Lawrence Watt-Evans - The Sorcerer's Widow

He couldn’t. He didn’t. He was hired on the spot, and given his own room at the inn at Dorna’s expense.

He hoped Ezak wouldn’t be too upset.

Kel had never realized how complicated starting a business was.

Irien took charge of finding a suitable location, while Dorna set about selling some of her husband’s magic to fund the tea shop. Both of them used Kel as an errand boy, a job he had done before, but it was different this time-he didn’t need to hold out his hand for a coin after each errand, and at the end of the day he sat down to a generous supper without worrying about how to pay for it, or where he would sleep.

He also served as a local guide for Dorna as she roamed up and down Wizard Street, talking to sorcerers and sorcerers’ suppliers, gathering references and making appointments, and dickering over prices. He sometimes accompanied Irien as she traveled around the city, talking to landlords and property owners and magistrates and tax collectors about what spaces might be available for rent or purchase, what debts might be attached to them, and so on. He went along on several visits to the city vaults under the north barracks, and helped carry various sorceries to prospective buyers. Every night, when his work was done, he slept in a good bed at the Three Feathers, a bed he had all to himself, with no rats or roaches or centipedes around.

It was nice to have all that space and comfort, but sometimes at night he missed Ezak, and wondered where he was and what he was doing. Dorna and Irien kept Kel too busy to go back to Smallgate and check.

A sixnight after his return to Ethshar, Dorna informed Kel that he was now going to escort her to Vezalis’ house, so that she could make arrangements for the trader to supply the shop with the teas Dorna wanted.

“I can show you which house it is,” he said.

“I want you to talk to him with me, too.”

“That might not be a good idea,” Kel warned her. “He doesn’t like me.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Dorna said. “This is business.”

Kel did not find that entirely convincing, but he did not argue further. He led Dorna back to Archer Street, but this time without any shortcuts-since Kel knew where they were going, they turned onto Archer at its northern end, in Grandgate, and walked it for the full length of Soldiertown, with no need to dodge through alleys and courtyards. When they neared Vezalis’ house, Kel pointed it out. It was much like the other houses on the street-two stories with a steep-gabled attic, half-timbered, with painted plaster between the heavy wooden beams. The paintings on the trader’s house were of ships under full sail, though, rather than the more customary gardens and crockery.

“It’s not very big,” Dorna remarked.

Kel turned up an empty palm. He was no judge of house sizes; they all seemed big to him.

“You’re sure that’s it?”

Kel nodded.

“All right,” Dorna said. “Come on.” She marched toward the door.

“Maybe I should wait here,” Kel said, staying in the middle of the street.

Dorna stopped and beckoned to him. “No,” she said. “You’re coming with me. I told you that. You work for me, and you’ll probably need to deal with him later, so you might as well get used to it.”

Reluctantly, Kel followed her.

This would be the first time he ever approached Vezalis the Merchant with anyone other than Ezak present. It would be the first time he had come to this house when he was neither accompanying Ezak, nor looking for Ezak. He was not at all sure how Ezak’s uncle would take that; would he think Kel was a traitor, abandoning the friend who had raised him?

Dorna waited on the front step until Kel came up behind her, then knocked loudly on the big red door. Kel waited apprehensively.

“He may not be home,” he said, when no one answered Dorna’s knock immediately. “He travels a lot.”

“I know that,” Dorna said, annoyed. “Does anyone else stay here when he’s traveling?”

Kel hesitated. “He told me not to say.”

Dorna glanced back at him. “Does he have any family?”

“Just Ezak.”

“Does Ezak live here when his uncle’s away, then?”

“No!” Kel said. “Uncle Vezalis wouldn’t trust him that much.”

Dorna snorted. “His own uncle doesn’t trust him alone in the house?”

“His uncle knows him better than anyone.”

Dorna laughed, then abruptly stopped, staring over Kel’s shoulder.

Kel turned, and saw Ezak’s uncle standing several yards away, watching the two of them warily. He was a big, burly man in a fraying velvet tunic and well-worn boots, but he seemed in no hurry to confront the short, skinny pair on the steps of his home.

“Vezalis!” Dorna called, waving. “I need to speak to you!”

Vezalis sighed, and walked toward them. Halfway there he cocked his head to one side. “Do I know you?” he said.

“Dorna the Clever,” Dorna answered. “Nabal the Sorcerer’s wife. I mean, widow.”

“Oh!” The trader quickened his pace and held out a hand. Kel started at learning Dorna’s full name for the first time-up until now she had called herself only “Dorna the Sorcerer’s Widow” in his hearing. But then, he supposed that it would not be wise to call oneself “the Clever” in front of people you were going to be haggling with. “I never expected to see you here !” Vezalis said.

Dorna took his hand and said, “With my husband gone, I had no reason to stay in the village.”

“Of course,” Vezalis said. He looked warily at Kel. “You know this boy?” he asked.

“More or less,” Dorna replied. “He and your nephew Ezak tried to steal some of my late husband’s sorcery.”

“Oh,” Vezalis said, his expression more resigned than surprised. “I’m afraid I’m not responsible-”

Dorna shook her head. “That’s not why I’m here,” she interrupted. “He works for me now.”

Vezalis stepped back. “ Works for you?”

“Yes.”

“But you know he’s a thief?”

“He was a thief. Now he’s my assistant.”

“I… That’s very generous of you.” He threw a quick glance at Kel, who looked back defiantly.

“He’s been earning his keep.”

Vezalis gave Kel an uncertain look; Kel guessed the trader wanted to hear another side of the story. He did not say anything, though.

“Is Ezak working for you, as well?” the merchant asked.

“Certainly not! I wouldn’t trust him for a moment.”

Vezalis’ expression was frankly puzzled, but before he could say anything more Dorna continued, “I’ve come about those teas you sold me.”

“What about them?” Vezalis asked warily. “Was there a problem?”

“No, not at all. In fact, I was hoping you could supply me with more- much more.”

For the first time, Vezalis smiled. “Oh?”

“Yes. I’m opening a tea shop over in Nightside, at the corner of Aristocrat and Harbor Streets, and I need someone who can keep me stocked with all those lovely varieties you used to bring me at my husband’s shop.”

“A tea shop?” He smiled, and clapped his hands together. “An entire shop ? Wonderful! I’m sure something can be arranged.”

“When would you like to make those arrangements? Might I come in?”

“Oh,” Vezalis said. His smile vanished as he glanced at the still-closed door. “No, I’m afraid this is not a good time. Might I perhaps come by the shop, say, this afternoon?”

Dorna shook her head. “The shop is still being readied. Are you sure this isn’t a good time?”

“Very sure.”

“Then perhaps you could meet me at the Three Feathers, in Grandgate, this evening after sunset? And bring samples.”