The Tiger's Eye (Book 1) (13 page)

“I wonder why Ulrich wrote that,” Angus muttered. “Why would
he not want me to go there? Other than it being in The Tween, of course.”

“The Tween is riddled with stories,” Hobart said over his
right shoulder. “It could simply be a friendly warning.”

“Or worse,” Ortis said. “Some of those stories are true.”

“We could find out,” Hobart said. “But I doubt it will be
worth it.”

“What about this?” Angus asked, pointing at the faded symbol
that reminded him of the runes for flame magic. “It looks old, like the rest of
the map.”

“It’s faint enough to be,” Ortis said, squinting. “Maybe
tomorrow, when the sun’s out, we’ll be able to see it better. It looks a bit
familiar, but I can’t place it right now. I’ll have to compare it to my other
maps; it might be on one of them.” He rolled up the map and handed it back to
Angus. “Thank you for letting me see this, Angus. It is an interesting map.”

As Angus put the map in his backpack, Hobart said, “Teffles
had a wand.”

“Oh?” Giorge said joining them and handing Ortis the clean
dishes. “May I see it?”

“Not tonight,” Hobart said. “It’s in Angus’s care for now.
We’ll have to discuss it further while we ride.”

“So, are you going to join us, then?” Giorge smiled.

“I haven’t decided,” Angus replied. “But if I do, I will
want Teffles’ wand and his book as part of the agreement.”

“That’s a steep price,” Hobart stated.

“Not really,” Angus retorted. “Neither the wand nor the book
will be of any use to you; you’re not trained in magic. You can sell them, of
course, but at what price? You almost certainly won’t be able to get a fair one
without knowing more about them.”

“Be that as it may,” Hobart said. “Do not presume to believe
they are yours.”

Angus half-smiled and looked at him, “I am merely the wand’s
caretaker for the moment. Besides, I could easily have said nothing about it.
You would not have been any the wiser if I had waited to retrieve it until
after you dropped off his body at the Temple of Muff.”

Hobart nodded, “True. But you did say something about it,
didn’t you?”

“All I am saying now,” Angus said, “is that I have at least
a reasonable claim to it.”

Hobart frowned and said nothing.

“What would it take for you to become its owner?” Giorge
asked.

“Yes,” Ortis agreed. “Banners always fare better with
wizards.”

“I take it,” Angus smiled, “I am a valuable commodity.”

“Yes,” Hobart admitted. “But there is still some question as
to how valuable and whether or not we will be willing to pay that price. It
already seems to be rather steep.”

“Nevertheless,” Angus said, “if I join your banner it is
non-negotiable. The wand and the book must be mine. However,” he hedged, “I
would need to see the book first.”

Giorge shifted position and squirmed a bit, producing a
small book about three inches square from somewhere on his body.

“I take it you weren’t going to tell us about that, either,”
Hobart resignedly accused.

Giorge shrugged. “I wanted to wait until I got it open.”

“Hand it over,” Hobart said, reaching for the book. Giorge
gave it to him, and after a brief inspection, Hobart passed it to Angus. “Can
you open it?”

Angus accepted the book and examined it. It was bound by
hard leather covers reinforced with iron straps. The clasp was locked. “Is
there a key?” Angus asked.

“I couldn’t find one,” Giorge admitted. “It doesn’t make any
sense, either. He had to be able to open it, didn’t he? Why else would he carry
it around with him?”

Angus brought the book closer to the fire and looked up the
spine from both ends. Nothing. He brought out the threads of magic, but there
weren’t any unnatural twists or turns in it; the book was just that: a book.
Wherever the key was, it wasn’t concealed by magic. He tilted his head and
looked back toward Teffles’ corpse. “Do you have a lantern? Torches?”

“Why?” Hobart asked. “The fire is bright enough, isn’t it?”      

“Not really,” Angus said. “The key may be concealed in the
book’s binding or metalwork. If it is, it will be quite difficult to find in
these conditions. But that’s not why I want a torch. The key might have been
with the wand. I’d like to check it out.”

“I’ll go with you,” Hobart said. He leaned toward the fire
and selected one of the larger branches and wrapped his huge hand around it. It
was burning well, and when he lifted it up high and held it well out in front
of him, the flame shot up about a foot. “Good enough?” he asked.

“It will have to be,” Angus said. “For now.”

Hobart nodded, stood, and started walking toward Teffles’
corpse. Angus and Giorge rose to follow after him.

“You know,” Giorge said. “It might be in there. It would
make sense, wouldn’t it? I really looked at that book when I found it, and
there isn’t any indication of a secret panel or compartment.”

“Perhaps you missed it,” Angus said, “like you did the one
in his sleeve.”

“Doubtful,” Giorge protested. “Unless magic is hiding it.”

“It’s not,” Angus said.

They arrived at Teffles’ corpse and Hobart frowned. “We
should have wrapped him up better,” he said, sniffing. “It will attract
attention,” he added, spinning slowly around.

“We will,” Angus promised as he knelt down and turned
Teffles onto his side and gently shook the arm. Something jangled as it fell
from the sleeve, and Angus let Teffles body drop back down. “Bring the flame a
bit closer,” Angus requested. When Hobart did so, he reached for the flickering
piece of metal on the ground. It was the key. He held it up and looked at
Giorge.

“I wonder if there’s anything else in there,” Giorge said,
dropping to his knees and violently shaking Teffles arm. But nothing more fell
out of the compartment.

Angus put the key into the book’s lock and turned it. The
metal snapped apart and the cover popped open.

Hobart moved in beside him and held the makeshift torch
close enough for both of them to see what was written there. “What does it
say?” he asked. “I can’t read.”

“Property of Teffles, Wizard of the First Order. These are
my spells,” Angus said. “It’s written in rather shaky lettering, considering he
was a wizard.”

“Why does that matter?” Giorge said. “I thought everyone had
shaky handwriting.”

Angus shook his head. “No,” he said. “Wizards have to be
precise when they depict the knots they have to make. There are numerous subtle
differences based upon a small collection of master runes, and a slight
difference can change a spell in unforeseeable ways. Sometimes,” he paused and
shook his head. “Sometimes, the changes are disastrous, both for the wizard and
those around him. Voltari always told me that an imprecise hand reflects an
imprecise mind. It was weeks before Voltari was satisfied enough with my
penmanship to let me begin scribing scrolls.”

“What’s this ‘First Order’ business?” Hobart asked. “What
order are you?”

“I don’t belong to an order,” Angus said. “They relate to
the wizard schools. Voltari was a freelancer; he didn’t run a school. A First
Order designation indicates he was a beginner when he wrote that note. The
schools go up to the Sixth Order before reaching Master status. The Grand
Master is the overseer of the wizard school, and he defines the range of magic
being taught within it. A lot of First Orders abandon the art because of the
difficulties involved. If his spells were only First Order ones, they won’t be
very powerful. Still, I won’t know that until I study them, and this lighting
is insufficient for doing so. It will have to wait.”

“At least you got it open,” Giorge said.

“Let’s get back to the fire,” Hobart said. “This stick is
getting a bit warm.”

“All right,” Angus said. “Is there anything else a banner
does that you haven’t told me about?”

“Exploring ruins, defending villagers, a lot of traveling,”
Hobart said. “That pretty much covers it.”

“Don’t forget the odd job here and there,” Giorge offered.
“You know how it is, Angus, when our coffers get emptied and need to be
refilled.”

“The caravans,” Hobart clarified. “We had to work with one
last year. They always need mercenaries. But at least it was only for part of
the way.”

“So,” Angus asked. “What are you offering me and what to do
you expect in return for it?”

“Equal shares,” Hobart said at once. “After the upkeep.”

“Upkeep?” Angus asked.

“Whatever treasure or payment we receive,” Hobart said,
“goes first to taxes, then to tending the needs of our horses, purchasing
supplies, and mending what needs mended.”

“Tell him about the armor,” Giorge smirked. “Last time he
got it repaired, it cost half the fee we were paid.”

“It needed it,” Ortis said as Hobart tossed the burning
piece of firewood into the fire.

“I generally tend to my armor myself,” Hobart said, “but it
had a hole in it. I had to have a blacksmith repair it. At least I put off
fixing the dent in my helmet, didn’t I?”

Giorge grinned, “I thought it was a fashion statement.”

Hobart groaned and shook his head. “No self-respecting
soldier would walk around with their helm dented unless there were no choice.”

“Like I said,” Giorge began, chuckling.

Angus half-smiled and asked, “What else?”

“We split the responsibilities for the group. Ortis is our
cook and sets up camp. He also scouts in the wilderness. Giorge is our scout
for ruins, villages, and towns. He’s got a kind of charm about him that
strangers find infective.”

“So do you,” Giorge countered, grinning, “when it comes to
soldiers.”

Hobart’s armor clinked softy as he shrugged. “I know how to
speak with them,” he said. “I was one for long enough.”

“Don’t be modest,” Ortis interjected. “Hobart is our
spokesman. Whenever we need someone to negotiate, he’s the one who does it.”

“Ortis hunts and scavenges for edible plants,” Hobart
continued. “Giorge and I aren’t that good at it, but we can fish with the best
of them.”

“We see to the horses while Ortis is making camp,” Giorge
added. “We’ll teach you what to do with them when you join us. Other than that,
we do whatever needs to be done when it needs to be done. Each of us has our
talents, and we use them for the collective good.”

Ortis chuckled. “Really?” he said. “And yet, you didn’t tell
us about the book or the wand.”

“I was going to,” Giorge protested. “Don’t I always?”

“So you say,” Ortis said. “But it is of no consequence at
the moment.”

“What it boils down to,” Hobart finished, “is that we expect
you to pull your weight, and when the time comes to use your special skills
that you use them. If you do that, then you’re entitled to an equal share of
whatever profits there are from the venture.”

“Reasonable enough on the surface,” Angus said. “What if one
of us pulls considerably more than his weight? Are there special
considerations?”

“For the most part, it equals out over time. Ortis’s hunting
ability and bows were invaluable in our latest escapade with the wolves, but
without my idea to use Ribaldo’s body as bait, we wouldn’t have succeeded. In
populated areas, Giorge is notoriously crafty, a skill that has served us quite
well on many occasions. My contacts in the army have provided us with many
opportunities and allies. What you will bring is yet to be determined—except,
of course, your magic.”

“Isn’t that enough?” Angus asked. “After all, without it,
you would not have found the wand or opened this book.”

“So you’ve told us,” Hobart said. “And we have heard it.
Still, you must prove yourself useful in battle before we will be fully
convinced of your value. We are, after all, taking a chance in asking you to
join us, but I believe it is a chance worth taking.”

“All right,” Angus said. “What else?”

“One last thing,” Hobart said. “If you join our banner, you
will have to remain with us for a minimum of two years. That’s non-negotiable.
After that, you can leave at any time, provided you give us ample notice.”

Two years?
“All right,” Angus said. “Here are my
terms. First, I keep the wand and this book even if I decide to leave after two
years.”

“That’s reasonable,” Hobart said, “provided you use them to
contribute to our success while you are with us. We’ll simply deduct their
value from your share of the treasure we acquire until a fair price has been
established.”

“Agreed,” Angus nodded. “Second, I’ll need a different
horse. Max is too skittish for my tastes.”

“Give him some time,” Hobart said. “You’ll get used to it.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Angus said. “If I need to cast a
spell while on horseback, the horse must be stable. Max isn’t.”

“Perhaps we can find you a calm old nag,” Giorge offered,
“when we get to Hellsbreath.”

“It would be better if it were one trained for cavalry,”
Hobart offered. “They aren’t skittish at all in battle.”

“I could let you use one of mine for the time being,” Ortis
offered. “They’re stable enough for shooting arrows, and I can ride Max until
we reach Hellsbreath.”

“Third,” Angus said. “We stay in Hellsbreath long enough for
me to learn more about the wand and to study Teffles’ spells.”

“How long do you think that will take?” Hobart asked. “Our
funds at the moment are somewhat limited.”

“I can’t say,” Angus replied. “A minimum of at least two or
three weeks. Probably longer.”

“Well,” Hobart hedged. “We can’t promise that long, but
we’ll do our best.”

“I can pay my own way,” Angus said. “But I must insist on
this. Magic is a complicated affair, and it takes a great deal of concentration
to learn it. I can’t do that effectively while we’re traveling, and firelight
like this is inadequate for reading. Once I have an understanding of the wand,
I’ll be able to use it more effectively. As for the spells, I will have to learn
each one of them separately, and if they are more complicated than those of the
typical First Order student, it will take a considerable amount of time.
However, once I have learned them, I won’t have to study them so intently when
I prime for them.”