Journeyman (A Wizard's Life) Read Free Page A

and Drokken. Seeing Benen walking beside his waggon, one of the handlers offered him a place on the seat, next to him. Benen hesitated for a second, worrying this might be construed as getting in the way by Drokken, but he didn’t want to turn down the friendly gesture, so he accepted.
    “You’re new, you are,” the man stated once Benen was settled. “Never seen you with us before.”
    “That’s right. I’m Benen.”
    “Orst,” he replied. “What’s your story, Benen-boy?”
    Benen had prepared for this. “I’m leaving my da’s house. Going to find work in the capital.”
    “You’re from Eddegar?”
    “Yes sir.”
    “No ya ain’t. I know the folks there, y’ain’t from Eddegar.”
    Caught again, Benen thought, exasperated. “How can you be so sure, there are a lot of people who live in our village,” he tried.
    “Ha! I didn’t know fer sure, but now I do.” The man smiled wide, revealing a lot of gaps in his teeth. “Now tell me the truth.”
    Benen decided to be bold. “I’m a wizard going to see the king.”
    “Ha! That’s a good one! Awright, I’ll mind my own beeswax.”
    They talked easily after that, Benen mostly letting Orst speak; he liked listening to people talk.
    He learnt that Orst had three wives, all in different villages and towns along the caravan route.
    “I just loves the women too much,” he said and grinned.
    A part of Benen envied the rough and friendly driver his life. It sounded like fun going from place to place along the road, meeting people and romancing women. He knew this wasn’t to be his lot, but still enjoyed hearing of it and Orst loved the telling. It made the first few days fly by.
    Before he knew it, the caravan was arriving at its next stop.
    “Oh? What’s the village called?” Benen asked Orst.
    “Oster’s Gift, you’ll like it. Good people.”
    Benen froze.
    “You okay, Benen-boy?” Orst asked when he saw all the colour had drained from his companion’s face.
     
    #
     
    Benen had left the caravan to its off-loading, almost in a daze. He had not meant to return home. In fact, he had explicitly decided not to do so. But here he was regardless. He felt certain someone would recognize him any moment.
    Keeping away from the crowd that was gathering around the caravan, Benen hurried to get out of the village centre. Rushing as he was he ran headlong into Alden Smith. The two apologized, Benen fearing recognition the whole while, but the Smith did not even give him a second look before heading off on his way.
    I guess it has been a long time , Benen thought. Maybe my own family wouldn’t recognize me.
    Despite being unsure if he wanted to confirm this, Benen still wandered in the general direction of his childhood home. Along the way, the sights conjured a lump in his throat and a dryness in his mouth. Would he be welcome, or would his family resent his reopening of old wounds?
    As he passed behind the church, he glanced at the rows of headstones and wondered if one was for him. The thought that one of the monuments to the departed bore his name and an epitaph was so disturbing that he turned his head to look anywhere but toward the graveyard.
    When he finally caught sight of his family home he saw it had changed, but not substantially. The roof had been redone in new tin and an extension had been built onto the side of the house. Perhaps to house grandchildren? Benen wondered if he was an uncle now.
    Still unsure if he wanted to be seen, he circled around to the back of the yard, keeping his distance and lurking behind trees. He was startled by a small voice coming from behind him.
    “Are you playing too?” the voice asked.
    Benen turned and did not immediately see the source of the voice. “Hello?”
    “I’m hiding,” said the voice.
    Benen frowned. He looked behind trees until he found a young girl of maybe seven summers. She looked so much like his sister Esren had that he could not speak for a moment. She had seen him and put a finger to