A Quest to Find a Sorcerer

Chapter 1“In a land of snow and ice, he who could control the weather would be hailed as a hero.” The old man drew hard on his pipe and took a deep drink of his ale as he watched the young men seated with him around the fireplace in a tavern in Misthaven, one of the few towns in the province of Dorraine. “Where would we find such a one?” Niall asked, cupping his beaker of small beer between his hands. The wind blowing fiercely outside the tavern was a creaseless background to the noise of the tavern’s patrons and the old man’s voice. So commonplace he barely noticed it. “‘Tis a puzzle, isn’t it?” the old man replied. “Surely someone hereabouts—” he gestured to encompass not only the tavern but the town as well, “—might find the answer if they were suitably motivated.” “I believe we’re all that,” a man called out. “Haven’t we suffered long enough?” “For our lifetimes and those of our forbearers,” agreed a second man. “It would take a powerful sorcerer,” Niall mused, barely loud enough for anyone to hear him. The old man did, however, and he nodded. “There are such, or so I’ve heard, if you were to search in the right place.” “Probably hiding deep in the northern mountains or beyond them,” Niall’s good friend, Petyr, said. “If one exists, why hasn’t he done anything to help us,” spat out the barkeep, shaking his head in disgust. “Selfish bastards not to.” “Sorcerers are not known for their generosity or kind-heartedness,” the old man replied, taking another puff on his pipe. Niall glanced at Petyr and then gave a nod toward the tavern door. Petyr got the message and stood, waiting until Niall had as well, and they left after they had wrapped their thick cloaks around them, pulled up the hoods, and donned their gloves. “I wonder what it would be like to live where the sun would melt the snow before more fell,” Niall said as he bent his head against the wind. “Or where there was no snow,” Petyr said. “Does such a place exist or is it merely a tale parents tell their children to give them hope?” “Or make them despair even more than they, than we do.” They trudged onward, following the ruts in the snow left by passing carts, until they arrived in front of the carpenter shop where Niall was an apprentice. He lived in one room behind it, while his master had lodgings on the second floor above the shop. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” Niall said. “Of course. Come by when you get off work. I’m certain Mother and Father will let you join us for supper.” “They always do,” Niall replied with a relieved smile. “My one or two decent meals in a week are because of them. And thanks to your father I have a decent pair of boots.” “Because, and he says this every time you visit, you’re like a second son.” Petyr grinned. “He also has hopes you’ll finally become interested in one of my sisters and take her off his hands.” “So she can share my hovel?” “Come on, it’s not that bad. You’ve got a fireplace.” Niall rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t most everyone?” This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation, and Niall was certain it wouldn’t be the last. He liked Petyr’s sisters; even Edeline who—being only a year younger than his nineteen years—was always making eyes at him. However, he had no interest in marrying and bedding any of them. A blast of cold wind tore around the corner, nearly knocking them off their feet. “Best I get home before I’m blown back to the tavern,” Petyr muttered. “Tomorrow, then.” Niall nodded and watched him fight the wind to get to his father’s cobbler’s shop, and his family’s rooms above it. If the wind hadn’t been blowing snow around, Niall could have seen the harbor at the far end of the street. There were times when it was busy, when the fishermen managed to catch something other than a floating log or an errant tree branch which had broken off under weight of the snow after a particularly harsh storm. Another blast of wind swept down the street and Niall shivered as he wended his way down the narrow alley beside the carpenter shop to reach the entrance to his room. Before going inside, he stopped at the privy in the tiny yard behind the shop to relieve himself. As soon as he was in his room, he took off his gloves, tossing them on top of the trunk at the foot of his bed, and then added kindling to the banked fire in the fireplace. It caught and soon the room was tolerably warm—at least in contrast to outside. He lit a candle for more light before he removed his cloak, hanging it on a peg beside the door. The room’s furnishings consisted of a narrow bed, a small table which he’d made as part of his apprenticeship, and two stools. The trunk held the few clothes he owned as well as a thick comforter. He took it out, spreading it over the one already lying on the bed. Then he broke the thin layer of ice on the bowl of water which sat on the shelf above the fireplace and washed his hands and face with the cloth he kept beside it for that purpose. When he finished, he made a fast trip outside to empty the bowl and fill it with snow. By the time he needed water again, the snow would have melted. He removed his boots, stripped off his belt, tunic, and breeches, and put on a woolen nightshirt. Then, he blew out the candle and climbed into bed. With his hands behind his head, he closed his eyes. His thoughts immediately went to the old man at the tavern and what he’d said. Is it possible there might be a sorcerer somewhere beyond the mountains who could help us? Why hasn’t someone gone searching for him, or them? Who knows how many there might be. None here, unfortunately. We have Mage Aymer, who has healing powers and also creates potions and talismans. And another, Mage Umfrey, who can magically clear some of the farmers’ lands of snow and then reduce the time it takes for plants to grow so we have some potatoes, turnips, barley and beans for meals and the cows have something to eat. Neither of them is any use for changing the weather. There are probably several mages in the other towns and the provincial capital, but it’s pretty apparent none of them can control the weather either or they would have done so. “Someone needs to travel north to find help,” he told himself. He imagined what life would be like if there was no cold and snow—or at least only seasonally, not every day for years on end. There would be plenty of wheat and maize for making bread, and an abundance of vegetables for stews. And flowers. He loved flowers but there few of them other than what a woman might manage to grow inside her house. How beautiful it would be to see fields filled with them. “What if…? No, I know nothing about what’s beyond our town, to say the least of what’s beyond the borders of the province. Even if I could travel to the mountains, how would I get through them without dying of hunger or being killed by some wild beast?” Perhaps, if I could find traveling companions… Niall fell asleep pondering the idea. * * * * “You are very quiet this morning,” Master Ilberd commented, putting down his adze to look at Niall. “I suppose I am,” Niall admitted. “I was thinking.” He chewed his lip, uncertain if he wanted Master Ilberd to ask about what. He was a good man who cared about Niall, otherwise he wouldn’t have given him the room behind the shop, but still… Master Ilberd smiled. “Do you wish to talk about whatever seems to be bothering you?” After a moment’s hesitation, Niall replied, “I had an idea last night that could help everyone but it’s crazy and it would mean I’d have to find others to help me and they’d have to be free to travel and it might not come to anything but if it did…” His words petered out as he looked at Ilberd. “That is suitably cryptic. Perhaps if you explained why you would need to travel, and to where, it would make more sense.” Niall nodded and then told him, starting with what the old man at the tavern had said. When he finished, Ilberd turned to look out of the window at the front of the shop. “For all my life I have seen nothing but snow and ice when I stood here,” he said, sounding both pensive and plaintive. “Like too many others I know, I have prayed the sun would melt this, dare I say, plague upon Dorraine, although I know it is not truly a plague. It is only the way things are and have been forever.” “Why hasn’t anyone searched for a…a sorcerer I suppose, as they are said to be more powerful than mages? One who had the ability to work with weather?” Ilberd turned with a shrug. “No one thought of the idea? Or someone did but saw it as an insurmountable task. The mountains are vast, deep, and treacherous to travel, or so I have been told. Even going from here to Highvale is a harrowing trip unless you have a guide who knows his way and how to deal with roads that are sometimes too snow covered to be visible to the average traveler.” “Surely we could find a man, perhaps a freebooter or a mercenary, in the capital.” “In Ravendale? Perhaps.” Ilberd obviously picked up on the we and asked, “You already have companions in mind to make the journey with you?” “Well, no,” Niall admitted. “Maybe Petyr if he can get permission from his father.” “You will need permission from your family as well.” Niall snorted derisively. “My contact with them is virtually non-existent and you know it. I would rather not change that, thank you.” “Understandable. That said, you would need my permission.” “Yes.” Niall gave him a hopeful look. “If you come up with a plan I think could work, I might be willing to let you go, although how I will replace you is the question.” While the thought he was irreplaceable stroked Niall’s ego, he knew it wasn’t truly the case. He was good at what he did and was quickly learning to be better when it came to cabinetry work, but there were other apprentices who could take his place. “I’m quite certain Federic would be willing, and he’s as good as I.” “He’s passable, but I suppose he would be acceptable,” Ilberd replied dryly. “If I can find at least one other person or perhaps two because we should have someone who is at least knowledgeable with a sword or a crossbow, would you be willing to release me for as long as it takes.” “Three or four months?” “Three or four?” Niall looked at him aghast. Ilberd chuckled. “Do not discount my estimate, Niall. It could be that long if not longer, I think, including the return trip and the time it would take to find a sorcerer, if there are any across the mountains, and then convince him to help us.” Niall sighed. “I suppose you’re correct.” “You will need more clothing than you already own, and two to three more pairs of sturdy boots.” “How by all that’s holy will I be able to afford them?” Niall sputtered. “The same will hold true for my companions if I can find any.” “Let me think on it. Perhaps I can convince some others in Misthaven, especially the merchants, to help pay for them. After all, if you are successful, everyone’s lives will be greatly improved, not only here but in the whole province of Dorraine.” “If they would it would be much appreciated.” “I shall do my best, while you see if you can cajole a few of your friends to join you.” Ilberd picked up the adze, again, before pausing with a nod. “There is one man who would be a great help if he is willing to get involved. His name is Renard.” “The mercenary?” Niall asked in surprise. He’d seen him a few times at the tavern, regaling his admirers with stories of his prowess at guarding the occasional merchant who felt it necessary to travel between towns or to Ravendale on business. “I doubt he’d be interested even if we could afford his services.” “I may have some influence when it comes to him as he is my aunt’s grandson.” “Why haven’t I ever known this?” Ilberd smiled wryly. “Admitting he is a relative, however distant…Well, I am not proud that we have a man in the family who is dedicated to fighting.” “And a braggart, besides,” Niall said before quickly apologizing. Ilberd waved away his apology, replying, “Unfortunately, he is that, as well.” With nothing more to say at the moment, they returned to their work—Master Ilberd on a cabinet he was making for the shop of one of the merchants, Niall on a table that would be sold to whomever wanted it. * * * * “I was beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten,” Petyr said when he opened the door to Niall’s knock. “I could never forget the chance for a decent meal,” Niall replied, stepping into the warmth of the main room of the apartment above the cobbler’s shop. “Niall!” Edeline and Petyr’s youngest sister, Alson, called out. Alson ran to give him a hug. Edeline hung back; although from her expression it was apparent she wished she could hug him as well. Only decorum kept her from doing so. “Supper is almost ready,” Lunet, Petyr’s mother, said, spooning stew from a pot over the fire into a large bowl her middle daughter, Gisella, was holding. “Please, everyone, take your seats.” Niall removed his cloak, hanging it on a hook by the door with the ones belonging to the family, and tucked his gloves into his belt. Then, he took his usual place between Petyr and Alson, with the two other girls across from them and Petyr’s parents at the head and foot of the table. The bowl of stew was passed around, along with a platter of dark bread sold by the town’s baker. It was made from the barley he grew—along with beans, rye, oats, and potatoes—in a field he owned which Mage Umfrey, who did such magic, kept clear of snow and ice during the growing season. “What are you and my wastrel son planning to do once supper is over,” Petyr’s father asked at one point during the meal. “Chase after willing females at the tavern,” Niall teased. That earned him a dour look from Edeline, and one of feigned shock for Lunet. “Much luck to you both,” Petyr’s father replied with a laugh. “They are rare in town. At least from what I’ve heard,” he quickly added when Lunet frowned. “That had better be the only way you know it,” she replied sourly, before grinning when he swore it was. When the meal was finished, the girls helped their mother clear the table and wash the dishes in a tub of hot water which sat on the floor in front of the fireplace. Niall thanked Petyr’s parents for their hospitality and then he and Petyr left. “Aren’t we going to the tavern?” Petyr asked when Niall turned into the alley next to the carpenter shop. “Later, maybe. First, I have something I want to talk to you about, in private.” Petyr nodded, and soon they were in Niall’s room. After they tossed their cloaks and gloves on the bed, and Niall took time to stoke the fire, they sat on the stools by the table.