Chapter One
"What's that?"
"Groceries."
"Well I'm aware, but what's that."
"Oh! Knotgrass?"
"No, that's fluxweed. This is knotgrass."
A pair of teenagers stood side by side at a booth in the middle of a bustling marketplace. The girl took a chunk of weeds tied in twine from the boy and placed it back with similar weeds that lined the front of the booth. Then she reached toward the back and grabbed a chunk of dried plants that looked almost exactly the same before dropping it in the basket that the boy was holding. She scanned over the rest of the indistinguishable herbs and spoke without turning to the boy. "Do we need anything else here?"
"Um, lemme see." he paused to unfold a grocery list. "We got the bluebell stems, a few daisies – don't know why we couldn't have picked those ourselves – some black rose petals and four brownbrooke mushrooms. Oh, and the knotgrass. So I guess we're done with this part."
"Good, then we can make it to the butcher before he closes." The girl handed the merchant on the other side of the booth a few bronze coins.
The pair turned and slowly pushed their way through the crowd of adults and merchants who shouted their overly priced items to the bustling mob. Even though they weren't much younger than most of the young adults who were out shopping, the two were considerably shorter. Not even five and a half feet tall, they appeared to be much younger than anyone else their own age.
"Matt, Claire!" A shout came from the left side of the marketplace and a figure shoved its way through the barricade of bodies.
An attractive girl with intentionally curly brown hair and a round, happy face squealed with delight and threw her arms around the pair's necks. She wore an interestingly mismatched collection of clothing; a striped skirt, frilly blouse and plaid jacket that, in the end, seemed to go well with one another. Her high heels clicked on the brick road when she finally stood back, but she continued to hold a hand on their shoulders.
"Look at you two! It's been a while since I've seen either of you," The girl said, looking them over. "But you both look fabulous, as usual."
In fact, they were far less dressy than their friend. Claire wore a plain, baggy shirt that was far too large for her thin frame and pants that were also several sizes too big. To top it all off, it was quite amazing that her feet even stayed inside the large boots that she had strapped on. Her hair was shoulder length, dirty blond, and curly enough to create the impression of several large balls of fuzz around her face. Her face was the one thing that concretely showed that Claire was a young woman. It was fair, naturally attractive, and held a pair of gray eyes that always seemed reflect what she was thinking, despite the fact that she tried to display as little emotion as possible.
Matt, on the other hand was on the opposite end of the spectrum. He had short, messy brown hair, extremely happy blue eyes and a persistent amount of scruffy facial hair. His clothing almost always consisted of oddly patterned button-down shirt, a short, gray trench coat with copious amounts of pockets, jeans and brown shoes. His clothing also sported a much better fit than his companion's.
"Actually, Amanda, didn't I just see you two days ago?" Claire asked, raising an eyebrow.
" . . . Maybe," she conceded "But that's not the point! You guys need to stop by the shop so I can fix you up a bit. There's no reason why you two can't look fancy when you leave that house of yours. Besides, Patty needs to clean up that scruff." She added the last while rubbing Matt's chin.
"I like it like this, Manda." Matt pouted, touching the side of his face to make sure it hadn't suddenly become smooth.
"Yeah, I guess it looks good on you, but it's way too boring in there right now. You should come in! Please?"
Amanda worked at a salon in the marketplace that catered to the middle class tenants in their part of town. She was by far the best in the shop, but had an extremely high goal to become one of fashion designers for the royal family. Then, she was sure, the entire country would pick up on her new trends.
"Actually, we need to head over to the butcher before it closes." Claire stated and took a step to get around the girl in front of her.
"Oh, okay. I'm on break, so I can stop by and pick up something to make a sandwich." Amanda linked arms with Matt, who already had his elbow ready.
Claire nodded, but a sly grin spread across her face. "Fine by me, but we're collecting two pigs hearts and a goat's brain."
In a matter of seconds, Amanda's face lost its color and radiant joy. She slipped her arm out from around Matt's and took a step back. "Well . . . on second thought, I think I'd better get back to work. But it was great seeing you two!"
Amanda quickly gave a peck on both of their cheeks and bounded through the crowd on the way back to the salon. Matt continued to wave goodbye a few seconds after she had vanished from sight.
"Why'd you have to do that?" Matt turned to ask Claire, but she had already started walking, and he had to quicken his step just to catch up to her enough to be heard.
Claire readjusted the satchel full of supplies that was slung over her shoulder and nearly knocked a hobbling old woman over in the process. "If she came with us, the two of you would have taken forever just to walk to the butcher shop. Not to mention the fact that you act pretty dumb around her."
Matt pointed his finger in the air, as if he was about to protest, but then thought about it and let his arm fall back to his side. He was now almost at a jog to keep up with his friends rapidly moving feet. He didn't even bother to ask if she wanted him to carry the bulky bag, because even though Claire was a girl, she refused to be treated like one. She always managed to move at twice Matt's speed, despite the fact that she usually carried her own body weight in the satchel at her side. Matt, on the other hand, always managed to find the single off-center brick in the road and trip over it.
There was very little talk the rest of the walk – or run – and within a few minutes the two stood outside the plainly marked butcher shop. Matt opened the door for Claire and they made their way in to the small, but surprisingly clean store. Sections of meat were hanging from the ceiling behind the counter or resting under glass on display. A small bell that was hanging above the doorway rang softly, and a swinging door across the shop swung open almost instantly.
"Well if it isn't the best two apprentices in Rileist." A tall, muscular man with a white cap and large mustache exclaimed with his arms in the air in greeting. A small, fragile looking boy with shaggy black hair and large glasses trailed behind him.
"Tim, that's not very nice." Claire scolded the much older man.
"Hi Dupont." Matt added right away and waved at the boy.
Dupont waved sheepishly and jumped when Tim clapped his hands loud enough to rattle the glass display area. "Dupe, go grab their things outta the cooler."
Instantly, the frail looking boy ran through the swinging doors. Tim tried to ignore Claire's burning scowl, but couldn't avoid it when she spoke up.
"Stop treating him like that!" she exclaimed, her cheeks turning a shade of red. "I thought I told you that the next time I hear you speak to him like he subhuman, we'll start buying our supplies from someone else."
Tim's small, watery eyes looked quite surprised at the outburst. "I'm only teasing the boy! I have to toughen him up if he's to survive this job – not really sure why his parents placed him here anyway, but they're friends of mine so I had to take him in."
"Yes, since being a butcher is extremely difficult," Claire muttered, but was drowned out by the return of Dupont.
"Okay, that'll be on the tab then?" Tim asked and scrawled on a small piece of paper.
"Yep," Matt answered and took the brown paper package that was handed to him. "Thanks."
The pair waved over their shoulder on the way out, and the bell jingled again to announce their departure. It was a long walk down narrow alleyways and through open town squares surrounded by tightly placed stone houses all with the same basic design along the way. The early spring sky was dyed orange and purple with the sunset, and had continued on down to a dark blue when they finally made it to their destination.
They had come to an awkward looking four-story brick building that was tucked between an abandoned flower shop and a bakery. At least a dozen differently shaped chimneys were perched on the tiled roof, and had stained the upper half of the building with a thick layer of soot. A rusted sign written in several languages swung lightly back and forth with the breeze, but the boldest writing on it spelled out "Mason's Magiks".
Matt walked up to the front door that was obviously without a doorknob. He reached for a small, stained glass circle near the top and gently tapped several of the geometric designs. The disk spun quickly in different directions, before the door gently swung open with a muffled groan.
"So, did he say when he was getting back today?" Matt asked as he stepped into the dark foyer. He placed the package of meat on the ground and walked over to the large candelabra on his right. Rubbing his hands above them as if to get warm, each of the candles lit their own wicks on fire.
Claire stepped into the newly illuminated room and kicked the door shut. She placed her bag of groceries on a heavy looking oak table in the middle of the room and grabbed a small piece of chalk from the same surface. She made her way over to the fireplace and drew a small circular array on the mantle, then placed her hands on either side of it. The drawing glowed a deep red for a moment, before a large fire was set ablaze in the conspicuously empty hearth.
"No, he didn't mention it," she finally answered.
The room was actually the whole first floor of the building. The large table sat on the opposite wall of the fireplace next to a sink, and a series of cabinets to its left. There was a bookshelf across from the candelabra that was stuffed with as many volumes as it could hold, and a coat rack right next to the door. A writing desk and a smaller table piled with bottles and jars of varying liquids and herbs sat to the left of the fireplace, with a spiral staircase on the other side. The hardwood floors and plaster walls appeared to be in a desperate need of cleaning, but the rest of the room looked rather tidy.
Without saying another word, the two unloaded their supplies into different cabinets, an icebox and jars around the room. As soon as they were finished, they slumped into chairs on opposite sides of the table and sat in silence. The only sound came from Matt, who decided to eat an apple that he had found under a pile of parchments. The ticking of a grandfather clock resonated through the silent home.
"So . . ." Matt started and trailed off between bites.
"He's been gone for a while." Claire commented absently, picking at a thread on her sleeve.
Matt looked around the room, as if searching for a reply. It was true that he rarely left the house for any great length of time without first telling the pair how to reach him. But Mason was prone to forgetting details about his business opportunities.
"I guess he's just running a bit late. We could get some dinner ready for when he gets back, though." Matt suggested, his appetite not appeased by a mere apple.
Claire shook her head. "Nah, I'm not too hungry."
With that, the room fell into another stretch of silence. Claire stood and made her way to the bookshelf behind Matt.
"Want anything?" she asked over her shoulder.
Matt squinted in thought. "How about the fifth volume of Mathesda's Beast Encyclopedia. I'm trying to get through all of them, still."
Claire nodded and ran her finger across the spines of the texts as she scanned over the titles. She pulled out a thick green book with worn edges and a rather small paperback. Sitting back down, she slid the larger book toward Matt and opened up to the first page of hers, which was titled: Advanced Runic Symbols.
They read in continued silence for the next half an hour until the front door gave off a series of clicks and jingles. It swung open to reveal a rather tall, thin man wrapped in a thick tweed cloak. He had baggy brown eyes, a narrow face and several gray hairs mixed with his long, black locks. The man gave a seemingly forced smile as he entered the room and stopped in front of the table.
"We were wondering when you'd make it back home, Mason." Matt said, a genuine smile plastered on his face.
"How was work today?" Claire added, glancing up from her book.
Mason ran a mud-covered hand through his hair – that he didn't seem to notice – and nodded at the two sitting. "I'm sorry, I didn't expect to take that long."
"What'd you do? Go anywhere interesting?" Matt fired off a few more questions.
"Oh, I'm a little too tired to go over the details of today's adventure, but how about I tell both of you tomorrow?" He replied in an increasingly scratchy voice. "But I do believe I'm ready for bed. I think I might be catching something."
For the first time since Mason's return, Claire closed her book and scanned over him. "Did you want me to fix you some wolfsbane tea? It's what I always take when I feel a little sick."
At the mention of tea, Mason closed his eyes and shook his head. "No thank you, a good night's sleep should do the trick, though."
Without another word to either of them, Mason turned and headed toward the spiral staircase. Matt simply shrugged and went back to reading his book, while Claire continued to watch him go upstairs.
"He's injured," she said plainly. "He has a limp."
Matt looked up from his book, a confused expression on his face. "What do you mean, he's injured? He's just a little sick and probably sore from a day's work. We'll be like that once we're registered wizards – err – and witch."
"I don't think he was telling us everything, but there's no use asking, since he never tells us when he sets his mind to it." She spoke mainly to herself. "But still, what could be giving him a limp? It must be a magic injury, since he can heal anything else in a heartbeat."
"Yeah, I'm sure he was out fighting bicorns and erumpents today." He replied with a laugh. "Come on, Claire, he sells potions to old ladies and cleans doxies out of attics. The man couldn't have gotten into a magic fight."
Claire's expression shot daggers across the table. She huffed loudly and got up from the table. "Fine, but if he wakes up tomorrow with a graphorn infection, you get to clean the puss out."
With that, Claire turned on her heel and made her way upstairs. Matt sat in astonishment at the short-lived argument, then went back to reading without another thought. When the candles died out one by one, he extinguished the last few, smeared the array above the fireplace to put it out, and slowly made his way upstairs with an armful of apples.
Matt's bedroom was on the third floor, while Claire's was on the second. Every floor above the ground level was a single bedroom with a private bathroom, Mason's being on the top floor. Claire's door was closed and silent, so Matt went to his room without saying goodnight to her. He kicked off his shoes and fell into bed entirely clothed; his balcony doors were open to let the cool night breeze in. In only a matter of seconds, he was fast asleep.