Chapter 8

“With the growth and expansion of the printing press, the world reads what before would have only been known to a few. But even now, only a small percentage of books are readily available. For all the other books—the hundreds of thousands or even millions—they will remain in obscurity.”

—Quote taken from Rare Books

Seff shuddered awake.

The first thing Seff saw was Baka by his side. Seff was on the ground against a tree.

Baka would be the first to die, Seff thought as he started silently saying runes as he looked around.

A forest surrounded them. He was outside the gates. Far outside the gates? He didn’t know.

“What happened?” Seff demanded.

“They couldn’t have you awake. The tunnel is a secret. I knew you wouldn’t willingly be blindfolded or knocked out. Fortunately, they didn’t have enough information about what you’d done, or I’m pretty sure they would have turned you over for a reward. But then again, we were paying them well.”

“We?”

“I had to make up the difference. You owe me, twice. Once for the money and once for the favor.”

Seff smiled, understanding now but vowed to never forget Baka’s trickery. He said, “Sure. Where are we?” Seff neck gave him a sharp pain, “Ow. My neck. I could have played as though you had already knocked me out.”

“No, they tested you to make sure you were out cold. Couldn’t fake it.”

“Oh,” Seff rubbed his neck, “And where are the papers?”

“They’re in the saddlebag on your horse—the black one. And we are in a forest about ten miles south of Oblick.”

Seff shook his head and threw up his arms, “Dammit. We went the wrong way. I need to get to Lamm.”

With raised eyebrows, Baka laughed and said, “I wish you luck. Just go the back roads and through fields. We barely made it into these woods. Several horse patrols rode past at breakneck speed. They were riding Erosen’s. I never asked you—what did you do?”

Looking at the ground, Seff said, “I wrecked the constable station. Fire, of course.” Looking up, he continued, “And I stampeded a crowd of ten thousand, and killed, well, I don’t remember how many.”

Baka’s jaw fell open at the words ‘stampeded a crowd of ten thousand’. Baka said, “Ah, what the hell, Seff? You were supposed to rescue the sorcerer, not turn the entire city upside-down.”

Seff shrugged, “I needed the papers, or they’d be able to track the boy down.”

“You just take him with you, you idiot.”

“No, if the boy’s family gets hunted down, he’d never forgive me. My effort would be wasted, if not entirely turned against me. He would probably kill me, given enough time. He’d blame me. Forever.”

“Or you would kill him first,” Baka surmised, before adding, “I need to go. I left some food and clothing in the satchel, you know, the basics. Be safe. Find me and pay me back sometime, eh? When you’re famous and need someone to take care of your estate, remember me.”

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Seff said, “And then some. I owe you a thousand-fold. Thank you.”

* * *

An hour and many attempts later, Kor suggested, “Try a different set of memories or triggers for your emotions. It may be that you are using the wrong emotions when you think you are using the right ones.”

Reyn switched to feeling anger at almost being hung, empathy for those he had killed, and frustration for this spell. He said the runes slowly and purposefully. At the last syllable, he felt something and lost his concentration as a weak jet of air shot from his right hand. It hit the door silently.

“Wait,” Kor said, “Was that something?”

“Yes, I think.”

“Well, if you’re as good as you say, there should be something more. Do it a few more times. Concentrate. With feeling. And,” Kor turned to the book and flipped to the beginning where he had been reading for additional tips. “And with confidence.”

Reyn cast the spell again. This time the puff’s impact made an audible impact against the door.

“Good,” Kor smiled. “Again.”

Reyn cast again. The puff, visible now as a cloudy mass with no firm discernable shape, hit the door and shook it.

“Good enough. I believe you. Now, let’s get out of here. Stay here, and we’ll leave within just a few minutes. Remember our agreement: friendship and a few favors down the road.”

Reyn nodded and with confidence said, “Of course.”

With Reyn newly dressed in tan apprentice pants and a dirty, holey long-sleeve shirt, Kor rode alongside him through the streets in a wagon. They headed straight to the gates.

When they got there, Kor saw the long line and told Reyn, “Follow me closely and don’t say anything.”

Kor steer the wagon parallel to the line and approached the five guards at the front, only one of whom was talking to a person about the gate situation.

“Hello. What is going on here?” Kolod asked.

“Gates are shut. Who’s the kid?” one of the guards asked.

“New apprentice. I have a rush order for some new timepieces. I need to pick up custom gears and springs.”

“Sorry.”

Kor raised his eyebrows, “I’m the owner of Pid’s. As you know, our timepieces are, should I say, expensive. It’s worth it to me and my customers that I get through to pick up the custom parts.”

The guard was silent, obviously thinking.

“And, if one of my timepieces is late and I pinpoint why, well, the customer or even customers may not look very well on the guards of this particular gate.”

The three guards behind the one speaking whispered. One poked the guard in front in the back with an elbow.

Wincing, the front guard said, “I think we can make an arrangement for you.”

“And my apprentice. He’s with me. Uh, five silvers?”

“Seven.”

“Six it is,” Kolod said as he grabbed his coin pouch, opened it, counted out six, and gave them to the guard.

In less than a minute, they had passed through the city gates.

Kor pulled over as soon as he could and said, “Get in the back and put that tarp over you. Don’t move and don’t wiggle, and no one will know you’re there.”

Putting a blanket under his butt and a couple of bags on top to obscure his outline, Reyn pulled the tarp over him. Checking it, Kor adjusted the tarp, and they departed.

“Oh ya,” Kor said, “Which way?”

“North,” Reyn said.

* * *

Puugi cursed loudly and slammed his hand on the bedside table. “I don’t care how many villages they search to find this boy,” said Puugi.

“Sir, we’re trying,” a woman said. She was the at foot of the bed.

Puugi sat up a little more in bed. He winced as a surgeon wearing a vest and slacks pulled off a large blood-soaked dressing. Next to the surgeon, a nurse held new gauzes soaked in a foul-smelling ointment. Puugi’s face shined almost as red as his bloodied dressing.

Pointing to the woman at the foot of the bed, Puugi screamed, “I swear you’re not. This boy should be dead. You’re going to make me kill you. Go out there and find the boy. At most, we have a day or two before this becomes a disaster.”

The woman said, “Sir, we have guards in all the nearby towns on alert for that name. I even have guards off their normal duties wandering the streets, schools, inns, alleys, everywhere—just listening for that name. They’re looking for a black-eyed teen sorcerer and a lanky clueless teenager with black eyes. Over a thousand guards searching across a hundred nearby hamlets, villages, towns and cities. The word is out and getting farther out every moment. The messengers are the finest riding Erosen’s and spreading the word. The kid will slip up soon. We’ll catch him. We know what he looks like. I think, Codinor will soon be searching too.”

Puugi cursed, “Which is why I’m asking you why you haven’t found him. I still can’t believe that bastard kid stole the dossier! From me. And, the whole station cast into the Abyssal Plain.” Puugi screamed as he pushed the surgeon away, “Find that damned kid. And the other one too!”

“Sir, stop,” the surgeon said, “Dammit, it’s started bleeding again.”

“Yes sir,” the woman said as she retreated.

Puugi grimaced as the surgeon applied pressure to his wound, “Ah, I can’t believe that there are two of those brats. One was bad enough, but the second one is even worse—he knows what he’s doing,” muttered Puugi.