The Unsuspecting Mage - Brian S. Pratt [21]
It’s not going to hurt that bad.
Coming to his feet proved how wrong he was. The pain was the worst he’d ever felt in his life. It took every ounce of fortitude and willpower he possessed to cross the ten feet to where his clothes lay. As soon as he comes within reach of his spear, he takes it and uses it for support. Doing so did much to relieve his discomfort.
He finds that his clothes have indeed been cleaned, and dresses.
Once clothed, he carries his backpack over to the bed and sitting once more, takes inventory of what remains of his meager possessions. Everything is there except the book explaining the workings of magic. He does a visual search of the area where his backpack had sat, but fails to find it. It occurs to him that he could possibly have lost it during his flight from, and subsequent fight with, the wolves. But that doesn’t seem likely as the backpack had been closed tightly throughout the ordeal and still remains so. Could Ceryn have taken it? James didn’t want to believe that of his benefactor, but what did he really know about the man?
Deciding to take things one step at a time, he returns his pack to the corner. Hobbling across the room with the aid of his spear, he opens the door and peers through to the outer room.
Beyond he finds a room three times the size of the one in which he awoke. In the center sits a wooden table with three chairs. One wall holds several shelves containing plates and other cooking equipment. Set against another section of wall is a simple wooden desk atop which papers lay in haphazard fashion. An inkwell sits near the stack of papers with a quill lying beside it.
The bow that saved his life hangs near the desk along with a quiver of arrows. On the side of the bow opposite the quiver lies a scabbarded sword and shield, both of which have the look of having been well used.
Attention drawn to the opening of the door, Ceryn spies him and gives a nod as the Warden continues slicing vegetables for a big stewpot. Indicating the table with a jerk of his head, he says, “Have a seat. This will need to cook a little longer.”
Hobbling to the table, James looks longingly toward the stewpot simmering upon a hook over a gently burning fire in the fireplace. The mouthwatering aroma it emits causes his stomach to growl. Taking a seat facing Ceryn he says, “I haven’t had a good meal for a while.”
Ceryn grins and chuckles. “Whether this will be what you call good or not, you’ll have to decide.” Finishing with the preparations, he places the pot on a hook over the fire in the hearth to finish cooking. After filling two mugs from a pitcher, he brings them to the table.
James takes the one offered him, looks within and sniffs uncertainly.
“It’s just ale, lad. You look like you could use some.” Giving him a wink, Ceryn tosses back his mug and takes a deep draught.
Bringing the mug to his mouth, James hesitantly takes a sip. When the liquid hits his tongue, he has to admit it wasn’t bad. A little strong for his taste, but not worse than some of the stuff he has tried over at his friend Dave’s place. Glancing to Ceryn, James notices that he’s being scrutinized.
“I suppose you have a lot of questions about me?”
“Yes, a couple. But your business is just that, your business. You seem a nice enough lad. You needn’t feel obligated to tell me anything more than what you want.” Ceryn sets his mug on the table then returns to the stew pot where he stirs it with a large wooden spoon. “Can’t let it burn on the bottom.”
“That’s what my grandmother always says, too.” Remembering times sitting in his grandmother’s kitchen while she cooked makes him a little homesick.
“She must have been a nice woman, a good cook maybe?” He casts a look to James and receives a nod in reply. Returning his attention to the pot, he stirs the stew a few more times. Once satisfied that it isn’t in any immediate danger of burning, he sets the spoon on the counter and returns to the table. Grabbing