The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy) (6 page)

‘Now you be good for your uncle and aunt,’ she instructed as she rushed about. ‘And if you get into any trouble, you just send word to us.’

Samuel nodded dumbly as she finished packing his bag and pulled him outside. He was lifted up and hoisted onto the wagon and Tom’s mother smacked his cheek with a wet kiss, pushing his bag onto his lap.

‘Farewell, good lady,’ the old man croaked with a wave of his arm and the wagon lurched forwards, drawn by an animal that looked at least equal in age to its owner.

‘Farewell, Samuel!’ Tom’s mother called out. ‘I’ll say goodbye to Tom for you!’

Samuel kept watch of her over his shoulder until the roadside branches obscured her from view. He wished he could jump down from the wagon and run back through the woods to his home, but something inside Samuel told him he was powerless to move. He would have to cling to the wagon like a bug on a leaf and just hope it led him to somewhere better.

Samuel turned to face forwards, still clutching his bag in his lap, and found the wiry old man looking him in the eye.

‘Better make yourself comfortable, boy,’ he said. ‘It’s a fair way to Stable Canthem and a bumpy road, to be sure. If you keep sitting like that you’ll have blisters on your arse before we round the next bend.’

An odour wafted from the old man, a stale smell like a wet sack left in the corner of the barn for far too long. Samuel’s heart beat strongly in his chest; the old man was strange and scary and his healthy glow was thin and yellowed. Samuel edged away from the old man as much as he could and pushed his bag down beside him, wedging it into a corner so it would not shake free.

The village was only a short way ahead, but instead of crossing the bridge towards it, the wagon turned aside and began down the busy road that led to the Great Highway. It was only a few minutes before Samuel was passing ground he had never before stood upon or played upon. His heart was full of uncertainty. He could not help the feeling that tomorrow he would return home and his family would be there, as they ever were, waiting for him. Surely, all this was just some kind of dream and he would eventually wake up in his own comfortable bed. Yet, the wagon continued to crawl along the highway, being passed in both directions by other wagons and people on horseback and sometimes even by people on foot, and Samuel had no idea where he was going, nor what the future would bring.

CHAPTER TWO

What the Future Would Bring

SAMUEL SOON BECAME used to the smell of the old man, who barely said a word the entire time, unless to point out some obscure landmark or announce it was time to stop and have a rest. Then they would lurch to a halt and sit by the roadside while the old man wandered around his wagon and tapped various parts of it with his smoking pipe, as if trying to discern whether or not it would soon fall apart. After a while, he would say ‘Let’s be off, lad,’ and they would crawl back up onto their seats and begin away once more.

Samuel did not know why they had to stop and rest at all, for all they were doing was sitting on their behinds while the old horse pulled them along. Most of the time, the old man did not even have hold of the reins, as the old fleabag seemed to know the way by itself. Perhaps the rest was for the horse then? It looked every bit as haggard as the old man and smelled almost as bad. The poor animal stared straight ahead all the time, even when there was no pulling to be done. Its eyes were watery and seemed dull and lifeless. Its healthy shine was faded and yellowed, much like the old man’s. Samuel felt sorry for them both.

When it began to grow dark, they slept on the roadside and ate sinewy meat that the old man boiled up in his dented, blackened pots. At first light, they would simply get up and get back on the wagon and be off again.

They passed through several villages that reminded Samuel of home in one way or another. Men loaded and unloaded wagons with fruits or vegetables or bags of grain. Women carried basketfuls or armfuls of produce. They gave Samuel and the old man barely a moment’s attention as the two of them passed slowly by atop their rickety wagon. Occasionally, a few soldiers would overtake them on horseback with their blue and gold armour glistening, their swords swinging by their sides and Samuel thought they looked quite impressive. The old man would curse and mutter as they passed and Samuel supposed he did not like them very much at all.

The only thing that never changed was that they were always heading down. Their wagon zigzagged down hill and gully, along paths and across shallow riverbeds and hour after hour the mountains crawled away from them until the various hills they descended obscured the snowy peaks altogether. With the familiar heights now gone, too, Samuel was only just starting to realise how much his world had changed.

After several days, they reached the edge of a village that just seemed to keep getting bigger and bigger, until Samuel finally realised that this must be the town of Stable Canthem, for it was much larger than anything he could imagine. Buildings rose several levels high and were made from blocks of stone, with many bearing motifs and carvings upon their walls. People seemed to come from every direction, filling the many streets that crossed and joined. It was a very busy place, indeed, and more streets and buildings lay all around in every direction as far as Samuel could see.

After voyaging deep into the town, turning many corners and crossing many streets, the wagon abruptly halted in front of a tall building.

‘Here you are,’ the old man said, still holding the reins and sucking on his pipe. ‘You go on inside now.’

Samuel grabbed his bag and leapt to the ground. The wagon started off again without another word and the old man and wagon both were immediately swallowed up by the throngs of people. Samuel looked about whilst standing nervously in front of the tall building, watching as the people and animals and vehicles passed by making all manner of noises. When nothing else happened after a time, and the busy street continued to flow past him, Samuel turned about and faced the building he had been set before, with his bag clutched firmly in his hands, and swallowed.

He was eyeing its wide door with great apprehension and wondering whether or not he should knock, when it opened and a girl of about his own age stood looking out at him. The first thing Samuel could remember thinking was that she had a fine glow, indeed.

She looked a little surprised at first and stood waiting for him to say something, until realisation crossed her face. ‘Oh, you must be Samuel,’ she said and smiled. ‘I am Jessicah. I’m very pleased to meet you.’

She curtsied politely and Samuel stood dumbfounded.

‘Ah,’ he finally managed. ‘I’m Samuel.’ And he bowed a little bow, not knowing what else to do.

The girl giggled and stepped down onto the street. She took his hand in hers and led him back inside.

‘Welcome to the Three Toads Inn,’ she said, waving her other hand grandly as they crossed the threshold and she laughed. ‘It’s a terrible name, I know, but Father likes it. I’ll go fetch him.’

She closed the door and the cacophony outside immediately dropped to a subdued hum. Dropping his hand, Jessicah disappeared through a narrow doorway on the far side of the room, leaving Samuel alone in the great room.

The first thing he noticed was that the place smelled terrible, like something sour and stale, and it made him screw up his nose. Everything was made from once-expensive timbers, but time seemed to have had its way with the place. The walls and floor were covered in holes or makeshift patches that had become permanent fixtures. Every length of timber or piece of wall was scratched, chipped or marked in some way. Small, round tables and chairs littered the floor and a long bench sat before several large barrels. Beside them, a narrow staircase led up to another level. Samuel looked up, open-mouthed, at the high beams and windows. He had never been in such a tall room before. He took a few cautious steps and began to peer up the stairs, before the sound of approaching footsteps made him take a quick step back.

A great rotund, red-faced man with blood splattered on his apron and all over his bare, hairy arms squeezed through the narrow doorway and stood before Samuel, scrutinising him.

‘So, you’re my brother’s lad?’ he said as he inspected Samuel. He peered down with bloodshot eyes. ‘Damn,’ he said, shaking his head, and he turned back to where he had come, leaving Samuel alone once more. His uncle’s voice then echoed out of the doorway, as if coming from the end of a long hall. ‘Go take care of him, will you?’ his voice instructed of someone.

A few moments later, curt footsteps sounded, before a lady, as bony as his uncle was fat, stepped from the doorway. She had jutting cheekbones and protruding collarbones and her nose stuck out like the sharp end of an axe.

‘Hello, Samuel,’ she said, looking him over with some consternation. ‘I am your Aunty Janet. How wonderful to see you.’ The words came out flat and distinctly insincere. ‘I’m so sorry about your parents. It’s a terrible tragedy what happened to them, but nevertheless, you are welcome to stay here with us. We’ll have the odd chore for you, of course, but I think you’ll fit in here nicely, soon enough. Unfortunately, there are no rooms to spare at the moment as we are terribly busy. There is some space in the barn where we can put a cot for you; just until something better makes itself available.’

Despite her attempts to sound comforting, Samuel thought how sharp and pointed her face looked. Somehow, it made Samuel think she was not very nice at all.

She took Samuel through the narrow door and down a hall past another few doors and out behind the inn. Some pigs and dogs were tied there in a muddy yard beside a small stable.

‘The pigs and dogs get the scraps and keep the burglars away,’ she explained. ‘Don’t get too close to the pigs, mind. They have quite a nasty bite.’

The barn was somewhat cleaner than the yard, with trampled straw thrown all over the ground. A few horses were penned in some of the stalls towards the back. They glanced momentarily at Samuel but then returned to staring at the ground. The smell of wet straw and dust filled Samuel’s nose and made it tickle and itch.

‘There’s a spare stall up the back,’ Aunt Janet disclosed. ‘It needs some tidying, so you had better get started. You will be minding the animals and tending to any needs of the guests. After you finish with your room, change the barn flooring and Jessicah will show you how to feed the animals.’

She then left him there, returning to the inn, while Samuel blinked and looked around. Flies buzzed around the horses and their droppings. The air was a haze of straw-dust. It did not look like a very comfortable place to live at all. He hoped he could move into the inn with them soon—tomorrow or the next day at the latest would be good.

Samuel pushed open the gate of his ‘room’ and coughed. It was filthy. A generous mound of manure was the centrepiece of the stall, while brooms and rakes and various tools hung from hooks on the wall. His stomach grumbled loudly as he hung up his humble bag, pulled down as small a shovel as he could find and began scooping up the dung and carrying it out into the yard. It was hard work, much harder than he was used to, and he was soon sweating as he struggled with the weight of the unwieldy shovel.

Once the majority of the mess was moved, he picked up a dustpan and a small hand-brush and began sweeping up the leftovers.

After a time, when he had done as much as he could to make the room more hospitable, Jessicah poked her head in. ‘Wonderful!’ she exclaimed. ‘I felt so sorry for you when Mother said you’d be staying out here, but I know you’ll manage.’

Samuel put the hand-brush down and wiped his forehead. ‘Thank you,’ he said. His eyes and nose were running from all the dust.

‘I have something for you,’ she said, stepping into the stall. To Samuel’s delight, she was carrying a hamper full of bread and fruit. ‘One of the guests ordered all this, but then got called away, so no one will miss it.’

They both squatted on the dirty floor and ate until only crumbs remained. It was perhaps the most satisfying meal Samuel could remember in all his life. Of course, he could not remember ever being hungrier in all his life, either. Afterwards, he noticed how filthy his hands were. His mother would have been so very angry to see him eat with such dirty hands, but he had been so hungry he had not even noticed.

‘Do you want to feed the horses?’ she asked as she stood and brushed away the crumbs from her dress.

Samuel nodded and she began leading him around the stable, showing how much and what to feed each horse. They all belonged to different guests in the inn. The animals were giants of shining flesh and they watched Samuel with a mix of concern and curiosity. Both Samuel and Jessicah needed stools to reach the tall animals’ backs, and Jessicah showed him how to brush their coats and keep them looking fine and healthy. They spent the afternoon like that in the barn, laughing and talking together. At first, he had been sure this place was terrible, but now, Samuel was actually enjoying himself. He had never had so much fun doing chores. At home, it was always boring and he never had help. His brothers had never made it seem like fun and his sister had
never
tried to help him.

‘We have to go get the water now, so I’ll show you the square,’ she said and Samuel nodded enthusiastically.

They each carried two wooden buckets out into the bustling traffic and Jessicah led the way down several streets, still filled with intriguing and strange people. In Samuel’s village, he knew everybody. Here, there were so many people, how could anyone get to know them all? It was all quite startling.