Chapter 7

Steel is like a beautiful woman. It’s elusive, precious and rare. If asked which one I prefer, I’d take the steel.

—Norf, a common blacksmith

Unsure of what to do, Reyn wandered down the streets lined with shops. Only a few were open—it was still early morning.

Huddled in scattered groups, people from the plaza recounted what happened. Reyn ignored them. They were from the plaza, and now they were all trapped by the closed gates and walls. However, the inner city was massive, and Reyn did his best to avoid everyone. He walked briskly as though he had somewhere to be.

Reyn thought about how he could escape the city. He had no money to bribe the guards. The gates were locked. Soon, word would get out that no boys his age were to be let through at all.

Luckily, no one recognized him yet, but he wasn’t surprised as he was only on the gallows for a few moments before they put a bag on his face. Further, no one was right next to him except for the two executioners.

Deciding his best bet was to bribe a gate guard, he looked at shops to rob. In an instant though, he changed his mind when he thought of how easy it would be to pickpocket the money instead.

With the thought that people would be easier to rob than a place, Reyn hunted people and pockets rather than looking at shops.

“Land a big money bag,” Reyn said to himself, “A nice big purse, round and bulging, filled with coins.” He pictured himself lifting a medium-sized silver-threaded bag from an elderly gentleman’s pocket. How hard could it be? And when opening it, he imagined a few gold coins adrift with lots of silvers and coppers. He walked through the streets with a singular purpose, and he continued looking until he saw an elderly man with a bulging front pocket.

Positioning himself quickly behind the man, he slipped his hand into the man’s pocket.

Reyn gently lifted the coin pouch out of the man’s pocket. A euphoric rush swept over Reyn. He had done it!

Quicker than Reyn could see, the elderly man’s right hand swept over and gripped Reyn’s. Reyn’s heart felt like it had stopped. He couldn’t breathe. The man held his arm with an iron grip.

He reacted by yanking his body away and twisting his arm. Yet for all the effort Reyn put forward, the hand gripped ever tighter. The vice-like grip remained through all of Reyn’s struggles. He knew his father could hold someone like this, but he never imagined an elderly man with balding hair could.

What kind of man was this? Reyn tried to pull away ever more desperately, ever afraid that a constable might see the struggle.

“You’re caught,” said the man. Reyn, for the first time, looked at the man’s face. A few wrinkles lined his eyes and neck, and the man’s eyes were a deep cobalt blue. They fiercely stared at him like a hawk at a mouse. The elderly man, was perhaps, not so old and weak, as Reyn had thought. The man was shorter than he and stockier and heavier, but how could it ever matter that much? With his other hand, the man took the pouch of money out of Reyn’s hand and placed it back into his pocket.

Reyn thought the man might let him go, but instead and even more to his surprise, the man started dragging him across the street.

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Reyn tried as hard as he could to rip himself free but failed. The man was too strong. Reyn’s fingers started to tingle.

“Wait… wait, wait,” said Reyn. “I can explain.”

“Really?” the man said in an amused tone. He stopped and turned to Reyn. “I need a laugh for today. Go ahead. Tell me your sob story.”

Reyn stayed quiet for only a second to gather his thoughts. He had to make every word count. “If you take me back,” Reyn started. “Then I will be hung within the hour. I was the boy they hung, or were going to hang, this morning. But I didn’t do anything. I don’t even know anything about sorcery, at all.”

The man didn’t laugh and the smile disappeared from his face. “Why did you try to steal my money then?”

“They’ve locked the gates because of the commotion. I need to get out of the city, and now the only way to do it is to bribe the guards before my description is known.”

The man was quiet. “If you’re a sorcerer, then I’ll let you go. But let’s see first. I know a spell or two, so let’s find out in my shop.”

The man reversed direction and started dragging Reyn the other way.

Reyn felt truly broken, as though he was living a nightmare. He stopped struggling.

Instead, he wondered how in the living hells had he arrived at a city where he had met four judge sorcerers at a trial, slaughtered them all on accident, met a different sorcerer, Puugi, and now—just now—an old man who knew a few spells. This was quite the day. He wondered if the gods had set him up.

It had all started with that boy stealing a loaf of bread, and that had delayed him just enough where he didn’t get to the herbalist shop before midday break.

They soon arrived at a shop named Pid’s Timepieces. They walked in.

The bell over the door dinged, summoning the shopkeeper. When the middle-aged shopkeeper saw them, he said, “Need any help?”

The old man said, “Get that old book in the back called Simple Spells are Simple.”

The shopkeeper disappeared.

Reyn asked, “What are you doing? If you’re going to test me, I might burn down the whole city on accident.”

The man took a deep breath and said, “My name is Kor, and this is my family’s shop. We’re all descendants of Pid, and I’m the oldest. I know why you tried to rob me, but I work with my hands all day long,” Kor laughed, “My grip is very strong.”

“But what are you going to do?” Reyn tugged his hand very slightly, but that only caused Kor’s grip to strengthen.

“Be patient. I’m trying to tell a story here,” Kor said. “I know it’s awkward, but you put yourself into this mess. This shop is a hundred and fifty years old, and over that time, different people have paid my family with many different currencies. A sorcerer, probably now dead, partially paid for his timepiece with a book. The book explains the emotions and runes needed to do all the simple spells. It even comes with detailed descriptions about what each spell does, and the common aberrations when you do the spell incorrectly. As a kid, I used to look through its pages and try some of the spells, hoping that I was a sorcerer. I wasn’t. It was fun, and the most I ever did was create a momentary bit of soft light above my grandfather’s workbench, enough to see its dark finish brighten a tiny bit before returning to normal. That was me, an untalented nobody, invoking the runes and emotions that felt exactly right to me. For you, I would hope the whole room would be nicely bright for as long as you held the spell in your mind.

“So,” Kor continued, “I’m going to have you cast a spell. If you can, then I’ll help you, provided that you pay me back. Sorcerers, as you probably know, do become quite wealthy, almost always. However, I have no need of money, so your debt will be in the form of friendship and a few favors at a later date. I’ll live long enough to see you rise into a position where maybe I can lift a few favors from you. If you can’t, then you’ll be in jail for maybe a few years. Not the end of the world. Do you agree to that price?”

“Of course, but I don’t know how to do sorcery, and do not be mistaken: Puugi will kill me himself if he has to. Do you know Puugi? I will be hung or killed within the hour if you turn me in,” Reyn said.

Kor waved his free hand, shushing Reyn, “The book should explain it enough where you should be able to do something, no matter what.”

The conversation lulled into silence until the shopkeeper came back, book in arms. It was a thick book, maybe a thousand pages in all.

“That’s the simple book?” Reyn asked, his eyes wide.

“Sorcerer is complicated but simple. Let’s go in the back,” Kor said, never letting go of Reyn’s arm as they headed to the back. Once there, Kor led them to a side room where there were stools lining a long wood table. In that room, there were countless bins all labeled with different names and numbers. Inside the bins were all manner of metal bits and cogs and springs. With a thud, the shopkeeper put the book on the counter.

“Lock the door,” Kor commanded.

“Are you sure?” the shopkeeper asked.

Kor nodded.

The door shut, and the lock clicked.