“No, my foot hurts.”
“Let me see.” He bent down and examined her swollen ankle. It didn’t look broken at least. He spun around. “Can you climb on my back? I’ll give you a piggyback ride.”
She scrambled around and finally wrapped her arms around his neck, half choking him. He hitched her up a little higher and took a breath. She weighed more than he thought. Luckily, he didn’t have too far to go.
“Ready?”
“Yes.” Jessa whimpered a little but didn’t start crying again.
He set out for the field where he left the boys. He hit the deer trail five minutes later and followed it all the way back to the corn field.
“Lord Shenk! Jessa!” Walden raced up to them, his brother right on his heels.
“We thought the ghosts got you,” Danen said.
“I didn’t,” Walden said.
“Did so!”
“Boys! How about you show me the way to your house? Your sister isn’t getting any lighter.”
“Yes, my lord. This way.” Walden set out in the lead. He led them to a modest three-room cabin near one of the many sprawling orchards that dotted the barony. A thin trickle of smoke rose from the chimney.
Otto rapped on the door and a moment later a portly woman in a pale dress and stained apron opened the door. “Who are…”
She trailed off and her eyes grew wide. “Lord Shenk. I meant no disrespect.”
Her eyes went to the ground and she bobbed a curtsy.
“I take no offense. If you’d be kind enough to remove your daughter from my back, I’d be grateful. She appears to have twisted her ankle.”
A moment later the weight was removed and he straightened. Otto sniffed and his mouth started to water. “What is that delightful aroma?”
“Bean and tomato stew, my lord.” She held her daughter in one arm, the girl hugging her neck. “It’s almost ready if you’d like a bowl.”
“I’d be delighted, madam. The tradition is for a guest to bring something for the pot, isn’t it?” He dug the ham from his satchel. “Perhaps this would make a good addition.”
“Meat!” Walden grinned and punched his brother lightly on the shoulder.
“Oh, boy!” Danen hit him back.
Whether this was genuine excitement or an excuse to beat on each other, Otto didn’t know. He liked to think it was the former and when the boys’ mother invited him in he happily accepted.
Chapter 8
A cold, drenching rain fell outside as Otto made his way down the stairs to Master Enoch’s workshop. It was one of those fall storms that would soak the land for hours, swell the creeks, and generally make the apple pickers’ lives miserable. The basement air was redolent with the scent of decay and rivulets ran down the stone wall.
A faint scream penetrated the dividing wall. Father must have been amusing himself with one of the prisoners. A patrol had brought in a pair of highwaymen an hour after he returned home yesterday afternoon.
Poor bastards.
If he had nothing better to do, Father would drag out their punishment for hours. At least if Father made an example of them the next desperate men might think better of robbing the people of Shenk Barony. Otto very much suspected their fresh corpses would be hanging from the castle walls come morning.
He glanced up at the corner, but Claud must have found a warm place to hunker down for the day, as the spider was nowhere to be seen. Larger-than-usual puddles covered the floor, leaving only a narrow path for Otto to pick his way across. He rapped on the door and his master opened it a moment later.
“Good morning, Lord Shenk.” Enoch sneezed and wiped his nose on his patched robe. Otto half expected to find clumps of moss growing on it, so damp was the interior of the workshop. “Did you practice your lightning magic yesterday?”
“Yes, Master.” Otto dug the wool and glass out of his satchel and cast the simple spell. He didn’t dare skip the unnecessary components lest his master ask too many questions.
“Very good. The spell gave you no trouble then?”
“No, in fact it’s almost identical to the fire spell you taught me.” Otto steadied himself. Time to take a risk. “Once I became comfortable with the spell, I did a little experimenting on my own and discovered something interesting.”
Otto sent his dagger flying with one hand and conjured the fire dragon with the other. He was about to have them fight when Master Enoch grabbed his arms, breaking his concentration and sending the dagger clattering to the floor.
“You must never let anyone see you using two threads at once.” Master Enoch’s voice was as hard and commanding as Otto had ever heard it.
“Why? Being able to use two threads opens up so many more options for spells. I’d been thinking for a while now that a single thread was far too limiting.”
Master Enoch released him and sat on his rickety stool. He gestured toward the cot.
When Otto had settled in, Master Enoch scrubbed his face with his hand and sighed. “It’s my fault, my lord. I should have cautioned you from the beginning, especially once I saw your curious and eager nature. I allowed myself to imagine if I didn’t teach you multi-thread spells you would never attempt them on your own. Foolish of me.”
“I don’t understand, Master.”
“It’s less about the technique than displaying your power. If anyone should see you performing a feat of potent magic it puts you at risk and potentially all other wizards along with you. We’re not so far from the purges after all.”
Otto chewed that over for a minute then leaned forward. “You think I could be killed for making a dagger fly while conjuring a flame?”
“No, those simple tricks wouldn’t cause enough consternation. My worry is about the future. Today it’s two threads, but next month it may be three, then four or five. Once you reach that level you have the potential to do real wizardry. While I doubt I can convince you not to learn it now that you know such magic exists, I do want to caution you about using it. It risks more than your own neck.”
Otto leaned back and nodded. “How many threads can you conjure, Master? It’s only the two of us. Please?”
“This one time only.”
Master Enoch stood and spread his hands. Multicolored threads sprang from each finger until ten of them danced in the air. He only maintained the display for a few seconds before slumping back onto the stool.
“Ten, Master!” It strained Otto’s credibility and if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes he wouldn’t have believed the ragged figure before him capable of such a display.
Master Enoch rubbed his eyes. “That’s my maximum and it exhausts me rapidly. I can use up to five with no trouble, though I never do.”
“Can all the wizards, like those working the forges and advising nobles, perform such feats?”
“Many can. Understand, Otto, since the time of the purges, from master to student, the warnings have passed. Never show them your true power. Never give them an excuse. Magic frightens people in direct proportion to the power displayed. The weaker we seem, the safer we are.”
“I understand, Master.” And he did. Men like his father respected power, but they also needed to control it. And magic was something they’d never truly control or even understand. “Surely when we’re alone you can teach me more than sparks and flying daggers.”