War of Power (The Trouble with Magic Book 3) by B. J. Beach Page B

give Master Symon my best wishes and I’ll see you both tomorrow, which won’t be long coming.”
    Bidding her goodnight, Karryl stepped out into the quiet darkness of the lane. Expecting to be doing quite a bit of walking the next day, he decided to go home the quick way. Nearby, a prowling cat arched its back and hissed as Karryl vanished.
     

11 - Finding and Keeping  
    Fronted by a neat cobbled courtyard, the house stood about ten paces back from the road. Square-paned windows in the upper storeys glinted in the pale wintery sunlight. He stood gazing at it, certain it was the right place. Although he had given the original house only a passing glance, it had been the only one set back from the road, and whoever had rebuilt it had obviously used the original foundations. Also, he could see that a considerable number of pieces of the old stone had been utilised in the construction of the outer walls. He realised his interest had been noted when the wide, brass-embellished front door swung open. Aided by a curiously bent and twisted stick, an elderly man shuffled out into the courtyard.
    His voice was reedy and tremulous. “Is there something you want young man?” Karryl took a step forward then stopped as the man pointed his stick at him. “Don’t
    come any closer! You can tell me from there.” He leaned on the stick and glared.
    Raising his hands in a submissive gesture, Karryl smiled. “I was hoping to discover something about the history of your house. I know a little about it already and…”
    The old man scowled. “It’s not for sale, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
    Keeping his expression neutral, Karryl shook his head. “No, it’s nothing like that. Can I come a bit closer? I don’t want to shout.”
    The old man rolled thin lips over toothless gums. “Tell me who you are first.” Making a little bow, Karryl introduced himself. “I am Karryl, assistant royal magician at the court of King Vailin.”
    Singularly unimpressed, the old curmudgeon shrugged his narrow shoulders and shuffled round to go back into the house. He squinted back over his shoulder. “You’d better come in then. And wipe your feet.”
    The old man waited in the gloom beyond the open door as Karryl started across the courtyard. Something low down near the left-hand corner of the wall caught his eye. His heart gave a little lurch. From beneath a thin covering of fine dark green moss and grey lichen a weatherworn letter K taunted him from the corner of a re-used keystone.
    He moved towards it and the old man scuttled out like a hermit crab. “Don’t touch anything!” His spindly legs quivered as shook his stick. “I can defend myself you know.”
    Karryl stared at him in disbelief, labouring to stifle the guffaw which was threatening to erupt from his throat. Holding up his hands he grinned down at the feisty little man. “You’re quite safe. I just wanted a closer look at something Mr…er….?”
    Pale rheumy eyes squinted back, the stick’s brass ferrule stabbing at the cobbles. “Not that it will mean anything to you, but it’s Hieronymus Smeers.”
    With that he turned, and shuffling towards the house called crabbily over his shoulder. “You coming in then?”
    The front door opened into a long dark hallway which accommodated a plain wooden staircase. A layer of dust covered much of the floor and the place reeked of cats. Shuffling along the hallway, the old man opened a door on the right and showed Karryl into a large gloomy sitting room. The stick was employed to extricate a ferocious looking ginger cat from a shabby upholstered armchair. Lowering himself painfully into it, the old man gestured towards a similar chair occupied by a large tortoiseshell cat which glared a challenge as Karryl moved towards it. Before it could react, it was picked up and placed gently on the floor. Karryl sat down on the sagging cushion, whereupon the displaced cat immediately jumped onto his lap and regarded him with curiously