The sun was halfway over the horizon, and Clay was poking around in his small garden. Occasionally he would squat down and pull a few small weeds from the soil. He walked the edge of the plot and poked at each of the small rune-covered stones he had left to ward off pests. He checked that each was still powered and that nothing had scuffed the runes. Several of the stones were running low, but it took only a small nudge of power to top the simple little enchantments off.

  He looked down at the garden he had planted. Neat little rows of squash, beans, and corn. A few nonnative herbs were growing in small pots around the little garden. He had never had much of a green thumb and was very grateful one of his old party members had sent him off with a few pointers.

  Clay stood at the edge of his little garden, watching a few bees buzz between early-season flowers. He felt one of his long ears twitch as someone walked up the long gravel path from the town to his house. He felt a toothy smile form under the scarf as he quickly turned around, tucking his staff into his elbow to wipe the dark soil from his hands.

  He had his hands close to clean when he saw a woman come into view around the corner. She was taller than most her dress was of sturdy make and was dyed a dark green which was common in the town. She had dark black hair pulled back into a simple bun. She was walking down the path quickly, shoulders squared back, looking straight ahead.

  "Are you the wizard," she asked, her hands going to her hips.

  'Yeah, I am; what gave me away," he asked.

  "Well, you live where I was told he lives, and there aren't any other houses around here, but mostly it was the great big hat and the glowing stick in your hands," she said, giving him a flat look.

  "Those do tend to give it away," he said with a bit of chuckle, "but that's the point, right? Anyway, I doubt you made the walk; just to ask me that, so what can I do for you? I'm pretty capable at just about everything your average spellwright needs and a bit more."

  She looked at him for a moment and squinted a bit as if to see him better, "Could you help me find a bird," she asked.

  He raised an eyebrow, but the gesture was hidden by the hat. "What kind of bird," he asked.

  "Does it matter?"

  "No, not really, but I will assume that unless you're looking for a rare bird, you are looking for a specific bird."

  She nodded her head, "It's a specific bird. I was doing some late spring cleaning, and I left a few trinkets on the window sill while I dusted, and some prick of a crow came by and snagged up my grandmother's ring," she said brow furrowing at the memory.

  Clay nodded, "I can help, though unless you have something of the birds, it might be easier to just find the ring. There are quite a few crows in town, and I don't think either of us has time to go one by one searching their pockets."

  "Actually, I do have something of the assholes. I saw him on the sill and lunged to grab him; he got away, but I did get this," she reached into a small pouch at her side and withdrew a glossy black feather.

  He walked up and gently took the feather from her hand. "That should do it. With this, we should have your ring back before lunch."

"What will the cost be," she asked, with a bit of nervousness in her voice.

  Clay sighed internally. Pattson had a lot of things going for it, but unfortunately, the last Spellwright to set up shop in the area had been a sleaze. The man had charged what he could for subpar services until the town had gotten fed up and kicked him out a few years ago. This had left the whole town with a lousy opinion of his profession he was just starting to mend. "If we really are done by lunch, I'll do it for a drink at the drunken toad and five coppers," he said. He felt it was fair enough. With the feather, a tracking spell would be easy, and besides, he needed to build a reputation for generous dealing if he wanted to stick around. It seemed to work at least a little as he saw a bit of tension leave her shoulders.

  "That seems reasonable to me," She said.

  "Excellent, then just give me a few moments to get the spell going, and we can get started," he said.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  He rummaged around the small pouch on his belt before his hands returned with a small spool of yellow thread. He tucked the staff into the crook of his elbow as he tied one end to the feather and pulled about a foot of it from the spool before snapping it off with a practiced motion. The other end of the string was tied around the platinum ring he pulled from his finger. He placed the ring back on his finger and started the finding spell. It formed in his mind quickly as he established both the symbolic and literal link between the feather and the bird he was trying to find. After establishing the link in his mind, he spoke softly into his scarf, "Go and seek that which you are." With the words spoken, his will gave purpose to his power. Through the conduit of the ring, that power flowed down the string and to the feather, which started to pull against gravity in the direction of town.

  He looked down at the woman next to him, "There we go now; we just follow the feather until we find your bird. Oh, and I almost forgot, what is your name?"

  "Cassy, and what's yours?" she asked back.

  "You can call me Clay."

  "Alright, Clay, lead the way," she said, waving her hand for him to start walking.

  He led the way, one hand on his staff and the other held out in front the feather on its string pulled taunt from the magic. There was a slight smile on his lips hidden by the oversized red scarf as he walked. He hadn't been flush with clients over the last few months. This was his seventh job in the town since the beginning of spring, but they were getting more regular. He hoped that after a few more clients, word would get out that he wasn't looking to cheat anyone, and things would pick up. He wasn't worried; he had plenty of money for now, and he was more than capable of living off the land a little, but some of the things he wanted were expensive, and he wanted to be part of a town it seemed nice. The two walked in silence for several minutes, leaving the town's outskirts and getting into its proper boundary. The path changed from gravel to well-laid cobbles beneath their feet.

  "So, what do you do," he asked as the feather led them through the town.

  She looked up at him her eyes squinted again, "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, you know what I do. What with the hat and the magic? I, however, don't know what you do. You don't have to answer, just curious it's one of the most common traits to a wizard; we like to know things."

  "It's alright. I am the oldest, so I am taking after my dad. He is a locksmith here in town, and I work with him."

  "That must be nice to get to work with your family."

  "It is most of the time; I'm a full journeyman now, so he hasn't much left to teach me. He's been saying he will retire for a few years now, but we both know that he won't until he has to." A little bit of pride showed in her eyes at the mention of being a journeyman, and clay could relate his certifications as a big point of pride for him.

  They slipped into silence again, but it was a more comfortable sort of silence. The finding spell was very helpful but just pointed straight at the bird. This little drawback meant that the two had to backtrack a few times as alleyways turned into dead ends or private properties. It was about an hour before Clay calculated that the feather was pointing towards the third story of the Town hall where a collection of gargoyles perched.

  "I think that it is up there probably nesting," he said, pointing up to the gargoyles.

  "Damn, how are we going to get up there? I don't suppose you have a ladder under that hat," she asked, letting out a little huff of air in frustration.

  "No, I don't, but I do have something that will help. Mac, time to wake up lazy bones. I need your help," he said as he shook the bag on his hip a bit.

  A moment later, a white head poked out the top of the bag, red eyes blinking in the mid-morning sun. The rat pulled itself out of the bag and onto Clay's shoulder.

  "How is this little cutie going to help us," she asked as she gave Mac a little scratch on the top of the head.

  "You're going to tell him what the ring looks like, and then he will climb up into the nest after I scare off our little crow friend," she was doing the squinting thing again, except now it was directed at Mac and not him, "He's my familiar I promise he is more than smart enough to understand what the ring looks like."

  "Okay, it's a gold band with a blue stone," Mac gave a little nod from Clay's shoulder at her words, "How are you planning to scare it off?"

"A bit of magic and a rock," He said, looking around for a pebble.

  He looked over a few before deciding on a dull gray pebble about the size of his thumb. He put away the string and the feather and pulled a thin piece of chalk from the bag instead. He quickly scribbled a dog's face onto the rock along with a few runes for danger. This was a little more complicated than the finding spell or generating a bit of force or heat. This was real magic bending the world's rules on themselves to make something happen. In this instance, he wanted the crow to believe that this rock was a very big, very dangerous dog. The chalk was to help his mind believe that was what the rock was as well. For a spell to work, the caster had to have complete and total faith in their ability to do it. That was where all the little bits that casters did came from. They were hundreds of little ways to trick the mortal mind into believing it could do the impossible.

  Once the chalk work was done, he focused on the stone in his hand, connecting the power from himself to it through the staff. He felt the slight resistance of the world's rules, but with just a bit more effort, they bent, and his spell was done. There was only enough power in the stone for a few moments, so he tossed it up and onto the roof of the building near the gargoyles. A moment later, a fat crow hastily flapped away, cawing a frantic warning. As soon as the crow was gone, Mac took off up the side of the building. Only a minute later, he was back golden band in his little teeth. He climbed back up to Clay's shoulder and dropped the prize into his waiting hand. Clay gave the rat a few scratches behind the ears with his fingertips.

  "Good job, buddy," he then reached out to Cassy and dropped the ring into her hand, "There you go, miss, one lost ring returned and in good time no less."

  "Thank you very much. While it isn't quite lunchtime, it is starting to get warm, and I do think I owe the town Spellwright a drink."

  "I think that you do, he said, and maybe a bite for our friend Mac here," he said, following her to the Drunken toad.

  "Maybe," she said.