Chapter 5: "Hat Trick" (part a)

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Dodging the puddles and other people as best as he could, Teine took advantage of a break in the scattered showers to head toward the Demesne at his best pace, which was nothing less than a flat out run. As he pounded his way down the footpath, his satchel hammered his kidneys with each step. Fortunately, the bag was sturdy waterproofed canvas, and although it was heavy from the weight of his sketchbook, creative writing notebooks, clothes and other necessities, Teine did not worry about the safety of his precious paperworks.


"Where's the fire?" called a couple of oldsters, as he barreled past like a racehorse down the homestretch. Teine didn't bother to answer.

As he neared the main house he nearly wept with relief. The grooms were just driving up Madric's stylish candy apple red carriage. It seemed as though he was not too late, after all. The horses, a matched pair of sleek bobtail grey thoroughbreds, danced and tossed their heads, while behind them, the sky loomed large and angry like the personification of a baleful deity. Although the rain was on momentary hiatus, it seemed as though the whole world stood still, waiting for Nature and Magic both to unleash their wrath.


Once he passed the low hedge perimeter that outlined the lawn, Teine slowed from his breakneck pace to a light jog. He headed for the back entrance this time, as was only appropriate. His sense of decorum told him that no matter who he belonged to, there was only one place for a sopping wet Human to go- through the back, where nobody important would see him. As it turned out, someone was waiting for him. He nearly groaned out loud when he saw who it was.


"Where were you, boy?" snapped Phoebe, the pregnant maid who had taken him to the Master's study earlier. "I sent a runner for you a good half an hour ago."


"Then they're probably still looking for me." Teine shrugged, torn between accepting the crabby woman's wrath, but unwilling to accept any real blame. "I wasn't given any orders to report here. Leis just told me it was a good idea, in case I was needed." Hoping to distract her further, Teine reached into his satchel and produced his leather bound folder of transfer papers. "Here's my paperwork."


Phoebe squinted at him with the skeptic's eye, then sighed and took the folder. Teine figured she must have decided he was telling the truth, as her demeanor softened somewhat and she stood aside to let him pass into the mud room of the kitchen wing. There, on practical cubby shelves, were items ranging from garden shears to berry baskets, with lower divisions for different pairs of wooden clogs arranged by size. An assortment of hooks and bars for hanging coats and rugs adorned one wall, as well as a big, durable hamper woven from small saplings. As Teine passed, Phoebe draped his shoulders with the biggest, thickest towel he had ever seen. "I suppose it can't be helped, then. Lord Solmurrian has had a busy day. Perhaps he thought he mentioned it to you during your meeting." She rubbed the towel on his shoulders, and Teine froze out of sheer surprise as she began toweling him off, paying special attention to his mop of dark red hair and gathered sleeves of his tunic. "My, but you look a fright." she grumbled. "But I suppose that's not of concern to anyone tonight. You'll be riding in an open carriage in a bit, anyway."


"Open?" Teine squeaked, unable to help himself. "But... the storm?"

"Open," Phoebe confirmed, cracking the first grin Teine had seen from her. "Madric says it's actually less dangerous, with these gusty winds. Apparently he was riding in a carriage with the bonnet up once, and the wind ripped the whole rig right off the road. Horses, too."


Teine, unwilling to admit he was a little frightened of horses in the first place, decided to change the subject, quickly. Noticing the change in her demeanor, he took the opportunity to try and gain a little more knowledge so he could insulate himself from any social gaffes. "He lets you call him Madric?"


Phoebe nodded. "It's confusing to have two 'Lords' running around, and he's technically not our Master," she told him, keeping her voice low. "There, you've stopped the worst of the dripping. Now it's just what us ladies of the house like to call 'hurry up and wait' time." She took the damp towel from his shoulders, draping it tidily over a bar on the wall. "Would you care for a cup of something warm? I've heated up some milk for the boy. There's enough for two cups of chocolate, if you'd like."


It took all the discipline Teine had to keep his jaw from dropping to his chest, he was so surprised. Chocolate was very expensive, and therefore was reserved as a treat for only the most special of special occasions. He could count on one hand the amount of times he'd tasted it in his entire life. Like most of the Humans, he had a sweet tooth that was easily sated by other confections and he was indulged on a regular basis. But, chocolate? That was a real surprise.


"Yes, please," he answered, as quickly as he could muster his voice.


"It will be ready shortly, and then we'll bring it to him." she promised. "We've been readying your room, but the linens haven't been brought up yet, and I don't expect you'll be staying there tonight anyway. Why don't you wait in the playroom until Madric is ready to leave? C'mon..." she said. "Don't worry. I'll take you there." Now that Teine was safely accounted for, dried and reasonably presentable, Phoebe seemed to slowly unwind. Teine found he could almost forgive her for the slap, earlier. She continued with the pleasantries as she led him through the thickly carpeted, maze-like halls and up a flight of stairs. "I know it's probably a bit overwhelming to think of finding your way around here, but trust me, it will be second nature after a few days. Here we are!" Phoebe paused at a double sized door covered by a heavy emerald colored velvet curtain. It sounded as though someone was playing a radio on the other side. The reception was good enough to tell that it was a fabal game. Teine hoped it was a replay of the game he'd missed earlier.

Phoebe pushed the curtain open and stepped into the room. Teine followed closely on her heels, noticing the room was furnished much less formally than the Master's study. The furnishings were all well padded and comfortable, with sizes to accommodate adult Humans and the smaller framed Aoife as well. On a intricately woven rug, a grizzled old wolfhound grinned and thumped his tail in welcome. Teine liked dogs, but he hardly noticed the hound's friendly overture, his attention completely taken up by the box, across the room. It sat on a pedestal against the far wall, and although there was glass set into the front of it, it was nothing like a mirror or a window because it was neither transparent or reflective. Teine squinted, trying to make sense of what his eyes told him could not be, he then moved forward to get a better look.


Chuckling at his reaction, Phoebe left him to his investigation. "Cocoa will be ready in a minute," she called out, then turned and left. The curtain swished shut behind her.

Ruffling the dog's ears as he went past, Teine walked right up to the strange box. First, a conservatively dressed elder Aoife man sat inside the box looked Teine right into the eyes and told him about a report on something called the "stock market." Teine had never heard of that book, so nothing the Aoife said made much sense. He was just about to peer behind the box, to examine the workings to see if the device was like a mirror that reflected from another location, when the scene changed suddenly to a green field covered with fabal players in their brightly colored armor. Teine stopped and stared in wonder, as the amazing box showed the fabal game that had been played earlier that afternoon. An announcer commented on the action, which was limited only to the most exciting parts of the game- the parts the Teine would most have liked to see.


"Excuse me," came a soft child's voice from the far corner of the room. Teine startled, caught completely off guard. He looked wildly around the room as if caught red-handed at some nefarious activity. He identified a small form, huddled between the overstuffed leather couch and a comfortable-looking armchair, tucked neatly behind one of the footstools. Teine saw the child seemed to be wearing some kind of metal helmet. But before he could say anything, the boy spoke again. "You make a much better door than a window."


Teine blinked, feeling stupid, then realized he was blocking the view to the box. "Oh sorry," he said. He stepped to the side, checking to see if he was out of the way.


"That's better. I want to see how the game ended. Then we can talk."


Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Teine nodded. Apparently, he'd just met his new owner.

The curtain swished open. and Phoebe padded in. She carried a silver tray with two earthenware mugs filled with steaming liquid and overflowing with a white, sweet smelling froth. Teine's stomach rumbled loudly at the scent. He'd been hungry hours ago, and now his body reminded him of his neglect. Phoebe handed the tray to him, and to his delight it also held a plate of sandwiches and a bowl of crisps. Teine glanced hopefully at the food while Phoebe stepped over the dog and set up a small low table next to Marne's entrenchment. She served the child first, bringing him his cocoa and a few sweet cookies on a plate. Teine watched, hoping to get a better glimpse of him, but all he saw was a slender arm wearing a heavy, clunky golden bracelet.

"Can I have my colander back?" Phoebe asked. "I'd like to get those good noodles cooked for tomorrow, and I'll need it to strain-"


"After the news." Marne replied, not taking his eyes off the box. "Then I won't need it anymore."


Teine blinked. His new master was wearing a kitchen appliance on his head. That did not bode well.


Phoebe seemed to take the news in stride. "So, it's safe to start the water?"


The colander bobbed up and down as Marne nodded. "Boil away!" The playbacks of the fabal game continued, then the scene switched to some baseball players practicing at their spring training camp.


As Teine turned many unlikely explanations for the odd scene around in his head, Phoebe took the tray from him, and set it on his own table. Snagging one of the crisps from Teine's bowls, she held it up in her fingers, showing it to the dog. "Stinky- catch!" Turning to the sound of his name, the slobbering hound snatched the cookie expertly out of the air, looking proud of his trick. "Yay! Good boy!" Without further comment, she tucked the silver tray under her arm, and ducked out through the curtains.


Experimentally, Teine took a nibble of one of the sandwiches. Filled with some kind of rich meat paste, cucumbers and cream cheese, it tasted heavenly. Too hungry to be coy, Teine sat down in one of the chairs and began tucking in, while the chocolate cooled to drinking temperature. Between the excellent food and the amazing box, it took only a few minutes before he was warmed and feeling comfortable enough to ask a question.


"So... why are you hiding back there?" he asked Marne. Between Leis's stories and his own memory, Teine recalled that the boy loved to read and that his tastes ran toward the adventurous. "Are you playing soldier or something?"


Without warning, the picture on the box went all fuzzy and Stinky the hound suddenly raised his head and pricked his ears, tail beating the floor with with glee. As Teine turned his head to see if Marne knew what had happened, he realized that the boy had risen to his feet and was looking at him from his sanctuary in the corner, behind the footstool. The Aoife child was taller than Teine expected, about the size of a five or six year old Human, or an Aoife boy of about seventy. Although it was hard to get a clear picture of his face, obscured as it was by the colander, Marne wore comfortable looking flannel pajamas and looked rather frail. Even as Teine cataloged these details away, Marne swiped the colander from his head and bowed deeply, as if he was doffing his hat to a person of standing. The instant the colander cleared the boy's head, the fuzzy picture on the box dissolved completely into a blast of static and the sound twisted into a high-pitched squeal.


"Oh," was all Teine could think of to say.


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The Gilded Shackle is the first book in The Evermancer Saga, a series of online serial novels. Go go right to the most recent chapter, go to www.evermancer.com.

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