Hamilton Swoop, Wizard of Green Ridge (5 page)

Hamilton turned the horse and wagon into the stable next to the King's Arms. The building was, at least by Green Ridge standards, ornate. Swirls of gold filigree decorated exterior frescos. The walls themselves looked to be made of polished marble. Four massive gargoyles guarded the roof.

Now this is what I call class!
Whiskers jumped from Hamilton's shoulder to the seat beside him.

Hamilton climbed down and watched the stable hand unhitch Bethesda and lead her to a stall. Then, together, they pushed his wagon to the side of the yard.

Whiskers observed as Hamilton collected his belongings. Before leaving the stable, he tipped the hand a royal to brush Bethesda down and to feed her some oats rather the just hay. Whiskers followed as he carried his pack, the burlap sack containing Obsidian and the walnut box in through the main hotel door.

Entering the Arms’ lobby, his feet sank into the deep, plush carpet. Bright electrics illuminated the room. A mop-haired boy of fifteen or so, dressed in a uniform a size too large, greeted Hamilton at the door and offered a cart for his luggage. Hamilton put his luggage on the cart.

The boy tried to shoo Whiskers away before Hamilton stopped him. “Cat's with me, boy."

"Sorry, sir, but we don't allow animals.” Not much authority made it into his squeaky voice.

"What other inns are there in town? Perhaps you could direct me.” Hamilton bent to retrieve the items he'd deposited on the cart.

"Er, maybe the Arms could make an exception. The manager's over there.” The boy's voice dropped to a whisper.

The King's Arms would not be turning away patrons, considering that the stable, which could hold several dozen horses, held only six or seven. Even the main lobby stood empty, except for the boy and the manager.

The boy wheeled the cart to the main desk. “Can I help you, sir?” The manager was a short man dressed in a shiny black shirt and brown pants.

Whiskers jumped back up on Hamilton's shoulder. He winced as one of the claws bit through his coat. “I want a room for myself and my cat, but your boy says the hotel has a problem with my animal. That so?"

The manager looked flustered and shot a dark look at the boy. “No, sir. No problem. How long will you be with us?"

"I don't know. A week, maybe more."

"That'll be five royals a night, which includes dinners. You'll have to pay in advance."

Hamilton took a deep breath. “Bill it to the Guild.” He signed the register.

"Which Guild would that be, Mister, er, Master Citrine?” he asked as he read the register.

"Wizard's Guild."

The manager's eyebrows went up and his mouth opened in apparent awe. “You're him, aren't you? You're the one!"

"What are you talking about?"

"You're the one Master Diamond said was coming. You're going to kill the dragon"

"That remains to be seen. Right now I need a key."

"A key?"

"For the room?"

"For the ... Oh yes. Of course. The best room we have!” The manager handed over the key. “Will there be anything else?"

"Yes, some food. Send it to the room. Beef, bread and potatoes, and something to drink. Maybe something sweet as well."

Ahem
, Whiskers whispered in Hamilton's mind.

"And some fish for my cat."

Ahem...

"Serve the fish in a bowl, please."

Thanks, Old Man.

"Of course, Master Citrine. Roscoe, show them to the Royal Suite. I'll have the food sent up immediately."

Hamilton started to follow Roscoe, and then turned back. “Notify the Guild that I have arrived, but not until morning. Tell no one else I am here."

The manager's shoulders drooped. “Of course, Master Citrine. It shall be done."

The lift deposited them on the third floor of the hotel. Roscoe pushed the cart down the dark green, carpeted hallway. The wall paper was white laced with gold.
Nice place,
Whiskers observed.

Hamilton did not reply. Roscoe stopped at a door at the end of the hall and held his hand out for Hamilton's key. He unlocked the room, returned the key and opened the door to allow Hamilton to enter first. The boy pushed the cart in. “Shall I unpack for you, Master Citrine?"

"Won't be necessary, lad.” Hamilton pressed a royal into the boy's hand. “Just bring up the food and say nothing of my arrival."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir, er, Master.” He hurried out closing the door behind him.

Whiskers jumped off Hamilton's shoulder, stretched her body by extending her front paws, and yawned. She paced the perimeter of the room and then entered a second room through an open door, disappearing from Hamilton's sight.
All right!

"All right what?” The answer became apparent when Hamilton entered the bedroom. Sprawled across the floor was the largest bed he had ever seen. In the middle of it sat Whiskers. She had sunk about three inches into the soft down comforter. “Oh."

All this and it smells like duck. Heaven! Call me when the food arrives.
Whiskers curled up for a nap.

"You're pushing your luck, cat."

Back in the main room, he arched his back trying to remove some of the journey's stiffness. Then he eased himself into a large, well-padded chair. It was much better than any chair he had ever had pass through his shop. His stress from all the bumps and crunches of their trip melted away.

The elation of his surroundings gave way to darker thoughts. Though he had never seen a dragon, he'd read about them. He remembered that it had been easy to kill dragons, once they discovered the correct method. A large, flying, bloated reptile, full of hydrogen mixed with methane and under pressure, just might be taken out with a flaming crossbow bolt. After a few bad hits, the King's guards found the dragons vulnerability and, after that, good-bye dragons. At least, that is what the book said. However, since it was likely that the other members of the Guild had read this too, why was there still a dragon problem? Myopic archers?

He examined his surroundings. Another chair, two love seats and a huge couch. The walls were painted in white with a slight hint of violet. Two gilt framed mirrors hung on one wall on either side of the door. A large window flanked by a pair of paintings of previous kings adorned the second wall. Hamilton noted the bars over the window—a gilded cage? A rack of hand-to-hand combat weapons stood against third wall. He examined them for a moment, wondering why weapons would be necessary in a Royal Suite. The rack held two swords, a club, a spiked ball on a chain and a formidable looking crossbow, complete with bolts. “Assassination worries?” Hamilton mused.

The last wall sported a fireplace, at least two sizes larger than it need be. Hamilton calculated the resale value of all of the things in the room. He whistled when he realized it was more than his entire annual sales.

Dinner?
Whiskers returned from the bedroom.

"Not yet."

But you whistled.

"Huh? Oh, no, I was just figuring what all this stuff would be worth."

Now you care about money! You could have used magic anytime to be rich, right?

"No, I couldn't. I was just curious. Could you imagine anyone living in a place like this?"

Me, for one, and I haven't even tasted the fish yet. Besides, I know you aren't serious. You couldn't fit all this stuff in the cart.
Whiskers jumped onto the couch.

There was a knock at the door. Dinner arrived. The boy wheeled in a cart, bowed, and then removed a metal hemisphere that covered the table top. Wondrous smells filled the room. Beneath the cover was the biggest steak Hamilton had ever seen, a slab of beef roast that could feed an entire family, two fat baked potatoes—each supporting a butter lake, a full loaf of crisp side bread, two slices of pie; one apple and one cherry, a pot of coffee, and, on the side, two mugs of chilled beer. In addition, there was a cobalt blue glass bowl containing several fresh fish filets.

Fish. Fish. I smell them. Give me fish!

Quiet.
Hamilton spoke to the cat in a voiceless whisper. Then, to the boy, “This will do nicely. Do I have to eat everything?"

"Oh no, Master. Eat only what you like."

"Good. Here's a royal for you, kid, and here's one for the chef. I need not mention what might happen if he doesn't get it. Right?"

"Oh, right, sir. And thank you sir.” The boy accepted the two coins. “Shall I light the fire, Master Citrine?"

"I don't think that will be necessary. Your heating system seems to be more than adequate. That will be all."

"Thank you, sir.” With that the boy departed.

Hamilton took the bowl of fish and put it down on a tiled corner of the room. Whiskers followed his every move. She had her head in the bowl before it touched the floor.
Oh, yes,
mumbled the cat between mouthfuls.
I could definitely live here.

Hamilton started in on his food as well. Fifteen minutes later he sat back, satiated, in the over-stuffed chair. At least when it came to the food, he had to agree with Whiskers. It was the most delicious meal he had ever eaten.

He finished the second beer and then rose, shut off the lights and entered the bedroom. He stripped off his outer clothes and climbed beneath the covers. Whiskers jumped up and curled into a ball at the foot of the bed, where she purred herself to sleep.

For Hamilton, sleep took its time in arriving. The visions of Obsidian he recalled from his younger days filled his mind with trepidation. He glanced at the sleeping cat and felt a tinge of jealousy. He was not looking forward to the morrow.

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At dawn, Hamilton opened his eyes to the splendor of his room. Light poured in the window, and it took a moment for him to remember where he was. When he did, the smile that was trying to emerge died on his lips. He got up and went into the bathroom with his pack. By the toilet, he discovered that Whiskers had relieved herself during the night. He cleaned it up and then took his turn. Relieved and refreshed, he returned to the bedroom and dressed. Whiskers watched from her spot on the bed.

There was a knock at the door of the suite. Hamilton answered it. He was expecting someone from the Guild, but it was the boy, with another cart of food.

"I thought the price only included dinner."

"Nothing is too good for the man who will slay Thermite."

Hamilton winced. It would be pointless to try to set this lad straight. Let him enjoy his raised spirits while he could. “Thanks, lad."

The boy pushed the cart into the room and lifted the lid. Another steak, fried potatoes, eggs, grilled bread, fruit juices, coffee, and another bowl of...

Fish? Do I smell more fish?
Whiskers scampered into the main room.

"How are you going to do it, Master?"

"Do what?"

"Kill Thermite, of course. How are you going to kill him?"

Hamilton smiled. “It's a trade secret. Has anyone from the Guild showed up yet?"

"No, Master Citrine. The manager, Mr. Thackeray, had me deliver your message about an hour ago.” He collected the dishes from the previous night. Hamilton gave him a half-royal as he pushed the previous night's cart towards the hallway.

"Thank you very much, sir.” The door clicked shut behind him.

Fish? Give me the fish!
Whiskers leapt on top of the cart.

"Get off.” Hamilton exclaimed. He swatted at the cat and missed. “Here.” He put the bowl of fish on the floor. Whiskers attacked it.

Hamilton ate a bit of everything on the cart. The food was excellent and, ordinarily, he would have enjoyed it more, but with the Guild and the dragon looming on the horizon, his appetite waned.

After eating less than a quarter of the food, he sat back in the dark green chair with a mug of coffee, to think. The fact that the Guild representative had not arrived provided him with a ray of hope that maybe he was wrong. Maybe, just maybe, they were waiting for some other wizard. After all, he'd gotten the summons from Obsidian, not the Guild. He had almost convinced himself when his hopes were dashed by a knock on the door.

Hamilton put down his coffee, rose and answered to the door. “Who is it?"

A female voice replied, “Master Citrine? I am Thalia Sprite. Master Diamond, Guildmaster of the Guild of Magic Users and Wizards ordered that I bring you to him. I have a carriage waiting downstairs."

Hamilton opened the door. A girl, somewhere in her early twenties, smiled up at him. The only word for her that came to Hamilton's mind was “stunning". Clad in a snow white sheepskin coat and dark breeches, she was raven-haired and had bright, gold-flecked brown eyes. Hamilton wanted to be angry. He wanted to tell her to go tell Diamond to come and get him himself. He really wanted to, but the girl's smile melted him. “Come ... in,” is all he could get out.

The girl's smile grew broader as she entered. The aroma of sandalwood brushed Hamilton's nose.

Whiskers looked up from her meal.
Who's the girl?

She's from the Guild. Go to the bedroom
.

Whiskers flicked her tail and left the room.

He then turned to the girl. “Thalia, please sit. I'll only be a minute or so."

She undid her coat and sat on one of the love seats. The sweater she wore beneath the coat did little to hide her assets.

Hamilton hurried into the bathroom and made himself as presentable as possible. He stared at himself in the mirror and frowned. An old man looked back at him. He grabbed his coat from the bedroom and returned to the girl.

"You know,” he began, “It's been a very long time since anyone called me Master Citrine."

That Roscoe kid called you Master Citrine less than an hour ago.

Shut up and stop listening!
Hamilton formed the words in his head.

Pardon my ears.

"Well, Master Diamond said that you were just the wizard for the job. He said that it was surprising how quickly you got here.” The words flowed from Thalia's lips like honey. Hamilton collected every drop.

"Surprising? What do you mean?” He sat down across from her, inhaling the sandalwood aroma.