Chapter 2

“My firm opinion of Seff was one of a rascal and scoundrel with compassionate outbursts in small proportion to what he wreaked in havoc.”

—Reyn’s Diary, page 241

Just two weeks earlier, Seff had discovered a baker named Joel, who sold his goods on a common street that Seff now referred to as Rumor Street.

With a hearty laugh and a deep voice, Joel loved to talk to his customers about all the happenings of the day, week, and month. Nothing was too trivial for him to discuss and ponder with them. All the locals knew him as the man who could measure the pulse of the city. Seff didn’t know how Joel knew the things he did, but Seff was very happy to have found a man who could boost his ego by expounding upon the difficulties involved in Seff’s bold thefts and mischievous exploits.

It was now early evening, and Seff had successfully evaded the constables. He had also washed off the thick black oil, changed into a clean set of clothes, and pocketed his wand. The heat of the day had dissipated, so he walked to Joel’s ‘Rumor Street’.

Joel was talking to a few customers. Seff positioned himself behind one of the patrons, as if he was waiting for service. Seff hoped he would hear about his caper of a wealthy man’s estate north of town or perhaps the burning of the three inns.

Seff needed money for sorcery books and training, and neither the books nor training would come cheap. The simple stuff was cheap, but his skill and knowledge was anything but simple. There were very few places to get training, and he had run away from his adopted father—a mercenary sorcerer.

His father was not just any mercenary sorcerer, but instead, it was the famed Lygan, a mercenary renowned for his skill and wisdom. Seff had discovered some things about Lygan and his past that made him hate Lygan.

However, as much as Seff regretted his decision to run away, Seff refused to go back. To go back was to admit his adopted father was right, and that was something he could not do. Would not do. Ever.

Seff listened to Joel.

“—was eating an apple in plain sight on a fountain—practically mocking authority! But the constable wasn’t fooled. He brought the kid to the station and one of the inn patrons identified him as the boy who had set the fires. Can you believe that? That kid must’ve been pretty sharp to get clean in that fountain so fast. He had wet hair though, so it’s pretty obvious he had just washed.

“The judges tested him at the courthouse and he turned the place into an inferno. Never heard of anything like it. The whole courtroom—a blazing inferno from floor to ceiling. Everyone dead. Flames thirty feet high.”

“What are they going to do to him?” asked one of the patrons.

“Hang ‘im. The district judge—Puugi—made the verdict quick as a flash after the courtroom fire. Tomorrow at dawn he’ll hang.”

“He deserves it for disturbing our fair—” a mother with her two daughters close by started to say, but Seff didn’t hear the rest of it. Seff walked away to the infamous fountain.

When he got there, it was dimly lit by a single streetlight. He saw the apple on the cobblestones covered with ants. Seff kicked the apple as far as he could and walked away from the fountain. He walked around the city, aimlessly exploring unknown sections while thinking about the boy whom he had inadvertently condemned.

He hadn’t liked the way Reyn had looked at him, so he flung a piece of oil on him. And the kid, against all odds, was a sorcerer—a fantastically talented unknown sorcerer. What were the chances? He looked up to the sky and stared at the stars and two moons high up.

More so than anything, he thought about what happened in the courtroom. To be tested and turn it into an inferno, that was a fantastical amount of talent.

All during the early evening and night, Seff discovered ugly nooks in the city: tiny morsels of pain, agony and crime. A family huddled in an alley’s basement stairs. A young girl not older than six slept on a couple of wood crates.

Once while turning a corner, a man holding a knife demanded his money. Seff gave him his money and let the man run, only to cast a lightning bolt spell on him just seconds later. Seff retrieved his money from the dead thief.

After that, Seff went back to his gang’s hideout. On his way, he thought about him murdering the thief. If he had been in a better mood, he would have pulled out his notched wand and given the thief a chance to retreat. But he was in a foul mood, and he had been walking all night thinking about the teenage sorcerer he had accidentally framed.

He needed to sit down and think more carefully about the kid who set ablaze an entire courtroom just by getting tested. He had never heard of such a thing, and he had spent all the time walking and thinking on what it all meant. Had one of the judges done it? Or had the kid been a powerful sorcerer all along? Had he known it?

Seff unlocked the door to the hideout. Seven thieves, all teenagers, were betting in a card game on the big table by the unmanned bar. Seff nodded his head to them as he searched the bar for a bottle of wine. The hideout was poorly furnished with a badly stained wood floor, a rusty stove with a leaky stovepipe, scratched up tables, wobbly chairs and the like. He took a bottle and wood cup and found a small table. He sat in a dark corner by himself.

He grabbed the bottle and drank directly from it. After a few long swigs, he poured some wine into the cup, dipped his finger into the wine, and drew wine circles on the table, both to lose track of time and to think about whether it was worth it or not to rescue the sorcerer kid.

He heard the screeching of a chair being pulled across the floor. When he looked up, he saw Baka sitting there staring into his eyes.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“You know you’re a hero to all of us right?” Baka said. Even in the poor light, Seff could see Baka’s radiant white smile and clean-shaven face. Baka was thin, heavily tattooed, and tall. A scar ran from his right ear down to the middle of his neck.

“Sure,” Seff went back to drawing wine circles.

The boys in the other room could be heard whooping and hollering over what could be assumed was a large hand.

“I’ll be right back,” Baka said. Seff said nothing.

Baka came back after a few minutes with a bowl of soup and a roll.

“Hey,” he said, sitting down with the food in front of him and taking a bite out of the roll.

“Hey,” Seff answered neutrally.

“So where’s the smile? Didn’t anyone tell you the haul?”

“I wasn’t around until now. How was it?” Seff looked up.

“What wasn’t it? We took everything,” Baka said now with a mouthful of soup slurring his words. Baka added half the roll to his mouth.

“That good, eh?” Seff showed interest.

Baka nodded and mumbled the next sentence, “The entire quarter was involved in trying to put out those inn fires.”

Seff changed the subject abruptly, “Hey, did you hear about the kid—looked about my age—that got blamed as the sorcerer? The gang passed him at a fountain. I flung some oil on him, because I hated the way he looked at me, and now he’s, uh, going to die in a few hours.”

“What?” Baka looked up from shoveling soup, his roll paused on its way to his mouth.

“They fingered the arson and everything on him. Turns out he’s a sorcerer.”

“That’s great,” Baka said, the other half of the roll moving into his mouth. “They won’t be looking for you.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Understand what? He’s taking the fall. Happens all the time.”

Seff shook his head, “The kid burned up the whole courthouse, supposedly, by getting tested. They say the flames shot up thirty feet, swept through the place from wall to wall, floor to ceiling, and killed everyone in the room. Well, that’s what Joel said anyway after I interpreted his gibberish. If what he said is true, the kid’s an anomaly, and he’s going to die because of me.”

“Joel exaggerates. It helps his business. You know he pays a few kids to gather information for him? His gravelly voice is probably going to get him elected mayor one day—everyone knows the damn guy.”

“You don’t understand,” Seff said, “It’s a waste. And it’s my fault. Even if what Joel says is a tenth true, that kid is a damned marvel. I feel bad. He was there just eating an apple, and I killed him. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

Baka leaned back and rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m confused. Do you feel bad that he killed all those people in the courtroom or that you killed those few people in those inns or that a sorcerer—potentially a damned good one—is going to get hung tomorrow morning?”

“All three. I guess not a good day for me today.”

Baka raised an eyebrow and said, “People die all the time. Some of the best people are assassinated for no better reason than because they said the wrong word or their wife is good looking or they tripped on a damn pebble.”

Seff said, “He’s about my age—maybe sixteen. He looked naïve. Innocent. You know, a little while ago, I had to kill someone like that before. It really hurt me. I still have nightmares about it.” Seff paused. “It was as if I had betrayed him. And I had, in a way.”

“What about the inn people burned alive that you killed?” Baka asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Not my fault if they can’t find a window or door, or maybe that they’re too busy trying to save things instead of their life. A lot of people got out. Some people didn’t. Not my fault.”

“What about those people in the courtroom that the kid killed though? You said he killed everyone in there,” Baka said.

Seff laughed, “Well, that’s their fault for being in the courtroom. It was the judges’ fault mostly I suppose—not that it matters now.”

“If what Joel said is true, how rare would that be for a kid to do that?”

“Don’t know. More talented than me though, that’s for sure. My adopted father would know, but obviously, he’s not around here,” Seff said.

“If it really bothers you that much, why don’t you do something about it?” Baka leaned in.

Seff’s finger stopped. He looked up from the table and stared into Baka’s eyes. “That’s what I’ve been thinking about. It’d be dangerous. They’ll have a sorcerer or three out there for the hanging, even if the kid doesn’t know sorcery. Whole heap of people watching too.”

Baka stayed silent. His face was grim and somber.

“Exactly,” Seff said as he poured more wine into the cup. “It’d be really hard. It’s not worth it, is it?”

“Of course not. Go to sleep. You’d probably die. Or, hunted, arrested, identified. If not dead, you’d be hunted to the ends of the empire. Maybe stuck into one of those damn sorcerer arenas—that’s death but in a different way. Who cares about the kid. He deserves what he gets—it’s not our fault he’s stupid.” Baka looked back behind him and back to Seff, “I gotta get another roll.”

Seff nodded, not looking up, “He probably didn’t even know.”

Baka stood up, left, and came back with a roll in hand. He shoveled more soup into his mouth, added another half a roll to his mouth, and waited for Seff to say something more. Instead, Seff stared at the game being played at the big table across the way.

Baka finally swallowed said, “Didn’t know or didn’t care. Maybe too poor to do anything about it. You can’t go around setting everything right. He let the constables pull him straight into the station. Surely, he could not have known he was a sorcerer or he would have never let himself get caught. And that points to his stupidity.”

“What if he’s just naive though? Naive enough to think that he would never be accused.”

“Isn’t that the same though? Or how does that work? How does one know if they are or aren’t a sorcerer?”

“Fit of anger or passion, supposedly. I was tested young, so I only know what I was taught. Normally, the hotter the temper, the sooner they show their talent. Maybe he’s a very calm sorta fellow.”

“A very calm, talented and naïve sorcerer—what a mix. Maybe a simpleton too, eh?” Baka roared laughing, a little soup spurting, dripping out of his mouth. Baka swallowed and continued to laugh.

“Wait,” Seff’s eyes opened wide and he grinned.

Seff continued, “He trusted the constable. He trusted the system. He trusts people. He’d trust me if I saved him, maybe, and he’s a one in a million sorcerer. Or, one in a thousand or hundred, but he’s rare, I know that. We or I could use him. If I could convince him to stick with me, befriend him, and become friends—I’d have a powerful sorcerer indebted to me and a friend. I could offer to train him and prolong it indefinitely as I gain his trust. I befriend him and use him—we’re about the same age, so we’d spend years together at the academy if both of us get in. He has to learn a lot though in just a few years. Four years left before I try for it. So, I rescue him and befriend him through teaching him simple academics and sorcery—I can do that you know. I had a private tutor for years and years. And I’ll have one of the most powerful sorcerers as a close friend—this is perfect. Gods, what time is it?” Seff snapped his fingers and signaled for Baka to tell him the time.

Baka fumbled around in his pocket for a split second before pulling out a gold pocket watch.

“Where’s your old one?” Seff asked.

“I sold it to the same guy that I stole the new one from,” Baka said. They both laughed. “It’s four in the morning,” Baka said.

“I still have time,” Seff said, standing up, “Want to come along?”

“I like my head,” Baka said.

“I don’t think I’ll be back,” Seff said in a quiet somber tone.

“I haven’t split the loot yet. Come back some time. I’ll save your portion.”

“Thanks Baka,” Seff patted Baka on the back.

“My job. And my pleasure. Be safe... and good luck,” Baka said.

“If I don’t come back, give my split to the kid. If neither of us live, keep it yourself,” Seff said before walking to his room to gather the essentials in a pack before leaving to rescue the kid.