Chapter Seven

Several Months Later

It was market day in Penryn and the town was buzzing with life. Traders were hawking their wares on the green. Colourful flags fluttered in the breeze. Actors were striding to and fro on a stage bellowing lines to one another. At one corner a scribe was taking down letters from eager customers, desperate to let their distant relatives know all the latest gossip; close by another scribe was reading out the messages to their recipients. Children were enjoying honeyed fruit and crystallised nuts.

Towards the edge of the market merchants were hiring guards for the caravans, sombre men in greys and browns, save for red sashes or belts, with grim expressions. There were a few younger faces amongst the group, aspiring mercenaries looking for their first taste of adventure. One of the merchants, a grizzled man with watery eyes clapped his hands in satisfaction, spat upon one of them and shook with one of the youngsters.

'Well Boy, I'll introduce ye and then ye can settle in,' the merchant, Two-Rivers, said. He laid a hand on the younger man's shoulders guiding him towards the small encampment of traders that lay outside the town proper. The Boy stumbled for a moment under the weight of the older man's hand and smiled awkwardly.

'Thank'ee Master Two,' he mumbled as he bobbed his head up and down. They pushed under a band of red cloth with its swaying pieces of rowan and entered the circle of caravans and wagons. Seated around the campfire on stones and tree-stumps were a motley collection of men and women who looked up as the Boy and Two approached.

'Now lad,' the merchant said, 'this little band is the family, as t'were. Though Crow my business partner is still dealing with some stuff in the town. This is Trenant, he gets his name from some village in the middle of nowhere. Quiet 'un.'

The Boy nodded towards a tall, olive skinned man who grunted at him and went back to whittling a stick.

'This is Pen, comes from a way up north,' Two said as he pointed to a man who looked up from a boiled egg he was peeling and gave a broad, gap-toothed smile. 'Say hello to Hendra, Boy, she likes people to be polite.'

'Hello Miss,' the Boy said. He touched his scarlet cap to a striking woman with long black hair. As he spoke she turned her head revealing a missing ear and a deep, ugly scar which ran across her face. Part of her cheek was missing, the Boy could see the gleam of teeth behind the skin. The Boy held back a flinch, trying not to look too closely.

'Well done lad, most don't deal so well,' Two said quietly. 'This 'un,' he pointed to man of somewhere around fifty with short white hair, 'we call Old Man, ye can guess why. This girl's Slipper; this fine, strapping lad is Little; the blue 'un with the tats is Freathy, but we calls him Fre. This is One-Eye,' he pointed to a grey-haired man with a battered, felt hat pulled low over his brow. 'And this is Lucky, don't play cards with him.'

'Hey now! Don't I even get one round with the new lads anymore?' Lucky said with a quick grin.

'Not after the last time. You're lucky to have all your fingers,' Two growled, though his eye twinkled.

'I gave them all back,' said a voice from behind the Boy. The Boy turned, a lithe man with dark hair and faintly fey features was sitting, folded in upon himself on the step of the wagon. His eyes were a bright, lively green and unlike the others he wore no red. Half a dozen small, flickering flames were dancing around his hand though as the Boy noticed he flicked a finger and they winked out.

'And that's our sorcerer, Harry. Queer name, but he comes from far away he says. He joined us a few months back; seems content enough to plod along with the rest of us mortals for the moment. Always looking around for something or other though. Don't play jokes on him, he doesn't have a sense of humour,' Two said in a stage whisper.

'I heard that,' Harry said, jumping down off the step of the wagon. He was tall, over six feet, and his piercing eyes seemed to take in everything about the Boy in one brief glance. Despite himself the Boy took a small step backwards. The wizard ignored the movement. 'Good to see a new face. I need a word Two.'

'No, no, take it up with Crow. I don't want any more arguments with you. You twist my words so that that they don't know whether they're coming or going,' Two said as he shook his finger at the sorcerer.

'I am a wizard. It is rather our thing,' Harry said mildly. 'No twisting words this time though. I don't want you to do anything that wouldn't be entirely fair to you though. Just let me know: is Mayhew going to be coming?'

'Well no, 'tis why we've taken on the new boy,' Two answered cautiously. He had taken a step backwards so that his back was to the wheel of the wagon and his eyes flicked from side to side. However, apart from the Boy none of the others were watching.

'Ah, of course, how foolish of me. So, I imagine you'll be making sure he has enough to get by on until his leg mends?' Harry said. His voice was pleasant but there was something in his tone which made the Boy shiver and he was hardly surprised when he saw Two wring his hands.

'Well no, we're a business you know. Small trader. We have to make ends meet. He'll be fine, the locals will look after 'im. He can work off the debt come harvest. I've given 'im his last wages. I done nothing wrong.'

'I understand,' Harry said, laying his hand on the shorter man's shoulder. 'Which is why I'm going to offer you a bargain.'

Two froze warily. 'A bargain?'

'Absolutely. Believe me, you'll come out well from this. I can give you a bag.'

'A bag?' Two asked, confused.

'Anything you put into the bag will not decay. Fresh meats, fruits, vegetables ... whatever you place in there will remain as fresh as the day you put it in. Imagine, you'll be able to sell the rarest foods anywhere,' Harry said, 'in exchange you'll give Mayhew pay for a month. The wound should have mended by then.'

'If you had a bag like that it'd be worth more than that,' Two said warily.

'I suppose it would, I guess you'll have to owe me a favour. Still I will have to make it, and it'll take a few weeks to manage.'

'If you can't do it?'

'Then take Mayhew's pay from my wages. You lose nothing,' Harry assured him.

Two paused for a moment. 'You promise it will work?'

'You have my word, for as long as the bag lasts the magic will hold. Of course, you'll need to give me a bag to work on ...'

Two spat on his hand and held it out to Harry, 'Done.'

Harry's smile shrank slightly as he looked at the hand before replicating the action and shaking hands with Two. 'Pleasure,' he said drily.

Two slipped out of the space between him and the wheel, 'I'll just go and pay Mayhew then.'

'You do that. Tell him I'll drop by later to say goodbye,' Harry said, pleasantly.

Two grimaced briefly, out of Harry's sight, and nodded. 'I will. Crow'll pick out a bag for you to work on. Remind me why this sort of thing isn't in your contract?'

'You never asked what I could do, only told me what you wanted me to do,' Harry pointed out before turning away. As he passed the Boy he gave a small smile, 'Everybody loves a bargain.'

Three days later a fine drizzle was falling as they wound their way up a hill. It was slowly soaking the entire caravan of wagons as they slowly wound their way up the track. The track in turn was gradually turning into muddy slush under the passage of one wagon after another. Bleak, grassy hills rose around them. The rain obscured any trees in the valley below which could have broken the desolation of the landscape. The wind whistled through gaps in the canvas. A few, bedraggled moorland ponies stared at them from beneath damp manes. Two and Crow had tucked themselves safely away in the first wagon, avoiding the worst of the weather. The guards were taking it turns to shelter in the second wagon. Harry had placed a blue flame which gave off heat but did not burn in its centre to dry them.

The Boy was longing for the moment when he could slip back into the wagon. The thought of magic unnerved him, but when balanced against being cold and wet it lost a lot of its fear. He pulled his hood a little lower, trying to keep the rain off his face as he skirted a particularly muddy patch where horse's hooves had churned the track into a quagmire.

'You'd best not let the others catch you doing that,' a voice said from beside him.

He looked up, startled. Harry was keeping pace with him. The dark-haired man was dressed for a dry mild day in greys and blues and the Boy could not tell if the rain touched him or not. 'I didn't hear you, Master Wizard, sir.'

'Please call me Harry. How many times have I asked now?' Harry sighed. 'That's the point though: the hood makes it harder to hear things, cuts down your vision too. If we were attacked by brigands you'd be easy meat. Friendly warning, that's all.'

The Boy blushed and pulled back the hood a little, 'Thank'ee kindly.'

'My pleasure. Don't worry too much for the moment. There's nothing around here at the moment, I've scouted it out for a few miles.'

'I didn't see naught! Can 'ee walk unseen?'

'If I so wish. Not this time. In any case, if I were a bandit I'd want to be curled up by a fire in weather like this. Most people prefer to work when they don't have to suffer to do so. Attacking in weather like this would only be worth it if you knew where people were going to be. Which is another trick, don't let people know where you're going.'

The Boy nodded solemnly, committing it to memory.

'Of course, that doesn't mean you can't tell people where you're from, I think that's just superstition, though better safe than sorry. Still, I know where you're from anyway. Did you like it there? It seemed a nice village.'

'It were a town, sir,' the Boy said defensively, 'there were close to five hundred people there.'

'Where I came from there were places with forty thousand which were only cities through habit,' Harry said with a brief smile, 'well, before the bad times anyway.'

'Forty thousand?' The Boy asked trying to imagine the number.

'It's not as big as you might think. Charn's about two-hundred thousand.'

'You've been to Charn? I heard they burnt foreigners there,' the Boy looked at Harry with a look somewhere between suspicion and awe.

'Trust me, they don't. They do have incredible barbeques though. There are some absolutely superb spices they put on those meats. You should go, the food is to die for. Though they do have a few odd customs about dancing; I got thrown out of a window for it at one point. Just trying to be friendly. Defenestration: lovely word, but not nearly so nice an experience. Still though, back to the point, did you like your town?' Harry asked, skipping a puddle.

'Aye, t'were home.'

'Leave anyone behind?'

'Family, and erm ...'

'A sweetheart perhaps?' Harry asked with a grin. 'Don't worry, we've all had sweethearts in the past. Nice girl?'

The Boy nodded. 'She's the finest lass there is. We've pledged ourselves to one another. I'm going to come back to her, once I've earnt enough for us to marry.'

Harry looked at him for a long moment and gave a small nod, 'I hope that works out. What does she do for a living?'

'She's the brewer's daughter. Her mother is teaching her the trade,' the Boy said, 'but I'd want to marry her no matter her trade. Don't 'ee go getting no wrong ideas now.'

'I wouldn't dream of it. I imagine her bride-price,' the Wizard pulled a face as he said it, 'must be quite impressive then. A word of warning: this isn't the fast road to money. Worse still you'll see things and do things on it that might change you. If they do, and she's still waiting, think about whether you would want to give her someone who isn't the person she fell for.'

'What do you mean?'

'Have you ever had to kill someone? Or faced someone who wants to kill you? That's a hard thing to cope with. Harder still when your lover doesn't understand. I'd bet this is the first time you're going further than a day's walk from your home, right? You might see the singing stars in the waters below the eastern cliffs or walk the shore of bones. You might bring her back a shawl from the water markets of Lys, or a comb of hardened spider silk from the West, but she'll not have been there with you. You can tell her the stories of how you fought leaf-folk in the sunken isles when you got this scar or that scar, or how you were one of the guards who carried the last relics of some knight or other back from the wars to her lover. She won't have been there though. It may matter, or it may not, but it's something to think about,' Harry said with a small shrug.

The Boy hesitated. Part of him wanted to protest that their love was not like that, that he would always love her, but there was something in the Wizard's voice prevented him. 'Did you lose someone?'

'Yes.'

'Did you love her very much?'

'I think I did. I remember loving her, but it was a long, long time ago and far, far away. For years I kept up the same small acts of remembrance. Maybe I was doing them out of dedication, but it might just have been habit,' Harry said slowly. 'I didn't lose her like that though. I've just seen too many people grow apart over the course of their lives. Too many tiny movements in the current which pulled them away until they didn't see each other anymore, they just saw people they had to tolerate every day. Love can be a terrible, terrible thing.'

'Not loving is worse though, least-ways that's what I always heard.'

'That's what they say.'

'Is that why you're out here, wandering around instead of stuck up in some tower like a normal wizard?'

Harry chuckled, 'That's mainly only the case in stories. I got separated from a friend a while ago and I needed to try and find him, and ... someone else. No-one had any idea where they might be and apparently the only way I can find them is to ask someone called the Green Man of Knowledge. You haven't heard of him, have you? No, I thought not. So, I'm just enjoying sightseeing whilst I have a look around really. Nothing much. Anyway, I was supposed to come out here and tell you that it's time for you to go and have a break. Warm yourself up and dry off for a little. I'll take over here.'

'Ah, thank'ee. Do you want my cloak?' The Boy asked as he turned towards the wagon and swung himself up.

'No, don't worry about me. A little rain won't do me any harm,' Harry reassured him.

The Boy ducked under the canvas flaps to the wagon and sealed them behind him again. Then he turned around and stripped off his cloak. Pen, Lucky, Slipper and One-Eye were sitting around the small blue flame which floated just above the wooden floor of the wagon. It threw strange shadows onto the canvas walls, shadows which danced and twisted erratically. One-Eye and Lucky were playing cards and for once Lucky appeared, to his consternation, to be losing. At least the Boy presumed so from the twinkle in One-Eye's blue eye, and the stunned expression on Lucky's face.

Pen was tossing one of his endless supply of hardboiled eggs back and forth in his hands and humming tunelessly. He looked up and smiled a craggy smile at the Boy as he came in. Slipper was sitting closest to the fire, head on her knees, though she moved over as the Boy came in.

'Have a seat,' she said as he squatted down. 'The Wizard talking to you?'

'Aye. Why does he call himself that? I thought he were a sorcerer.'

She snorted, 'He comes from a long way away he says, different names for things. Maybe he is a wizard though, he knows more than battle magic: I've even seen him become an animal at will. Careful about asking him questions though, he could talk the back legs off a donkey, without magic, and by the end you might well not know the answer to your question.'

The Boy grinned and nodded slowly before settling back to watch One-Eye beat Lucky again and again at the cards.

That night, when the rain had died away, the guards and merchants sat together around a larger, natural blaze. The rich orange and yellow flames were a welcome relief after the chill blue of the Wizard's sorcerous fire. The longer the Boy had spent around the twisting flames as they turned from sapphire to indigo and back again the less able he had been to look at the things they shed light upon. They had changed becoming, in some undefined way, sinister. However, the small bonfire Trenant and Little had built washed away the lingering prickle at the back of his neck. It was not long before they were all chuckling at a story about Hendra's aunt trying to get a pig to market. Although the scarred woman looked solemn it turned out she was an endless supply of amusing anecdotes about her apparently accident-prone family and village.

'... and from that day to this they've never seen hide nor hair of that pig, but I swear my auntie, she still goes out to try and call it home every evening ...'

The chuckling slowly died as Harry slipped into the circle. Old Man and Slipper moved over to create space for him and Little picked up a bowl from near the fire. 'We've been keeping some stew for you, Wizard, if you'd like it,' the large man rumbled, holding it out towards him.

'Thank you Little, that would be lovely. I'm sorry for interrupting your story Hendra, please continue, it sounded charming,' Harry said mildly.

'It, um, that was it,' she muttered, suddenly looking away pulling a lock of her dark hair down over the scarred side of her face.

'Then I'm sorry to have missed it. I'm sure it was as entertaining as always,' Harry said, taking a spoonful of the stew. 'This really is very good Little, thank you again.'

'It's nothing,' Little said gruffly.

The Boy fidgeted, looking uneasily around the now silent campfire. The two merchants were studiously not looking up from their stew and most of the guards were exchanging awkward glances, like children who do not know whether to continue playing once an adult has entered the room.

'Boy, did you ever wonder how I got this scar?' Old Man asked the Boy, breaking the silence as he pointed to a long, silvery mark which ran across his forehead.

'Aye sir, that I did,' the Boy said and around him the guards turned, smiles returning in anticipation.

'An Almari pirate, with a curved sword, near cut my head in two. Can you guess how I got away with only this cut?'

'No, what happened?' The Boy leant forward eagerly.

'I fell over backwards on a coil of rope some idiot had left on deck. Managed to kick him overboard by accident!' The Old Man answered with a grin. 'Now you, any good scars?'

The Boy blushed and before he could answer Slipper cut in, 'Don't be cruel, he's not been out of his village before. You're going to compare scars look at this 'un,' She pulled up the leg of her trouser revealing a row of tiny, silver half-moons along her calf. 'I bet you've never seen the like of what gave this one, have you Fre? Take a guess.'

Fre leant in for a moment before shrugging, 'What was it Slip?'

'A kelpie snuck up on me one time at a ford. Nearly got my leg. I was wearing bronze greaves, but it bit hard enough to leave these. Took three others just to drive that thing away. Had to pour salt into the stream and all.'

Old Man nodded appreciatively. 'That's a fine one, but I've got one which'll beat that.' He undid his shirt slightly, loosening the cords to pull it back and reveal one shoulder as Lucky gave a wolf-whistle. There was a red puckered mark on his back and a smaller divot on the front of the shoulder. 'Bloody great malk got me there. Hooked a claw straight through and tossed me twenty feet. Only got out of that one by running like hell. Funny thing is I hardly felt the wound till a couple of hours later. It tore its claw off when it threw me though, stopped me from bleeding out.'

'Yeah right. No-one survives one of those,' Fre muttered, tossing another bit of wood onto the fire.

'Oh, is that so? Care to bet on it?' Slipper asked.

'Sure, how much ye wagering?'

Slipper checked her pouch and pulled out two silver pennies. 'There's my coin on it.'

'Met.'

'Well the girl wins. Here's the claw to prove it!' The Old Man said, pulling a cord around his neck to show a long, yellow talon.

Slipper chuckled as she took Fre's coin. 'You shouldn't have bet on that. I've known Old a sight longer than you, you don't imagine he wouldn't have told that story before do you?'

'That's cheating right there that is!' Fre protested, appealing open armed to the others.

'The lass ne're said she didn't know the answer already,' One-Eye pointed out, 'she just challenged you.'

'Of all the tricks to fall for ...' Fre groaned to the chuckles of the others.

'What about you Wizard?' The Boy asked, plucking up courage. 'You got any scars to show off? I would, but my best is where I cut me-self with a scythe, so it ain't much.'

'I have a few,' Harry said, 'but you wouldn't believe me if I told you how I came by them.'

From beyond the circle of firelight came the sound of footsteps on the rocks and the clip-clop of hooves. One or two of the guards stood, hands flying to the weapons which they had lain down beside them. They relaxed when Pen walked into the light along with a tall stranger. The man had pale, parchment like skin; hollow, sharp features and he was dressed in plain, black clothes.

Crow stood and gave a short bow, 'Well met stranger. We offer you food and drink at our table. May you come and go in peace.'

'My thanks. May you find rest and peace,' the stranger said returning the bow. 'I am Last.'

'Peace be with you. I am known as Crow, please sit with us. What forces you to travel so late into the night? I would have thought your horse might have turned a hoof.'

'Thank you,' Last sat with a sigh on one of the stones around the fire accepting a bowl Little offered him. 'The same reason I would advise you to turn your caravan around now. The road ahead is dangerous. If you carry on you'll enter the desolation of a dragon.'

'A dragon? As in flying lizard, breathes fire, scales, about fifty feet long?' Harry asked quietly as Last carried on talking to Crow.

'Sounds like one. Can it talk?' One-Eye asked.

'No.'

'You're thinking of drakes. Dragons are worse.'

'What's so bad about them?' Harry asked.

One-Eye raised an eyebrow, 'You're a sorcerer, don't you know about them?'

'Indulge me. I think we may only have had drakes where I was from.'

'Dragons are powerful. Their tongues are quick, their words weave webs, they never break promises, but their words twist. Never meet a dragon's eye, they can pin you down with their gaze. They've got strange magic,' One-Eye said, shaking his head slowly.

'They sound dangerous,' Harry conceded.

'My nan used to tell me stories, when I was young,' Fre said, 'how there was an age when there were mighty princes who walked fair and tall amongst all peoples of the earth. That came to an end with the coming of the dragons and the return of the Hillfolk. The kings fought and died gloriously, but they died all the same. The palaces of glass and the citadels of steel were cast down into the dust. The world grew grey with sorrow and the gods ceased to walk among us. The Good Neighbours are strong, but they couldn't have done it without the dragons.'

One-Eye nodded, 'The lad's right. They only respect courage and cunning, if you lack those you haven't a chance. If there's a dragon around anyone who lives here is as good as dead.'