“Don’t be a smartass, William.”
Will followed. “I can’t believe you told me that. You’re the king of smartasses.”
“I have a gift. It would be a shame not to share it,” said his mentor. “You, on the other hand, should cultivate your own strengths.”
When they reached the bottom of the ladder, his grandfather made an odd gesture with his fingers, and the magical light split into four parts and flew to the corners of the room where they took up residence in small glass globes mounted on the ceiling. The cellar looked to be as large as both of the upper rooms put together, with stone walls and a tiled floor. Two long, heavy tables, laden with glassware and other oddments, spanned either side of the room.
Unable to restrain himself, Will finally asked, “Just what are my strengths, in your opinion?”
“Gullibility and vapid stares,” answered his grandfather immediately. “Thank you for asking.”
Will groaned.
“None of that,” said the old man, wagging his finger. “You proved the first trait by asking, and you’re putting on a great show of empty-headed goggling at the room as we speak.”
Will closed his mouth and crossed his arms, refusing to respond, primarily because he couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t lead to more teasing. After waiting for a few seconds, his grandfather spoke. “Since you’re unable to formulate a question, I’ll explain. Most of the equipment you see here is for alchemical purposes. Since you’re useless for other training, I thought I’d use this week to teach you a little about alchemy.”
“Are you going to show me how to make essential oils?” asked Will, remembering a conversation with his mother from years before.
Arrogan’s brows shot up in surprise, then he shook his head. “Maybe later. First, I think it would be wise teaching you the basics, such as how to measure with a balance scale.” The next half hour was spent in explanation of just that, and Will began to see why he had been forced to learn so many different names for measures. The room contained a number of tools for measuring things by both weight and volume.
His grandfather also spent an inordinate amount of time discussing safety and showing him where the protective gear was stored. Will learned that for many things he would be expected to wear leather gloves and an apron.
“Also,” said Arrogan, “before we go any further, I should tell you that while the tables are wooden, they’ve been spelled against fire and caustic substances. Don’t take that as a challenge, though. They’ll still burn if you try hard enough.”
Will gave him a look of innocent outrage. “What do you think I’m going to do?”
“I wouldn’t put anything past you,” said his grandfather. “And while we’re on the subject of stupid things you might do, avoid using the emergency exit unless there’s an actual emergency.”
“Exit?” Will looked around but saw only the ladder and trapdoor they had come in through. “Is there a secret door?”
“Pay attention,” said Arrogan. “Look closer, near the wall behind that workbench.” He pointed to indicate which bench he was talking about.
Will saw it then, something like a shimmer in the air, though it wasn’t really visible to his eyes. Walking closer, he moved around the table so he could stand in the spot. His grandfather grabbed the back of his shirt. “I said don’t use it unless there’s an emergency.”
He realized then that it was another point of congruence, similar to the one he had accidentally used to travel to the fae realm. “I wasn’t going to step through it,” he protested, though in fact he hadn’t been sure what it was at first. “Does it lead to the fae realm?”
The old man shook his head. “No, that one goes to Muskeglun, a thoroughly unpleasant place.”
“Muskeglun? What’s that?” asked Will.
“The poets used to call it the ‘Land of the Hidden Mists,’ but the name is misleading. A better name would have been ‘the shithole.’ While it is invariably foggy and misty there, the place is predominantly a swampy dump suitable only for trolls and other unpleasant denizens,” explained his grandfather.
He frowned. “Then why did you pick it for your exit?”
“I didn’t pick it. I found it when I excavated this cellar,” said Arrogan. “You don’t make congruencies; they simply exist. That being said, I’ve found this one rather handy, and if I did have to make a hasty retreat, it’s not the sort of place most people would want to follow.” After a moment he added, “It’s also handy for getting troll piss.”
“That really was troll urine?” said Will, gaping. “I didn’t think trolls were real.”
“Maybe I’ll take you with me next time,” said Arrogan, grinning. “I’ll introduce you to Gleg. He’s not bad, as trolls go, which is to say he’s awful, but he’s learned better than to try to eat me.”
Thoroughly fascinated, Will asked, “How dangerous are they?”
“Depends on who you are,” said the old man. “I find them to be much more dangerous than the fae, but that’s mainly because they’re stupid. Trolls are difficult to deal with because they’re resistant to magic and they can recover from just about any injury. But I would say that if you were a soldier, or preferably, a bunch of soldiers, trolls would be preferable because at least you can fight them. The fae are impossible for most people to handle.”
As his mentor lectured, Will found himself wondering about other myths and stories he had heard. “If fairies are real, and trolls are real, are other things from stories real? What about dragons, or dwarves?”
“A better question would be, are there any other worlds that meet ours at congruencies like this?” offered his teacher. “To which the answer is yes, though no one knows for sure how many there are. Some intersect with our world at thousands of different places, like the fae realm, while others have only one or two known crossing points. Those other worlds have hosts of creatures, known and unknown to us. The dwarves you mentioned live in our world, though they’re seldom seen.” Arrogan stopped then, holding up one hand. “Now you’ve got me digressing. Today I’m going to teach you something practical, one of the most important recipes known to man.”
Nodding, Will waited patiently.
“Ink,” began his grandfather, “is one of the keys that led us out of ignorance. I’ll teach you two types, oak gall ink, and soot ink…”
Will groaned.
Chapter 20
Near the end of his two weeks of ‘light duty,’ Will went to visit his mother. He hadn’t seen her in months, and while Erisa was still relatively young, he worried about her living alone. When he got to the front door he stopped, feeling strangely uncertain.
Do I knock? It was his home after all, but then again, he hadn’t lived there for more than two years. Would he startle his mother if he just walked in? In the end, he knocked, feeling slightly foolish as he did.
His mother answered the door moments later, her face lighting up when she saw him. “Will! You didn’t have to knock.”
“I wasn’t sure,” he admitted sheepishly. “I didn’t want to scare you.”