The Doormaster's Apprentice

  * * * * *

  Two days later Liam and Mica stood at the bottom of the stairs outside the potion room door. The Doormaster had already retired to his room after supper. It was Hodekin's night to keep watch over the master.

  Mica shifted his bulging knapsack to a more comfortable position.

  “Looks like you have quite a collection for Miraz. You're sure there's nothing magical in there?” Liam asked. “Nothing in your pockets?”

  Mica shook his head. “Just herbs. Where would I get anything magical?”

  “Good. We don't want any unpleasant surprises,” he said as he patted his own pockets. He pulled a silver mesh bag from a shelf and tucked it in his belt. Smiling at Mica he said, “Just in case you do find something magical you want to bring back.”

  Liam stepped through and held the door. Mica bent over and peered into the dusty gloom. “This place could use a good cleaning.” He stepped through the door and took in the cluttered shelves. “It must be a chore to find things.”

  “They do tend to move around some,” Liam said. Remembering how intimidating the room was the first time, he added, “But you get used to it.” His eyes moved to the sack where the ball of string he no longer needed was hidden. He smiled to himself and started down the aisles, slowing often to let Mica examine oddities along the way.

  Mica was so enthralled with the contents of the shelves he didn't notice when twice Liam made a wrong turn and had to backtrack. But soon he found his way to the baker's door. “Here we are,” Liam said. He turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door.

  An overwhelming smell of yeast and cinnamon brushed past his face. His stomach rumbled as he fondly remembered Drindle's wares. The smell led them up the darkened stairs to a silent dimly lit kitchen, still warm from the day's baking. Drindle had already closed up the shop and gone home for the evening. A baker's day started hours before sunrise.

  They made their way to the back of the baking room. On the kneading table sat a large basket covered with a checkered cloth. Liam lifted one corner and peeked inside. “Lucky for us. Drindle would never dream of selling day old pastries.”

  “Are you thinking about...”

  “We'd just be saving him the trouble of making peasant pudding from his old baked goods.”

  Mica pulled the cloth back further. The basket was full of sticky cinnamon rolls stuck together with gooey icing. “I never did like peasant pudding,” he said as he hooked a pair of rolls.

  Liam tried pulling out one, but the sticky icing stuck them together and he ended up with two. Replacing the cloth he pointed to the back wall where the castle door was located. Mica headed to the door. Liam's conscience got the better of him. Reaching into his pocket he tossed two coppers on the table, then hurried to catch up with Mica.

  Still munching the sticky treats, they stepped through the door into the castle. Being the end of the day, the hallway of doors was nearly deserted. The fire globes had been dimmed. Most of the merchants had delivered their goods and gone home.

  The boys made their way to the center lift room where all the hallways joined. There were still a few merchants milling around the large room. Near the end of the aisle, two guards stood talking.

  Mica bent and whispered in Liam's ear, “Is there another way?”

  Liam shook his head. “Just follow me,” he said, sounding braver than he felt.

  One of the guards glanced their way, but never paused in the story he was telling.

  Neither boy said anything until they were safely down the next tunnel. “That sweet face of yours is not much of a threat. Guess they don't know what a hero you are,” Mica said with a wink.

  Liam let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding and gave Mica a half-hearted punch in the arm. Halfway down the tunnel he stopped at the familiar door. He ran his palm over the wood. “Looks as good as the day we delivered it.”

  With a quick glance up and down the tunnel he opened the door and they slipped through. Mica pulled the door shut and darkness enveloped them. Neither moved while their eyes adjusted. The full moon cast long shadows across the meadow where they had camped.

  A path led from the door down towards the lake. The moonlight made following the path easy. It didn't take long to gather wood and start a fire, but the small branches burned quickly.

  “We're going to need more wood,” Mica said.

  Standing around the small fire in the dark put Liam on edge. The firelight made him feel exposed, but noises from the dark trees made him reluctant to tramp off in to the dark for more wood. He laid his hand on the hilt of the dagger that he had tucked into his sash. He wished he had brought the goblin sword, but he could never have explained a weapon of that kind to the guards at the castle.

  “Let's try near the lake,” Liam said. “The path will make it easier walking.”

  Mica gave him a nervous nod. He looked uncomfortable without his bow.

  Senses strained, they started down the path. An owl hooted from the trees and Liam flinched. His shoulder bumped into Mica. Embarrassed, he pretended to stumble.

  “Careful hero,” Mica said. “You're making me nervous.”

  The tension broke, and soon they were both laughing.

  The path opened onto a small moonlit beach. Tiny waves gently lapped at the sand. To their surprise a pile of firewood was neatly stacked near a ring of stone benches.

  Liam rushed ahead and snatched up an armload of wood.

  “Easy now,” Mica said. “The king might take offense if you steal his wood.”

  Liam looked around, but the beach was bare. “Well the king's not here to ask is he? Maybe he won't miss one or two logs.” He stacked a couple logs on the ashes from an old fire.

  “In for a copper, in for a crown I guess,” Mica said and headed back up the path.

  By the time Liam had the logs arranged, Mica was back with a smoldering branch. Soon a merry little fire crackled on the beach. Light from the flames pushed back the darkness except for a shadow near the water.

  “Oy, what's this?” Mica said as he walked down to the shore.

  Pulled up on the beach was a flat bottom boat, complete with oars and a small coil of robe.

  “You wouldn't think the king would use a boat this small,” Mica said.

  “Must have had to bring it through the door. Let's try it out. I've never been in a boat before.” Three Oaks Dale was a long way from any lakes. He'd seen the small canoes they used on the river, but the only boats Liam had ever seen were in books.

  Before Mica could answer, the sound of honking geese and a nearby splash drew their attention to the lake. The noise grew into a clamor as the six white geese pulled the little boat on shore. Just like before, it sprouted wheels and rolled up the beach stopping near the fire.

  Miraz stood up in the wagon and removed his ever present pipe from his mouth. With a swing of his arm he spewed embers in a fiery arc and called out, “A merry greeting to you on this splendid evening.”

  A grumble like the sound of stones crushing erupted from the pipe. “Waste of a good evening. What could they have to trade?”

  “Gather round boys. Pay no attention to Griswald. He's such a hot head. It's a rare treat and true delight to see you again. Is this a meeting of comrades or a fine mixture of business and pleasure?”

  “It's pleasure for me,” said Liam, “but Mica may be looking to make a trade.”

  The little man popped the pipe back into his mouth. Gripping the lapels of his jacket, he leaped from the wagon and landed with a thump in the sand. His eyes sparkled and a big grin flashed across his face. He pointed the pipe at Mica, yellow smoke cascading from the bowl.

  “Show me first your wares,” Griswald rumbled. His heavy brows furrowed, shading his glowing eyes.

  Miraz laughed. “Not too hasty my grumpy companion. Trading is like an intricate dance. We don't want to rush our steps.”

  With that he turned back to his wagon and unharnessed the geese. “Don't stray far my beauties,” h
e said to them as they waddled back down to the lake and lowered their feathery bodies into the water like old ladies settling into bed.

  Miraz pointed to the wagon where six iron rings swung from a chain. “Much easier to keep track of my flock thanks to your talents.” He then turned to Mica. “Now then. If memory serves, when last we met there was some discussion of... rare herbs?” He paused and studied Mica's pack with a knowing eye. With a wink he said, “Perhaps you have been successful?” Popping the pipe into his mouth he rubbed his hands together. “Would you care to reveal what you've found?”

  Mica opened his pack and began carefully laying plants on the stone bench, careful not to bruise the leaves or scatter the seeds.

  Miraz walked up to survey the herbs, but his nose was level with the bench. The boys exchanged awkward glances. Liam didn't know if he should offer to lift Miraz up on the bench or if they should move the herbs to the sand.

  Before he could make a suggestion, Miraz neatly solved the problem. Clenching the pipe in his teeth, he hitched up the cuffs of his short pants until his boney knees showed above his brightly striped socks. With a startling leap, he catapulted into the air twisting through a somersault. He landed lightly on the edge of the bench, finishing with a flourish of his hands.

  With an experienced eye he stepped carefully around the herbs. Pulling a petal, crushing a leaf, tasting and smelling, he examined each one. “Well done,” he said. “A good selection and you've done a reasonable job of preserving them. I can use them all.” He fixed Mica with a mischievous grin. “Would you prefer coin, or should we barter?”

  “I've not much use for coin,” Mica said.

  “Wonderful! I have much to offer. Where shall we begin?”

  Mica stammered something under his breath.

  Miraz leaned forward, cocking his head and placing a large hand behind his ear. “My pardon young sir, I didn't quite hear.”

  “Something pretty,” Mica said a little louder.

  Miraz stroked his chin and furrowed his brow in thought. “Pretty?” he said.

  “Perhaps a gift for an elf maid,” Liam offered.

  Miraz's face brightened and he winked at Mica. “Ah,” he said. “I understand. Let's see what we can find for your special elf.” He bounded over to the wagon and began rummaging through its many compartments.

  Miraz held up a necklace. “No, no,” grumbled Griswald. “Not that one. He said an elf princess.”

  “Yes, yes, you're right. This one lacks flash.” Digging further into the compartment his head completely disappeared. He burrowed deeper into the wagon until only the tips of his toes were touching the ground. With a muffled grunt he exclaimed, “Here it is.” With a wiggle and squirm he popped out of the wagon flourishing another necklace.

  Turning, he draped it across his forearm. With a wave of his fingers he drew their attention. “Now this,” he exclaimed extending his arm, “is a princely gift.”

  Mica leaned forward.

  “Made from the finest Lorinthian jade. Notice how the dark green shimmers and how the inset fire coral flickers even in moonlight.” Placing his fingers on the pendant he gently opened it. A wild spicy fragrance rose up filling Liam's senses with visions of tropical islands and sun warmed beaches.

  Mica threw his head back with a jerk. “Pretty, but not for Willow. She needs no such snare. This would only mock her charm.”

  Miraz raised his eyebrows. “More the beauty of nature than the glitter of the court?”

  Mica nodded.

  Miraz returned the necklace back to the wagon. Placing the pipe back in his mouth he paced back and forth. Plumes of smoke surrounded him. Liam could hear Miraz muttering to the pipe as he pondered his choices.

  “Something softer,” Griswald growled.

  Miraz snapped his fingers. “I've just the thing.” Laying the pipe on the wagon seat, he skipped around to the backside of the wagon.

  Liam looked questioningly at Mica. His friend just raised his hands and shrugged.

  In a minute Miraz was back balancing a basket in his arms. Weaving back and forth from the load he made his way up to them and set the basket down. It was woven from soft river reeds and lined with pink satin.

  “Behold. A gift from the water nymphs of the Golden Falls.” More gentle than his big hands would suggest possible, he folded back the pink satin.

  The two boys leaned forward and peered into the basket. Inside, shimmered a pool of deep blue.

  Liam turned to Mica. “A basket of water?”

  Mica gave Miraz a questioning look. The little man's face broke into a big grin. He dipped the fingers of both hands into the basket. Slowly he raised his hands. A river of blue flowed from his hands back into the basket.

  Mica's voice was soft with wonder. “It's cloth.”

  Liam looked closer at the glistening blue that seemed to pour from Miraz's fingers and gasped. “It is cloth.”

  Miraz's laughter rang out. “Indeed. But cloth is too harsh a word for such a delicate weave. Only a water nymph has the skill to spin such as this.”

  Slowly he pulled the fabric past his fingers. It rippled through his hands like river water tumbling over stones, bubbling and churning at each fold and crease.

  Mica stretched out a hand toward the cloth.

  “You may touch it of course. But its beauty is easily bruised.”

  Mica sighed and dropped his hand. “It is beautiful, but would not serve Willow well in the wood.”

  Liam cleared his throat. “Would you have anything like the shells you traded me?”

  Miraz tucked the cloth back into the basket and covered it. “Shells, you say. Hmmm.” Carrying the basket he staggered back around the wagon. In a moment he returned. Still muttering he picked up the pipe. “What do I have like shells?” Clamping the pipe in his teeth he puffed vigorously.

  Thick yellow smoke billowed out of the pipe in long streams like flowing hair. Its eyes glowed and its nose twitched as it woke up. “Elves have little use for shells, but they are fond of all things ancient,” he growled.

  Liam watched in amazement as the cheeks on the pipe first expanded and then expelled a puff of smoke. The smoke hovered in the air forming a wide hazy ring.

  Miraz took the pipe from his mouth and stretched up on his toes to examine the ring. “Right you are old friend. Excellent choice.”

  Spinning on his heel he darted back to the wagon, flung open the doors and disappeared inside.

  Liam looked at Mica. “What?...”

  Mica bent forward and slipped his hand through the fading ring of smoke and shrugged.

  With a bang the wagon doors burst open. Miraz tumbled out dragging a silver box. He dropped it on the ground at his feet. Jumping back with a short hop, he whisked off his hat and flourished it over the box.

  “Step closer, and behold a wonder from the depths of time.”

  The boys' curiosity drew them in. A pattern was inlaid into the lid, but tarnish and scratches now marred the design. Liam looked closer and could see that it was a crest. A single rose entwined a two handed sword. The workmanship was intricate, but he feared it was too worn to be a suitable gift.

  Miraz touched a hidden latch and the cover slowly lifted. The interior had been carved from a single piece of ebony. Two short posts rose from the floor of the box, each encircled by a silver bracelet.

  Miraz reached in with both hands and lifted one of the bracelets. Offering it to Mica he winked at Liam and said, “Not a shell, but similar.”

  Mica took the bracelet from Miraz, glancing sideways at Liam and rolled his eyes. Liam grinned back at him. Leaning over his shoulder he pretended to look at the bracelet. “Maybe it has hidden qualities.”

  “Really hidden,” Mica answered with a frown.

  “How perceptive, young masters,” Miraz said bowing with a sweep of his hat. “Few have grasped its illusive secrets so quickly.”

  Mica held up the bracelet for Liam to examine.

  Liam shrugged. “They are hard to see,??
? he said scratching his head. Streaks of tarnish marred the surface. The wide silver bracelet was unadorned except for a raised oval in the center engraved with the same rose as in the crest.

  Mica rubbed his thumb over the rose. With a soft click the oval slid back disappearing into the bracelet revealing a small mirror.

  “Eh, what's this?” Mica said peering into the mirror. He rotated it back and forth trying to catch the light. “Odd. It's bright...but there's no reflection.”

  Chuckling Miraz pulled out the second bracelet. Although it was larger, it was just as tarnished. Still chuckling to himself he handed it to Liam.

  Liam turned to Mica and said, “This one is engraved with the sword.” He brushed his thumb over the sword and the oval swept back into the bracelet. “This one works. But, hey! It's reflecting you instead of me.” He looked at Mica in confusion.

  Mica laughed out loud and turned his bracelet toward Liam. “Now you're reflected in both of them.”

  Miraz clapped his hands and spun around in a small circle kicking up his heels.

  “They're linked,” Liam said starting to laugh. “The mirrors are linked and the apprentice was the last to understand.”

  “The sword for you and the rose for your lady fair,” Miraz said. “The link is strong and will serve as a bridge when you're far from your lady.”

  Mica looked thoughtful and nodded. “Still a bit tarnished for a gift.”

  “Ah, the tarnish.” He stroked his chin. “These bracelets have a history. Their story is not mine to tell. But the tale can be seen written in the small scuffs and concealed within the tarnish.”

  “I can see they're old,” Mica said. He sat cross-legged in front of the little man so they were eye to eye. “That should make them less dear.”

  “Old? I should say they are. Some might say ancient. A legacy from ages past.”

  Liam smiled as he watched them barter. It took the two of them a while, but an agreement was struck. In celebration, Miraz again brought out the thimble sized glasses. After the bargain was toasted, the little man retrieved his pipe and threw a salute to the boys.

  “A merchant must rise early. I must leave your cheery little fire and head home to bed.” Still holding the pipe he walked back to his wagon and gave a shrill whistle. A cacophony of honking erupted from the lake. The geese left the water and waddled up the bank complaining amongst themselves like a group of old ladies. He quickly harnessed them to the wagon.

  With one long last look at the fire he said, “Always liked a cheery little fire. Not like that bonfire they built on the other side of the lake.” He leapt onto the wagon and whistled to his geese. They trotted down the bank picking up speed. With whistles, honking, and flapping of wings, the geese and wagon rose into the air and soared away over the lake.

  The boys sat by the fire in silence. The night seemed darker without Miraz. Mica turned to Liam. “I wonder if that oversized door I found on the other side of the lake has anything to do with the oversized fire.”

  Liam sat up straighter his thoughts whirling as he thought about the boat. Trying to sound nonchalant he said, “You know, we could borrow the king's boat and find out.”

  “If you don't use that head of yours, the king may remove it and you won't have a place to put your hat.”

  Liam cocked his head to the side. “We've already borrowed his wood. In for a copper, in for a crown?”

  Mica gave a shrug but didn’t look convinced. Liam took that for yes, and dashed down to the water. He stepped over the transom of the boat. It rocked and swayed as he wobbled his way to the middle. His foot slipped and he sat down hard sending ripples splashing on the shore.

  “Careful how you sit hero. Leave some water in the lake.” He slid the box with the bracelets under a bush. “These will be safer here on shore.” He untied the boat and pushed off, nimbly springing into the back. The boat slipped quietly onto the lake. He pointed. “We'll get there a lot faster if you use the oars.”

  With much splashing and banging Liam managed to get the oars into the water. At first he just paddled in circles, but with Mica giving amused advice, Liam finally got the hang of it. Rowing started out as fun, but by the time he got to the middle of the lake his arms were feeling the strain. A light breeze pushed against the bow. It cooled the back of his neck but made it harder to row.

  “No need for you to do all the work hero,” Mica said. “Time for me to take a turn.”

  Liam didn't want to admit it, but he was more than happy to turn over the oars. Mica managed to keep the boat steady while they changed places.

  Liam stretched his sore muscles and leaned back. Looking up he watched the clouds scuttle across the sky, hiding the moon and erasing the moonlight from the water. Darkness closed over them and dampness settled onto the boat.

  With Mica rowing, the only sound was a soft muffled swish as he dipped the oars in the water. The quiet was so complete they instinctively lowered their voices. “Don't fall asleep.” Mica said. “Keep an eye out for the shore.”

  Liam sat up straighter and strained his eyes searching the darkness for a hint of the shoreline. He would never admit it, but the dark water made him uneasy. A shiver ran up his spine and he was glad the darkness hid it from Mica.

  Ahead and slightly to the left he saw a faint glow. He watched it for a couple minutes as it brightened. “I think I see the fire.”

  Mica glanced over his shoulder and made a slight correction. The bow swung around to align with the fire. Lowering his voice to a bare whisper he said, “Sound travels over the water. Try not to announce our arrival.”

  Liam sat quietly as Mica maneuvered the boat. With a gentle scrape it slipped onto the shore. With only a faint bump, he set the oars inside the boat. Ahead of them was a long steep grassy bank. At the crest an immense log fire filled the air with flames and sparks. Drum beats echoed from the top of the hill. Mica was just a shadow as he slipped over the bow onto the shore. Liam was not as graceful, but he managed to get out without much noise.

  Mica wrapped the bow line around a tree root. Motioning for Liam to follow, he climbed up the bank. With heart hammering Liam scrambled up after him wondering what they would find. Visions flashed through his mind of the king having a feast, or a merry group of elves celebrating the full moon. A fire that big had to be something festive.

  As he topped the hill, Mica grabbed his arm and roughly pulled him down behind a large fallen tree. His shoulder scraped across the rough bark and he landed on a root. An angry response formed in his mind, but one glimpse of Mica's face and the protest died in his throat.

  Carefully he raised his head and peered over the log. Cold fear gripped him by the throat. It wasn't a party of elves. Far from it. Trolls stomped around in a loose circle, roughly slamming each other about while a smaller troll beat an empty cask like a drum.

  They drank from crude wooden bowls, pouring the liquid past their curved yellow tusks into their mouths and spilling it down their great hairy chests. Roars of laugher erupted whenever one lost their footing and was knocked to the ground amid jeers and kicks.

  The wind shifted carrying the acrid smell of sour mash mixed with the sulfury stench of trolls. Liam's stomach lurched. Mica touched his shoulder and pointed to the left. To his horror, Liam saw a group of goblins perched on rocks and stumps. A few slumped on the ground while others pointed and laughed at the trolls.

  “Even drunk the nasty little beasts are smart enough keep their distance from the trolls when they're dancing,” Mica said.

  Liam ducked back down behind the log. “I've seen more than enough. We need to get out of here.”

  Mica nodded.

  Liam started to crawl back the way he came. A donkey brayed. He could hear the terror in the animal's cry. Mica pulled him back. Together they looked over the log.

  On the other side of the fire, figures moved around a cart. Liam couldn't see any features but they were too small to be trolls and stood too straight and tall to be goblins. They had to be men. r />
  From behind the cart came four goblins tugging on a donkey's lead rope. Two others pushed and swatted at its flanks with switches. The goblins were winning, but the little donkey let fly with its back hooves sending one of the goblins tumbling. The others peeled with laugher and continued to drag the donkey around the fire.

  Liam realized they were coming straight toward their hiding place. He jerked Mica down. They could hear the goblins cursing at each other and the animal.

  “You’re a worthless piece of meat,” slurred one.

  “I'll be gnawing on your hooves in another hour.”

  “Let's slit its throat and be done with it.”

  “Not with that sword, ya gob. It'll poison the meat. Tie him to the tree. We'll roast him later.”

  The donkey's braying sounded like it was right on top of them. Liam pushed himself tighter to the log wishing he could disappear. Just the other side of the log the goblins struggled with the poor animal. The donkey’s stomping and braying continued to mix with the goblin’s yowling and swearing. Eventually the drunken pack managed to tie the donkey to the tree. The muttering and cursing died down as the goblins stumbled back to the fire.

  When the boys peeked over the log they could see the donkey tied at the edge of the clearing. It had put up a good fight, but now it stood trembling with head down.

  “Did you see the men by the cart?” Liam asked. “Trolls, goblins, and men? What could it mean?”

  “And magic weapons,” Mica said. “Maybe the weapons came in the cart.”

  “What kind of man would give magic weapons to goblins and trolls?”

  “Same kind of slime that would feed them donkeys and sour ale.”

  “Right. Let's get out of here while we still can.”

  “You get the boat ready. I'll join you in a minute. This is one donkey those drunken little swine aren't going to eat.”

  Before Liam could stop him, Mica slipped over the log and into the shadows. Liam knew he should go to the boat but he couldn't turn away. Mica was somewhere in the darkness, but he couldn't see any hint of where. Then he saw the donkey's rope move. The animal shied and jerked its head, dragging Mica into the light.

  From across the fire came a shout. A tall black robed figure gestured from the wagon. “Stop that intruder,” he bellowed.

  Fear and anger surged through Liam as he recognized the black wizard who had attacked his master in the spell room. Jumping up, Liam yelled, “Run, Mica!”

  In muddled confusion, several of the drunken goblins turned their heads toward him. The drum continued. The trolls still danced. Mica clung to the terrified donkey's rope trying to lead it to safety. Liam was frantic. “Mica! Get out of there!”

  The black wizard shouted, “To your feet you drunken fools. They have seen your weapons. They must be killed.”

  A goblin howled and jumped to his feet. Mica grabbed the donkey's halter and turned its head toward the woods. He whooped and slapped it hard on the rump. The goblin threw his wooden bowl at Mica grazing his head. The donkey bolted dragging Mica in to the woods.

  Liam crashed through the woods after them. He reached them just as Mica managed to let go of the halter and slump to the ground. Liam grabbed his arm, threw it around his shoulder, and dragged him to his feet.

  “Mica! Come on. We have to get to the boat.”

  Together they stumbled down the hill to the water, Liam half carrying Mica. He dropped him into the boat, and tugged the rope loose. The water lapped at his knees as he gave the boat a shove and waded in after it. He jumped over the transom and flopped on the seat. Frantically he grabbed the oars and pulled with all his might. The howls of rage from the woods were terrifying. He floundered with the oars trying to put distance between the boat and the shore.

  In the front of the boat, Mica groaned. “Easy hero, just relax and pull steady. If we don't make any noise, they won't know to look on the lake.”

  Liam took a deep breath and forced himself to concentrate on each stroke. The oars slipped smoothly through the water. The sounds from the shore faded as they slid quietly across the dark lake.

  Once they were far enough away that Liam could no longer see the fire, he stopped rowing to check on Mica. The older boy slumped in the front of the boat. Liam gently shook his shoulder, but there was no response. He touched his head. His fingers came away sticky and wet. Without a light, Liam couldn't tell how bad the wound was. Sick with doubt and worry, he went back to rowing. He had to get Mica help.

  Minutes seemed like hours before Liam spotted a dim spark of light. His arms felt like lead. Sharp pains radiated from his neck every time he glanced over his shoulder, but he had to keep the boat's bow in line with the fire.

  Slowly the shoreline began to take shape giving him new strength. Liam leaned into the oars and the boat picked up speed. The water got shallow quicker than he expected. His left oar hit the bottom and was jerked from his grasp. The boat skewed sideways, running up on the shore with loud scraping. It jolted to a sharp stop. Liam grabbed the gunnel to keep from being thrown out.

  Mica groaned. “That's going to leave a mark on the king's boat.”

  Mica's voice sounded so good to Liam that he didn't mind the sarcasm. Liam was smiling as he rolled out of the boat onto the shore. Struggling to keep his footing in the wet grass, he grabbed the gunnel with both hands and heaved. The boat lurched up and his feet flew out from under him. With a splash he landed half in the wet grass and half in the water.

  Mica managed to sit up. Holding his head with one hand he gripped the side of the boat and looked down at Liam. “Good thing you're apprenticed to the Doormaster. Your sailor skills need more work.” He crawled out of the boat holding his head. He looked back at Liam. “Come on hero. Get up. Let's go home.”

  Liam splashed out of the water and secured the boat. He looked down at the mess he had made of the knot. Mica was right he thought, as he wiped his hands on his robe. The sailor’s guild will have to do without me.

  He hurried back to the fire. It was mostly coals, but he stirred it back to life. Looking around for Mica, he saw him on his knees fumbling under the bush.

  “Let me help you with that,” Liam said, pulling the bracelet box out of hiding. Tucking the box under one arm he led Mica back to the fire. “Come over here and let's see how bad you're hurt.”

  Reluctantly Mica sat down and let Liam examine the wound. Above his left eyebrow near the hairline was a jagged cut. “The bleeding has stopped but you look a mess. Should I try to bandage it?”

  “With what? No, I think I've had enough adventure. Let's go home.”

  Liam half heartedly kicked some dirt over the fire with his wet boot. Tucking the box under his arm he followed Mica back to the door. His soggy boots squished with every step.

  The trip back was long but uneventful. The boys slipped through the castle without alerting the sleepy guards. They made it through the bakery before Drindle got up to start his baking. The hardest part was stumbling through the gloomy potion room. By the time they reached the old worn out door, both boys were exhausted.

  Quietly they slipped into Liam's room. There Liam washed the wound and wrapped it in a clean bandage. It didn't take much argument to convince Mica to lie down on the bed. Liam made himself a place on the rug. The last thing he saw as he blew out the candle was Mica pulling the bracelet box tight against his chest.