The Wilder (The Trouble with Magic Book 1) (18 page)

Braen ran his fingers over his shining pate and gave Karryl a quizzical look. “Are you sure you’re only a first year apprentice?”

Karryl gave a slight nod, raised one eyebrow, and put a fore-finger to his lips for quiet. Flashing Braen another conspiratorial grin, he turned to listen to Master Tomlin’s speech.

The portly Guildmaster droned on at some length. While the occupants of the top table sat politely listening, various shuffles and scrapes began to emanate from the assembled apprentices and journeymen, impatiently waiting to take their seats and begin easing the burden of the groaning trestles. Keeping as unobtrusive as possible, Karryl had crept forward until he managed to find a spot giving him a clear line of sight between the fidgeting bodies of his companions. He sensed, rather than saw, Braen edge up beside him, and a little smile twitched the corners of Karryl’s mouth as he stood quite still in what appeared to be rapt concentration.

After a moment or two the Guildmaster’s face began slowly to redden, becoming more florid as he appeared to be experiencing some considerable discomfort. His voice began to falter and he started shifting his weight, first to one foot then back to the other.

To the consternation of his fellows at the top table, and the extreme amusement of some of the apprentices, he suddenly stopped in mid sentence. “You may take your seats!” Hitching up the hem of his robe he made a panic stricken and undignified dash for the nearest side door, sheer horror clearly written on his shining red face. As the scramble for places began, Karryl felt a gentle pressure on his arm. It was Braen, his bright blue eyes wide open in amazement.

He leaned close to whisper. “What did you do?”

With a grin Karryl gestured towards the side door through which the clearly distressed Guildmaster had so recently disappeared. “It seemed to me that the esteemed Guildmaster had a sudden and irrepressible urge to relieve himself. Is that how it appeared to you?”

Braen’s grin was as wicked as Karryl’s as he patted him on the back and made his way to his seat at the Journeymen’s table. Karryl was left to discover that the seat marked for him not only had its back to the room, but was directly opposite the ruddy faced boy and his cronies he had silenced earlier. With a deliberate flourish, he pulled out his chair and sat down. Resting his elbows on the table, he placed his chin on his hands, and while they waited for grace to be said, favoured each member of the group in turn with an impudent stare which spoke volumes. The frowns and rude gestures he received in return only served to add to his amusement. He was hard put not to explode with mirth, and was only saved as all were asked to stand and bow their heads.

After one of the Guildmasters had said a short grace and asked for a blessing on their food, apprentices, journeymen and masters settled to rapidly clearing the large platters, dishes and baskets of their contents. Flagons of watered wine and jugs of fruit juice passed rapidly from hand to hand along the length of the tables and back again. In between making sure his own trencher stayed well filled and lending a hand passing plates and jugs, Karryl kept one eye on his voiceless acquaintances across the table. Apart from sending the occasional sneer of disgust in his direction, the little group seemed to be making the best of a bad job. With a variety of hand signals and careful mouthing, they seemed to be enjoying the feast, applying themselves with a will to the variety of dishes which passed in front of them.

Just as he was about to start on his third chicken leg, which he had smothered in a savoury relish, Karryl saw his erstwhile antagonist nudge the boys on either side of him. With a self-satisfied smirk on his round face, he drew their attention to something happening at the top table. Looking over his left shoulder, Karryl saw to his relief that Symon, resplendent in white robe and embroidered stole, was about to take his place at the table. He looked relaxed, smiling and nodding as the Guildmasters stood, one by one, to welcome him and shake his hand. As he gathered his robe about him prior to seating himself, he looked across to the apprentices table. Catching sight of Karryl, he gave another little smile and inclined his head in the manner which was so characteristic. Once settled, he turned to one side to speak to one of the Guild-masters. A companionable hubbub now filled the room. In one corner, a quartet of musicians from the College of Music, Drama and Performing Arts worked their way with enthusiasm through a selection of the more popular tunes of the day.

Having apparently eaten their fill, Braen and another journeyman left their places and began to make their way slowly up the length of the tables, stopping now and then to check that all their charges were not behaving in such a way that would bring their guilds into disrepute.

Karryl had finished his chicken leg and was wiping his fingers on a napkin, fully intending to reach for a sweet pastry, when someone tapped his shoulder. “I have a message for you.”

Twisting round in his seat, Karryl looked up into Braen’s grinning face. “A message? Who from?”

Braen handed him a small, tightly folded piece of parchment. “Read it later. I think some people’s curiosity may be tending to get the better of them.”

Resisting the temptation to look round, Karryl thanked the bald-headed journeyman and quickly slipped the note inside the front of his tunic. Turning back to the table, he discovered to his chagrin that someone had beaten him to the sweet pastry. The plate which now met his gaze held a decidedly unappetising selection of dry biscuits. Not wishing to appear too eager to leave the table and read his note, he looked along until he spotted a plate of iced buns.

He gave the fair haired boy next to him a gentle nudge. “Can you reach that plate of buns please?”

The boy gave him a grin of surprised delight. “Well, there’s a coincidence! I was about to tuck into one of those myself.” He stuck out a short stubby callused hand, a smear of some kind of sauce or relish streaked across the back. “I’m Pedar, Saddlers and Leatherworkers, and this is my twin brother Jonas, also Saddlers and Leatherworkers.”

He flicked his head towards another fair-haired boy to his right, who was engaged in animated conversation with a dark complexioned boy to the right of him again.

Karryl grasped the proffered hand. “Well met, Pedar. I’ m …”

“Oh. I know who you are. I think everybody does. Hang on; let me get those buns.”

Pushing a large, round sticky iced bun onto the edge of Karryl’s plate, Pedar turned sideways in his chair, draping one arm over the back. “I’ve been meaning to have a natter with you since we sat down, but you seemed a bit preoccupied, if you know what I mean.”

He glanced sideways across the table while sinking his teeth into his own bun. Karryl grinned and followed suit, the bun eating turning into an impromptu race to see who could finish first. It was a draw, and the two brushed off their hands and sat back, hands across their stomachs, puffing with satisfaction.

Cocking his head on one side, Karryl looked questioningly at his new found friend. “What did you mean when you said everybody knows who I am?”

Pedar raised an eyebrow. Leaning forward, he spoke in a low voice. “Well, when you told Braen who you were, then had that set to with the fellow over there, well, the word spread like wildfire. It’s about time someone put that great lump and his little gang in their place. They seem to have got it into their heads that the economy would grind to a halt without them.”

Karryl feigned interest in the beaker of juice beside his trencher. “What guild do they belong to then? I can’t say I recognise the crest.”

Pedar gave a contemptuous little snort. “There’s no reason why you should. It’s the Guild of Civil Engineers. Now that might sound all very grand, and I’ve got nothing but praise for civil engineers as a guild, but this particular little gang and all the others before them weren’t granted a guild of their own, so they were lumped in.”

Karryl’s eyes widened in exasperation. “So! What do they do?”

Folding his hands in front of his chest, Pedar lifted his chin and affected a haughty expression. “Underground Services Maintenance.”

Karryl was baffled. “What’s that mean?”

Still maintaining the supercilious air he had adopted, Pedar looked down his nose and crossed his eyes. “Why, my good man, they clean and repair…the sewers!”

Karryl sat in stunned silence for a few seconds. Unable to completely contain himself he turned to lean over the back of his chair. Pressing one tightly bunched fist against his mouth, he desperately tried to stifle the hysterical laughter which was rapidly welling up and threatening to burst through his clenched teeth.

Everything went swiftly downhill from that moment. Suspecting they were the object of Karryl’s ill-disguised amusement, the little gang of silenced sewer workers, seemingly having been granted some kind of unanimous singularity of purpose, all decided to a man that retaliation was in order. In a co-ordinated move which would have made any drill sergeant proud, they rose from their seats and dived headfirst across the cluttered table towards Karryl and Pedar.

With only enough time to cover their heads with their arms in some attempt at protection from the impending onslaught, the two huddled against the backs of their chairs. It was the failure of the attack to arrive, and the loud gasps followed by sounds of uproarious laughter, which made them cautiously lower their arms and look about them. The sight which met their eyes placed Karryl in something of a quandary. In the midst of all the uproar, he found himself unable to decide whether to laugh, sit still or run.

Striding across the sawdust-strewn floor of the Great Hall, his expression totally inscrutable, came Symon closely followed by another Guild master. About five feet above that same floor, three boys, among them the florid-faced bully, were hanging motionless in mid air, their faces white with terror and mouthing silently. On the floor below them, sprawled four more rather shaken looking boys who rubbed at bruised arms and legs as, with undisguised apprehension, they watched Symon’s approach. Every person in the room was now on their feet, edging closer to get a better view of the spectacle.

Braen moved up to stand beside Karryl, and with a sideways flick of his head, indicated the aerial display. “What happened here then? Did you do that?”

Trying not very successfully to keep a straight face, Karryl nodded towards Symon. “There’s the one we have to thank, but somehow I don’t think I’m going to come out shining either.”

The little magician was now standing, hands clasped in front of him, looking in turn at the floating apprentices and their cronies huddled on the floor. Unfolding his hands, Symon held them out, palms downwards. His lips began to move as, almost inaudibly, he uttered a spell, at the same time gradually lowering his hands. The floating boys descended correspondingly until they were about a foot above the floor. Releasing the holding spell, Symon watched unmoved as they dropped with a clatter and thump into an inelegant and undignified heap.

Folding his hands again, Symon looked down at the sorry little group. “I have already heard what has transpired here this evening. It is my considered opinion, as it is of your Guild master, that you have been dealt with rather leniently. The spell of levitation will do you no harm, and was the quickest and simplest way to ensure you did none yourselves. Had there been a little more time for me to prepare, you would all have been up there. As it was I was only able to focus on the main troublemakers.

“No doubt you have been considering complaining to me about the spell of silence which has been placed upon you. Perhaps you were thinking that I would remove it and reprimand the caster? I will do no such thing. The spell will wear off naturally during the night, and during the discomfort of tomorrow morning perhaps you can reflect on the consequences of your behaviour. You are dismissed.”

The boys scrambled to their feet. Brushing sawdust from their tunics they staggered towards the exit, casting sullen glances at Karryl as they stumbled past him. Karryl felt a grin spreading across his face. It soon faded away as he realised that instead of coming to speak to him as he had expected, Symon, accompanied by the Guild Master of Civil Engineers, was returning to his table. The buzz of excitement changed to a companionable hum as everyone went back to their seats, one or two reaching out to give Karryl’s arm a friendly thump on their way. Feeling somewhat deflated, Karryl eventually flopped down on his chair and picked up his beaker.

Catching sight of Pedar grinning at him, he raised the beaker to what he felt was a rather hollow victory. “D’you know, I’ll be glad when it’s time to go home!”

As those in earshot fell about with laughter at his plaintive tone, the little group of musicians took up their instruments and launched into a lively dance tune, sending a clear message to all that the evening was not yet over. Realising Pedar was saying something to him, Karryl turned sideways in his chair and raised a questioning eyebrow.

His companion obligingly raised his voice a little. “I said, the dancing’s about to start. Can you dance?”

Karryl shrugged. “I don’t really know. I’ve watched a bit, but never done it. Can you?”

Pedar responded with an enthusiastic nod. “Oh yes. Our older sister’s a teacher at the School of Dance, so we didn’t have much choice but to learn. I found it quite easy really. Shall we watch the others for a while?”

It seemed a few others on their side of the table had the same idea, as they began to turn their chairs round to face the open central area, their backs to the table. As he settled in his chair again, Karryl felt something prickle his skin inside his tunic. It was only when he reached in to investigate and his fingers closed over the small piece of parchment, he remembered the message Braen had handed to him. Taking it out he held it close to his chest and unfolded it. As he read the short message, his eyes widened and his heart gave a little flutter.
Will you dance with me? Aenys .

Quickly folding the note he returned it to the inside of his tunic, and turned to Pedar. “Who’s Aenys?”

Pedar grinned and looked over Karryl’s shoulder to the far end of the table. “The fair-haired one in the blue dress. She’s Braen’s younger sister…and she just happens to be looking this way. Is that who your note was from?”

Karryl gulped, feeling the colour creep up his neck and into his cheeks.

His voice quavered with a hint of panic. “Tell me when she’s not looking, so I can slip out.”

Pedar leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, then with a mischievous glint in his eye looked back at Karryl.”No chance my friend. She looks very determined.”

“Oh! Good grief! She doesn’t even know me. I don’t think we even went to the same school!”

Leaning over the back of his chair on the pretext of finding something to drink, Karryl risked a quick look along the table. To his relief, the young lady in question had turned aside and was talking to Braen and another young woman, and so failed to notice Karryl’s furtive glance.

Pedar was watching him with obvious enjoyment and undisguised amusement. “You do realise I suppose, that if you leave without at least acknowledging her note, you’re going to be in very hot water.”

Karryl gulped again and screwed up his face in bewilderment. “But how does she know me? Tell me that!”

Pedar chuckled. “She probably doesn’t, but she might have seen Braen talking to you. Then he probably told her what a smart, cool and collected young fella you are, and she was hooked.”

Karryl stared at him, not quite sure whether to believe what he was saying. “You’re not serious are you?”

Assuming a deeply injured expression, Pedar laid a hand on Karryl’s shoulder. “Believe me, I wouldn’t jest about something as serious as…uh, oh. ‘Ware to your right.”

Without thinking, Karryl whipped his head round, to see Braen and a slender fresh faced girl with shoulder length fair hair weaving their way through the dancing couples towards them. Not having been given the luxury of a few moments to call up his relaxation technique, Karryl quickly stood , then turned and frowned a question down at Pedar.

His new found friend now appeared to be having trouble with a fingernail, and was giving it his undivided attention. Realising he had been left to his own devices, Karryl decided to make the best of it. Turning back towards the rapidly approaching journeyman and his sister, he flashed the best smile of welcome he could muster.

At the same time, he tried hard not to stare at the prettiest girl he thought he had ever seen. “Hello again Braen! Well, it didn’t turn out too badly after all, did it?”

The bald journeyman silversmith grinned and raised the goblet he was carrying. “If you ask me, I think it all went rather well. Your Master Magician is quite a force to be reckoned with. Aenys here was quite impressed. You haven’t met my sister have you? Although I do believe she has already expressed her desire to meet you. Karryl, allow me to introduce Aenys, star apprentice of …”

The fair haired girl placed a restraining hand on her brother’s arm. “Please Braen, we can talk of such things later.”

To Karryl’s surprise, she held out a slim white hand. Her voice was clear and soft, imprinting itself forever on his memory. “I’m really pleased to meet you Karryl.”

Feeling a little self-conscious, and unable to recall anyone ever saying they were really pleased to meet him, he shuffled one step forward and took the proffered hand in his own. “Th…that’s very nice of you to say so. I’m pleased to meet you too.”

As he shook her hand, he looked over her shoulder and raised a questioning eyebrow at Braen. The silversmith gave him an encouraging nod of approval, then with a brief wave, turned and wandered off to speak to someone on the other side of the room.

Realising, to Aenys’ apparent amusement, that he was still holding her hand, he quickly released it and gestured to the chair behind him, noticing at the same time that Pedar had made himself scarce. As Aenys smoothed her skirt and took the offered seat, Karryl sat in the vacated chair, wondering what on earth he was going to say to this obviously bright, and certainly attractive, girl.

He needn’t have worried. She seemed completely at ease, and it wasn’t long before Karryl felt the same, and the two were deep in conversation as if they were old friends, although there was one slightly awkward moment.

During a brief lull, she turned to him, pink roses of embarrassment highlighting her cheeks. “I …I hope you didn’t think that was too forward of me, sending Braen with that note. I wasn’t sure what else to do.”

Karryl gave her a sheepish grin. “Well, to be quite honest, it did take me rather by surprise. Coward that I am, I was on the verge of slipping out, but Pedar talked me out of it.” When she didn’t reply, he rested his elbows on his knees and smiled as he gave her a sidelong glance. “I’m glad he did.”

Instead of going all girlish and coy as he half expected, she threw her head back and laughed, a clear infectious sound which soon had Karryl laughing with her. “Well, that’s all right then. So, are we going to have that dance, if only to discover that you have two left feet?”

Karryl gave her a comical grimace. “That’s the truth, but I’m willing to try, if you promise not to yell too loudly when I step on your toes.”

To Karryl’s surprise he soon got the hang of it, and they had stepped and whirled their way through three or four lively dances before Karryl noticed the Guild Masters taking their leave, a sign that the festivities were almost over.

As the quartet of musicians began to play a slow romantic melody, Aenys leaned to whisper in Karryl’s ear. “I had promised to have the last dance with Braen, but I’d rather have it with you. I’m sure he won’t mind, if you don’t.”

Karryl put a finger to his pursed lips and frowned as if trying to make a difficult decision. Aenys played along, and stamped her foot in mock indignation, just before Karryl put both arms around her and began to guide her across the crowded floor.

The final bars of the last dance faded away. Guildmasters and apprentices alike began to gather coats, cloaks and each other in preparation for their homeward journey. Domestics had already entered the Great Hall and begun clearing the long tables and removing them, along with the chairs, into storage until the time for the next function rolled around.

Karryl and Aenys were standing by a large marble pillar, engaged in what seemed to be an earnest conversation. Braen wandered across the rapidly emptying dance floor and, after giving a polite little cough, stood a couple of paces back.

Looking over her shoulder Aenys smiled at her brother who lifted one arm, over which was draped a midnight blue woollen cloak trimmed with fur.

Aenys gave a brief nod.”I won’t be long. Will you wait for me by the door?”

With a cheery wave to Karryl, Braen nodded his agreement and left the young couple to finish their conversation and say their goodbyes. A few others were also hanging back a little, but the hustle and bustle of the clearing up operation soon prompted them all to hasten towards the exit, if only to avoid being clipped around the ankles by a busily wielded broom.

Soon they found themselves among a small crowd loitering in the wide arched doorway, all seeming reluctant to leave the warmth and camaraderie behind them. Karryl and Aenys stood facing each other, suddenly bashful and tongue-tied, twisting their fingers and looking at their feet. Finally, Karryl looked up.

Catching sight of Braen waiting just inside the doorway, he broke the awkward silence.”I hope we can keep in touch. I could write to you if you’d like.”

Once again the two bright spots of rosy pink appeared on Aenys’ cheeks, and she nodded. “I would like that, and I promise I will write back. Send it to the Guild of Silversmiths, and Braen will pass it on to me. Now, I must go. Thank you for making my evening so enjoyable.”

With that, she leaned forward and planted a kiss firmly on Karryl’s cheek. Turning away, she wove through the remaining stragglers towards the entrance. Karryl recovered from his unexpected bounty just in time to catch a glimpse of Braen’s bald head and the back of Aenys’s cloak as they crossed the wide torchlit courtyard and ducked through the postern door in the main gate. It was only then he realised that in all the excitement he still hadn’t found out to which Guild Aenys belonged. He had noticed a tiny jewelled pin fastened high up near her shoulder, but he hadn’t recognised it. Suddenly feeling rather alone, Karryl gave a great sigh. He turned and looked back to see if there was anybody he could walk home with.