The Sorcerer's Ascension (38 page)

“Come on, look I’ll give you a silver for just a peek, I won’t even step inside or touch anything, I promise,” Azerick said as he held up the shiny piece of silver.

As the page reached for his promised reward, Azerick let the coin slip from his fingers. When the boy bent to retrieve it, Azerick clouted him hard behind the ear with the blackjack he had made from a leather pouch and a fist full of small, lead balls. The boy fell to the ground at Azerick’s feet in a crumpled heap. He quickly grabbed the boy under the arms and dragged him into the carriage. A moment later Azerick emerged from the coach wearing the fancy livery of the page, leaving the real page securely bound and gagged on the floor of the coach.

He crossed under a set of stone arches that lead to the well-manicured lawns, which he crossed before reaching the main Academy building itself. He let himself in through a postern door and found the kitchen. Azerick grabbed up a serving tray, ate a couple of the snacks, and swept out into the main dining hall.

A cacophony of sounds filled the hall coming from several harps, lutes, and a harpsichord as well as the tuneless droning of dozens of nobles and Academy members. He made his way around the long, brightly polished tables serving the morsels off his tray. The nobleman whose livery Azerick wore flagged him down to get him some wine. The man never even looked at the imposter long enough to see that he wore a different face than the one that had brought him here. The only thing the rich man saw was his colors. The wealthy never see the face of the lesser people that serve them.

Azerick made several rounds about the tables, listening and learning the names of those in attendance. He found the old wizard who had humiliated him twice and served him, leaning over his shoulder with his silver tray, once again invisible while standing in plain sight. He quickly learned his name as well—Magus Allister. Armed with this knowledge he began to execute his plan.

He went back to the kitchen and found a tray with a silver dome used to keep the contents warm. He also found a flagon of wine into which he poured a quantity of extremely hot red sauce. He served the wine to Lord
Answorth
Bronwyn, Lord Mayor of
Groveswood
and the covered silver dish to his wife, Lady Tabitha Bronwyn.
Groveswood
was a small town east of Southport. It was a relatively small town but boasted a long and proud history. Many wealthy merchants and minor lords sought its mild weather, shaded groves and gardens, and peaceful surroundings, building summer manors and often moving there permanently in their retirement.

“My Lord and Lady, Master Allister begs you to try a special vintage as well as a rare treat he deems only a palate of your character deserves, but please wait until I inform the Magus that it has been delivered before you indulge. He wishes to make a toast of it and witness your delight.”

“Of course, please send the Magus our warmest regards,” Lord Bronwyn commanded without even looking over his shoulder at the imposter who served him.

Azerick skirted the back wall, circling to the far side of the room to the table directly across from the
Bronwyns
to where the wizard sat. He bent down and spoke softly into the old wizard’s ear.

“Master Allister, Lord and Lady Bronwyn wishes to raise a cup to convey their deepest appreciation for your diligent service to the Academy and the excellent tutoring you have provided the many children of the kingdom’s upper class.”

Azerick ducked back into the shadows as Magus Allister gazed across the table and raised his goblet in salute to the Bronwyn’s kind words. The Lord raised his cup and his Lady gave the wizard a nod and smile. Lord Bronwyn brought his wineglass to his lips and sipped while his Lady lifted the cover on the silver serving dish.

Both Lord and Lady let out a scream, one of shock and pain as the fiery spice burned a trail from his lips to his stomach, the other of horror as the large black barn rat ran down the table as soon as Azerick opened its shining silver prison.

Cries went up from the Ladies seated at the table as they jumped up, several falling backwards over their chairs as the furry black streak raced across plates and turned over wine glasses. Serving boys, pages, and kitchen staff raced after the fleeing rodent swinging serving trays and wooden spoons chasing it from the dining area.

The crowd was starting to settle down as Lord Bronwyn stopped choking enough to point an accusing finger at the Magus.

“What is this, sir! You dare try to poison me and frighten my wife to an early grave! Is this your idea of a joke?” Lord Bronwyn screamed in indignation.

“My Lord and Lady please, I have no idea what has happened,” the flustered and confused wizard replied. “If this is indeed some kind of hoax, the guilty party will be found and dealt with I assure you.”

The Master of the Academy stepped up to offer his reassurances to the
Bronwyns
.

“My Lord and Lady Bronwyn, please accept my sincerest apologies. Everyone please be seated, the excitement has passed. Let us get on with the banquet. I offer all of you my deepest apologies; it appears that someone, likely one or more of the spirited students, sought to play a cruel jest on us old stuffed shirts. You know how children are; please let us take our seats now. I am sure the rest of the evening will go splendidly,” Headmaster Dondrian assured his nervous guests.

The music picked back up as the well-dressed crowd returned to their seats, resuming their conversations, many starting to have a laugh at the excitement. Azerick continued keeping an ear to the conversations hoping to discover another chance at creating further mayhem.

The evening wore on with nothing more exciting happening until he chanced upon some hushed words coming from a dimly lit alcove, words that promised of a midnight rendezvous and a secret tryst in the garden. Azerick watched from behind a fluted pillar as the conspiring pair returned to their seats. The man was middle aged and sat next to a hatchet-faced woman who always looked to have just bitten into a lemon; the pretty, younger woman took her seat next to a great fat man dressed in flamboyant silks.

Azerick returned to the kitchen and fetched another pitcher of wine, returned to Magus Allister and filled his cup, deftly mixing in a fine powder. He watched as the man with the sour-faced wife excused himself from the table followed several minutes later by the pretty woman with the fat husband.

Azerick followed the woman out of the hall and out into one of the gardens. Sticking to the shadows, he heard a whispered call followed by a short squeal of delight and giggling. He quietly followed the sounds of a man and a woman taking their pleasure to a darkened little alcove surrounded by creeping ivy and rosebushes. As the amorous couple frolicked in the garden completely unaware of the voyeuristic eyes on them, the young thief reached through the bushes and absconded with a piece of the woman’s underclothing. He crossed the grounds of the garden looking for the living quarters of the teaching staff. As he searched along the halls, a man in a well-made but plain robe accosted him and demanded to know his business.

“Young man, what are you doing here? These are the personal quarters of the magi,” the man demanded.

“Please, sir, Master Allister bid me fetch a scroll he had set out that he wished to show to Duke Ulric but I have gotten turned about and have forgotten the directions to his quarters.”

“Bah, I don’t have time to play tour guide to some boy too simple to follow instructions. I have a great deal of work to do.”

“Please help me, sir, lest I be turned into a newt or some such. I do not wish to be a newt,” Azerick pleaded in his most pitiful voice.

“Take those stairs up to the third floor, his is the room on the right at the far end of the hall, and see that you do not get lost or you may well get something worse than being turned into a newt,” the man said as he pointed to a set of stone stairs leading upwards.

Azerick sprinted up the stairs taking two steps at a time up to the third floor and ran down to the end of the hall. The door was a simple wooden door with a typical lock. He was about to take his lock picks to it when he felt the same queer sense he had experienced from the fancy jewelry box at the manor house he had robbed.

At least there are no dogs or guards this time
, he thought.

Azerick closed his eyes and concentrated as he had before in the mansion. The emanations from the door felt stronger, cleaner, somehow better constructed but lacked the malevolence of the jewelry box. The Jewelry box was dangerous, possibly deadly. He felt that if he set this ward off it would likely do little more than alert the owner, perhaps give him a good jolt. He did not know how he knew that, but he was certain that he correct in is assumptions.

It took far longer to manipulate the energies of this ward than the last one, and a magical ward is what he knew it to be now, but he finally got it to release its hold on the door. Then he went to work on the lock with his picks, which took far less time to undo than the ward had.

Azerick crept into the wizard’s chambers. The room turned out to be far smaller than he would have expected of a wizard of the Academy. A bed was near the window with a large trunk at the foot. A desk sat facing the wall under the only other window in the room while a large bookcase filled with books, powders, and small knickknacks stood against the wall opposite the desk. A small alchemic set rested on a table next to the bookshelf. He looked around the room for something to steal and selected a book titled “Elementary Magic” and a large crystal from the bookshelf. He stashed both items in his shoulder satchel, darted back out of the room, and ran back to the dining hall.

The thief and mischief-maker cut through the gardens once again and caught sight of the two lovers making their way back inside. Azerick ran back through the door that led to the dining hall ahead of the couple and spied the old wizard coming up the hall to where the privy was located.

Still enjoying the fruits of your wine, eh wizard?
Azerick chuckled to himself.

As the old man strode past, Azerick dropped the pilfered undergarment into one of the silk robe’s large pockets. He then cut through the kitchens, once again grabbing a wine pitcher, and walked briskly into the dining hall.

“Here, My Lord, let me fill up your cup since you are still here. I had thought you had gone out to the gardens with your lovely wife,” Azerick insinuated.

“My wife went to the gardens you say?” the fat colorful man asked.

“Yes, milord; a few minutes before Magus Allister excused himself saying something about having to show someone his wand. Do you think he means to give us all a magic show? Though it did sound to me to be a private showing,” he said in disappointment. “Oh well, here they both come now.”

Angry whispers came from the rejoined couple while the fat man glared across the table at Magus Allister. The fat man stood up, threw his napkin down, and waddled around the table to confront the wizard.

“Magus Allister, I would know where you disappeared to and what foul business you have perpetrated,” the fat man demanded.

“Sir, with all due respect, where I went and what I did is none of your affair,” the wizard replied, his face coloring with both embarrassment and irritation at the man's effrontery.

“It is when your affair is with my wife! Show her your wand indeed!” the fat man shrieked in indignation.

“Sir, I assure you I have no idea of that which you speak,” the wizard replied, his face getting nearly as red as the jealous husband’s.

Leaning against the wall Azerick cleared his throat and pointed at the wizard’s pocket. Quicker than Azerick would have thought possible, the fat man thrust his hand into the big pocket and came up with the silken undergarment belonging to his wife.

“Explain this, sir!” the fat man demanded.

“I, I, I cannot,” the old man stammered.

“Now, Peter, certainly you do not think I would betray you with this, this, ugh, this old man do you? I would never stoop so low,” his wife said.

"What precisely is the level that you would stoop to, my dear?" the man asked peevishly.

Azerick chose this time to make his escape and head back home, feeling that his work was mostly complete. He was still running on the excitement of the evening and knew he would not get to sleep anytime soon.