The Five Elements (3 page)

"Is not," Shanna said. "It's only five o'clock."

Aaron glanced at the gray sky. "More like six."

"So, six." Shanna took Aaron's hand. "We'll find you some dry clothes and something hot to eat. You'll be as good as new!"

Aaron shook his head. "I can't, Shanna. I still have work to do before—"

"Work, work, work. You're so boring sometimes, Aaron."

"I am not. I just have—"

"Oh, c'mon, Aaron." She batted her eyes at him, flashing that mesmerizing smile of hers. Shanna knew all too well the hypnotic effect it had over him. He knew it, too, though such knowledge never seemed to help free him from its influence. Once, he'd tried to measure the energy produced by his reaction to it. Every emission had an associated frequency. Knowing that frequency opened the possibility of manipulating the reaction, though determining such a measurement was really only the first step as the process was ultimately much more complex than just that. Which is not to say that Aaron necessarily wanted to free himself from what he felt when he was around Shanna, but curiosity got the better of him and he knew he had to at least explore the possibilities. Of course, Shanna had asked him what in the world he was doing that one time they'd met up when, without a single word, he'd turned his encorder on himself. She'd tolerated that much with an odd stare. But when he'd started to take readings from her own person, she'd lost patience and batted the device away. When she had insisted on an explanation, he'd had a hard time formulating one that didn't reveal his feelings for her. Ultimately, he had managed some vague mutterings that he was quite sure Shanna had seen right through. Now, unable to help himself, Aaron nodded in acquiescence.

"There'll still be plenty of time to read your dusty old books," Shanna said.

They re-entered the city through a postern gate. Others walking along with them continued to congratulate Shanna on her victory. No one acknowledged Aaron's presence; it was all too easy to just ignore him. The two guards stationed beneath the portcullis, who had watched with amusement as Aaron had been carried out, looked on with bored expressions now as scamp after scamp passed through their gate. Within the city walls, the group thinned until Aaron and Shanna walked alone. They smacked their feet as they went, sloughing mud from their shoes as they passed shops just closing and balconied apartments just coming to life. They turned at an alley. Mid-way down its length, Shanna stopped Aaron in his tracks with a finger to her lips.

Her voice was a whisper. "Wait here."

"Shanna, what—"

But she was already gone, melting away into the growing darkness. She returned minutes later with a cloak the color of burlap draped over one arm. With a smile, she tossed it at him. Aaron caught and unfurled it.

"What is this for?" Aaron asked.

"To keep you warm, of course."

Aaron groaned. "I don't need a stolen cloak to keep me warm."

"I didn't steal it! I borrowed it. There's a laundry line and—you said you were cold, right?" When Aaron didn't answer, she said, "Look, don't worry. I'll return it… someday."

"Someday?" Aaron looked the cloak over. It was good wool and only slightly too long by the look of it. "I have my own, you know."

"Not here you don't."

True, he'd left his in his room. Even as he fought to suppress a shiver, he asked, "You will return it, won't you? First chance you get?"

"Of course."

Aaron was not convinced.

Shanna rolled her eyes. She drew a line across her stomach, enacting the age old pact to see something through, else face evisceration. "Promise."

"You better." Draping the cloak around his shoulders, Aaron was immediately grateful for its presence. He could have done with a dry shirt and pants too, but he wasn't about to encourage Shanna.

"Now," Shanna said, "let's go find something to eat."

They navigated back-alleys, holding to the shadows like thieves in the gathering dusk. It was a game of theirs that they hadn't quite outgrown. They saw few people. Once, a group of draymen loading draft and cart behind a shop. Another time, a scamp emerging from a doorway with a sack of trash in hand. Only when, unavoidably, they emerged out onto one of the main thoroughfares did they see a greater variety of people. Shopkeepers swept porches and shuttered stores. A thin line emerged from a butcher shop with packaged meats for dinner. Children much younger than either Aaron or Shanna played at chasing games. Above, from open windows or small balconies, they heard the sounds of adults chatting, of crockery being put to use and, as they reentered the solitude of the next alley, the sweet melody of a pipe playing. Such serenity carried them until it was replaced by an aroma they both recognized instantly: the succulent dumplings and sweet dinner rolls of Lena's Bakery.

"Beat you there!"

Shanna was off before the last word escaped her lips. Aaron bounded after her, but Shanna was too fast. She emerged from the alley half a dozen paces ahead of him, out onto the cobbles of Sandy Shore Lane where she promptly disappeared around the corner. Aaron didn't miss a beat. By the time he realized Shanna had come to a full and complete stop, it was too late to keep from crashing into her. He drove them both forward, crashing them into a figure garbed in the midnight satin robes of a keep sorcerer. Unable to keep their balance, they all went down in a tangled mass.

"Gods damn it!"

Aaron winced. Not at the curse, which he'd heard many times before, but at the voice which uttered it. Master Rion was pleasant enough most of the time, but when that curse sprang from his mouth, his mood was neither pleasant nor forgiving.

Aaron managed to rise halfway before Shanna's own attempt at disentangling herself dragged him back down. The act elicited a giggle from Shanna and something akin to a growl from the sorcerer. Another effort, and first Aaron and then Shanna stood.

"I-I'm sorry, Master Rion," Aaron said. "We didn't see you. We…" There were few words to explain such clumsiness. "We're both very sorry, sir. May I help you up?"

Master Rion shooed Aaron's hand away as he pushed himself up with his staff. The wizard was tall and lean, his ordinarily pristine robes now streaked with the road's grime. He made an effort to brush it away, but soon realized the futility and gave up. He turned a look completely lacking in amusement upon Aaron and Shanna.

Twelve sorcerers—three of them masters—called Norwynne home. While every one of them held sway over Aaron and the other apprentices, only the three were held in nearly as high of regard as the lord of Norwynne himself. Their mere presence demanded respect, to say nothing of the reverence due them by one of their own. Aaron, as apprentice to the greatest of the three, was all too aware of this. Shanna, however, was not. While Aaron did his best to look the role of a soldier fallen into ranks, Shanna was bent at the waist, her long, dark hair cascading almost to the street as she inspected the mess their tumbling had made of her pants. Aaron cleared his throat while Master Rion, brow narrowed, looked on. Shanna, finally looking up, made a quick display as if to say, "Oh", before she straightened.

Words spilled from Aaron. "We weren't watching where we were going, sir. We—"

"
You
weren't watching where
you
were going!" Shanna said. "
I
, on the other hand—"

Aaron jabbed her with an elbow. "Really, Master Rion,
we
weren't watching where
we
were going. We're very sorry to have, ah, knocked you over… sir. It will never happen again."

"Never?" One brow arched. "If I had a dram for every time I've heard that…" Master Rion wiped a hand across the stubble of his cheek. "There comes a time when such behavior will simply not do. Both of you—how old are you?" Rion looked from one to the other. "Thirteen, fourteen?"

"Fifteen," Shanna said.

Master Rion waited until the clop and rattle of a passing carriage had finished rolling past. "Fifteen, then. Old enough to have grown out of such childish antics. Running through the streets as if your very arses were on fire! Aaron!" Aaron didn't think he could straighten any further, though he tried. "You are an apprentice to Master Elsanar! Surely it is time you acted according to your station. As a member of the keep's coterie, your peers sit in elevated positions, not down amongst—"

Realizing the direction of his lecture did not apply to everyone in their present company, Master Rion's voice trailed off. There followed a moment's awkward silence which extended into a few more seconds before the sorcerer made a show of clearing his throat. "The both of you simply need to take more care." Then, he addressed only Aaron as he said, "I'll be taking over tomorrow morning's lesson from Master Elsanar. Do not be late." Without another word, the sorcerer strode past them and moments later melted into the street's activity.

Aaron looked at his friend, trying to gauge her mood. From the moment Master Rion had made his inference her face had become a mask of stone that still had not dissolved. "You still hungry?" No response. "How about we go to Graggly's? Bet we'll still have time to see the sunset." The gray above showed no signs of breaking up, but that didn't matter right now.

"What?" she said, as if she'd just risen from a stupor and heard none of his words. "Yes. Yes, let's go."

They stopped at Lena's as planned where Aaron paid a keenar for a small assortment of confections that he stowed away in his satchel next to the soldier, which he realized once more had done him no good. They happened upon fewer and fewer keep-folk as they entered the old Soldiers' Quartering where Graggly's Tower—its proper name was Wynngard Tower—stood tall and proud. Once, the district had housed a good number of the keep's soldiery. But a score of years with no enemies had forced consolidation and the abandonment of surplus housing and training facilities. The Quartering's barracks and towers stood deserted, fallen into disrepair from simple disuse and neglect. Nowadays, few people saw any reason to come this way. Those who did—vagrants, mostly—took up residence in quiet corners where they remained indiscreet. For Aaron and Shanna, the Quartering, and Graggly's Tower specifically, had always been the perfect place to get away from everything. But for the two of them, few ever set foot in the tower. Graggly, or rather his ghost, saw to that.

Stories told how the mad soldier had decided to jump to his death rather than abandon his post when the tower had finally been decommissioned during the shutting down of the Quartering. To this day, it was said his ghost still haunted the place. It was a ridiculous story, or so Aaron had told himself over and over the first time Shanna had made him climb to the roof with her. As a rule, Aaron did not believe in ghosts. But the things people said—that by day one could hear Graggly's wailing, and that by night the old soldier still performed his duty of lighting the passages so that sometimes lamplight could be seen through the tower's orieled windows—had been enough to give Aaron pause. For a time, it had become something of an intriguing mystery as he sought to formulate answers to the superstitions surrounding the place. The wailing he'd explained easily enough. It was only the wind, blowing through the upper windows. The lights, however, had been something else, for once, and only once, while they both approached the tower, they had both seen a light bobbing from one window to the next. Where it went, new light sprang to life, as if someone were lighting lanterns along the way. Shanna'd rushed in, elated over the idea of catching a glimpse of old Graggly, or what was left of him. Aaron had followed reluctantly. When they reached the floor where they'd seen the light, all had returned to darkness. It was a rare puzzle to which Aaron had still not found a solution. It was the unsolved mystery of the place that kept him coming back. The fact that he got to spend time alone with Shanna didn't hurt either.

At the tower, they slipped through their usual spot, a section of the great rounded door that'd rotted and splintered inward. Inside, Shanna struck flint to light a torch they'd left behind from a previous visit. Then they mounted the stairs. It was a tiring effort, and talk was held to a minimum. Emerging onto the roof with labored breaths, they found the sky still shrouded by the storm's leavings. Shanna deposited the torch in a holder by the door, then she walked to the roof's edge to peer out between the battlement's crenels. With Aaron still recovering from the climb, she leapt between the merlons and, with arms stretched wide, let the wind do its worst.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Aaron said between breaths. "It's dangerous. You could fall." He moved to the next crenel where he kept a hesitant eye on Shanna.

He expected a laugh, or a harsh rebuttal, but she said nothing. It was obvious Master Rion's words still stung.

Below them, Aaron saw soldiers of the night's watch lighting torches along Regrok, the city's great outer wall. It was a nightly ritual he'd witnessed many times. Still, it was a mesmerizing affair, watching each torch spring to life in the gathering gloom. He watched until Shanna jumped down from her perch to accost him.

"Why don't you stand up for yourself?"

The wind caught her hair, blowing it haphazardly about her face. Using both hands, she gathered the lot of it and tied it into a temporary knot.

Aaron struggled with a reply. "W-What? What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Clubfoot. Why do you let him pick on you? He's a coward. Stand up to him just once and he'll never bother you again. He could have killed you if you hadn't stopped that catapult with your magic."

Magic. He was apprenticed to a master sorcerer and so of course everyone assumed he was also a practitioner. There was a difference, however, between a sorcerer's apprentice and one who was apprenticed to a sorcerer. Elsanar's work went well beyond just sorcery into the fields of theoretical mathematics, alchemy, and mechanics. Aaron had been enlisted to assist in studying these subjects. Early on, he'd tried explaining the distinction to folk who thought him some sort of pariah, for no one else could possibly qualify as the apprentice of a sorcerer as great as Master Elsanar. But Aaron's explanations had always been met with nothing more than nods and stares as they looked over the results of he and Master Elsanar's latest alchemical experiments, which they sometimes performed outside out of necessity. Aaron supposed the displays, which more often than not involved some sort of pyrotechnics, might be construed as magic to the layman, and so while he understood the distinction between mere apprentice and sorcerer's apprentice all too well, he stopped trying to explain it to others a long time ago. Even Shanna, who knew him better than anyone, still clung to the belief that he was on his way to someday becoming a powerful sorcerer in his own right. She had proved as stubborn as the others, so Aaron had let her believe what she wanted. Still, there was an explanation regarding what had happened with the catapult that was most definitely not a magical one.