The Wheelwright's Apprentice (11 page)

One of Amia’s friends, a girl called Dania piped up, “Wow, what an exit. Isn’t he such an interesting boy?”

Sammie turned to her and added, “He didn’t do that to impress anyone. He did it so that he could get to treat the injured as soon as he could. He really is a dedicated and grown up boy.”

Amia turned to Dania and said, “He is different from any boy I have met. He is doing something very important, and he is doing
it well. I actually heard of the man he saved. He is a father with four children, the youngest only five. He lives quite close to us. Art deserves our admiration.” She then grabbed Sammie’s hand, and said, “Not many like that around are there?”

Amia and Sammie smiled at each other while Amia agreed, “Not many at all. We both like him, don’t we?”

16

The next few days were extremely busy ones for Art. News of the three people he had managed to cure of fever and delirium had filtered through to the other healers in the City, and he was inundated both with fevered patients, and other Willed healers wanting to know what he had done. Eventually the flood petered out, and things were almost back to normal. During this lull, Art found Faran and brought him to the room where the instrument for looking at the tiny little beasts was kept. Art asked the priest, Dorin, “Could you take the instrument apart, please? I need to see all the parts and how it’s put together. I want to make some copies.”

Slowly and carefully, Dorin teased the instrument into all its little pieces, while Art and Faran watched intently. When he was finished, he just as carefully put it back together. “Faran,” Art began, “I need to get some good quality glass and some metal, like we just saw, to use in making some more of these. Do you know a good place to get some?”

Faran smiled and said, “I know a good metalsmith close by. For the glass we might want to go slightly further.” Faran appeared to be quite amused.

Art had by now realized that he would need some money to buy what he needed, so he asked Dorin, “How would I get hold of some money from the Temple to buy what I need?”

Dorin started giggling, “Art, you have been working far too hard. Nobody has taken the time to explain anything to you. You just go to the bursar, Brother Fingle, and tell him to give you the money.”

“I tell him?”

“Yes,” Dorin replied, “With Grammon away, you are the most senior priest here.”

“But I’m only fifteen.” Art announced. “Well, I’m going to be sixteen soon but...”

“...you have the Will and that makes you pretty important,” Dorin finished for him. “If you tell Fingle what you need he had better give it to you.”

Art careful ven atIf ly Willed himself to memorize all the details of the instrument, and then he and Faran set out, having made sure people knew where they were going. The metalsmith’s shop was not too far away, and turned out to be a busy emporium. It sold pots and flatware, fencing and all sorts of decorative items. They joined a line.

“The counter here is the pride of the owner,” Faran told him as they got close to it. “It’s all metal and is polished to look like a mirror.” Art admired it as they got closer.

He gave a cheery “Good afternoon” to the apprentice, and asked to buy ten pounds of brass and two of steel.

The apprentice who was serving told him, “I will have to get my master.”

The master duly appeared. He was a big middle aged man whose muscles appeared to have gone to fat. He was gruff and overbearing. “I understand you want to buy some raw metal?”

“Yes,” Art replied, making sure to keep his tone mild and polite. “I reckon I need ten pounds of brass and two of steel.”

The man laughed and proclaimed, “Now, what would a young boy like you be wanting with raw metal? Is it for your master?”

“No,” Art replied, “I need to make something special for my friends and brothers.”

The man then called over some of his workers while still using his theatrical voice, “This boy thinks he can work metal, he thinks that he can make useful things, he thinks he can do it better than we can.”

The man was not being helpful, and Art was becoming annoyed as he didn’t have time to waste. He politely asked once again, “Will you sell me what I want?”

The immediate arrogant answer was, “Why should I? You can’t do anything with it.”

This was enough for Art. He placed both his hands flat on the counter, smiled, and said, “I can work anything, and I can do it better and faster than you.” There was an odd, popping sound coming from the counter. The man looked down and saw that Art’s fingers had all grown very long metal claws, leaving matching long gouges where Art had removed metal from the countertop, his smooth and sparkling countertop. The effect was immediate. Two minutes later, they had their purchase and were out of the shop. Art had returned the metal from his fingers and embedded it vertically beside the gouges.

“I think you got a good price. That man was really keen to see your back!” Faran observed as they turned towards the glassmaker’s.

Art noted, “It is amazing how deferential they become when they realize I have the Will.”

“Of course he did. He had been acting like an idiot and he knew it. You could have made much more of a mess of his shop if you had wanted.”

“I don’t think like that,” was Art’s quiet rejoinder. “I just wanted to act restrained.”

“I know that!” Faran told him, “But that man didn’t.” He paused for a few paces, then added, “You do tend to be a bit flamboyant.”

“It’s a release, I guess.”

The glassmaker’s shop was smaller, but still had an attractive array of wares on show. Art got a surprise when the assistant looked up. It was Amia! That was why Faran had been amused earlier.

There was a sudden crash, and Amia was rushing away to the workshop { tharl in back. Art quickly went to the counter where a couple were bemoaning to each other, “It was such a lovely piece. What a shame, the work that must have gone into it.”

Behind the counter there were the shards of what must have been an animal. Art asked them, “What was it meant to be?”

The wife answered, “It was a parrot.” She turned and pointed to a display cabinet, “Just like that one.” She was pointing to a bird with a very pretty multicolored plumage.

Art turned to Faran and said, “I hope we don’t have to scrabble about for missing pieces again.” He stooped down behind the counter as no one was there and thought of how devastated Amia must be to have broken such a nice piece. Something that she had surely been trained to avoid. He stood up and handed the parrot to Faran, “Check it for missing bits.”

Faran gave it a very thorough going over but found nothing wrong. He placed it carefully back on the counter.

Amia chose that moment to peek rather nervously around the doorway. When she saw the parrot she exclaimed, “Oh, how wonderful.” She grabbed Art who was still behind the counter, and gave him a big bear hug. “That was so kind of you; that parrot was worth more than a week’s wages.” She turned to the couple who had been staring at the parrot wordlessly for some time and told them, “If you buy this parrot now, you can tell your friends that you saw it repaired in front of your eyes by Art, the famous healer.” Amia had professionally gauged the type of customers she had, and the sale was concluded very quickly.

The couple both managed a creditable thank you, by saying, “We are grateful for what you did, and we will treasure this piece.”

As the couple left, Art scooted round to the front of the counter and managed a smile, “I need to buy some glass, some very clear glass. What do you suggest?”

Amia thought for a moment and then said, “The master makes decorative pieces with patterns inserted in the back, and they have to be very clear. I can ask him to make some of that type of glass for you.”

She quickly went out back and returned almost immediately with a man who could not have been much over thirty. He had a rather florid complexion and immediately greeted them, “Art, the famous young healer, in person. It’s a privilege to meet you. Amia has told me quite a bit about you.” His tone became more businesslike, “She says you need some very clear glass. I’m Travold by the way...” He trailed off but managed to proffer a hand which Art took.

“I didn’t think I was famous, but I do need some glass, the very clearest you have. Can you help me?”

Travold offered, “If you have some time, I will run you up a special batch. Would you like to watch?”

Art and Faran went through to the workshop, leaving Amia to man the counter, and then sat and watched while Travold put this and that together, before putting it in the furnace. While they were waiting, Travold said, “You may not be famous, but I heard about you before Amia started telling me about you. If I mention your name to any of my customers or friends, they will always say nice things, at least if they have heard of you!” Art didn’t reply, but waited until the glass came out of the furnace. He then watched while Travold cleaned it up and worked it down to a crystal clear lump.

At last Art found his voice, “How long will it take to cool to where it can be touched?”

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“For a piece this size, only a few minutes.”

Faran said, “Amia must like you if she is telling her boss about you.”

Art coloured, then down played it, “It’s the excitement of seeing the Will in action. If anything remotely out of the ordinary happened in my village, we would be talking about it for days.”

“I don’t really think so,” Faran teased. “She likes you.” He paused. “A lot. It’s not the Will, it’s the way you act and think. Not many boys our age have your sort of maturity.”

“Three months ago I was just like all the other boys my age.”

Faran gave a smirk and observed, “That was three months ago. You have had a really tough time and have come through very well. Give yourself some credit.”

Before Art could think of a reply, Travold interrupted, “The glass is cool enough now. Let me get Amia to pack it up for you.”

“That’s alright.” Art walked over to the workbench. “May I just use it here? And can Amia come and watch? She must have been disappointed that she didn’t see the parrot being repaired.”

Travold called for another of the apprentices to spell Amia while Faran got out the metal and placed it beside the glass on a workbench. Art sat down to concentrate.

Amia came through and Faran held a finger to his lips and whispered to her, “Watch this!”

Art riffled through his experiences to find the best one to motivate his Will. He settled on the words that his first delirious patient had asked him after he had woken up, “How come I am still alive?” It was a strong and emotion laced memory. There was a muted ping and a crack, and there on the bench was a copy of the instrument he wanted. This was followed by a further series of similar noises until there were six sitting there. Art looked at the remaining metal and glass, and there was a final sound. Now there was a smaller version as well. He turned to Travold and said, “Thank you for the use of your work room.” He picked up the smallest replica and said, “I thought you might like this to display, for your time and help. How much does the Temple owe you for the glass?”

Travold drew Art aside. “You owe nothing, this little replica will bring us a goodly amount of business, and you helped Amia make a sale as well. Thanks for the show.”

As soon as it was obvious that they had finished, Amia came up and asked, “Master, can I please have a little time off. I want to thank Art properly for what he did for me.” She looked up at him doe-eyed.

Travold shook his head and gave a rueful smile, “Go on, but only take an hour.”

Leaving Faran to take the instruments back to the Temple, Art turned to Amia, “I don’t have too much time either.”

Amia took hold of Art’s arm. “Don’t worry. Any time I have with you is worthwhile.” She faced him. “Please don’t leave me as fast as you did last time.” She steered him out of the shop to a little cafe a couple of minutes away. She passed the outside tables, and took him to a small booth at the back.

A waitress appeared almost at once, “Amia!” She winked at Art. “You have a boyfriend!” She appraised Art carefully. “I suppose he’ll do. Now what do you want?”

“Deria, you could be a bit more enthusiastic. The first time I show up with {sho work rooa boy, and all you can say is, ‘He’ll do’!” Amia giggled. “Meet Art who is much more than pretty face. Art, this is my neighbor Deria. Please bring us two slices of that wonderful chocolate cake, with cream!”

Deria came back very quickly with the cake and sat down, “Art,” she asked, “What do you have besides your face that Amia likes?” Art went red.

“Art is a funny boy, he doesn’t like to brag. Let’s just say that he is a very good person, and he is special.”

There was a silence. “If Amia says you’re special, that’s good enough for me.”

Art could not really look away from either girl so he attacked his cake.

Deria placed her hand on Amia’s arm. “I’ll leave you alone.”

“Thank you so much for not telling her I had the Will. It must have been very tempting. I like some quiet now and then, and I don’t get much at the Temple. It is relaxing sitting here with you eating this delicious cake.” He gave her a smi
le and put his left hand on hers. Amia smiled back, and they finished their cakes one handed.

Walking Amia back to her shop, Art took her hand. “Thanks. That was fun, and I needed it. I hope we can do that again before Grammon gets back and I am transferred somewhere else. Pehaps you could visit the Temple?” Amia let go of his hand, but linked arms, and they walked back to the glassmaker’s together.