The Wheelwright's Apprentice (24 page)

I know he does,” Art put in, sounding disgusted. “I have no idea what he wants. I don’t think anyone else does either.”

“I know he has plans, for us together. It’s a bit obvious isn’t it? I mean, why else did he send me to fetch you? I have a feeling my mother and he would like to push us together.”

Art prevaricated, “It makes a convoluted sort of sense. As you pointed out, we are the only ones our age we know who have the Will.”

“Of course we both have to be compliant. It won’t work if only one of us is. Right now anything like that is probably a long way off.”

“When your age is measured in hundreds of years, you tend to take the long view.”

Vanni smiled the biggest smile Art had seen on her. “I can take the long view too.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. There was no need for him to turn her down. He had been given a temporary reprieve.

38

Ellary reached into the cubbyhole as she was getting ready for bed. This was a routine she had established ever since Art had left. She had been disappointed every time. This time, against her expectations, there was a note there. Breathless with hope, she replaced the brick, pushed her nightstand back against the wall and settled herself comfortably on her bed to read it.

She closed her eyes and resolved to read it slowly. It was the first love letter she had ever been given. She paused for a short moment and wondered if a letter from someone who was already your lover counted as a love letter or not. Regardless, she could not wait any longer and opened her eyes.

Ellary my love, I am so sorry to make you wait so long to hear from me. I have been training with my father’s Arms Master. He is very good at his job and works me until I am totally exhausted. It has been so bad that I have been falling asleep in the hot bath my muscles scream for at the end of each day.

I miss you terribly. I want you to be clear that it is not only the intimacy we have recently found but more importantly the friendship we have developed that leaves a hole in my life. I really have been pushed so hard that this is the first time that I have had the opportunity to write. It is typical of my father’s way of doing things that he doesn’t want me to have a moment to think.

In my first fortnight’s training, I never touched a weapon. It was all fitness training; running, lifting weights and doing exercises. I actually looked forward to working with the weapons then. I was being really stupid. When I was allowed to touch the weapons, it was worse. I wasn’t allowed to heal myself from the myriad of blisters that developed, as that would stop me forming the calluses I needed for wielding a sword, shooting a bow, or whatever weapon I was learning. There is a little bit of good news. The Arms Master told me that when the calluses had formed I could Will them away, and then back anytime I needed to use a particular weapon.

Thanks to the Will, I now know exactly how to use each weapon and have perfect form. Of course I’m still totally useless. My arrows only hit the target by luck. My sword arm is still too weak to do what I want it to do, even with a wooden practice sword. I look like `an idiot with the other weapons as well.

I have not even seen my father since he started my training with the Arms Master, who says that I will have to look at least moderately competent before he will be finished with me. I guess that means I have to get to a certain level before he lets me go. He hasn’t told me what it is, or how close I am, so I can’t say. I think he has been told not to say so I have to strive my hardest every day.

I wish I had more news for you but I don’t. I promise that I will let you know anything I learn as soon as I can, now that I can write before collapsing. Each night as I fall asleep my hand reaches out in the hope of touching you.

It was unsigned. There wasn’t any need. Ellary read it twice more before she folded it under her pillow. She found her hand reaching for his as she drifted off.

It was two more weeks before Ellary found another.

My love, I have at least found out some of the reasons why I am doing this exhausting training. I managed to find the energy to corner the Arms Master at last, and asked him why. He told me that I could kill with the Will at only a hundred feet or so, but using a bow and arrow I could kill at three times the distance. As if I wanted to know that. More sensibly, he told me that if I were to command troops, it would really help if I had an idea as to what they could actually do, or not do.

There were even a couple more reasons that he trotted out, but the interesting one was that I only really have to go through hell this one time. Once I have worked my muscles to the required strength, I can then use my Will to stop them getting weaker if I don’t use them. At least I now know why Arch and Beech (You met them with my father) look like circus strongmen without ever seeming to exercise.

Still no hint as to what I am going to do when this torture is over. If I do get any free time, you will be seeing me. Probably without any notice, as I can’t wait to be with you again.

It wasn’t as long or as informative as the first one, but Ellary didn’t mind that. The important thing was that it had arrived. She tucked it up with the first one and slept happily.

Another fortnight later, while he was soaking in his hot bath, Art had a visit from Beech. His voice came from behind. “Arms Master Jeffy is a total bastard, isn’t he?”

“That’s probably because he’s been told to be as devilish as possible.”

“I had hoped it was as a result of my training.” Beech came around into view as Art was patently unwilling to move his head. “I figured you might just be able to make coherent conversation by now, so I thought I would pay a visit.”

Art drawled, “That’s kind, but do you have any idea why I’m killing myself every day?”

“Strange you should ask, as I came to fill you in.” At this Art managed to sit up, splashing water towards Beech. “Your father wants you to see the world.”

“That’s thoughtful of him. Do you have any idea how much, where or for how long?”

Beech perched himself on the end of the tub. “Your father thinks that the easiest way to travel, and to see the world, is to become part of a company of soldiers. More specifically mercenary soldiers. I did a stint as one myself. You really get to understand how life is in other places.” Beech splashed some water towards Art’s face, but it turned in mid-air and went back at Beech, wh at Beeco diverted it onto Art’s dry towel hanging nearby. “You have a few wits left.”

“I woke up when I knew you had something interesting to say.”

“Anyway, he wanted you to be sufficiently competent to be taken on by a company, without being relegated to doing laundry, dish washing and general chores.”

“That was kind.” Art stretched his neck. “Right now washing dishes seems a very soothing pastime.”

“After a couple of months, you might change your mind. Traveling with a mercenary company is ideal. Except when you actually have to fight, you can be lazy and enjoy the scenery. You should be able to avoid being killed. It’s perfect for someone with the Will. You can travel without any protective foreign Will adepts knowing you have the Will, and are a threat.”

Art dragged himself out of the tub. “Is the rest of this world so different from here?” He picked up his sodden towel and nonchalantly waved it dry before wrapping it around himself.

“Most of it is a lot worse.” Beech raised an evil smile. “Hanpo, which you have visited, is your father’s favourite with good reason. Both our countries are civilized and sensible. The rest go from bad to horrible. Tomorrow we have arranged for Master Simvil to give you a geography lesson.”

* * *

“...so I am to see the world, and apparently most of it isn’t very nice.” Art squeezed Ellary’s hand as they walked.

“How long are you going to spend on this tour around the world? It doesn’t sound like a short time.”

“That was vague. I never got a proper answer. I was given a cryptic answer, ‘You’ll know when it’s time to come home,’ but I suppose the real answer was the geography lesson I had this morning. There are four countries that border Galland that I had never heard of before, one of which has closed its border with us. I was told that too many of its citizens left to come and live here, as it wasn’t exactly a fun place to be. I guess I have to see all four of those countries, so I reckon it’ll be a year or more.” He looked into the distance, “It’s all a bit too much for me, I only want to spend some time with you.”

She could see he was fighting off tears, something she knew was completely out of character. “Let’s not worry about that now. I haven’t seen you for such a long time.” He pulled her into a hug, and when he released her they continued on slowly, tightly holding each other’s hands.

* * *

Summoned to his father’s study a week later, he met Arch and Beech waiting for the Count as well. “You have filled out even more since I last saw you,” Beech told him.

“I’ve no idea. I haven’t looked in a mirror, and Master Jeffy didn’t bother to take measurements.”

“I can assure you that you have. Even I can see it. It’s been nearly three months.”

“Time flies when you are enjoying yourself.” Art had no problem letting a heavy dose of sarcasm show through.

His father came into the room, and had heard Art’s remark. “In fifty years or so, you will thank me for getting this necessary stage of your life out of the way so soon.”

“At the moment you are not my favourite father. I feel more like el more a toy than a son. I’ve been thrown all over the place seemingly at random, only getting a small slice of normality as a reward for being a very good boy. Put me out of my misery. What’s it to be now?”

The Count leaned back and smiled at Arch. “You said he would be rude and abrupt, but I probably deserve it.” Turning his attention back to Art, he said, “I haven’t had the time to be nice or informative. The aftermath of the war has needed my continuous guidance.” He gestured at Beech, inviting him to answer.

“Your father has arranged for you to join a mercenary troop that likes to rest in the border town of Danbridge. That’s...”

“I know where it is. Master Simvil’s geography lesson was very detailed. It’s down in the Barony, near the border with Torazania.”

“Well done. Beech will be taking you there tomorrow. We’ve told them that you had gone a bit weird after your girlfriend was killed and that you needed a complete change of scenery to help you get it all back together. Telling some of the truth is always wise.”

Art kept a straight face. “Perhaps I might have a little time. I would like to pay my respects to Vanni.” He hoped that they could be put off the scent a bit. In any case, he wanted to see Vanni. She had always been kind and was being manipulated as extensively as he was. It was a bond of sorts.

“She’s waiting outside. She hoped you would want to see her.” Art took that as a dismissal and left, grabbing Vanni who was in the next room, as promised.

“I really didn’t want to leave without seeing you,” he started, “They never gave me any indication, but I suspect I am being sent away for at least a year.”

“The old people think in decades; a year is just an eye blink.” She steered him out of the castle.

Minutes later, after a pleasant walk they stopped in front of a cafe that Art knew. Vanni was all smiles, “I love this place.”

“There was a time when my memories of this shop were...better. This was the first place where I was shown off by Amia. One of her best friends worked here, may still work here. It was a happy time.” He ushered her ins
ide and they found a table. A waitress came over quickly. It wasn’t Deria, which allowed him a moment of relaxation. He didn’t think Deria would ask after the baby in front of anyone besides him, but it was a chance. “The chocolate cake is very good.” He looked at Vanni.

“I prefer strawberries.” With their orders settled she made her pitch, “If I had known you had memories from here I might have chosen another spot.” Taking his hand, she squeezed it and said, “I know that others seem to be pushing us...”

“Yes, I know. Our parents and everyone with the Will over a hundred. They haven’t been very subtle about grooming us to spend some significant time in each other’s company at some indeterminate time in the future. It must be a pain for you.”

“That’s it. I wanted you to know that I’ll be looking forward to that time. You won’t be a burden.” Art knew that she had in her restrained fashion told him she was prepared to wait for him. They released each other’s hands as their food arrived. He savoured his first bite and wondered if she would still feel the same way decades in the future.

39

The town of Danbridge seemed to be a pleasant town. Beech guided Art from their arrival point to the inn where he was to join his mercenary band. “Your father not only likes the idea of you spending time with these people, he also is very keen to get you out of the country.”

This was news. “Why is that?”

“He thinks that something is going to happen soon, and he wants you well out of the way. Before you ask, he didn’t say what.” That cut off Art’s immediate question. “The group you are joining owns the inn.” Beech was pointing out a large whitewashed building on the far side of the square they had entered. “It gives them a base in a stable country. and lets their disabled veterans have a place.”

“They must have been around for a while - and have someone sharp in charge.”

“I’ll let you be the judge of that. Your’s isn’t the only group based in this corner of the country. Your father lets them alone. Nobody’s fool, your dad. Once they have property and a base here, they have to defend it. They bolster the border defenses without it costing us anything. Here we are.” Beech opened what appeared to be the main entrance to the common room. The inside was well lit and clean. The few patrons were all prosperous looking and the overall impression was better than nearly every inn he had seen before. Beech strode over to the bar. and asked, “May I see the Captain?”

The bartender didn’t reply but simply jerked a thumb in the direction of what proved to be the back door. Outside were a lot of men watching a bout between two swordsmen using wooden swords. This was obviously the bulk of the company watching a training session. One of the combatants was an enormous man who was fighting carefully, and not, as Art would have imagined, using his weight and height in an attempt to overwhelm his opponent. The other was more normal in size, wiry, fast and obviously strong enough to turn his opponent’s blows easily.

“The small guy will win.” Beech was confident in his prediction.

“But not easily.” Art was confident as well.

A minute later the big man was disarmed by a blow to his wrist.

“It was still a skillful showing.”

The winner noticed them, and came over. “You must be Beech. I’m Captain Hanna.” He extended his hand and they shook. He took in Art. “...and this must be my new recruit.” He proffered his hand.

It was time to act humble. “I’m Art. Pleased to meet you, sir.”

“There’s no time like the present to see what you can do. Big Davi needs a little more of a workout.”

Captain Hanna handed him his wooden sword, and said, “If this one suits, let’s get going.” The crowd hadn’t dissipated, and when the Captain shouted, “Davi, fancy another bout?” they all reformed the circle around the sparring ring.

Art started to take in the sea of faces around him. His first meeting with his future colleagues was going to be after he had sparred with ‘Big Davi’ who would most likely beat him badly. Turning back to Captain Hanna, he replied, “Yes, there’s no time like the present.” He handed his outer coat to Beech saying, “We’ll find out how well you trained Master Jeffy now, won’t we?”

The wooden sword was close enough to the one he had used in his training that he kept it, and strode into the open sto the opace showing a confidence he didn’t have. Big Davi seemed eager to start, so Art quietly waited for the signal from the Captain. When it came, Davi rushed forward, scything his sword towards Art who ducked, letting it whistle over his head. He stepped back smartly to avoid the return swing. He had survived the opening. Remembering what he had been taught, he moved into a proper stance and watched Davi closely.

He decided that he didn’t actually need to win, just put up a good showing. That meant he needed to last a while and look competent. Davi feinted, and Art knocked his sword away easily. Several further exchanges followed, and then Art saw an opening. He chose to ignore it. Davi seemed not to have noticed his mistake. Moments later he changed tactics and tried bludgeoning Art again, leaving himself open. This time Art decided to touch his opponent lightly. Davi pulled back, looking at the Captain, asking with his eyes if they should go on.

The Captain nodded, and Davi attacked, pushing Art back to the edge of the ring, forcing some of the spectators to retreat. Art recovered and pushed the fight back to the middle. Davi was a lot less skilled than Master Jeffy. Art drew out the fight a little longer, and then gave Davi an opening to disarm him, which he did, to a small smattering of applause.

Captain Hanna took Art and Beech to his office, upstairs in the inn. When they were seated, he said, “You could have won twice, so I suspect you chose to lose. Not too stupid a strategy I suppose, except you might’ve done things differently if you had known more about Davi.” He nodded to Art. “From what I saw, I’m happy to welcome you.”

Once Art had muttered his thanks, the Captain continued, “You’re contracted for a year, since we only come back here once a year. This is your last chance to back out.” He raised his eyebrows in emphasis. When there was no reply he pushed a piece of paper towards Art. “Sign this and you’ll be a member of our company.” Art signed sight unseen.

As soon as he finished, Captain Hanna barked, “Stand up! You must always stand in my presence unless I tell you to sit.” Art stood. “Mister Beech, thank you. He’s all mine now.” The Captain waited while Beech left conventionally. Goodbyes were not appropriate.

“Now you can sit again. I’d like you to tell me a bit about yourself. I know that there might be some things you don’t want to talk about. That’s the nature of those that end up here. Telling me as much as you can will be a great help. We all have to live together, often in closer proximity than we like.” He settled himself back to hear Art’s response.

“Give me a moment to think.” Art thought for a good minute. “All the people I knew growing up are dead. I lived in a village called Dane’s Hamlet. It was raided, and everyone except a few pretty girls taken as booty were killed. Well, apart from me. I was apprenticed to a wheelwright and I’m handy enough to make and repair anything you need like that.” He stopped and cast his eyes around the room, deciding what to say next. “My girlfriend was killed in the war. She was an innocent civilian. I was very upset. She was my first love.”

“Have you ever killed a man?”

“Yes.” His tone suggested it was not a happy experience.

“More than one?”

“Yes.” This time it was said with an even sadder lilt.

“Can I ask how?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

They were both quiet for a time. Captain Hanna could see that Art was wrestling with himself, trying to decide whether to pass over anything else. Finally Art spoke, “This is something I am going to ask you to keep to yourself. I feel you should know as you are in charge. I am a healer.”

“What sort of a healer?”

“One who can heal chairs as easily as other things.” So saying he stood and picked up the chair he had been sitting on, now in two pieces, cleanly cut through the middle. He put them back together and sat down. “Obviously I can do things besides heal, but while I am with you that is the only way I will use my Will. I misused my Will to kill two people. I believe that healing is by far the best use of the Will. I want to focus my mind on new things. That’s why I’m here. If you don’t want me any more you can tear up that piece of paper I just signed.”

Now it was Captain Hanna’s turn to spend time thinking. A minute or so later he picked up the contract and placed it in one of the drawers of his desk. “I’ll be quiet until one of my men needs healing.” After the door closed he thought,
That minute I made him wait was for show. There is no way I could keep my position in charge of this company if they found out I had turned away a Willed healer.

Art was given into the charge of a Corporal Dent. It wasn’t his real name. He later discovered that using a different name, while not the norm, was not exactly unusual. In Dent’s case, the reason for his name was obvious. He had a large, livid scar on his forehead where he had been wounded. It appeared that he had a dent in his head.

Notwithstanding his unconventional appearance, Dent was both knowledgeable and efficient. Art was quickly issued clothes and assigned a bunk in a dormitory. He was first told and then examined on the rules he had to follow. The most relevant one was to always do immediately and without question anything that he was ordered. By then it was time for supper, and Dent showed him the back room at the inn where they ate. This was his first real opportunity to meet his new colleagues. He determined to be friendly. He was told to stand in line and, when served, to sit anywhere except at a round table reserved for the officers.

The men who sat beside or near him at the long table seemed a friendly bunch. They were impressed that he had got a touch on Big Davi, and were happy to make a newcomer feel at home.

“The food you get on the road is nothing like this. Mostly it’s hard biscuit, beef jerky and water.”

“Here at least we can drink ale, as long as we don’t overdo it!” That came from an older man called Jacko who seemed intent on disregarding his own advice. The room was full, and, as people finished eating, they got up so others could sit. Art got to meet a few more people than he expected.

Art had almost finished his meal when he heard a voice behind him asking, “Are you through?” It was Big Davi addressing the man to Art’s right. Even though he wasn’t finished, the man immediately got up and made room. Big Davi sat and offered his hand. “We never shook after our bout.”

“That’s right. My hand was a bit numb.” They shook. Art noticed that the room had become eerily silent. Looking around he saw a lot of eyes following him. Something was going on. Exactly what he wasn’t sure. The penny was about to drop.

Davi put his arm around Art in a friendly manner. “You did well to get a touch on me. I wanted you to touch me. I still want you to touch me, to touc” This was it. Big Davi was putting a move on the newcomer, and everyone wanted to see what would happen. Art was most definitely on his own here. He would get no help from anyone. “When we are out on the road, we often have to sleep rough. It can get real cold now and then. It helps to have someone to warm you up, and no one is warmer than Big Davi.”

It was Art’s turn, and the room was hanging onto his reply. “I joined up partially to forget my girlfriend.”

“No one like a man to make you forget girls.” Davi was all smiles. Art appeared to be digging himself a hole.

“She was killed in the war. Losing her was a blow. She was pregnant. I’ll not be ready to get close to anyone for a
while.” The spectators reassessed Art and waited for Davi.

“You are a handsome boy.” Art again regretted making his ‘Gim’ face, which he was sporting, so good looking. “I like strong boys I can dominate.”

“Sorry, but that won’t be me.” He got up quickly.

Davi had no trouble grabbing his arm. “You’ll change your mind soon enough. We’ll be on the road in a few days.”

This was where Art’s knowledge of anatomy stood him in good stead. He jabbed two of the fingers of his free hand into Davi’s armpit and he let go. “I like girls. I want to make as many friends as I can. I don’t mind being your friend, but you can forget the type of friendship you are offering.”

The room was still dead quiet. People seldom stood up to Big Davi, and never newcomers. They waited for Davi’s next move. “You’ll make the year interesting.” He was still showing a wide grin.

“You’re already making it tedious. Don’t get on my nerves or you’ll regret it.” Art strode off as the whispers started.