Murder in Cormyr - Chet Williamson [4]
I shrugged. I didn't know what to say. Here I was, caught red-handed (literally, I thought, wiping blood from my fingers) burglarizing the abode of a retired War Wizard. I was nearly aghast at my own stupidity-and ill luck.
"Put a few logs on the fire, stranger," the wizard said, sitting down in a chair large enough to hold his heavy frame. Immediately a score of cats sought the comfort of his capacious lap, and he chuckled again, accommodating as many as he could and gently shooing the rest to the floor.
"You'll find a teapot on the hearth. There's tea in the kitchen. Fetch it, put some water on the fire, and we'll have a cup together."
He didn't caution me not to run away, but he didn't have to. A dozen of his cats came along with me, and I had the feeling that if I had made any move to escape, we would have been joined by the others. By candlelight, I found the tea, returned to the wizard, and before too long was sitting across from him, sipping a very good cup of tea, if I say so myself.
Benelaius took a sip and nodded appreciatively. "So tell me, what prompted you to enter my house?"
There was no point in a lie, since I felt he would have quickly detected one. "A dare," I said shamefacedly. "I was just supposed to come in, take something, and leave. But I picked up a cat by mistake."
"Had I not entered when I did," the wizard said, "they might have harmed you. Irreparably. Burglary is a crime, you know."
"I know, sir."
"I should by all rights turn you over to the authorities. You would undoubtedly serve a prison term. And then you would be released, hardened, made even stupider than you are, and probably become a professional thief, in and out of prison until one of your victims finally puts you out of your misery. Or…"
He cocked his head. "You could reform yourself, with my aid of course. You brew a decent cup of tea. What work do you do?"
"I'm slop boy at an inn in Ghars."
"Slop boy," he repeated thoughtfully, stroking a cat with one hand and his long gray beard with the other, while the cup and saucer trembled on his broad belly. "Then domestic service to a gentleman such as myself would be a step up. I need someone to run my errands to town and keep the cottage clean and running… and to look after the cats. I've hesitated because of the expense, but…"
He eyed me for a moment, and the intensity of his gaze belied his easy manner of speech. I felt as though he were peering into my brain, plucking out the thoughts and examining them. At last he spoke again.
"What's your name?"
"Jasper," I said.
"All right, Jasper, my name is Benelaius, and here is my proposition. I give you two options. Option one, I turn you over to the Purple Dragon contingent and tell them I caught you burglarizing my house, which, as we both know, is the truth. Option two, you agree to become my indentured servant for a period of, say, one year. You do whatever I tell you to do-go, fetch, clean, carry, cook-for which you will receive your room and board, and an education."
"An… education? You mean I'd have to take lessons?"
"Yes. Tutoring. From me, in lieu of a salary."
"So my options," I said, "are either jail or slavery."
He frowned. "The kingdom of Cormyr does not sanction slavery, as well you know."
"Well, what do you call working for you for a year for free?" I was bolder than I should have been, but since there was no option concerning being shredded by cats, I felt a bit braver.
Benelaius frowned even more deeply. "Perhaps a very small salary, then, to assist you in learning the management of your own money. How much do you earn at the inn?"
"Five silver falcons a month," I lied. I made only two a month.
'You lie," Benelaius said smoothly. "You make two