The Dragons Of Arbor
Chapter 1: The Tree on the Hill

Copyright© 2007 by Sea-Life

Obsidian watched the small coastal settlement growing larger off the port bow. Soon they would tack hard to starboard, let the prevailing wind catch them and push them back towards the stone jetty that thrust out into the bay. They would luff the sails and let momentum move them gently to their final position, nestled up against the dock. That was what would happen next according to the description that Chimer Vanoc, first mate of the Eastern Pearl had given him. So far it had proved to be an accurate one.

There were at least eight wizards aboard the Eastern Pearl. Normally, Chimer said, so many wizards would have a ship's crew feeling nervous and jumpy, but this ship ran the route to Silecia frequently, and so the men were used to a larger number of wizards than normal.

Silecia was special to the Wizards of Arbor. It was where the Crownwood grew. The Corogato Forest covered the northern, mountainous half of the island, and it was treated as a reserve by the Wizard's Guild. The Coro River ran out of the forested mountains of the north and through the barren southern region, carving a canyon out of the scrub covered rock before it emptied itself into the Summer Sea. Here where this small town grew out of the sea was where the canyon walls met the waters of the Summer Sea.

Chimer Vanoc had saved him from two days of queasy boredom. Thank the Spirits for someone with a connection to home! In fact Chimer had just about worn him out with questions about his parents and the people at and around the Red Flag Inn. In turn, he got to hear about the dozen years that Chimer had spent in the company of the Shavrom family, both in Beletara and working at sea.

Apart from his time with Chimer, there was little here that appealed to him. There were a few boys his age aboard. In fact, at the age of twelve, he was actually older than some of the younger boys who worked on the Pearl, as the crew called her. As a ward of the Wizard's Guild, and the son of the High Wizard, He was regarded with some suspicion and jealousy by them. He soon learned there was no profit in trying to be friendly. He saved his social efforts for Chimer and the escort who had accompanied him, a wizard named Glassgyre.

"The Headmasterr will be waiting for you at the dock, young sir. You should gather your things from the cabin. It would not do to keep him waiting on your first day."

"True enough." Obsidian sighed, turning from the sights in front of him. "Thank you sir."

"Of course my boy, of course!" Glassgyre was something of a blowhard. Everyone aboard seemed to think so, but he was conscientious and good humored enough, so no one seemed to get annoyed. It helped that he stayed in the cabin with Obsidian most of the time. That helped everyone but Obsidian of course. The open ocean made Obsidian queasy. Not seasick, but, perhaps as a reflection of the Magic that had manifested with his Transformation, he found not having the earth underfoot left him feeling uneasy. Glassgyre's constant bluster didn't help, but at least it was a different pain, one he could focus on when he needed to get away from the other.

He had few possessions to gather. A saddle bag with a few personal things, his Moonstone staff, his bow, a dozen bowstrings and two dozen arrows all safely tucked in a waterproof travel quiver. The saddle bag went over one shoulder and the quiver over the other. A season's worth of clothes were in a trunk that Glassgyre took one end of and Obsidian the other. Their cabin was on the foredeck, in it really, half below the top deck and half above. A short flight of narrow steps led directly into the room, with the door at the top of the steps. He wasn't large for his age. He wasn't small either, but Obsidian was wiry and thin, like his father, and the trunk was not light. The two of them struggled to get the trunk up and on the deck.

"Here!" Came a shout as they came through the doorway. "Let some men take that!" It was Hark, the purser. "Wot! Nib! Grab that trunk and get it in the next load going ashore!"

Hark the purser was Hark the loud, Hollering Hark, Hark-a-Roaring. Glassgyre seemed mute in comparison to the purser, and here on deck with piles of people's possessions scattered here and there, waiting to be offloaded, he was in his element.

"Slow down!" He yelled as soon as the pair of deckhands had turned with his trunk in hand. "You'll be treating these things gently or I'll have your hide!"

This left us nothing to do but make our way down the gangway to the dock. The dock itself was a massive wooden structure of tarred timbers and planks that floated beside and slightly below the stone jetty.

A short, nervous looking man stood on the dock, his arms behind his back, one hand holding a short wooden baton. Two large, bored looking men stood behind him. The swords at their hips and the leathers they wore told me these men were soldiers. The way they wore them reminded me of the men and women of the guard. There was a relaxed competence behind their disinterested demeanor that he had seen before.

Obsidian thought the two were as alike as you could ever imagine two men so obviously not related to each other could be, both were built like Trough Farelly, owner of the Red Flag Inn. Tall, wide and as round and sturdy as the leg of an Elkaphant. The nearer of the two had pale white skin and red hair, done up in a long braid. The furthest warrior had skin as dark and rich as the finest Cintosara, but he too had a long braid of hair hanging down his back.

As Obsidian and Glassgyre approached the trio, the short man brought his baton to the front, tapping it into his palm,

"You're late!" He said coldly.

"Yes sir." Obsidian said.

"Not in the least my good man, in fact we are three days early. We were lucky and caught a caravan out of Split Tree that saved us quite a bit of time. And the mutton stew their cook made! AH, it was a miracle all the way a round sir! Late? I think not!" Glassgyre let this all out in his usual blustery, breathless high volume. I saw the man in front of me close his eyes briefly. When he opened them again they were focused on me, as if Glassgyre didn't exist. Still, with me in his focus, he spoke to the wizard.

"My name is Feldspar Kleidex, I am the headmaster of the school here, and I am telling this student that he is two weeks late for the beginning of the school year. Do you dispute my statement?"

"Ah. Well, no of course not. I am the wizard Glassgyre, at your service sir."

"Obsidian McKesson?" Headmaster Feldspar asked, turning to me.

"Yes sir." I answered.

"These two gentlemen are going to escort you to the academy. They shall do so at a run, and there will be no stopping to take in the sights."

"Yes sir." I answered.

"Your trunk will be brought to your quarters. Dismissed." The headmaster's eyes left me then in such a way as told me no response was expected. I turned to the two large soldiers.

The redhead turned and began jogging at slow pace up the dock towards the shore.

"Follow him. I will bring up the rear." The second soldier said.

The pace was not going to be a problem if we held to it, and it gave me plenty of occasion to look around as we ran. The town of Heartwood was the only one on the island. The buildings were mostly one or two story structures of wood and stone, with rooftops covered in bright blue tiles. The town itself was split in two by the Coro River. It did not spread out into a wide delta before it hit the sea as some rivers did, instead it spit out from between the canyon behind it and ran through a narrow stone channel to the sea, spreading only slightly when it hit the gravel beach at the shore's edge.

We ran across the bridge and up a winding cobblestone street, topping a small hill. There was more of Heartwood spread out before us, and now I could see what had only been a hint of lines and color from the sea. The Academy occupied a fracture ridge in the canyon cliff, a v-shaped notch several hundred feet above the ground.

We followed the winding cobblestones until they began to turn steep, narrowing and shifting from the lighter, white cobblestones that had dominated the streets to a dark, slate gray paving stone. We ran up the winding, dark road until suddenly we arrived at a massive iron gate set between two stone pillars. Ancient looking, ugly gargoyles had been carved into their tops. My escorts stopped us there.

"Listen well youngster. Inside that gate you are to address us as 'sir' or as 'instructor' I am instructor Belim and this is instructor Attar. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir." I answered.

"Very well, once inside the gate we will move at a run to the barracks. You will see fellow students in various places. Now is not the time to be getting distracted."

Run we did. Through the open gate, up a short road that broke out into a wide open space on which dozens of people were engaged in various activities. I kept my eyes to myself, and our exposure to it was brief, but I saw young boys and girls my age and older before we were upon another path between two buildings and out of sight again. I saw another group of bodies, two quickly to tell much, in a courtyard as we ran past it.

"Stairs!" Instructor Belim called out, just in time for me to adjust my stride as we hit a narrow stairway that seemed to run up the side of a building for many stories. At the top, walkways ran to the left and right, and another ran straight ahead and into the canyon wall. We went to the left, following the walkway a couple hundred yards before we hit a large recess. Our run came to an end finally, and we were at a door.

"This is the unsorted barracks." Instructor Attar said in his cool, clipped tones. "This is where you live until it has been decided where to place you."

Inside the door was a long room that ran into the depths of the canyon wall. The row of windows by the entrance didn't cast their light far, and a row of glow stones in the ceiling gave a decent amount of light further into the room. At least half the cots were bare, with neither blanket or pillow on them, only the thinly padded mattress, suspended on its leather straps. I threw my bag on a cot that sat against the back wall. I pulled the quiver off my shoulder and dropped it on the cot as well. My staff came next and I laid it carefully on top of everything else. I let my hand brush against the stone floor as I did, drinking in a sense of this spot.

"What next?" I asked.

"The Headmaster is expecting you in his office. Follow me." instructor Belim said. We followed the walkway back in the direction we had come, past the stairs we had came up and on towards the north. We went past a large landing, with a much larger stairway that came up to the level we were at, and then up a small staircase a few hundred yards beyond. This staircase was not quite as long a run as what we'd been up so far, and at its top we went back south along the canyon wall a couple hundred yards. I glanced over the barrier and down when we stopped and I saw the larger stairs and landing we had just passed on the level below. We were directly over them.

Headmaster Feldspar was waiting for me inside.

"Well, young Master McKesson. Not feeling too lost yet, are you?"

I thought about my answer. I didn't want to get myself off on the wrong foot here.

"I haven't had much chance to feel lost yet sir." I answered.

"Our students are usually from families seeking some sort of advantage for their child's future prospects. You would seem to be a glaring exception to that. Why might that be?"

"I underwent Transformation a couple of years ago sir." I said. "This has caused some issues in my relationship with my father."

"The High Wizard has a problem with a son being Transformed?"

"No sir. However he was reluctant to allow our relationship to influence certain decisions he might have to make in the future, so I am here, safely out of the way, at least for now."

"As the son of the High Wizard and the Wind of Arbor, you can demand preferential treatment, once you have made it out of the unsorted class. I have been instructed to offer you the Beletaran suite, if you wish it."

Here was a trap waiting for me to fall into!.

"I want no special privileges. In fact, I would prefer it if my identity was not generally known."

"This can be accomplished, but you will need a last name. The instructors will be calling you by it more often than anything else."

"How about Caldwell?" I asked.

"That's an interesting one, and new to me. Obsidian Caldwell it shall be then."

"My mother has taken to shortening that to Sid when she wants to be familiar." I added.

"Very well then Mr. Caldwell." The headmaster said pointedly. The unsorted class has midday meal in the recess in twenty minutes. You can wait here and I will have someone take you down at the appropriate time, or I can have Instructor Belim deliver you there now."

"Lets go." I said to the instructor.

We were off again at a full trot, back down the stairs, through the narrow paths, twisting and turning as we went, until we got to another door, again still within the shadow of the canyon wall.

"This is the unsorted mess." The instructor told me.

The mess was a cool, dim box. Rather than bright glow stones high on the ceiling, dimmer lightlace hung from the ceiling, spaced evenly every three feet over the dozen tables spread through the room. Lightlace was a bio-luminescent material, a moss. It was a surprise to see it here in a place associated so thoroughly with the Wizards of Arbor. It was a small step up from having to burn oil or candles, but the light produced was poor, and these particular examples of lightlace had not been allowed to soak in anything for quite some time. They grew dim and unreliable without regular access to water. These appeared criminally neglected.

There was a brighter light coming from the back of the room and I walked that way.

The back wall had a long, low opening that revealed a kitchen behind it. A man with long gray hair and a short gray apron was stirring something briskly at a table. He caught my approach out of the corner of his eye.

"Hey you! You're not supposed to be in here. You want to wind up on work detail?"

"I'm sorry, but Headmaster Feldspar sent me here to wait for the rest of the unsorted class. Today is my first day."

"Ah! We'd heard there was a latecomer due. Good luck comin' in late to this bunch."

"What's wrong with this unsorted class?" I asked. Until now everything I'd heard suggested this class was a normal part of the Academy.

"Two weeks in and still in the unsorteds means that yer either completely untrained or completely untrainable. Or else a tetched troublemaker like Hew Blegget. Watchin' yer back around that one would be smart, let me tell ya."

"I'll keep my eyes open, as you advise. How do I tell this fellow from the others?"

"He'll be the one what's a head taller than anyone else in the room. Has a wicked scar between his chin and lower lip too, like an upside down smile."

"Thanks again. I'm Sid Caldwell, by the way."

"Call me Possum." The man said, wiping his hand on his greasy apron and holding it out.

A cook's helper, called Knock, came in about then and the two of them began preparing for the arriving students.

"Here boy. Might as well get yers now. Stew and biscuits is all it is, but I make sure the ingredients are good, even if we don't get the best customers here, eh Knock?"

Knock was completely bald, and judging by his lack of eyebrows, probably completely hairless. His skin was smooth and unblemished, but dead, dead white. He gave a big-toothed grin and nodded.

"Yuhuh. Good stuff in 'er. Lotsa good stuff. Be glad to get yers before the bell sounds the meal too, eh?"

I took my bowl, spoon and biscuits to a table against the wall. The stew seemed thick enough at least, and there were plenty of potatoes floating in the murky brown liquid, and thick chunks of carrot too. Of course there was no butter or jam for the biscuits. They were hard and dry as well, but nothing a little dip in the stew couldn't cure.

I ate lightly, waiting. I heard the bell, faintly and sat staring at the door until I heard voices. As the door crashed open I put my head down and concentrated on the stew, taking slow measured spoonfuls, along with the occasional bite of freshly dipped biscuit. I concentrated on the food and let things build up around me.

"Well, what have we got here then?" A rough, cold voice said from in front of me. "Trunk, were we expecting fresh meat today?"

"Well, there was supposed to be a new boy coming Hew, and there was sails at the dock earlier." a smaller boy with good teeth and a horrible haircut said.

"What's your name then fresh meat?"

I finally looked up then. Hew Blegget was indeed a large specimen, and the scar on his chin was large, curved and almost crescent shaped. I took it in but didn't dwell on it. Instead I looked into his eyes and held them, just for a moment.

"Sid Caldwell." I answered. I kept my spoon in hand, and as soon as the name had left my lips, I dropped my head back down to my bowl, taking a spoon full of stew slowly up to my mouth.

"You would do well in the future, Sid Caldwell, to not look away from me when I am talking to you."

"I will not fight you." I said, still focusing on my stew. "I don't expect to remain unsorted long enough to be a bother to you anyway."

"You will be leaving us quickly, of that I'm sure as well." Blegget said. "Have a care that it is not wrapped in linens and canvas."

"fine advice." I finally looked up. "Will someone then tell me what to expect after the midday meal?"

"We've got a session with Professor Lamblor on military history and then it's afternoon sword practice." The small boy who had spoken before said.

The reminder soon had everyone concentrating on their own meal, and the remainder of the midday meal passed quietly. I counted heads and saw that there were eight others among the unsorted, I made nine. They all appeared to be at least my age, except for Hew Blegget, who looked to be sixteen or seventeen and the scrawny kid who had spoken up when I asked about the afternoon schedule.

The march to the library, where our class with Professor Lamblor was to be held, was done in an orderly fashion. We followed the first narrow path out and into the open grounds I had first seen when we had passed through the gates, and from there entered a room on the northeast side. The ceilings in this room were a good fifty feet over my head, and lined with bookshelves. The room itself was not that large, no larger than the room where we had just eaten. The high ceilings made it seem cavernous though, and the lighting here was much better. Bright evenly spaced glow stones covered the ceiling, and there were glow lamps on every table.

"Move it Caldwell!" Came the sound of Blegget's voice, followed by a hip thrust that sent me sprawling over the nearest table. I managed to snag the lamp that the fall had caused me to knock over, and my failure to ruin it was added to my account with Lord Hew, I was sure.

Professor Lamblor was a bit bored, it seemed to me, and the subject was 'famous naval strategies of the Redecine Wars'. We were provided no materials for making notes, and the source text appeared to be a single copy of a thick tome which rested on a book stand near the lecturn. I had to use some of the family tricks to keep the facts straight in my head until I could make sense of them. I had no clue what the Redecine Wars were about, or where or when they were fought. Today's lecture focused on the actions of one Admiral Besavius in the Chelae Straight.

The Professor gave no evidence that he knew someone new was in the class. He asked an occasional question, but seemed to expect no one to volunteer an answer. He seldom waited more than a heartbeat for a hand to raise before providing the answer himself.

Afternoon sword practice was not in the large commons, as I heard someone call the open area. Instead we all marched to an interior room, quite a bit off the commons. Sand covered the floor and there was a low wooden wall surrounding the room, leaving a space four feet wide running around it. This space seemed stacked with shelves and cubbyholes of all kinds. A large-bellied man with a neatly kept beard fitted me out with a set of padded armor. A leather shell, with a piece of fleecy sheepskin inserted in it went on my head. He selected both with a practiced eye, and a little tugging to make sure it wouldn't fall off without provocation, sent me on to the next station.

Instructor Attar was waiting, and grinned when he spotted me.

"Ah, Caldwell isn't it? Have you any experience with a sword?"

"No sir." I answered. "I've held one once, when I was seven, I think."

"Indeed. Well all you'll be getting here are wooden practice swords for the time being."

I was assigned a practice sword, making note of the colored number etched into the butt of the hilt. The cubbyholes were all marked with both the color and the number of the practice sword. Obviously they did not assume that all who came here were literate. Attar also double checked my padding.

Attar was accompanied by two other instructors, the bearded fellow who had fit me for my armor, who I learned was Instructor Tawl. We were split into three groups of three, and I was in the third with Instructor Neldin, the last of the instructors.

"For Caldwell's benefit, we shall review the positions we have already learned."

Sword fighting, I was quickly made aware by Instructor Neldin, was like a dance. It was all about position and timing. He sounded almost like Master Jo a couple times.

I also learned quickly that the sword requires some arm strength, and the muscles used are not quite the same as those required by the bow or staff. At the end of the two hours, my forearm was aching from having held the weighted practice weapon in position.

"You are indeed completely unfamiliar with the sword, Caldwell. But you show signs of being capable of improvement."

"Thank you sir." I answered.

"Ask Instructor Tawl for some liniment for the arm if you think you'll need it." Neldin said. "Are there any weapons you do have some familiarity with?"

"Yes sir. The staff and the bow." I answered.

"We'll soon have you sorted properly I suspect." The instructor said before breaking into a booming voice to address us all.

"Alright you lot! Take a run from here to the gates and then the showers. Do it at speed. No dogging it, you know we'll be watching, right? You're free until evening meal after you get your shower.

Since I didn't know where the showers were, I kept myself among the front of the pack during the run, but didn't make any effort to run at speed. Several of the smaller boys seemed to be decent runners, but were holding back in favor of keeping Big, Bad Blegget in sight. I let them lead and followed them all the way to the gate and then straight to the showers, which it turned out were a more or less open affair at the other end of the level our quarters were on.

Hew Blegget was a heavy-footed runner, slow and plodding, but at least in shape. A couple of the boys were obviously not capable of running such a distance. With all the running I'd seen since I'd arrived, I wondered at what kind of shape they must have been in for their first day.

Dried, dressed and back at our barracks, I finally had some time to think. My trunk was sitting at the foot of my cot and there was a pile of blankets and a pillow sitting on top of it. The rest of my things appeared untouched.

With time for a closer examination, I discovered hooks embedded in the wall behind my cot. I hung my quiver there, and leaned my staff against the wall next to it. I opened the trunk and found the ruck that contained my foul weather gear, and quickly had that hanging on one of the hooks as well. My pair of heavy boots went on the floor under them, and suddenly my trunk had some extra room. My personal gear went in, and my cot was bare once again.

I took the opportunity to make the bed. There were three blankets, one of which was quite a bit heavier than the other two, and quilted. I put it on top of the heavy mattress that was already there and then covered it with the second blanket, trying to tuck the ends in as neatly as possible. I took a gamble and examined the nearest occupied cots, seeing how they were made up and redid my tucks, trying to emulate them, The last blanket went over the top and the pillow at the head, again, everything done in an effort to emulate my neighbor's efforts.

I wasn't sure yet how closely the unsorted were supervised, but it appeared that there was at least some standards to which we were held. I had my things as squared away as I could manage, and my fellow unsorted were ignoring me completely, so I decided I would pass the time until evening meal with some meditation.

Most people might seek a soft spot to sit when they wish to meditate, but even before my Transformation I had spent endless hours with Master Jo, meditating in the oddest places. Perched on a tree branch, floating in the river, even sitting on the edge of a cliff.

"Meditation is not a denial of one's senses. It is not a shutting out of one's surroundings. It is not a turning off of one's emotions." He said after a particularly intimidating session in the middle of a fire ant colony. "Meditation is acceptance not rejection. Meditation is an opening, not a closing of one's self."

Now Transformed, I sought the strength and peace that touching raw stone gave me. Here, in this room dug from the raw rock walls of the Cora River Canyon, the little nook between my bed and the wall, with my back resting against the stone, was the perfect place for me. I sat in the darkened space, shaded by my foul weather gear hanging from the hook overhead, and sank silently into myself.

The bell for evening meal sounded, and I stirred. Standing up I saw the rest of the group collecting at the front of the barracks, milling around.

"Do we wait here for something?" I asked one of the younger boys.

"We gotta wait for Hew." The boy said, glancing towards Blegget's bunk near the window.

"Is this an Academy rule or a Hew rule?"

"Hew."

"We eat in the Recess again?"

"Yea."

"See you there then." I said and took off at an easy lope through the door. I ran at my own pace this time, unfettered by my fellow unsorted and the low expectations of instructor escorts. I didn't really have to even think about the path I needed to follow in running back to the Recess. On the sea, I am always lost. I have no sense of direction when away from the land. But with my feet upon dry ground, I know where I am, and I know what path I'm on.

At speed, it was a quick trip. Possum and Knock watched me come in alone again, and I got a raised eyebrow from Possum.

"Playin' it alone again?" He said. I nodded back with a grin.

"Didn't feel like waiting for Hew to finish his nap."

"Well its free time after evening meal until lights out, so I'd make myself scarce after, if I was you." Knock said.

Dinner, Possum told me with pride, was braised tips of Blackhorn, in a brandy sauce.

Knock and Possum managed to keep a straight face for several seconds after that statement, but finally broke into sniggering laughter.

"Blackhorn it is, but flank strips thats been boiled and cut into chunks." Possum said. "But don't worry, we been slow cooking them in the juices from the leftover stew all afternoon."

"They'll be nice and tender, and we had some nice fresh caper root to rub the pot with for seasoning." Knock added.

My plate was well covered with chunks of Blackhorn and roast carrots and onions. A thick chunk of brown bread was thrown on top and I found the same spot where I'd sat for midday meal and began to eat. The meat was tender indeed, and the slight touch of caper root did add to the flavor. The carrots and onions had been seasoned with something as well before they were roasted. They had an interesting crusty savoriness that I really liked.

I found the wine barrel and poured myself a mug. The wine was a dull but serviceable vintage. I couldn't place it at all, but that was no surprise, as far as I was from home. It seemed unlikely that I would find a well traveled vintage being served here.

The unsorted arrived, and I could tell by the quiet with which they entered that something was up. Probably a reflection of Hew's foul mood at my continued independence. I finished my wine and swiped the last of the savory juices from the bottom of my plate just as the first of them were making it through the line. I nodded at Possum and Knock and headed out the door. I had a mind to head back to the library and see about getting caught up with the book that had been the text for Professor Lamblor's class.

The library was almost deserted when I got there. Only a single older gentleman was seated, reading from a text that sat on the same stand where our text had been during class.

Of course the book would not sit there waiting for my return. Perhaps this person would be able to help.

"Excuse me. Sir?" I asked. No response. "Excuse me?" I said again.

"What?" He said, annoyance on his face when he looked up. "Who are you?"

"Sid Calwell sir." I answered. "I'm new."

"Obviously, Mister Caldwell, or you would not be bothering me." He said with a snort. "Now what do you need?"

"I was in my first class today with Professor Lamblor, and I was hoping to get caught up on the text we were using, but I didn't get the title, and was hoping you would know where I could find it."

"Professor Lamblor's class?" He asked. I nodded. "Military history then, so what were you studying?

"Naval strategies of the Redecine Wars." I answered.

"Ah! That would have to be the Carbos then." He said, standing. We walked together to the back of the room and a little searching led straight to it.

"Yes this is it!" I answered. "Thank you sir!"

"Just be sure you're putting it back where we found it when you're done." He said dismissively.

I am a fast reader. I have been told I'm quite a bit faster than most. I am not quite the page-at-a-glance readers that my parents are, but Mom says that is a bit of a Light trick that I'll pick up with time.

Even with my speed, this book was going to be a formidable task. This book did not limit itself to the naval aspects of the Redecine Wars, and in fact it seemed the Naval battles were a relatively minor part of the conflict. There was no index in the book, I was going to have to wade through the entire thing to find the parts I needed.

Unity Carbos, whatever else he had been, was a good writer. His history was a well written narrative, with asides, some of which filled entire chapters. I quickly lost myself in the tale of woe which were the Redecine Wars. The Redecine Hills were a much regarded wine growing region and just which kingdom they belonged to had long been in dispute. That dispute became the convenient excuse a couple neighboring kingdoms with expansionist aims used to foment trouble with a third neighbor, the Kingdom of Intheld. King Fen of Intheld did not care who owned the Redecine Hills, but the majority of the wine produced there was shipped via his port of Kinira, the nearest major port to the region.

I was still buried in the book, whose title I now knew was 'The Redecine Wars: A Study in Diplomatic Failure and Military Response', when a bell rang. I had to assume it was the warning bell for lights out. I put a bookmark into the text where I had stopped and returned the book to its spot on the shelf.

The jog to the barracks was different in the dark. There were lights here and there, keeping it from being pitch black, but it definitely appeared that little traffic was expected after hours, at least on the upper levels. I was glad to see that the lights were still on in the barracks itself.

I was halfway to my cot when I heard Hew Blegget.

"Hold up there Caldwell. You have a fine to pay."

I continued on to my bunk without a pause. I wanted to be on my own turf, pathetic as it was, if Hew decided to make this a fight. I wanted to be within easy reach of my staff as well.

"That's twice now you've ignored me while I was talking to you, you little shit." Blegget said as he walked up to me. "You don't get no second chances, so now I'm going to beat some sense into you."

"You figure today is your only chance to get your hooks into me?" I said. He showed no signs of slowing as he approached so I did a simple roll over the back of my cot and grabbed my staff. I came around my cot from the other end, keeping it between us at first.

"You might have been wiser to wait at least a day to see if I could defend myself. Or did you assume my lack of sword training meant I was completely helpless?"

I had my moonstone staff spinning in lazy figure eights in front of me as I said this. There wasn't a lot of room in here, but it was relatively open towards the back wall. The bunks kept towards the wall and avoided the entrance to the privy. I felt the strength of the stone around me and drew on it a little, but not too much. I had already learned that I could draw far more than needed sometimes.

"If you know how to use that staff, then you won't be here tomorrow. If you don't, well tomorrow is going to be my payday." Blegget said after a long, silent stare.

"I expect I won't." I answered.

It didn't matter what Hew Blegget said, I would still be sleeping with one eye open tonight.

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