The Doormaster's Apprentice

Chapter 8

  When Liam got back to the spell room he saw his master arranging various items on the workbench.

  “Ah, there you are lad. Just in time.” He waved his arm at the overflowing shelf. “We've had quite a few requests this morning.” He picked up two baskets tied together with a ribbon. “Start with these. They are for Farmer Tomkins’s wife. She's getting older now and can't lift as much as she used to. These baskets will ease her burden. She can easily carry this small basket and whatever she puts in it will fill the large basket.

  “Oh, and Solicitor Quigley has asked for a pair of linked message boxes. I think this pair should be up to his standards.”

  Liam opened one of the finely crafted wooden boxes. The inside was lined with deep blue silk. He closed the box and set it back on the shelf. A small sigh escaped his lips as he stared at the stack of work before him.

  The Doormaster patted him on the back and said, “See what you can get done today. Take your time and make sure the links are strong. We have the rest of the week to finish them.” With that the Doormaster made his way up the stairs.

  Liam noticed that he was only limping slightly. Thankful that his master had not taken deeper injury in the battle, Liam smiled and turned to the work at hand.

  Setting a small copper cauldron on the heating stone he added lilac oil and magnolia petals as a base. That would give the basket a nice scent. Smiling to himself, he threw in a couple extra petals for good measure and let the mixture simmer.

  Taking an old, well-worn mortar and pestle, he added a few river reeds and a wisteria vine. As he ground them into a paste, the smell of wisteria grew stronger. His mind wandered back to the castle balcony. Holding Belinda. Looking down through the vines at Alabaster in the courtyard.

  He took a deep breath. A caustic smell assaulted his nose. Spinning around he looked in despair at the cauldron. The mixture had cooked into a thick tar, which oozed over the edge. Black smoke curled up from the heating stone.

  Jerking the cauldron off the stone he cried out in pain as the handle burned his fingers. The cauldron fell with a ringing clatter, spilling the nasty mixture across the stone floor and splattering his robe.

  He grabbed a rag and started scrubbing at the sticky mess on the floor. The stone floor bruised his knees and the rag irritated his burnt fingers. He was in a foul mood by the time he got the mess cleaned up and was ready to begin again. Turning to his spell book he sighed with exasperation. The page was ruined. Black tarry spots obliterated the wording. He would have to recopy the page from his master's book. With a curse he threw the rag into the fire pit and the flames shot up around it.

  He turned back to the shelf. A ray of sunlight angled down over the bench still filled with projects. Specks of dust danced lazily in the smoky sunbeam. He looked up. A patch of clear blue sky filled a small window.

  His head began to ache. The dark spell room closed in around him. He needed fresh air and a fresh start. The page would need to be copied, but that could wait. His decision made, he headed for the stairs.

  He was already out the door and through the back gate before he realized he was headed for the river. The sun warmed his back and his shadow led the way. He was almost to his favorite spot on the bank when a flash on the water and a splash caught his attention. He turned in time to see Mica pull in a nice sized fish.

  “I see I'm not the only slacker,” Liam called.

  Mica leaned over and grasped the slippery fish. “Not slacking. I'm working on catching dinner.”

  With a deft movement he slipped the fish off the hook and onto the string that already held several others.

  “If my luck holds I'll sell what I can't eat to the butcher.”

  “And here I thought you were just enjoying the fine day. I hope your efforts are for a good purpose.”

  “Aye. I do have a plan for the coin.”

  Liam waited for Mica to explain, but he should have known his friend better. Finally he had to ask, “And how do you plan on spending your riches?”

  Mica hesitated and cast his eyes back to the river. “I've been collecting herbs for Miraz, but I need a little traveling money.”

  “Miraz? That funny little man with the talking pipe?”

  Mica nodded. “Aye. That's the one.” A flush spread up his neck and he said, “It might be that he would have a gift that would please a lady. Something she would think was special.”

  “Oh,” Liam said.

  “Miraz said he stops at Yellow Finger Lake every full moon. I could catch him there if I leave tomorrow.”

  Liam's mind raced ahead remembering the perils they went through on the trip to install the king's door. “This is not a journey you should take alone.”

  Mica shrugged. “The Doormaster's not likely to give up his apprentice for six days and it wouldn't be much of a surprise if I traveled with Willow.”

  Liam thought hard, then smiled. “What if it didn't take six days? What if we could do it in one night?”

  Mica frowned. “Seems like your master wouldn't look kindly on us using his secret door.”

  Liam shook his head. “No, of course not. That's not what I was thinking.”

  Mica gave him a questioning look. “Then what?”

  “We go through the potion room, to the baker, to the castle, through the king's door to the lake. If we leave after supper, we could still be there before the night grows old.”