“I wasn’t kicked out,” insisted Will indignantly. “It’s sort of an apprenticeship.”
Eric’s eyes grew round. “Is it because you healed the Tanner kid?”
“I didn’t heal him. I made a poultice for a bad abscess.”
His friend nodded, knowingly. “That’s not what Mrs. Tanner is saying. She thinks it was magic.” Then he noticed the candle in Will’s hand. “What’s that for?”
Will shrugged. “I’m not really sure. Grandfather is a little strange.”
“Grandfather?”
“He’s Mom’s great-grandfather, so he’s my great-great-grandfather,” he explained.
Eric paused, staring into the distance for a moment. “If that’s true, then he’s my great-great-grandfather too. Are you sure that’s right? He doesn’t look old enough, and my dad never said anything about it. He always called him a crazy old hermit.”
Will hadn’t thought about that, but Eric was right. Eric’s father was Erisa’s older brother, so his cousins would also be the old man’s great-great-grandchildren. “I dunno,” he admitted. “Mom said her great-grandfather taught her about herbs, and the old man says he was her teacher, so—”
“I’ll ask my dad when I get home,” said Eric. Then he held up the bundle in his hands, pushing it toward his friend. “Your mom asked me to bring you this.”
“What is it?”
“A blanket.”
Unrolling the bundle, Will found a heavy wool blanket along with a thick quilt, the same one that had once adorned his bed at home. He sighed gratefully. “Thanks, Eric. I really needed this.”
His friend laughed. “I told her she was worrying too much, but she was afraid you might be getting cold at night.”
“I don’t even have a bed,” admitted Will.
“What?” Eric seemed shocked. “Where do you sleep?”
“On the floor,” answered Will.
“That’s just cruel,” said Eric indignantly. “Does he think you’re a dog?”
Remembering the goddamn cat, Will replied, “If I were a dog he’d probably treat me better.”
Eric clapped him on the shoulder. “Tell you what. When I get home, I’ll talk to Dad about building a cot for you. No one should have to sleep on the floor.”
Will felt a surge of gratitude and the candle flame shrank slightly, becoming round and changing to a warmer orange color. He had never felt closer to his cousin than he did at that moment. “Thanks, Eric.”
His friend smiled. “Think nothing of it.” Then his eyes lit up. “You said this was an apprenticeship—what are you learning? Are you going to be a sorcerer?”
Will felt a moment of panic and glanced around, making sure his grandfather hadn’t returned. “Don’t say that word! The old geezer gets really mad if you say anything about sorcerers. He hates them for some reason.”
Eric frowned. “Then what are you learning?” His voice dropped lower. “Is it black magic? Is the old man a warlock? He is, isn’t he?”
“Shush!” warned Will. “You’re going to get me in trouble. I don’t know what he is, but he doesn’t seem to like magic very much, even though he definitely knows some. He says he’s going to train me to be an herbalist.”
“Boring,” sighed Eric in a long breath. “Is that what you’re learning now? Your mom could teach you that stuff.” He pointed at the candle in Will’s hand. “What’s that anyway?”
Will grinned. “It’s magic, some sort of spell he’s teaching me.”
His friend’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Really? What does it do?” Eric leaned forward to examine the candle more closely.
“Nothing, as far as I can tell,” admitted Will. “It’s not even hot. You can touch it.” He demonstrated for his friend by putting his fingertip in the flame.
Eric didn’t bother hiding his disappointment. “That almost makes growing lavender sound more exciting.”
Feeling defensive, Will replied, “At least I’m never in the dark. I have to keep it with me at all times.”
“For how long?”
Grimacing, Will answered, “A couple of years.”
“Wow,” exclaimed Eric with mock enthusiasm. “Only two years to learn such an amazing piece of magic? That’s amazing, and in only twenty more, all of this could be yours!” He swung his arms wide to encompass the dilapidated shack and weed-filled dirt yard.
“I’m sure making carts and wagon wheels is a lot more exciting,” replied Will in a surly tone.
“Dad says cartwrights and wainwrights make good money in Cerria,” said Eric, unfazed. “When I make journeyman, I can move to the city and make a fortune. Then I’ll come back and settle down, marry Annabelle Withy, and have a houseful of kids.”
Annabelle Withy was a sore point between them, since Will also fancied her, but he decided not to get into that argument again. He shifted directions instead. “Do you really want a houseful of kids?”
Eric winked. “Kids aren’t so bad, but it’s the making of them I’m looking forward to.”
“Too bad,” said Will. “While you’re off working in the city, I’ll marry Annabelle first.”
“And do what?” said Eric. “Whisk her away to your own hermit’s cottage in the Glenwood? The only thing you’ll do is learn how to be a crazy old man who talks to his cat.”
That brought Will up short. “How did you know about that?”
Eric began to laugh. “What? He really talks to his cat? You’d better start running, Will, or you’ll wind up just like him. I’m sure Dad would take you in. We always need more help.”
“I’ll think about it,” said Will, just before a distant scream of rage floated to their ears.
It was his grandfather’s voice. “Fucking deer!”
“What was that?” asked Eric.
Will pushed him toward the edge of the porch. “You better go. He gets really pissy when he finds deer after his garden.”
Chapter 10
Summer passed quickly as Will settled into a routine living with his grandfather. Each morning he made breakfast, after which he continued his literary studies. His afternoons were taken up by math and measures, and if he had time after that he was expected to clean the house before he made dinner. Through it all, he was expected to keep the candle close at hand. Any time he was caught without it, he would be scolded and punished.
The punishments were rather odd, though. Most commonly, his grandfather would cook dinner while he watched, then refuse to let him have any. Whenever this happened, the old man would show off his culinary skills by turning the most ordinary of ingredients into what appeared to be a masterpiece of the gustatory arts. Will couldn’t be sure if it actually tasted good, since he wasn’t allowed to sample the food on these occasions, but it certainly smelled amazing.
Those incidents put a fire in his belly, and not just the ache of his empty stomach. After the first few times, he began to pay close attention when his grandfather cooked, hoping to learn some of the old man’s tricks. At the very least, if he couldn’t eat during his punishment, he would learn to replicate some of it so he could make it for himself the next day.