Fred kept his promise to enjoy the day, and wandered about the great city. He enjoyed the sights, though less so when he glimpsed Pat walking arm-in-arm with Percival. He wouldn't admit it to himself, but he felt a weight on his chest and he rushed away before they spied him. The young man returned to the castle shortly after that, and bumped into the lord of the city himself in the entrance hall.
Lord Tramadore smiled at the boy. "I didn't get a chance to ask you how you were feeling this morning. Are you well?"
"I'm fine, my lord," Fred replied. He wanted to scuttle back to his room, but the lord blocked his way.
"Would it be asking too much if I spoke with you for a moment in my study?" Lord Tramadore requested. Fred's shoulders slumped, but he nodded his head. The lord led him into the room and firmly closed the door behind them. "I've had my carpenter repair the doors so we shouldn't be disturbed."
Fred sat down in his customary chair and squirmed. "Have I done something wrong?"
Lord Tramadore paused around the other side of the desk and laughed. "No, you haven't. I just wanted to ask how you came to be with such unusual company," he explained as he seated himself. He leaned forward over the desk and his eyes watched the boy. "So how did Ned find you?" Fred recounted the tale, and by the time he was done Tramadore had a smirk on his face. "I see. It would be like Ned to take a boy under such questionable means and thrust him out into the world. Do you regret what's happened to you?"
Fred's hands fidgeted in his lap, and he looked down at them. "I don't know anymore. I've seen more than I ever thought I'd see and I'm free of my parents' debt, but, well, I don't know."
Lord Tramadore sat back in his chair and intertwined his fingers together. "Yes, it would be quite a shock. I imagine the trouble you've seen with them hasn't helped you decide whether this was a good or bad idea."
"No, my lord," Fred replied.
The lord nodded at the boy's waist where he could see the broken stick sticking out. "And what do you make of that stick Ned gave you?"
Fred reached down and pulled it out. "I don't know what to make of it, my lord. It's magical, and Ned said I was the only one who could use I, but I don't know what that means. Is it important that I'm the only one who can use it?"
"That's very important for a castor's staff. They choose their master, and no amount of force will make them work unless they wish to work," Lord Tramadore told him.
"Begging your pardon, my lord, but that still just tells me that I'm the only one who can use it," the boy countered.
Tramadore raised a brow. "Would knowing who owned the staff before you satisfy your question?"
Fred's ears perked up; his heart thumped in his chest. "Only a part of what I wish to know, my lord, but I'd be glad for that."
The lord smiled as he reminisced. "I'm proud to say he was a great friend of mine, and of Ned's, which I believe you know. He was born with a very poor constitution. The smallest exertion tired him easily, but that didn't stop him from traveling. The three of us journeyed together across much of the world. With Ned and I being so much older than him we treated him as a son, and cared for him how we could before the burden became too much for him, and he retired to his bed in a temple not far from where he was born. He died there just short of his twentieth birthday."
"So he was the one to make this strange staff?" Fred asked him. Tramadore gave a nod. "What was his name?"
Tramadore sighed. "Cedric Osgood."
"Cedric Osgood," Fred repeated. He glanced down at the stick in his open hands. "How did he make it? This staff, I mean."
The lord smiled and shrugged. "I can't say myself. When I first knew him he already had it in his possession, though he was only fifteen at the time."
Fred's eyes widened. "My age," he whispered.
Lord Tramadore raised his eyebrows. "Is it? That's a very interesting coincidence, though I'm sure you two would have gotten along quite well. You remind me a great deal of him."
"So that's why Ned gave it to me? Because I look like this dead friend of yours?" Fred wondered.
"Yes, I believe so, and Ned means for you to do great things with it. Whether that comes to pass or not depends on you, of course, but he certainly gave you the right tool," Tramadore replied.
Fred shook his head. "I guess I've never had to make this sort of decision before. I always had my lord telling me which crops to grow and where, and when I could leave the manor. I just don't know what to do."
Lord Tramadore stood and walked around the desk to Fred. He put his hand on the boy's shoulder, and Fred looked up into the man's kind face. "I'm sure that whatever destiny offers you and whatever choices you make, they will lead you down the path of a good man."
Fred managed a smile and uncurled himself from the chair. "Thank you. I think I really needed that."
Tramadore reached into his vest and pulled out a gold watch on a silver chain. "My pleasure, and it will also be my pleasure to remind you that supper will be served very soon. I'm sure your friends are wondering where you-" They heard a knock at the door; Lord Tramadore turned to the entrance. "Come in."
Pat peeked her head into the room. "My apologies, Lord Tramadore, but I was-" She caught sight of Fred and frowned. "There you are. You had us worrying you'd been assassinated," she scolded as she marched into the study and up to the boy. "Where in the world have you been?"
"Here?" Fred weakly replied.
Pat grabbed his arm and pulled him from his chair. "Well, here is not where you need to be. Supper was called and when we found your room empty Ned had me come down to find Lord Tramadore and see if he could find you. Thank you for keeping him out of trouble."
Lord Tramadore bowed to her. "I'm glad to be of service."
Pat escorted Fred upstairs and to his room, where she left him to attend to his toiletries. The three rejoined out in the hall; Fred wondered where Ned was all day, but the old man rebuffed any and all questions from Pat about his whereabouts. He especially worried them since he had a mischievous smile on his face. The companions wandered downstairs and into the dining hall. The guests from the previous evening crowded in with them, and took the same seats from the night before. Fred aimed to sit opposite Pat, and so one seat down from where he'd sat, but Ned gently edged him down the table.
"Come on, Fred, move farther down. You can't expect an old man like me to sit in such a chair," Ned scolded.
Fred didn't see anything wrong with that chair, but he obediently moved one seat down. Though all the chairs looked alike, he thought this new one fitted rather differently than the others. He wouldn't complain, though, not with such a feast laid out before him. The other guests seated themselves and all relished the fine food, Fred most of all. An apprentice wasn't likely to be fed feasts every day, so this would be his last good meal for a very long time; maybe for the rest of his life. The food was wonderful, the company friendly, and a messenger raced into the hall fast enough he slipped on the shining floors.
"Lord Tramadore, it's gone!" the man shrieked.
The lord stood from his chair and the table went silent. "What's gone? What is it?"
The messenger got to his feet and his face was as pale as death. "The Uncomfortable Chair! It's been stolen!"
The women were all atwitter and many of the men stood to offer their services in its recovery. Lord Tramadore raised his hand and the room calmed down. "A moment, please, ladies and gentlemen. I'm sure this is some mistake."
The messenger shook his head hard enough to make Fred wonder how his head stayed on his shoulders. "I saw it myself, my lord. The chair has vanished!"
The guests repeated their panic, and Lord Tramadore hurried through them to the messenger, whom he spoke to privately. Pat and Fred looked around in bewilderment, unsure whether to join in the commotion or entertain themselves with the sight of so many adults in fright over a lost chair. Amongst the panic and wonderment, Ned stood and held up his hands. His voice boomed over their frantic voices. "A moment, ladies and gentlemen. The chair is not stolen."
A hush fell over the room, and Tramadore snapped his head toward his old friend. "You know something of this, Ned?"
Ned smiled and nodded. "I do. I know where the chair is hidden, and so do you all. It is in this room, and one of you has sat in it." Many of the women gasped and others glanced over the room, searching for the chair. "I deceived you all through magic, and through magic I will reveal it." He raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
The ruse fell away from the chair and Fred felt the seat beneath and around him transform into its true form. Fred paled and Pat's mouth dropped open; he was the one sitting in the Uncomfortable Chair. Pat's jaw wasn't the only one to drop, and there was a collective gasp from the females. Before the boy could flee the room away from all those staring eyes, one of the older men stepped forward.
"Boy, what is your name?" he asked in a shaking voice.
"F-Fred," he replied.
The old man turned back to his compatriots. "Three cheers for Fred, the Chosen One of the Chair!"
A great cry went up from the other guests and they laid hands on him. He yelped when he was raised on the shoulders of the younger men and paraded above the crowd.
"Ned!" he cried out. The old man leaned against the wall and grinned; Pat stood beside him and pointed to Fred. The boy couldn't hear any words above the shouts of the crowd, but he saw her stomp her foot and turn to him with a helpless look on her face.
The crowd moved; Fred grasped his captors' hands as they paraded him around the room. Chants filled the air expressing their joy for their new-found leader. "Hooray!" hollered the men. "Yay!" yelled the women. The females fawned over him and the men pushed and shoved to shake his hand. In the back of the crowd Fred noticed Percival standing beside Anthony Brighton; both were showed interest toward him, but neither participated in the jovial atmosphere.
The crowd took Fred around the room a few times and through the archway. it was a low archway, and he knocked his head against the door frame. No one noticed his pain; they were too eager to parade the boy before the whole town. The guests aimed their steps toward the castle entrance and the doors were flung open. Fred's eyes widened and he tried to claw his way out of their hands.
Lord Tramadore stepped in front of the marchers and held up his hands. "A moment, ladies and gentlemen! I don't wish to lose my guests to rapture without an inquiry into this matter."
"Pish-posh, Lord Tramadore," one of the men replied. "Let us show the city their new leader."
"That remains to be seen, and kidnapping is still an offense in my city," Lord Tramadore pointedly countered; he was still in charge of the city. "Now surrender the boy to me and return to your food. If you'd rather harass him or abandon the meal, then you're free to leave." At a signal from Tramadore several of his guards circled the guests. The peoples' enthusiasm died at the points of the guards' weapons.
The crowd lowered Fred to the floor and he rushed over behind Tramadore. The lord glanced over the crowd. "Now will you rejoin me for dinner or leave?"
The people shuffled from leg to leg, and looked to one another. A voice sprang up from amongst their number. "We should tell the whole city!" That inspired movement from them, and they stampeded out of the castle in their bid to be the first to inform their friends and neighbors of the miracle. Tramadore grabbed Fred and dove out of their way. The guests were all gone in a moment save for Percival and Brighton. Pat hurried up to Fred and checked him over; Ned was close behind her.
Tramadore shook his head. "I had no idea I had invited such wild animals," he halfheartedly joked.
"Gossip fever is a very contagious disease," Ned pointed out.
"Yes, and let us hope their fellow citizens aren't so prone to such a burning outburst," Tramadore countered