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Down at the market, Ollo walked from one shop to the next, hoping to find that somebody would be hiring. He'd been to the cobbler's, the tavern, the fishery and the smithy, and had resigned to head back to the tavern once more - for drink, not work. It was not going to be easy. Ollo had some coin saved at home, but he had been holding on to that for Sweda's ring.
Sweda, he thought suddenly, what will she think of me now? He had known that he wasn't the perfect choice for a husband, but now that he didn't have a job, what could he offer her? And it wouldn't take long for the news to travel through town that Sgott had fired him from the mill. In short, his luck was about as sour as flat, day-old ale. Feeling defeated, he walked through the swinging door of the Laughing Ass and slumped into a seat.
"Finish early today, son?" asked the barkeep, wiping a clay pint mug with a rather stained cloth.
"You could say that, Ma," Ollo said with a sigh. He pulled out his coin purse and slapped down three sents. "Cup of tarrum, if you please."
His mother's eyes widened at the request. "Gods, Olly, this early in the day?"
Ollo nodded glumly. "Bad news today, Ma."
She set down the clay mug and stared at him suspiciously. "Olly?"
"I was late back from lunch again. And... well... Sgott's fed up."
"And?"
Ollo held up his palms. "And he's seen fit to sack me." Saying it out loud made him feel even worse.
"Oh, Olly boy," his mother reached over the bar to place a firm hand on his shoulder. She squeezed it and gave him one of her stern-but-kind smiles. It warmed him a little. "You put those coins back in your purse."
Ollo obliged and stretched his arms over his head. "It's my own fault," he said, finally. "I couldn't stand it there."
His mother nodded in agreement. She hesitated before pouring the tarrum. "You sure you want this stuff? Yanno, they keep it in enamel jars for a reason." Ollo nodded. "You eat today?"
"Yes, Ma."
"Alright, alright," she said, pouring the foul stuff into the cup.
He took a sip and shuddered. "You're sure they won't hire anybody here?"
"If it was up to me, Olly boy, I'd have you in a heartbeat. But you know Jakk - the man stretches pieces of coin like... well I dunno. He's cheap. You get it."
"I know, Ma. Just figured it wouldn't hurt to ask," Ollo said, taking another sip of the foul tarrum. His head had already begun to feel pleasantly light. There was a reason old Jakk sold it at three sents a cup. At that moment, there was a slight commotion from the street outside. It sounded like there were people shouting.
"Looks like Fletch is having it out with one of the traders," Ollo's mother said, leaning to peer out one of the dusty front windows. Ollo got up to go have a look. When he saw what was going on, he choked on his tarrum and ran out into the street.
Fletch - the trimmer from the fishery - had Ryeth pinned against his mule cart with one bleeding arm. The other hand was curled into a fist that Fletch was shaking inches from the confused lanterner's face.
"Oi!" Ollo shouted, running clumsily toward the two men. "What's this about, Fletch?"
The older man glanced over to look at him. "None of your concern, Ollo. You best keep away from it. This here fellow just threatened me! With sorcery, no less!"
"Come now," Ryeth reasoned, trying to sound casual, "it's just a quick fix. It wouldn't even hurt - honestly!"
Ollo got closer. "Fletch, this is Ryeth. He's from out east. He's a..." He paused for a second to think. "He's a jack of all trades."
"Healing, tinkering and such," said Ryeth.
"Oh yeah?" Fletch asked, staring hard at his captive. "Then why's he threatening to bind me, then? Ah?"
"Your arm, fellow," Ryeth pleaded. "You said you cut your arm. I can fix it, nice and quick."
Fletch stared at him. Then he turned to look at Ollo. "You know this one?"
"I do," he said. "You can trust him. My word on that, Fletch."
By that time, a small circle of bystanders had gathered around the scene. They watched nervously as Fletch slowly released his hold on Ryeth's cloak.
Ryeth took a quick, slight bow. "Sorry to have startled you, sir," he said in a friendly voice. "If you like, I could take a look at it? Might be able to save you some stitches if it's not too deep, that's all."
Ollo nodded at Fletch, and the older man obliged to show his arm. He removed the makeshift bandage from just above his wrist, revealing a red line of blood.
"May I?" Ryeth asked politely. Fletch nodded, and allowed Ryeth to hold his arm and take a closer look. "Hah," Ryeth said quietly. "You're in luck. It doesn't look like you've cut through the skin for the most part. I can bi- I mean, fix that up in a blink." Fletch didn't respond. "For free?" Ryeth offered.
"Aye, then," said Fletch.
Ollo relaxed and took a deep breath. He had sweat on his lip and the tarrum had sufficiently swollen his head. He was glad to have avoided a real ordeal. He leaned against the cart and watched as Ryeth poured a small vial of clear liquid onto the wound. He then pressed his palm onto it, muttered something under his breath, and when he took it away the cut seemed to have been sealed shut. Ryeth smiled at the trimmer's impressed expression, and made a small bow.
And at that, the circle of townsfolk applauded and closed in to examine what goods the lanterner had for sale. Ryeth gave Ollo a thankful smile before climbing onto the cart to address the crowd.
*
It was starting to get dark outside as the unlikely duo ordered their fourth round of ale at the Laughing Ass. Ollo - sufficiently primed by his dosing of tarrum that afternoon - was feeling particularly grand as the two pint mugs were set down before them.
"I really can't thank you enough, Ollo," Ryeth said for about the dozenth time that evening. "I never imagined I'd turn such a pretty profit in one day. I really do wish I could repay you somehow."
Ollo shrugged. "I couldn't just let him pummel you. Fletch is a nice enough fellow, but he's mighty superstitious. I told you to be careful around the locals."
"Yeah, I know," he stretched in his chair. "Just not used to these parts, I guess." He took a long slow drink and smacked his lips. "It's a real shame about your job at the mill."
"Aye," Ollo agreed. "But, yanno, I never liked it there anyways."
"Hear, hear." Ryeth said, raising his mug. "To better times."
"To better times," Ollo replied. They drank.
"You know," Ryeth said, "I think I could repay you, now to mention it." He had a thoughtful look on his face. He leaned in. "You ever done much travelling, Ollo?"
He shrugged. "Not really. I mean, yeah, but only so far as Stonepool once or twice. Why?"
Ryeth took another long drink and wiped his whiskers on a sleeve. "I'm on assignment for my studies. Every lanterner has to complete a certain project before they can try for their bronze. Mine's a bit of a field study." He cracked his knuckles importantly. "And it occurs to me that I might require something of a hand."
Ollo stared at him. "Really? Me?" He felt a tingle of excitement creeping up through his insides. "How could I help you?"
"You know this country. I'm a stranger here. I'm only a few days out of Kelvale and already I've been called a sorcerer and a warlock. Why, just today I had a man threaten to... what was it?" Ryeth made a thoughtful expression. "Oh yes... Push my nose in."
Ollo chuckled heartily at that.
"I need a guide, that's the thing. Somebody who'll know what's what. Where not to go. How to tell when I'm being scammed."
"And to stop you from getting tied to a stake somewhere and sent up in flames?"
"Aye, that too." The lanterner nodded. "I can't pay you that much, I'll be honest. But I could cover your share of the food and supplies and then a little extra."
"That's quite an offer," Ollo said. "I really don't know what to say. I've got a... well, a lady friend here."
Ryeth smirked. "A wife?"
"No, not a wife. More like a..." he struggled.
"A courting partner?"
"You could say that." In truth, the two hadn't spent more than a scattered meal alone together, and the one picnic by the lake that Sweda hadn't seemed to enjoy - she kept glancing skittishly around, muttering about ants.
Ryeth put a hand on his shoulder. "Listen. I understand that you've got a life here, Ollo. This is your home. But, consider this: could this opportunity have possibly come at a better time?" He grinned devilishly. "Haven't you ever wanted to go on a bit of an adventure?"
Adventure. That was the word. Of course he had. He'd dreamt about running off into the mountains, chasing streams through secret canyons and stumbling onto hidden treasures and ancient mysteries in long-forgotten ruins. He'd often fantasised about the deep glens in the Venn, and whether any of the fayre stories he'd grown up on had a speck of truth to them. His cheeks tightened. Before he could help it a stupid, wide smile had consumed his face.
Ryeth could hardly believe he was staring at the same fellow. The man who - just moments before - had been a slightly drunk, good-natured, homebody mill worker, had been replaced by a slightly drunk adventure-hungry scoundrel with fire in his eyes.
"On one condition." Ollo said. "Can you teach me some of that warlock magic?"
Ryeth laughed until there were tears in his eyes. He held out a hand. "It's a deal."
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