Chapter 8: The Deal

“Damn it. We really fucked that up,” said Etienne.

”Well,” said Alcar, “at least you did, Etienne. But we’re all screwed now.”

Alcar, Etienne and Olynka were now sitting in a corner table in the Black Mackerel Tavern, a cheap-looking establishment nearby Maluhk’s tower. All three had a tankard of ale, and Olynka’s bow was leaning up against the corner of the dingy, dank-smelling and sparsely-occupied taproom.

They had paused at the door to Maluhk’s tower or long enough to see the master sorcerer summon up a glowing cloud of dust that had landed on the flaming books and rug, and had rapidly extinguished the fire. But all three knew that it would be madness to hope for forgiveness from the big sorcerer, especially at this early stage, and they had hurried outside into the morning of the merchant’s quarter.

Alcar had taken some momentarily consolation from seeing that the three would-be apprentices outside weren’t working well either. The mysterious demon-like woman was sitting on a nearby low wall, filing her claws, while the dwarven brothers stood holding tools, muttering together conspiratorially but doing no work whatsoever.

Still.

Alcar knew that it barely mattered now, since his group had been sent away, and would surely be unwelcome at the master sorcerer’s door for a long time to come.

“It really was a shitshow,” agreed Olynka.

“Well,” said Alcar, swishing the last third of his ale in the bronze tankard and then gulping it down. “It looks like that route is closed. What an opportunity lost. It’s really a disaster.”

“Perhaps not for me,” said Olynka. “I don’t care what happens. But I can see that it sucks for you guys.”

Etienne wiped froth from his wispy beard, and then peered at her. “So you’re another one that didn’t really want to be an apprentice, girl?”

She frowned at him. “The name’s Olynka. I’m seventeen, and could easily beat you in a fight – don’t call me a girl.”

“Well, my apologies,” said Etienne with a mock bow in her direction. He then chuckled darkly. “But tell me – why were you there at all? Satisfy my curiosity, please.”

Olynka glanced sideways at Alcar, and them pointed a thumb in his direction. “Only because this one begged me.” She grinned again.

“Yep. I actually wanted to be a sorcerer,” said Alcar. He looked around, waving for a second ale, and the bartender approached. “And Olynka here is in my adventuring party, so...”

“Did you really want to, though?” asked Olynka. “When I asked you a few days ago, you didn’t seem too certain what you wanted.”

Alcar frowned peevishly. “Well, I’ve had some time to reflect since then. I’ve been to the Great Swamp. That changes a person.”

“Well, man, I say we shouldn’t worry about it,” said Etienne, raising his hands in an exaggerated shrug. “This isn’t the end of your ambitions, Alcar. Easy come, easy go. And in any case, what’s so great about sorcery?”

Alcar frowned, suddenly noticing that his was feeling slightly dizzy. He shook his head and tried to focus. “It’s easier than fighting or crafting, for one thing,” he said. “My family make shoes and boots, man. That’s tough, smelly work. A sorcerer can just wiggle their fingers and create stuff.”

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

“That’s not exactly how it works,” said Olynka. “Look.”

She focused her eyes and gestured, and as they watched on, a glowing blue boot appeared on the table in front of them. It flopped to one side, and then disappeared again in a shower of white sparks.

“As you can see, conjurations don’t last. You can’t actually make shoes or that kind of thing.”

”What? I didn’t know that you could actually do magic already,” said Alcar.

He was now rapidly understanding why Olynka’s family thought that she was suited to witchcraft – and starting to feel more than a little bit jealous at what Olynka had just done.

She smiled bashfully. “Ach, it’s nothing special. I’m sure loads of people can do that.”

Alcar looked at Etienne, who shook his with a slight smile. “No,” they both said at once.

“I can honestly say that I have never in my life seen anyone do that,” said Alcar. “If you can summon a boot, well – what else? A gold coin? A horse?”

“To an extent. But it’s just a trick, and as I said, it doesn’t last.” She shrugged. “I told you before that my family think I have some talent. But I don’t like to use it. It’s just not my style. This is the thing.” She reached out and clutched the bow.

“So you were really just there to keep Alcar company?” said Etienne, raising his eyebrows a few times and looking from one to the other.

“Very funny, halfling.”

“Now, now. Respect goes both ways. The name’s Etienne.”

“Very well, Etienne. The thing is, we met a lizardman warrior that knows Maluhk of old, and he told us he would be visiting Katresburg with a master archer. With luck, perhaps I will still find them. But I’m sorry for you, Alcar.”

Alcar shrugged. “Thanks, Olynka. I guess now I am going to have to find a different master or sorcery.”

Olynka and Etienne looked at each other. “Listen, man,” said Olynka. “Perhaps we should go back and tell the orc that it was all our fault, mine and Etienne’s. I mean, I don’t even want to be an apprentice, and as for him, well...” She shrugged.

“On the other hand,” said Alcar, “perhaps you should show Maluhk what you can do, Olynka? That’s more likely to make an impression than pleading. And the fact of the matter is that I don’t have the kind of potential that you just showed us.”

Olynka shared another goofy grin. “Don’t knock yourself, Alcar! Take a positive attitude. Anyone can be a success if they believe in themselves enough.”

“Thanks,” said Alcar sourly, “but that’s not what Master Maluhk said. He told me that sorcery is a scientific discipline and requires years of study.”

“Sorcery is sounding less and less like my kind of thing,” observed Etienne. “But the more I drink of this ale, the better I feel about it.”

They all chuckled at this.

“But hey,” said Olynka, wiping the last drips of ale away from her mouth. “Alcar is right. This was his dream, not ours. Let’s go back to Maluhk and tell him what he needs to hear.”

“That he’s an ugly asshole?” suggested Etienne.

“Yes, but let’s save that for later! First, that he’s made a great mistake. Whatever it takes to get him to change his mind.”

Etienne looked from one to the other, and leaned forward. “You know,” he said conspiratorially. “The orc might think differently about things if he ‘saw’ Alcar summon up something like you just did, Olynka.”

“But I can’t...” began Alcar.

And then he saw what the roguish halfling was suggesting. He gave them both a sly look, leaning back in his seat with his tankard on his stomach. “Tricking the master sorcerer – why not? What could possibly go wrong?”

“When you put it like that,” said Etienne with an eager grin, rapping on the wooden tabletop with one hand as he spoke. “But if nothing else, we could find out about other sorcerers that are looking for apprentices. After all it’s clear that you need a back-up plan.”

“I’m listening,” said Alcar, sitting up.

“So, here’s how we play it. The two of you drag me in by my collar, as if you have run after me and caught me. Then, if Maluhk has calmed down enough, try to mine him for information on fellow sorcerers. Particularly wealthy ones. Right?”

Olynka scowled at the halfing. “Wait – I thought you were genuinely trying to help Alcar.”

“I am, I am,” said Etienne smoothly. “But one favor for another, no? I will take the fall for the fire, and Alcar can mine the orc for information. And if that fails, Olynka casts her nice little illusion, and Alcar says, ‘wow, I learned more here than I thought’. And we take it from there.”

Olynka continued to glare suspiciously at Etienne. “Fine,” she said at last. “It’s a deal. Just as long as the sorcerer doesn’t end up blaming me for the fire.”

“Oh, for sure,” said Etienne glibly. “No doubt.”