In Pursuit Of Wisdom (Book 1) (47 page)

He quickened his pace, his glow ball hovering in front of him, all light and no warmth.  The whirling snow that came within the sphere of light cast by his spell made him look like a man standing in a blizzard at the edge of a moving tunnel.

Magi strolled up to the place where his parents had lived long ago, at least according to the innkeeper.  As expected, there were no traces of them anywhere.  The man who answered the thick oaken door brushed him off as soon as could.  “Do you know the hour?  Nobody named Blacksmooth lives here now, boy.  Be about your business.” 
SLAM!

The snow continued its steady fall, and the wind howled.
  Disgusted, he decided to warm up and see if any of the copious amounts of gold he had spread around town might yield anything.  He headed down the alley where he had put the woman to sleep before robbing her hours before.  She was gone, but that same beggar sat there, huddled against the cold, endlessly asking for alms.  Growing short on coins himself after all the inns he had canvassed, Magi decided to help himself from some of the coins in the blind man’s sack.

“Take it all.  A man
who would rob a blind beggar needs the gold more than I.”  The old man put his head down.

“So, you are not blind after all.” Magi spat on him.  “What kind of man pretends to be poor and blind to prey on the guilt of those who pass by?”

The man took the ragged hem of his coat and wiped the spittle off his scarred face.  “I am blind, but I am hardly deaf, and my nose works quite well to boot.  You can smell the likes of me ten feet away, I imagine, because you smell
filth. 
Well, when you live in filth, you can smell
clean. 
Between your smell and the jingle of coins, I knew I was being robbed.  Do you think you are the first to steal from a beggar’s purse?  You are the first, however, to spit on me.  But what can I say—we live in a terribly Dark World.  Go.  Take what you need.  It was never mine to begin with.”

  Magi scowled.  “Old man, you can’t give me what I need.  Unless you know a mage or a jeweler named ‘Blacksmooth
,’ your coins will not help me much.”  That didn’t stop Magi from reaching into the sack to grab more than the handful of coppers he’d dropped in earlier that night.

“Blacksmooth?  Tomas Blacksmooth?
  What do you want with him?”  The old man stood up, and stared off to the side of Magi the way blind men do.  Magi could see his scarred face clearly now.  New skin and old skin formed the splotchy quilt that was his face.  He had the face of a man who had been burned.

“I never said his first name was Tomas.”  Magi said, tilting his head.

“Well, there may be others named Blacksmooth throughout the city, but I’ve not met them.  My name is Tomas Blacksmooth.  Though I’ve not been addressed by it in many a long year…” the beggar trailed off.  “Why are you looking for a man named Blacksmooth?”

Magi narrowed his eyes, even though he knew the old man couldn’t see his face.  Cynical still,
he said.  “Tell me, Tomas, where I may find your son.  My business is with him.”

The old man said nothing for a minute, then slowly sat
back down, shaking slightly.  Tears began trickling down each cheek, and he did not wipe them away.  Looking up in Magi’s general vicinity, he said, “I wish I knew.  My son was taken from me as a babe.  It was the beginning of the end of my story.  If you do happen to find him, I’d give my ears and nose as well to hug him one more time.”  He shuddered and finally wiped the tears away from his sightless eyes.  “Aye, I would give that up to hold my boy once more.”

Magi’s eyes gr
ew wide.  “What was your son’s name?” 
I must be sure!

Tomas looked directly in his eyes, perhaps by luck. “I have no idea what name he grew up with.  But I named him Magi.  Magi Blacksmooth.”

“Old man,
I
am Magi Blacksmooth.”

~Veronica~

In the face of a recent snowstorm,
Veronica had wrapped herself in the warmest cloak she could find, a rather expensive one with fur lining that she had purchased from a shop earlier that day.  She certainly would not be out of place in such a garment, and easily blended in among the wealthy patrons at
The Royal Steed.
She knew she still stuck out like a wildflower in the desert, however.  Few respectable women her age travelled alone.  Yet she had fooled a hundred men in her life pretending to be a young widow, and she would fool a hundred more.

This place might as well be a barracks chow hall
,
she mused.  A quick count told her that there were no less than fifty-seven knights bearing both the Queen’s signet as well as that of their own Order scattered around the common room, let alone how many were already in their rooms.  A large group held court across the room, maybe a dozen or so seated around a table.  They seemed to be decorated sorts, judging from the blue sashes each wore.  She could see one, two, three, and in one case, four gold horizontal stripes at the top of each sash.  The knights were all dressed well, like most patrons at the tavern, with the various orders to which the knight belonged stitched into their tunic.  She recognized the lightning bolt that represented the Order of Thunder, the rose that represented the Order of Thorns, and she also saw a few crossed spears, representing the Order of Blood.  There were a few other signets on the knights that she did not recognize.  Several shields that clearly belonged to the group lay against the wall, and they all were emblazoned with the same symbol:  an enormous eagle, wings spread over five mountain peaks.  These were knights of Rookwood.

Veronica
leaned over to an older couple holding hands by one of the fire pits. “Excuse me, good sir.  Would you or your lady be able to tell me about those knights who are over there?  There seem to be dozens in here—I’ve never felt safer in all my years of travelling.”  She smiled warmly, her white skin reflecting the soft firelight.

The old man gave the old woman’s hands a gentle squeeze.  “Yes, young lady
—I can tell you who those men are.  The large man with the wavy hair and enormous jaw—that is none other than our General, the True Warrior Strongiron, Knight of the Order of Thunder, one of the Queen’s council and the Defender of our Realm.  We rarely get a chance to see him in Paragatha, as he is often needed elsewhere, of course.  But a better man you will never find.”

The old man motioned to a third chair at their table.  “Perhaps you would like to join my wife
Fran and me for a meal?  When we heard that the General was staying here at the
Steed
, we had to come see him.  Are you from around here?”

Veronica allowed the handsome face of her
target to burn an unforgettable image into her mind’s eye, the way she had trained for years, before wrenching her eyes away and making contact with her new friends.  “Thank you, that would be lovely.  I don’t have much company any more, as I lost my husband to raiders several years ago.  But that is in the past.  I want to hear more about—what did you say his name was?  Strongiron—tell me more about
him
.”  She sat with them and asked for wine from a barmaid.  “My, but he is handsome.  His wife must be a beauty,” she said.

The old lady chuckled kindly.  “My dear, you
certainly are not from around here, are you?  What did you say your name was?”

“Miss Sarah
,” said Veronica, before sipping her glass of wine.

“Ah, Mistress Sarah.  Those of us who grow up in the shadow of Rookwood know all about the castle politics, my dear.
” The older woman took a sip of wine with a twinkle in her eye as she warmed to the gossip.  “Strongiron has had many young women throw themselves his way, but alas he has never taken a wife.  The rumor is that the Queen herself is in love with him, but he still holds out.  When King Alomar died, it is said that Strongiron took it so hard that he can’t bring himself to think about marrying the Queen, out of loyalty to his former King.”

“My dear, any man knows that he won’t marry the Queen because she looks like a toad,” the old man said with a simple
laugh.  But Veronica noted that he lowered his voice when he said it.  She graced the old man with a courtesy smile at his poor joke.  He continued, “Strongiron will marry when he finds a girl worthy of him.  He’ll not marry a trollop, and mind you, he won’t marry the Queen out of respect for her late husband, King Alomar.”  He saw Veronica staring at the immense fighter, her deep brown eyes fixed on the General’s ice-blue ones across the crowded tavern.  “Lass, take it from me.  You’re a pretty widow and all, but you might want to set your sights a bit lower.”

Veronica
smiled and gave the older couple her best whimsical sigh as she called over the barmaid and asked for the proprietor.

The Innkeeper popped over to the table almost immediately, with a smile on his face as he saw the older couple.  “Lord Daniel, Lady Fran
—what a wonderful surprise to see you both.  Tell me, what do the Lords of Paragatha want with a humble innkeeper such as myself?  This hasn’t something to do with our taxes, I hope?”  The innkeeper had his sleeves rolled up—it was packed inside his common room and with all the fire pits going, it was warm.  He rubbed a thick, hairy forearm across his brow, mopping up sweat as he smiled at the older couple.

“
We didn’t call you over, Silas,” Lord Daniel replied.  “I’m sure you are cheating the town of our taxes like every other business here, but that is not why you were summoned.  Miss Sarah, whom we’ve just met this evening, wanted a word with you.  We simply mentioned to your barkeep that we knew you.”

“Ah.”  Silas’s demeanor changed fairly quickly.  “What do you need?” he
asked Veronica pointedly.

“I’m sure she would like to meet the General
,” commented Lord Daniel, at which point his lady wife Fran hit him on the shoulder, not gently.

“Actually, I would love to make the General’s acquaintance, but that is not my main question for you.  I was
wondering if you knew where I might find a man and his wife by the name of ‘Blacksmooth’—they are old friends of mine, and I’m travelling through Paragatha to try and find them.”

Silas just looked at Veronica curiously.  After a
n awkward pause, he said, “That is the second time in two days that someone has asked me about a man named Blacksmooth.  A young man was in here last night asking me if I knew a jeweler by that name.  I’ll tell you the same thing I told him—the only Blacksmooth in town that I know used to be a mage.  A good man, but not a True Mage.  Had his own eyes.  He lost his son and went mad, near as I can tell.  No telling what happened to him.  That was 17 or 18 years ago, I’d wager.  Is that the long lost friend you’re looking for, Miss Sarah?”

After an imperceptible widening of the eyes, Veronica quickly
got herself back under control.  “Yes, good sir—I believe it is.  You wouldn’t happen remember what that young man looked like, would you?  I believe he’s my cousin—we’re both looking for a dear family friend.”

The innkeeper narrowed his eyes a bit.  “That would be queer cousins indeed.  This man had auburn hair and a darker complexion.  Miss Sarah, you have to be one of the palest ladies I’ve ever seen.”  He then hastily added after Fran shot him a frown.  “Pretty
, of course, and well-travelled, obviously.  But you look nothing like one another, save your height.  Cousins, you say?”  He smiled, somewhat nervously this time.

Veronica ignored the question.  “Silas, I have only two more questions, and you’ll find me to be a
very
grateful
guest.  Number one—I would very much like to hear where this mage used to live those many years ago.  Perhaps I can pick up the trail from there.”  She stood up and looked at the large man eye-to-eye, matching him in height.  She placed one of her delicate hands on his shoulder in a leisurely way.

The innkeeper, already sweating profusely, mopped his forehead again.  “S-sure, Miss S-
sarah.  I c-can tell you where the old mage l-lived.  Told the other g-guy, too.”  He smiled, and this close his teeth were as yellow as corn.

Veronica squeezed his shoulder, somewhere just beyond friendly.  “That would be much appreciated, Silas.”  She moved a little closer to him, causing Fran and Daniel to raise their eyebrows a bit as they watched her get face to face with the sweaty innkeeper.   “And number two
—do tell the General that I would like to meet him.”

~Kari~

“Wait here
,” Jonathon said.  “The Queen will see you momentarily.  May I offer you some refreshment after your travels?”

Before Rebecca could say a word, Phillip
replied, “Yes, thank you.  Some fresh fruit and bread and sliced meat would do us all some good, I daresay.  And wine.  A bit of wine to settle the nerves a bit, after the sea and all.”  He turned away as if used to giving orders and being obeyed.

“I will, uh, see what we have.  Good day to you all.”  Jonathon said
, raising his eyebrows slightly at his demanding guest.  He nodded toward Kari and Rebecca as he left the small waiting room.

After their arrival at the castle, i
t was several days before Queen Najalas finally called them into her audience chamber, during which time they began to learn their way throughout the massive building’s public areas.  Kari could not believe the stonework.  Several rooms that faced east opened to vast balconies, high up the mountainside, overlooking the valley floor far below, and the Sea of Joy beyond.  They took a moment their first morning to watch the late sunrise climb out of the water to shine into a sitting hall off the eastern edge. 
Absolutely breathtaking,
Kari thought.  She couldn’t believe that she was in a real castle in a real city.  It made Brigg and her hometown of Fostler seem so quaint, so unsophisticated.