An Apprentice Without Magic Read online

  It definitely looked uninhabited, with dirty windows and a few spots of peeling paint. “I can fix it up?”

  “Does it need fixing?” Dickey asked. “It looks fine to me.”

  “The house needs a paint job and probably a good cleaning,” Sam said. “Can we go inside?”

  “You are still interested after looking at the exterior?”

  Sam nodded. “The rent will have to be adjusted if I have to work on making it livable. Is your friend amenable to that?”

  “He might be,” Dickey said, narrowing his eyes at Sam.

  His partner pulled out a ring of keys and opened the door. At least the stench of dead cats or dead bodies didn’t assault him. Sam walked into a stuffy space. The windows were bright enough. The furniture looked old, worn, and un-lived in for some time, but Sam could look through the dust. He liked the large parlor, and as Dickey showed him the rest of the place, Sam began to get excited. With Tru’s help, they could make the place livable.

  The upstairs had three bedrooms and a real toilet. Not many houses in Cherryton had one of those. That meant water was pumped up to the second level. Sam pushed the lever of the squeaky pump to draw clear water. It seemed to him that the house had only a veneer of neglect. It could be made into a nicer place than his parent’s house without too much effort.

  “Can we look at the back garden? How long has this been empty? It looks like six months or a year.”

  “Eight months,” Dickey said. His partner was mostly silent but watched Sam closely during the inspection tour.

  They descended to the first level and walked through a kitchen that hadn’t been used for a while. Sam tried the pump again and smiled at the clear water. It smelled clean, but Tru would be a better judge of that. “The pipes aren’t pollen-made, are they?”

  Dickey shook his head. “The house was re-plumbed with iron a few years ago.”

  Sam undid the lock on the back door latch and stepped out into a jungle of weeds. “There is work out here, too, but I don’t see any junk in the garden.” He inspected a two-room extension of the house that held a room full of garden tools and an empty storage space.

  “Emmy can have this,” Sam said as he poked his head in the empty space. He walked to the back gate and looked out at a service lane, somewhat bigger than an alley. “That’s a stable on the other side? Does it belong to this house?”

  Dickey shook his head. “Not included, but that’s a good observation. Are you interested?”

  Sam nodded. “I’ll need to have my brother take a look, but I’m all for it. No mildew or rot that I can see or smell, and it includes a shed for Emmy, if it isn’t too expensive.”

  “Let’s find your brother,” Dickey said as he jingled the keys and locked up after them.

  Tru’s address wasn’t too far from the house. They walked for fifteen minutes and began to enter a craftsman district. The smells and activity reminded Sam of the area where Link Cackle worked with glass in Oak Basin. Even Dickey had to ask a few times before they stood at the entrance to Potter’s Decorative Iron.

  Sam took a deep breath through his nose, taking in the aroma of burnt metal, coal, and other less definable smells as he stepped through the open gate into the ironworks yard. Since his father was a blacksmith, the scents reminded him of home. An older man walked up to him. He extended his hand.

  “Potter’s the name. This is my place. Looking for a window grill, a door grill? If you are, you’ve arrived at Baskin’s best.”

  Dickey smiled and took the man’s hand. “Constable Investigator Dickey Nail. This is my apprentice, Sam Smith.”

  Potter eyed Sam. “Smith, eh? A recent Smith?”

  “The fourth generation,” Sam said. “My brother just started here.”

  “Truart Smith?” Potter asked.

  Sam nodded. “That is his name. Can I speak with him for a minute or two?”

  Potter looked a little crestfallen. Perhaps he had hoped to sell something. He pointed down the street. “Two doors down. That is where I keep my stock. Truart is sorting iron with my apprentices.”

  “I won’t take too much of his time, I promise,” Sam said.

  The ironworks owner turned to Dickey. “If you need a high-quality window or door grill, or anyone else at the constabulary does, we are the best.” He winked and nodded at Dickey and then turned away and disappeared through a door, leaving them standing in the yard.

  The two partners found the warehouse by listening to the clanging of metal bars from the street. Sam peered through the open door and spotted Tru, standing with his hands on his hips, pointing at something.

  “Tru!” Sam said.

  The three apprentices in the room turned to Sam before Tru did. “When did you get here?”

  “A few days ago. I’ve already found a house to live in, if we do a little work on it.”

  Tru lifted one corner of his mouth in a wry smile. “A little work?”

  “Mostly gardening and cleaning,” Dickey said. “It hasn’t been lived in for a while. I’m Dickey Nail, Sam’s trainer.”

  Tru took Dickey’s extended hand. “Truart Smith. A journeyman smith.”

  Sam could tell he wasn’t happy about his job, by the way he said it. “Can you get off to see it?”

  Tru shook his head. “Not today, but tonight. Come here at six after noon. Potter closes everything up then. I’ll be waiting outside the main gate.” He managed a smile. “I’m living with the apprentices right now, so you have a motivated brother.”

  “Good. Tonight then, if it is okay with Dickey.”

  “You’ll owe me dinner, Smith.”

  Both brothers said that was fine. Dickey left laughing. “Sam, you owe me the dinner.”

  “There is still Tru. He has to like the place.”

  Dickey laughed. “Your brother will jump at the chance to leave his current lodgings. I imagine being low journeyman in the pecking order makes him a half step between apprentice and his peers.”

  Sam continued walking with a frown on his face. It did seem that way. Dickey would know more about such things.

  ~

  Sam spent the rest of the day attending law classes with the rest of the apprentices. He had to accept the fact that most of what was taught meant nothing to him. He ran into Dickey when classes ended.

  “Are you a lawyer, now?” Dickey asked.

  Sam frowned. “Less of one than when I started the day. I was confused.”

  “You are confused, but don’t let it get you down. It will come. I’ll help explain some of the regulations if you have any questions.”

  Sam snorted. “That is the problem. I couldn’t even come up with a question.”

  “Just stay at it. Do you want to buy me dinner before or after your brother sees the house?”

  “After. We can eat together,” Sam said. “Don’t you have a family to go home to?”

  Dickey shook his head. “Not at present,” he said. “I had a wife, once. It didn’t work out. She hated my job, and we parted ways. It wasn’t a very pleasant parting.”

  Sam didn’t know what to say about that, so he stayed silent as they walked out of the constabulary and into the Baskin evening. He spotted Tru kicking at the crumbling edge of a cobblestone, and soon they were walking through the new house.

  His brother looked at different things than he did. He opened and closed doors and sniffed in a few closets. He did run the water and nodded his head.

  “The yard is ours to do with what we want?” Tru asked.

  Dickey smiled. “I would expect the weeds to be chopped down,” he said.

  “I was thinking of putting a small forge in to do test pieces. I might not get as much time to do what I want to at Potter’s,” Tru said.

  “Let’s talk about it at dinner. Sam’s buying.”

  The restaurant wasn’t far from the house. Sam took off his spectacles and breathed a sigh of relief when he read the prices on the menu. They sat down and ordered. This was Sam’s first meal outside the constabulary, and the food wasn’t any better, but then the prices were reasonable to his thinking.

  Tru asked questions about the house, and he seemed to be getting excited about it. “What will the place cost?”

  Dickey gave him an amount. Sam sputtered. “That is very high,” he said. “I guess I’ll take Bentwick up on his offer to find us a place. We can’t afford a house that expensive, even if it is in Baskin.”

  “What would be reasonable to you?” Dickey said.

  Sam noticed a hint of a smile on his partner’s face. Sam gave him a much lower amount than was reasonable. He hadn’t expected to haggle, but it looked like Dickey wanted to negotiate. They went on for a few minutes and settled on a price that was just a little higher than Sam had expected. It was acceptable and half of what Dickey first offered.

  Tru looked at the pair of them and grinned. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say Constable Nail was testing you.”

  It hadn’t occurred to Sam, but now that he thought about the exchange, he guessed that his brother was right, since he was more of an objective observer than Sam was. “So what do we need to do? Sign something?”

  Dickey nodded. “Always sign something. You will be learning that in your law class. It is your protection. I’ll get something drawn up tomorrow, and you can move in the day after. Other than cleaning and replacing some of the linens, the house is ready for occupancy.”

  Two men jumped to their feet at a table and began to yell at each other, one of them drawing a sword in the midst of others rising from their tables.

  “There is work to do,” Dickey sighed as he stood. “Stop this, in the name of the Baskin Constabulary.”

  The two men looked at Dickey, their eyes wide. Then they looked at each other and shrugged and continued to argue. The other soon had a sword in his hand. Dickey didn’t have a sword, but he drew his knife. Sam stood and unscrewed the golden tip from his wand, revealing the pointed tip beneath.

  “You know how to use that?” Dickey asked.

  Sam nodded.

  “Then use it the moment the two cross swords. Until they do, we aren’t protected as peacekeepers under Baskin law.” Dickey moved closer to the two men but stopped from getting within sword-reach.

  “Sam, get away from there!” Tru said.

  “I can’t,” Sam said, looking away from the confrontation at his brother.

  Just then one of the men swung at Sam, scoring his shirt. He could feel the slice. The sword was very sharp. He turned back to see Dickey grab the man’s arm. The second swordsman stepped back, but Sam thought the man was giving his companion more room. He slammed his wand on the fingers of the hand that held the sword and nearly winced at the crunch that he heard just before the sword clattered to the floor.

  The second man began to raise his sword just as Dickey threw his knife into the man’s chest. Sam could hear the thunk of pollen armor. The knife stuck in the armor, but the man paused and grinned.

  “It looks like I’m going to get a constable to my credit and maybe a constable’s son?”

  Sam moved towards the man. A slash of the sword slid along Sam’s wand. With the practice of previous fights, Sam bent the wand, so the sword slid toward the pointed end rather than his wrist. He whipped the wand back and upwards into the man’s face, crunching into his nose.

  Another sword dropped to the floor along with the assailant holding onto his bleeding face. A pair of uniformed constables burst into the restaurant, followed by a serving woman.

  “They were going to fight, but both of them ended up attacking the man and the boy,” she said.

  “Dickey,” one of the constables said. “Why are you messing with Sharks?”

  “Is that who they are?” the investigator said. “I knew they were from some gang, but not until after they had played out their charade of an impromptu duel.”

  “Two against one?” the other constable said.

  Dickey looked at Sam with appraising eyes. “Two against two. My apprentice and I worked together.”

  “The newbie?”

  Dickey nodded. “Are you taking them to the constabulary?”

  “I sent a runner. A wagon will arrive soon. I’ll get manacles on these two,” one of them said. He turned to those in the restaurant. “I am sorry for the disruption, everyone. It was a gang dispute, but it ended well.”

  Sam pulled on the constable’s sleeve, holding onto his bleeding arm. “Not entirely well.” He unbuttoned his shirt to examine the cut on his chest. The blade had made a thin red line just below his ribs.

  “I can fix that,” Tru said, walking up from their table. He took an offered wet pollen towel from a server. Sam smiled, as he didn’t see anything in Tru’s hands until he felt the dampness and noticed the blood absorbed into the invisible towel. He put his spectacles back on and watched his brother apply a pollen bandage to Sam’s arm.

  “It won’t last very long,” Sam said. “I have an aversion to pollen, and it has an aversion to me.”

  Tru frowned. “Of course, I forgot during all the unpleasantness.” He shifted the pollen bandage and buttoned up Sam’s shirt. “I’ve never seen you fight before. I thought they would kill you.”

  Sam shrugged. “They might have, but that didn’t happen. I’ve had a lot of practice this summer, if you recall.”

  “I forgot about that, too. Sitting and eating in a restaurant, of all places,” Tru said.

  Sam looked at the food on his table and realized that he’d hardly eaten a thing. “Eating at the restaurant is what I’d rather be doing right now.”

  Dickey finished talking to the constables and joined them at the table after the new arrivals from the constabulary took the men away. “Still have an appetite after all that?”

  Sam nodded, chewing a piece of meat. He swallowed. “Aren’t you hungry after all that work?”

  His partner raised a corner of his lip. “Maybe I’m not as excited as you are about fighting two swordsmen with a knife.”

  “Along with my wand,” Sam said. “I’ve had to use it before against a sword.” He pointed to the tear in his shirt. “I seem to get cut all the same, but it was worth the risk.”

  “Was it? Don’t you have it in for your partner?” Dickey said.

  Sam didn’t know why that would be. “No,” he said. Dickey’s question suddenly made sense. “Not yet anyway.”

  “Risk,” Tru said shaking his head. “Foolhardy. Deathwish. I don’t really know you, Constable Nail, but I think the terms apply to you, as well as my brother.”

  “Then Sam is in good company.” Dickey unexpectedly winked at Sam, even though the characteristic smirk remained.

  The gesture sent a spear of warmth through Sam’s body as he got a confirmation that he just might have made the right choice in coming to Baskin.

  Tru recounted the fight as they finished eating. “When can I move in?” Tru said.

  “Day after tomorrow. Come around to the constabulary. If I’m not there, I’ll leave the agreement with the desk sergeant. I’ll want you both to sign.”

  “That sounds good to me,” Sam said. “Emmy will be eager to leave the stable.”

  Dickey pursed his lips. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that. It has a lot of company where it is. When you move, the dog will be by itself most of the time.”

  “I’ll take the time to walk her. I have so far.”

  Dickey gave his head a slight shake. “Not really any of my business as long as the dog doesn’t become a liability.” He got to his feet. “Time to go. I’ll walk with you to the constabulary. I want to check on our assailants. You will join me in that interrogation, Sam.”

  After parting from Sam at the restaurant entrance, Dickey took Sam a few paces from the restaurant and stopped.

  “Can you make it to the constabulary, or should I call a carriage?”

  Dickey’s comment made Sam laugh. “I’ve been hurt worse than this. I was in a war, you know.” Sam smiled but felt his front twinge as he turned to continue their walk. “I shouldn’t trust my brother’s healing abilities. I can walk to the constabulary, but I will still need to see a healer.”

  His partner nodded. “Fair enough. There is always one on call. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Three

  ~

  S am thought he had walked into a madhouse. People were yelling at constables, and constables were doing the same to those they had just arrested.

  “It is the same in the four other constabulary offices sprinkled around Baskin,” Dickey said. “Still, it seems to be an extraordinarily busy night.” Dickey walked up to the counter. “Sergeant Widget, has there been a riot?”

  “Attacks by the Sharks. Five in all. Three Sharks dead and one constable.” Widget shook his head. “Two on two in each encounter. Do they think we are untrained? I heard they caught up to you while you were eating. It looks like you gave better than you got.”

  “My apprentice is wounded. I was without my sword, but he has a poker that came in very handy. Where are the two men who attacked us?”

  Widget consulted some papers on his desk. “Cell Seventeen. The healer gave them both sleeping draughts to numb the pain.” He glanced down at the papers. “A broken nose and a crushed hand.”

  “The boy’s doing. All I had was a knife, and that got stuck in hidden pollen armor. We will be in the cells.” Dickey nodded to Sam, who followed his partner to the cell wing of the constabulary.

  “The long-term jail is in another part of Baskin. Prisoners are processed in constabulary cells first before they are judged, and then they are taken to more permanent lodgings,” Dickey said.

  “Is there a city guard, too?”

  Dickey nodded. “They are responsible for people coming and going into Baskin. They have their own holding cells, but long-term prisoners end up in the constabulary jail. Prepare yourself. The cells are never pleasant.”

  Sam followed his partner through a double-door and down a set of stairs to the cells. Lamps burned in the corridors. Bars made up the front of each cell, and the smell of humanity assaulted Sam, just as Dickey had warned.