The Wind Cauldron
Juan did not come with the bundled food until after the sun had gone down. Chris had expected the nobles, the prince at their head, to raise hell, but they kept their mouths shut. Perhaps they were too starved to spare the strength for a protest.
Juan laid out bread stuffed with ham, fried chicken, stew, salad, beer, and wine in the dining room off the kitchen, then vanished again. The apprentices of Lion Pavilion sat around the table and ate in silence. To Chris, a spread like this was a king's banquet.
Delicious. The meal left him genuinely satisfied, and it seemed to suit noble palates just as well.
"Not bad at all."
Tony, of all people, offered a word of praise. Alex spoke up.
"You think Juan cooked this?"
"His wife, I'd wager."
"A wreck like him doesn't have a wife."
The two of them spent a while tearing Juan to pieces.
Chris looked at Smith.
"You feel any mana?"
Smith shook his head.
"No."
"When we took the test back in the barony, the water rippled."
"It did."
"If we never felt mana, how did the water move?"
"No idea."
Frank, who had been listening, put in a word.
"You didn't feel it, but it still moved. That's why the water shook."
Frank was a taciturn sort. This was the first time he had opened his mouth since the rooms were assigned.
"You can move it without feeling it?" Chris asked.
"The stones that fueled it, the soil sprinkled in the cauldron, the reagent mixed into the water. They must have helped."
"You think so?"
"The stones never caught fire, but the water boiled. No chance that was ordinary."
Tony's face settled somewhere between a sneer and admiration.
"A commoner with a working head on his shoulders. Imagine that."
Chris turned to the nobles.
"It seems Frank has the right of it."
"That cauldron is called a Wind Cauldron," Prince Mark said. "A special vessel, made by grinding wind-attribute mana stone into it. The metal that went into the cauldron is the same sort of thing. The black soil, too, is sensitive to the earth attribute..."
He let the sentence die. Talking with a slave clearly sat poorly with him.
Chris shifted his gaze.
"I hear that Lady Catherine, the most beautiful woman in the kingdom, is the young lady of an enormous trading house. You must know a thing or two."
Catherine let out a laugh as fresh as dew.
"Flatterer. You think I'll hand over information just because you puff me up?"
"Is telling the truth flattery?"
Faye cut into the exchange.
"Oh my, Chris. Why do you talk down to me and up to Catherine?"
"If you happen to know something, I'm perfectly willing to talk up to you as well."
"Hmph."
Faye turned her head away, offended.
"I don't know."
Catherine preened, as if she were doing them a tremendous favor.
"The cauldron is wind attribute. The blue reagent carries water attribute, and the black soil has earth-attribute mana stone in it. The stones used for fuel are fire-attribute mana stone through and through."
"Mana stone?"
"Stone that holds mana. From what I understand, they run from the lowest grade to the highest, according to how much mana they contain and how pure it is."
"And by attribute, you mean the attribute of the mana?"
"That's right. Mana holds many attributes, but water, fire, earth, and wind are by far the most common. Those four are called the Four Great Attributes, or the Four Great Elements. Add metal, and you have the Five Great Elements."
"The cauldron is made of metal, so all five attributes are contained in the Wind Cauldron."
"Exactly."
"Then the nobles would all know this."
"Unless the house is insignificant, most of them do."
"If they already know that mana exists..."
Chris knit his brow and sank into thought. At last his mouth opened.
"Houses like the royal family, or a marquisate, ought to have some private knack for sensing mana. So why is it that Your Highness, Lord Alex, and Lord Tony still haven't felt it?"
The prince and the two nobles went bloodless.
Smith muttered under his breath.
"Like Juan said. Cast off by their houses."
Alex hurled his fork.
"Shut your mouth!"
The fork buried itself in Smith's stomach. Had it been a spear or a dagger, he would have died or been badly hurt. Smith pulled it free and glared. Blood welled from the wound, a red spot blooming on his clothes.
The prince shoved himself up so hard the chair legs shrieked across the floor. Lips pressed tight, he left the dining room. Alex and Tony abandoned their seats right after him.
Smith looked at the empty places and sneered.
"Nobles. Remarkable people. They wound a man and can't spare a single apology."
"You poked them," Alice said.
Smith held out his palms as if he had no idea what she meant.
"Me?"
"Cast off by their houses... you stuck a finger right in the sore spot."
"I was just talking. It was a joke."
"They took it badly."
Frank spoke.
"Judging by the reaction, they feel cast off too."
When Chris came down to the dining room in the morning, food was already laid out. Juan, it seemed, meant to see to the meals at least.
He took a seat and ate bread, eggs, sausage, and bacon. By the time he had put away a fair amount, the others came down.
The nobles had no appetite and only picked at what they had taken. The commoners and the slaves ate with the same vigorous hunger as Chris, but Catherine touched nothing except a boiled egg and the salad.
Chris had raised livestock, yet he had never once eaten the meat of an animal he raised. A few stolen eggs were the whole of it. He had secretly caught birds and fish in the woods and the streams, so meat was not entirely new to him, but it had never tasted like this. Potatoes and grass had been his staples. He was so sick of grass that he would not so much as touch the salad.
A little later they left the dishes where they were and moved to the lounge. Smith dropped into a chair.
"It's chilly."
"About time it turned cold," Alice answered. "And we're up in the mountains, where the air runs low."
Smith clapped Chris on the shoulder.
"There's firewood outside."
"And what am I supposed to do about it?"
"You're the firewood specialist."
Chris grumbled for a moment, then got up and went out. A little later he came back with an armful of wood and stacked it in the fireplace.
"No embers."
He rapped the logs with the poker leaning beside the hearth.
"Be nice if some mage just set the whole thing ablaze. Anyone here know how to start a fire?"
Tony rose without fuss, went up to the second floor, and came back down a moment later to toss over a paper box.
"They're called matches."
Then he sneered.
"Not that you've ever seen one in your life, of course."
He was right. Chris held the box, at a loss.
"How do you use this?"
Tony drew a match from the box and struck it along the rough strip on the side. Flame sprang up.
"Ignorant."
He tossed the lit match into the fireplace. The flame failed to catch on the wood and died at once. Chris closed his hand around the box.
"I'll manage the rest."
He went outside and came back with small twigs and some paper. Crouching before the hearth, he fiddled with the matches and the paper until he had a fire going.
"That was quick," Smith said.
"I used to roast bird eggs out in the woods. Frogs, too. And snakes."
Faye made a show of retching.
"Ugh."
Chris shifted over to the sofa.
"If I hadn't roasted those frogs, I'd have starved."
Smith came and sat beside him.
"Sly bastard."
"I go to the trouble of lighting you a fire, and this is the thanks I get?"
"I thought you were short on brains. Back on the estate you really seemed like a halfwit."
"Did I?"
"Jack could bully you and you wouldn't make a sound, and every day you went around grinning like a fool. Finding out the whole thing was an act gives me the chills."
Chris shot him a look that said he was one to talk.
"And what about you?"
"What about me?"
"When you were running around playing Jack's lackey, I thought you were an idiot too. Looking at you now, you've got nerve. A bellyful of it."
"I had to eat."
"Did Jack see that you ate?"
"Jack's father is a technician at the brewery. I followed Jack around to learn the trade."
"And did you learn it?"
"Jack's an idiot, but his father is sharp. I think he had my intentions figured. He only taught Jack bits of the craft when I wasn't around."
"Wasted effort, then."
"I didn't think of it as wasted at the time."
"Why not?"
"I changed the plan. I'd learn it from Jack instead."
"If we'd stayed on the estate, would Jack have taught you?"
"I'm smarter than Jack, at least. I'd have scratched his ass nice and gentle and wrung every last technique out of him."
Faye said, prim as could be, "When we're all sitting together, I would appreciate it if you refrained from filthy talk."
Smith laughed.
"Putting on airs like a noble young lady."
Faye flared.
"Are you trying to start something with me?"
"No. It's just funny, watching you act so refined."
"That is picking a fight."
"Sorry. If I offended you, I apologize."
Chris talked with Smith a great deal. More, even, than they had ever spoken back on the estate, and all of it here in the lounge. Smith was smarter than expected, and he had a good tongue on him. Honestly, Chris enjoyed the conversation. Back on the estate, he could never have imagined such a thing.
While they talked, time slipped by and the fire weakened.
"Should I put on more wood?"
He said it looking at Alice, who was sitting beside the fireplace. She shook her head.
"I'm fine. It's warm."
Chris tapped Smith's shoulder and rose from the sofa.
"Good talk."
"Where are you going?"
"To feel mana. Mage William said it, didn't he? Go somewhere with good air and meditate."
Chris left Lion Pavilion, sat on the bench at the left of the front yard, and stretched. The wind moved well there, the shade was just right, and the air was clear.
"This is a fine spot."
He had just eased his eyes shut and settled into his breathing when Alex approached.
"Get lost."
Chris looked at him with a sour eye.
"Why?"
"This is my seat."
"Since when?"
"Since the moment I decided to meditate here."
Among the cohort who had entered the magic tower together—and neither the nobles nor the commoners would ever count a former slave as one of their number—Catherine was the most striking of the women, and Alex the most striking of the men. Alex had the face of an angel. His conduct ran closer to a devil's.
Chris looked at his hands, soft, without a single callus worked into them. He had heard that the men of noble houses trained their bodies, but this one seemed not to have trained at all.
Should I hit him? A headbutt to the bridge of the nose to drop him, then a seat on his chest and a few blows—Chris was fairly sure he could put the man down without much trouble.
He glanced aside. Everyone else was watching.
Chris stood and dusted off his backside.
"Well. Suit yourself."
As he left the spot, Alice came over and whispered.
"I thought you were going to hit him."
"Why would I? I'm a patient man."
"Then why did you hold back?"
"He's a noble."
"Didn't his house cast him off?"
"That's Juan's claim. The truth could be something else."
"You're more cautious than I expected."
Chris said it as if he were showing off.
"I am a fine man. Full of caution, and very patient."
"Patient, maybe. Fine, I'm not so sure. Perhaps you'll look fine once you feel mana."
"Wait just a little. I'll show you any moment now."
But a week passed, and Chris still had not felt mana. He took what comfort he could in the fact that no one else had felt it either.