Free Magic (complete)

Chapter 4

Anders paced his room, sparks flying. He couldn't finish his experiments without his extensive notes, and he didn't have time to begin a new project for the assessment. He needed to demonstrate a certain amount of aptitude in magic theory or he wouldn't be allowed to take the more advanced tests. Not just anyone could take the highest ones, since death or maiming was a very real possibility. That purple robe was slipping through his fingers in a hurry.

"AAHHRRG!" Anders slammed his fist into the wall. A jolt shot through his arm that burnt holes in his robes and singed the stone.

"Hells." This wasn't the first singe to his room, or the first set of robes he had ruined. He had to pay for replacements though. Pacing the room, he settled his anger. First things first would be to go get new robes. Then maybe Ghilda would have a good idea for what to do next.

He took off the tattered brown linen, leaving him with just his leather breaches and boots, which didn't get destroyed as easily as cloth garments. Anders had tried to talk the quartermaster into making a brown coat of leather that would look like the robes but he wouldn't entertain the idea of extra work for his tailors.

He left his room, giving it quite a jolt of power and walked down to the cellar. The store rooms were there, and the quartermaster's desk to request new robes. At least the long walk helped calm him down, his anger was only going to get in the way. He walked and began planning. An insane plan, but a plan. He didn't know how the robed thief got in and out from the cliffs aside form flying, so that was out. What Anders needed was a different route.

The halls grew cool as he sank below ground level. Torches were lit every few feet so you could try to avoid tripping on the ancient, uneven floor.

"Hello who is it?" A gruff voice hunched behind a pile of crates greeted Anders as his footsteps could be heard coming down the hall. Quartermaster Gaines was a portly man in an ale stained shirt. He wasn't known for his patience.

"Anders. Mage. Brown." He gave an exaggerated salute to the quartermaster who was now looking at him in disgust.

"You was just down here a month ago." Gaines scowled.

"Yes sir, I was. Now I'm here again." Anders held up his tattered robes for inspection.

"I'll have non of your mouth, boy." The quartermaster roughly grabbed the cloth and threw it on his desk. "I don't think I have any more browns your size. BARTON!" Anders jumped as Gaines called for his assistant.

"Useless lout." He sighed when no answer came from the back rooms. The man eyed Anders who was now standing 'at ease' like the soldiers. "You stay put. I'll see what I can scrounge up. I don't usually need to stock adult sized browns." He sneered and walked away. That jabbed Anders, who had always been touchy about his rank and who was still upset about his stolen work.

With the quartermaster gone, Anders glanced around. A shipment of dye had come in, as well as boots the soldiers wear. The shelves lining the walls behind the big oak desk had piles of clothes and gear. Glancing down the hall, Anders couldn't see the quartermaster anymore. There were loud noises of crates being pulled open, and complaints towards the missing assistant, but no quartermaster in sight.

It struck Anders that he could take anything from that front room, and in a moment he had an idea. He softly stepped around the corner of the desk, and inspected the shelves. There were guard tabards and belts, not useful. Children's grey robes, also not useful. Anders paid attention to the sounds coming from the hallway, but kept looking for the right thing to take.

"Lazy boy, only been here two weeks and already skipping work. Need to replace him soon." The quartermaster's voice grew a bit louder. That was enough for Anders though, and he grabbed a leather apron and white cotton soldier's shirt and had them behind his back before the quartermaster returned.

"Here, last one." The quartermaster roughly shoved a robe in Anders's face. He moved his stolen things into one hand behind his back and took the robe with the other.

"Thank you sir." Anders said, still standing at attention. The quartermaster narrowed his eyes.

"Well? You got your blasted robes. You can go now." He eased into the chair behind his desk, still watching Anders. With the apron and shirt behind his back, and the robes at his front, Anders couldn't turn to leave without showing off the stolen goods.

"Yes, I'll just --whoops!" Anders dropped everything to the floor in front of the desk. He bent down and gathered the apron and shirt inside the robe and was standing upright again before the quartermaster could see what had happened.

"Clumsy me, I'll just leave you to find your assistant then. Good day sir." Anders gave a deep bow and walked briskly out of sight, leaving the quartermaster shaking his head at the strange mage. Back in his room, Anders laid everything out on the bed.

"If I get caught sneaking out, I'm dead." Anders scratched his chin, staring at the clothes on his bed.

"If I don't get my work back somehow, I'm here another five years." He sat down on his chair hard. His brows furrowed in thought. There was also the chance that, even if he did take the high level assessment, he wouldn't pass. That wasn't a thought he could bare to say out loud.

"A life stuck in here is no life." Anders cracked his knuckles and opened his trunk. It was time for drastic measures.

Jak paid a small fortune for burn cream from a free mage. Sitting in his rented rooms, he was carefully peeling off old bandaging. Bits of burnt skin were starting to come off with the linen, revealing tender pink flesh streaked with white scar tissue.

Jak scooped some of the soothing cream from the clay jar and slathered it on his arm. Once he was done, he let it air out on the table before wrapping the new bandage on. Someone knocked on his door in a specific pattern.

"Come in." Jak gripped a dagger with his good hand and watched Hash enter the room. His fingers relaxed off the hilt when he saw for sure who it was.

"I got ye some dinner." Hash plopped a loaf of bread and a chunk of cheese on the table, sending tremors of pain up Jak's arm.

"Thanks." Jak grunted through his teeth. "Find any info on Hughes?"

"Nah, boring old codger from Raastad. Scholar all his life. Professor at the royal university. Specializes in history. I didn't dig up much more than you gave me. I'll keep an ear out though." Hash helped himself to a chunk of the bread and chewed open-mouthed while he continued talking. "You diggin into a target is ya? You just finished a job, yer quick to a new coin ain't ya? Or did you bed the wrong noble's daughter?"

"It's a client. Anyway, thanks for keeping an ear out." Jak started wrapping his arm for fear Hash would spread crumbs all over his newly treated skin.

"Oh a client eh? Risky business diggen up a client's story. Well, I won't tell you how to run yerself, just watch yer back." Hash smacked his lips and walked towards the door.

"Will do Hash." Jak watched him go and locked the door behind him.

"Magnus Hughes. What in Sage's name does a magicless historian want with a book of theoretical spell nonsense?" Jak sank down into his chair. One more day.