master for a long moment without speaking.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Put this on! We have places to be!”
Geor shoved a bundle into Harpyn’s hands and then snapped the door shut again in an instant. However, Harpyn did not hear any footsteps retreating from the other side. Instead, he could clearly hear Geor mumbling something to himself about lazy young mages and the value of a good day’s work in the woods.
Shaking off his stupor, Harpyn unrolled the bundle and was only a little perturbed to realize that it was a robe. A matching robe. With a sigh, he pulled it over his head and straightened it around his much shorter form, grimacing at the silly pattern and how foolish he felt. How was anyone to take him seriously dressed like this?
Sparing only a glance to ensure that the old book was safely tucked away, Harpyn stepped out of the room and stood waiting for Geor’s approval. The old man eyed him up and down, making a disgusting smacking sound with his lips all the while, and when he was satisfied, he gave a sharp nod.
“Good. You’ve been needing a proper traveling robe for a while now. I suppose it was my fault you had to go into town wearing those plain old things before, but this ought to make it right.”
Harpyn looked down at himself doubtfully. He actually quite preferred the plain black robes. They conveyed a certain sense of mystery and danger. But this? This robe only conveyed a lack of fashion sense.
“Where are we going?” Harpyn managed, turning his attention away from his unfortunate dress.
“To visit my friend in the marketplace,” Geor answered with a smile.
Harpyn considered this answer for a moment. “You got us all dressed up to go to the marketplace?” he asked incredulously. “If there is something you need, I could have gone alone. I’ve gone plenty of times before.”
Geor gave him a sideways look and smacked his lips again before shaking his head. “No, I’m afraid not this time. You see, I have a suspicion that my friend has been holding out on the good stuff, but he certainly hasn’t given me a discount when he’s shorted my orders. I think it is best that I get right to the bottom of it so that we can return to business as usual.”
It was true that the market vendor had claimed a shortage of certain ingredients lately. In particular, that powdered ivory that Geor needed so badly. But the man always seemed to have a good explanation, and Harpyn did not consider it his job to argue with him. He had always handed over the coins and taken the package that was offered to him without complaint. Now he could see that this had been a mistake.
The two of them made their way to the bottom floor, and Harpyn noticed that Geor paused only for a brief second to examine the wall where the secret vault door was disguised. Satisfied, he continued on without a word until they reached the bottom floor. Then, grabbing Harpyn’s hand, he dragged them both through a portal and out the other side of the forest.
Behind them, Harpyn could hear the howling of the dangerous beasts that prowled between the trees, magical entities summoned specifically to guard the tower’s location from wanderers. He, himself, had never had cause to enter that forest on foot, and he hoped it would stay that way.
With Geor along, the trip to Torg Uyen took only a few minutes. The old mage was able to teleport them across great distances in a blink. It was one of the few skills he had bothered to teach Harpyn early on, and only because he wanted his apprentice to fetch things quickly from town when needed. Otherwise, he had given Harpyn as little instruction as possible in actual magic usage.
They appeared just outside the edge of town, and Geor shook himself out as if teleporting left behind some kind of residue. Then he began marching straight toward the wide gates of the city, clucking at Harpyn to stay close.
Harpyn approached the gates with trepidation, keeping his head down and pointedly avoiding eye contact with the guards who stood at either side. Last time he’d been here, there had been a rather embarrassing incident in the town square and Harpyn had been chased out of town. He hadn’t exactly told Geor what had happened for fear of reprisal, but now he was worried that the guards might stop them on their way in.
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However, when the first guard looked their way and took a step in their direction, Geor shot him a warning look and the man backed away like a chastised pup, although he did place his hand on his weapon as he watched them go.
“What was that?” Harpyn asked, feeling a slight buzz of excitement.
“Hm?”
“That thing you just did. To make the guards back away. What was that?”
Geor’s brows furrowed and he looked down at his over-eager apprentice, frowning. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Harpyn barely suppressed a groan of frustration at Geor’s obfuscation. It was always like this. Every time he saw the old mage wielding his magic, Geor insisted that he had done nothing of the sort. But how could Harpyn ignore the way that guard backed down with only a look? How could he ignore the obvious power that everyone seemed to attribute to his master? One day, he wanted power like that for himself. If only Geor would teach him how it really worked.
As they entered the marketplace, Harpyn found himself even more annoyed. First, there was a group of children running about, one of whom stepped on Harpyn’s robe and caused him to trip. Then, the same child stood up and gave Harpyn’s robe one look before pointing and laughing, his mouth open in a big toothy grin.
“You look like you ran away from one of the Makara’s faires!” he said with another chuckle. “I always knew there was something about those nasty Makara, making their men wear matching skirts. No wonder you tried to escape!”
The children skipped off, calling back a variety of rude names at Harpyn as he stood watching them, dumbfounded. Rage was building inside him, and when he looked around, he realized that Geor had moved on, not even bothering to step in. In fact, Geor seemed oblivious to the entire exchange as he pushed his way to the front of line in front of the market vendor’s stall.
Harpyn marched up beside him, grabbing his sleeve to get his attention.
“Ah, there you are,” Geor said cheerfully.
Harpyn scowled. “You left me back there. You could’ve at least done that thing with your eyes, made them leave me alone. But you left me.” He crossed his arms over his chest angrily.
“I assure you, my eyes possess no special power,” he answered with a shrug. “Besides, you weren’t in any danger. Perhaps you should say ‘excuse me’ next time you run into someone and they will be kinder to you.”
Harpyn’s jaw dropped open in shock. How could Geor possibly be blaming him for that snotty kid and his brutish friends? But when he made to argue, Geor gave him a look. That look. The look that made him want to shrink away. Magic or not, there was definitely power in those eyes.
Geor cleared his throat loudly and turned his attention back to the vendor, a group of angry customers loudly complaining at the imposition.
“Ah, the Mage Consul. What are you doing here?” the vendor asked, his smile just a little too big and his eyes just a little too shifty, like he was looking for the nearest exit already.
Geor mumbled something and it was as if the world fell silent, a strange translucent barrier appearing around the three of them.
“I came to gather the rest of my ingredients,” Geor said plainly.
The vendor shrank back under Geor’s gaze, shifting uneasily on his feet. “I already told your ‘prentice, there was no more to be had. I got you everything I could.”
Geor tilted his head to one side, obviously doubting the man’s excuses. “Then you’ll be returning the coin I sent?”
At this, the vendor made a strange sound with his throat and seemed to struggle to find his words. “Of-of course, Mage Consul. I’ve been meaning to do just that, only I haven’t seen your boy come around lately. Otherwise, I would’ve sent it back right away, you understand?”
Geor gave a disbelieving snort, but nodded his understanding anyways. “Tell me, friend, what has come of all the ivory in this land? It seems that few would have much use for it, and there has never been a shortage like this before.”
The vendor shrugged, rummaging around in his robe and pulling out a small sack of coins. “Not sure. The Makara have usually returned by now with their season’s trading. Something must have held them up. But the council ain’t going to send nobody out to find that lot, so we can only do so much. The people think it’s a blessing, the Makara missing.”
Geor nodded, holding out a hand for the sack of coins and weighing it in his hands. He didn’t bother looking inside before tucking it back in his robe.
“Well, I’ll be on my way then. Thank you for setting things right.”
A moment later, the wall of silence evaporated and the shouts of the marketplace came roaring back in to Harpyn’s awareness, making him jump. Looking around, he was certain that nobody on the outside of that bubble had even been aware that magic was being cast in their presence. At least, they did not react to it the same way they did when he’d had his accident in the square, running and screaming like a flock of panicked birds. Whatever Geor had done, it had been undetectable to all but the three of them.
Geor led Harpyn away from the market stall and back toward the town’s gates. Harpyn raised his head a little, hoping to catch a whiff of the meat pies as they went. If he were here alone, he would’ve gone and gotten one, but he knew better than to ask Geor for such a treat.
“That was it then?”
Geor gave him a look and another shrug. “I told you we were only visiting an old friend. Now that that is settled, we have some work to do.”
“But… how do you even know that he gave you the proper coins? What if there’s nothing but rocks in that sack? And what about the Makara? Shouldn’t somebody do something if they’re missing?”
Geor shook his head dismissively, and said, “I do not care about the coins. I needed only to place a spell on the man, and this was the easiest way to do it.” To prove his point, he pulled out the sack and handed it over to Harpyn with indifference. “And as for the Makara, it is best that we do not involve ourselves. The people of this town already distrust us. We don’t need to go making allies of the only people they dislike more. Nothing good ever comes of making deals with the Makara. That is one lesson you should learn early on, boy.”