#2: Trousers
"BALTHAZAR BLAKE!"
Maxim's furious bellow, amplified by a spell, rang through the clearing where the three apprentices had stopped to make camp for the evening. Veronica looked up from where she knelt tending the small pot of stew she was heating over their fire. The three of them had stopped early that evening because Maxim's horse had decided to dump him in a fresh pile of dung, and the young sorcerer had stalked off to the stream to clean up, glowering at Balthazar as he laughed. In the six months she'd known the two male apprentices she'd grown used to their squabbles. While they were friends, Balthazar did enjoy needling the younger common-born boy whenever he was bored. Maxim, for his part, tended to gave as good as he got, social pretensions be damned.
This seemed to be a bit beyond Balthazar's usual pranks, however. Maxim didn't normally react by storming into camp, half-clothed, soaking wet, and red-faced with fury.
Balthazar looked up from where he sat adjusting a bit of tack. "Yes?" he asked, all innocent. He grinned at the other apprentice. "Forget something when you went to take a bath, did we?"
Maxim glared. "No," he said, with all the dignity he could muster while wearing only his grubby tunic and with water dripping from his dark hair. "I did not forget to take something with me. Now give me back my trousers, Balthazar!"
