Book I - The Magician's Boy (Chapter 3)

The day dragged like a turtle on its back, and the sack in Erich’s hands grew heavier by the minute. He’d never seen his master command so many at once, a crowd grew roiling, newcomers filling in the back as those who’d been satisfied sidled forward, extending their money-filled hands. It was hard to concentrate, even though his job was simple. He found himself thinking about the only thing he could; the woman who had spoken to him through the tent the night before. The more he thought about it, the more his stomach tingled. It was a fighting mixture of fear and excitement, and he knew that if he was lucky, he’d get to see the fruition of his feelings. Come to see what more you could have, the woman had said, and Erich agonized over this part of her short speech more than he’d worried any piece of tough beastmeat he’d been fed since his teeth grew in sharp. What more could I have? Surely freedom, that was the most likely possibility. To be in the grips of his slavemaster no more, and to live as his own man, that was something he hoped for, wished for, during the cold dark nights which he’d spend exploring if he could. What else could she possibly have meant. Power? Magic? He desired neither, and if her offer was one of these he would not take it but to gain his own freedom. Power turns kings into monsters, blinding them morally and subjecting others to their dangerous whims. Magic turns men greedy, lusting for money they’ll obtain and use without charity. And yet, for freedom… He would be willing to play the woman’s game. And if she was bluffing, as the tradesmen did in town beeries as they played game after game of King’s Left Hand? Erich hadn’t seen her face, watched her eyes to see if they’d slant, but he knew she’d said truth. To bluff, what would be the object? Kidnap him from a man he did not truly hate but yearned to abandon? It made no sense. Who would steal a slave boy? There could be no ransom, only retribution, swift and deadly. Krutt’s retribution. He had decided he would see the lady, and he would. The only matter that remained was the question of how.

What finally triggered the idea in his head was the messenger boy, the one ducking from stall to stall speaking to each merchant in turn, telling them that the King had heard of their wares and would like a personal demonstration. It was an honor, in Hatha, to sell to the King, and those who were offered the chance hitched up their carts and began walking toward the castle gates as soon as they heard. If Erich could get Krutt to believe he’d been chosen to perform for the King, he’d walk with his master to the castle gates, and therefore abandon any plan that involved a temporary escape from his master.

Soon the magician broke for supper, as the sun dipped under the clouds for the first time since that morning. Still, the dark orange ball hovered well above the highest room of the castle, and that meant he still had time. However, his opportunity was becoming smaller. He would have to be perfect. He swung the bag between his legs as he moved to sit down opposite Krutt, and feasted his eyes on the offerings the two would share for the night. Most of it the magician would share with himself, and when he was satisfied he would push the remains over to Erich. It was ritual, and the boy soon became familiar with the slight gnawing in his gut. It had never been unbearable, for the magician was not truly a cruel man. Tonight’s meal was a bird, fat for its size and yet it was no turkey. Erich erected the spit quickly, his hands sure and deft. The fire was soon lit and the bird turned over the flames and its skin seared and blackened. Krutt had not yet asked for the bag of money, and as the man touched the tender bird’s flesh and then licked his fingers, Erich deliberately swung left his arm down between his legs, while resting his chin on his other. He played his fingertips over the bag’s opening, and before Krutt looked at him again Erich had a gold coin in his palm. His heart was beating fast, and yet he’d not been caught. So far, so good.

Now he only had to wait for the messenger boy. If the King was exhausted for the night, and the messenger boy’s job was done, Erich would have to think of another way to sneak off. But no, as the slave boy looked down the Road away from the castle he saw the blond-haired page boy talking to a man with a small stall that sold sausages. The King is hungry tonight, Erich thought, hungry for sausages. And maybe it was true. For his part, though, it didn’t much matter. The page boy would be coming back this way, and Erich would be ready.

The sausage man shook the boy’s hand and here he came, walking up the road with longer strides than most adults managed. His legs were long, for his job, as he was most likely the fastest runner in the Hatha. When horses are scarce, and messages need to be relayed, long legs run them where they need to be.

Erich caught Krutt’s eye.

“I have to drop a piss.”

Krutt’s eyes narrowed for a moment, and Erich wondered if his voice had sounded odd in any way. He played it back in his mind and came to the conclusion that if Krutt was truly suspicious it could not be helped; Erich’s words had been as natural and calm as they’d always been.

“Where do you plan to do that?”

“Same place. Alley across the Road.” The boy pointed. They’d both emptied their bladders against the walls in that alley, and he’d seen more than enough other people do the same to know that’s what it was used for. If it suited him, he might feel bad for the cobbler whose cart was set up right in front of it, but it didn’t so he didn’t bother.

If Krutt sensed his anxiety he made no sign.

“All right. Get on with you, but stay in the open where I can see. Remember what we talked about before we showed up here.”

“Yes, master.”

The boy stood up and began to walk across the road. He had timed it perfectly. He would intercept the page boy in the center of the Road. The crowd was heavy, and he took his time, speeding up and slowing down as it would serve him to reach the page boy at the right time. And right as he would have passed in front of him, Erich tripped on a rock and tumbled hard to the ground. It could not have gone better. The page boy’s boot sank into his side and then he was falling too. Erich was up on his elbows as quick as he could manage it, and his quarry was still trying to catch his balance. Erich pushed himself to his knees and shot out a hand to steady the boy he’d tripped so carefully.

In the next movement he took his palmed coin and pressed it into the page boy’s hand.

“So sorry, sir. I must have tripped on a rock.” The page boy looked down at Erich, face filled with thanks for catching him. Then he saw the brand on the boy’s face, and the coin in his own hand, and he raised an eyebrow. He understands.

“The magician, behind me. Krutt. I need you to tell him he’s been chosen to perform for the King.” Erich’s calmness surprised him, and he spoke from the side of his mouth. Krutt was no doubt watching him at this moment, and when the page boy looked up at him he would think it was because of the recognized brand on his slave’s face.

“I can’t…His Majesty King Regyold has not-”

“I do not care if he is let in at the gate, they can tell him it’s been a mistake. All I need is for him to believe it. Or I can take your payment back. Your choice.”

He’d chosen correctly; the messenger was all too keen on keeping the gold piece in his hand.

“He won’t know it was you,” the blond boy said with a slim smile.

“Thank you, sir.”

The page boy was off up the Road again, striding a pace that only a trotting horse could keep up with. He’d be back in a moment to do his job. Meanwhile, Erich really did have to drop a piss. He nodded at the cobbler as he sauntered past, and made his way into the alley.