Taniel (The Taverner's Daughter I)

73: Sam - Grandmaster Wizard

Grandmaster Wizard Sam Dinsmore was putting on his black leather attire when there came a hammering at the door of his citadel apartment.

The other wizards knew he was back. He listened to murmurings in the foyer as his man, Longan, exchanged pleasantries with the visitor. Whoever it was, they could wait. He wanted more time. His short soaking at the communal baths had not erased his recent experience as Cecil Chadbyrne.

He checked his appearance in the large mirror set into the lime washed wall by the wardrobe. He fiddled with the waistband of the flared skirt until the hem hovered a scant finger-width above the floor. He wriggled his shoulders, checking the straightness of the seams on his jacket. Satisfaction filled him as he centred the silver emblem on his chest.

It was good to be back.

He picked up the eye magnifiers and dithered about dangling them from his neck, as usual. Though adding a scholarly air, they spoiled his look. He tucked them into a pocket. He spiked his newly cropped hair with his fingers, leaning forward and peering among the dark brown strands. He whistled, relieved. Despite how he felt inside, his three weeks in the countryside had not left him visibly aged.

Sam pulled on the close-fitting sleeves until the cuffs edged the power bands curling his wrists. He smiled, and stroked the silver. The magic tingled his skin. Sam relished his role as the Grandmaster.

Longan knocked softly on the bedroom door and met his eyes in the mirror. "Baldwin is here," he said. "Shall I hold lunch?"

"No, I'm starving." Sam grimaced. "I'll be rid of him." He followed Longan until his manservant turned aside, into his cubicle. The welcome sound of food preparation accompanied him to the snug reception room.

"I hope you don't mind me coming right away, Dinsmore." Baldwin smiled, half-rising from the armchair.

"No, not at all," Sam said, extending his hand for Baldwin's obeisant bow. Waving the wizard back into his seat, Sam noted an unusual cockiness about his second-in-command.

Unsettled, he remained standing. He folded his arms over the back of the other chair.

"There's been a sighting." Baldwin's smugness doubled.

"Another?" He sighed, wondering what the travl-wizards had found, this time. The last so-called sighting was a meteorite shower. Somehow, debris from the heavens had interfered with their travl reporting apparatus.

"When was this?" he asked, knowing he must check their findings. Baldwin's demeanour promised a detection worth the wrath of those who loathed having their movements tracked.

"Just before dawn," Baldwin said, regaining his feet. "Welcome back, by the way. I'll clear my stuff off your desk and finish my report. Apart from the sighting, nothing else happened while you were away. Did you find those rare dragons in the mountains?"

"I did see one dragon," he said. "Sadly, it was not a pygmy, but a green. I was most disappointed, though the green finding me was useful for I had managed to lose myself."

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically as he took Baldwin's arm and hustled him to the front door. "I will meet you all in say, thirty minutes?"

"Grandmaster." Baldwin inclined his head, and left.

The aroma of roast meat hastened him to the dining room. Ravenous, he decided his last decent meal was the mutton stew he had eaten at the Skerby tavern. The very place from where he let the girl slip through his fingers. He should not have been so selfish. With a single flash of his medallion, she could now be ensconced in Eighalh where prophecy would never find her.

He halted in the doorway, thinking. Had someone taken his girl though a travl-ring? Was she the one seen travlling through the Void? Damn, he messed that up; every which way he beheld it.

"Dinsmore, I'm glad you're back in one piece."

Startled, Sam saw Chadbyrne sitting sideways at the table with his injured limb propped on a chair.

"You're still here," Sam said, forcing a smile. "I can't join you, sorry, I've been summoned to the atrium. How's the leg?"

"Coming along, nicely. And of course I'm still here. I can't be seen in two places at once. You should've been back last week."

Sam shrugged. "You know how unpredictable pirates can be. Well, don't leave before I come back."

"I will be here. I want details."

Sam fielded Chadbryne's penetrating gaze with an air of innocence, he hoped. He guessed the spy lord already knew of his failure, no doubt ruining months of preparation. Serves Chadbyrne right for forcing him to go in his stead.

He pretended not to notice Longan's disapproval and, with a last glance at the freshly carved and steaming roast, he withdrew. Intent on scoring a feed from one of the kitchens, Sam strode along the corridor, listening to the satisfying creak of his leather skirt.

Baldwin and his cronies could wait.

***

2 April 2017 - replaced with revised scene

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