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

her lips. Benen crouched down beside her.
    “So you weren’t hiding from me, then?” he asked in a whisper.
    “No, silly, I didn’t know you were here.”
    “Who then?”
    “Tickles.”
    “Um, what?”
    The girl rolled her eyes. “Tickles!”
    “You’re hiding from someone who is trying to tickle you?”
    She sighed, communicating with that one expression all the despair a child can experience when confronted with the ignorance of adults.
    “Tickles, my cat.”
    “Oh.” Benen tried not to laugh, but could not stop his smile.
    “What’s your name?” he asked the girl.
    “I’m Hilda,” she declared. It was Benen’s grandmother’s name. “What’s yours?”
    He couldn’t very well tell the girl his real name, could he? Still, he didn’t want to lie if he could avoid it.
    “I’m Benen,” he finally chose the truth.
    “Like my uncle.” She was excited by the coincidence.
    “Just like him, yes,” he agreed. Tears threatened to overcome him. He spoke to distract his mind. “What do you know about him?”
    “He died when he was my age,” she said. “Mummy makes a special meal on the ‘versarry. It was very tragic.”
    “What did he die of?” Benen wanted to know, but feared the answer.
    “He killed an evil wizard! It was very heroic.”
    Benen did not think he could hold back the emotions much longer. He knelt down and surprised the girl by hugging her without warning. She gave a little squeak but then hugged him back. She must have felt his tears on her back.
    “It’s okay,” she told him, patting him on the back. “Are you my uncle’s ghost? Is that why you’re sad?” she asked.
    He nodded because he could not speak. They separated and he turned to leave; He could not stand any more of this.
    “Thank you,” the girl said as he walked away, “for saving our village.”
    By the time Benen returned to the caravan, he had regained control of his emotions. The caravan was wrapping up its business and getting ready to leave. He rejoined Orst on his waggon.
    “Wassa matter, Benen-boy? You look like you seen a ghost,” the man asked.
    “Maybe I am,” Benen muttered. Seeing his dark mood, Orst did not bother him with further talk.
     
    #
     
    The way to the capital was long and the caravan crossed many villages and towns on its way. Benen eventually recovered his usual good humour. He could take comfort in the encounter with Hilda if he thought of it in the right way and he made sure to only think of it thus. If he had not gone as Oster required, there was no telling what the wizard would have done to the village. Through the years of his apprenticeship, Benen had seen what Oster was capable of and he shuddered when he imagined him unleashing his wizardly might against a village. He decided that another thing a wizard working for the crown could do was to hunt down the wizards who would victimize the weak.
    As the days of travel continued through monotonous countryside and villages much too alike to each other to be memorable, Benen began to understand why Orst had been so happy to have company. Despite this, the trip was long enough that even Benen and Orst grew tiresome to one another. Benen, without rancour or ill-will, took to walking on his own elsewhere in the caravan. Orst did not seem to mind and they still talked some of the time. While he walked, Benen could let his mind wander, thinking about magic, life, and the meaning of it all.
    The caravan was a day out from yet another small village when it was attacked.
    There had been no warning at all. The brigands struck while the caravan was passing through one of the largest forests in Estren. They shot arrows at the guards from the trees and then rushed the caravan, swords in hand. From where he was standing, Benen could not tell how many attackers there were, but their yells and demands of surrender made them sound very numerous. There was one bandit that he could see, he was heading for Orst’s waggon, having felled the guard