The girls escaped Ned, but Fred wasn't so lucky. After all the excitement he wanted food, but he only had a chance to turn toward the door when a heavy hand fell on his shoulder. "A moment, Fred," Ned requested of him.
Fred cringed and looked over his shoulder. The old man's firm, unamused tone told him he wasn't going to like this talk. "This is about the earthquake, isn't it?" Fred guessed. Ned nodded, and the boy turned to him. "I didn't mean for it to get so big. I just didn't know how to stop it."
Ned sighed. "And that is precisely the problem. You used the staff without knowing how you created the magic, nor how to cancel it out."
Fred's shoulders drooped, and he hung his head. He couldn't argue with Ned, the truth was out there in all the wrecked buildings and injured people. His voice was hoarse and trembled. "I know I shouldn't have done it, but I couldn't think of any way out of there. We were surrounded by these guys and-"
"-and you used your staff," Ned finished. Fred nodded, but didn't look up. There was silence between them for a moment, and Ned sighed. "What will you do now? You can't protect Pat if you risk her life performing these spells."
Fred's head shot up and he glared at the old man. "You think I don't know that? On that roof she looked at me like I was-I was-"
"-some kind of monster?" Ned suggested. Fred whipped his head away and closed his eyes; the truth hurt. A heavy hand settled on Fred's shoulder, and Ned spoke in a softer tone. "Knowing all these things, what will you do?"
Fred bit his lip. "I...I need to learn how to control it." He lifted his eyes and met Ned's steady gaze. "I need to become your apprentice, if you'll still have me."
A smile slowly slipped onto Ned's face, and he gave a nod. "I will be glad to have you." Then Ned stepped back, pulled at his long beard and looked the boy over. A twinkle slipped into his eyes that made Fred wonder what he'd gotten himself into. "But perhaps a change of wardrobe."
Ned pointed his staff at Fred and a rainbow of light shot out at the boy. Fred held up his arms and shut his eyes, and a tingle ran through his body. That disappeared in a few seconds, and he felt heavier than before. Fred peeked open an eye and found Ned standing before him with a smirk on his face. "Admirable, and very becoming," Ned complimented.
Fred blanched and glanced down at himself. His eyes bulged out when he saw he wore a sky-blue cloak with glowing stars over the front and back. The sleeves dragged the ground, and he sported a long, snowy-white beard. A long, floppy hat slid down over his eyes, and he yanked it up to see it had a pointy end. He shifted his feet and bells jingled from the end of his pointed slipper shoes. His head shot up and he glared at Ned; even his eyebrows felt bushy.
"What the hell have you done to me?" Fred exclaimed.
Ned chuckled. "Merely gave you the necessary clothing for an apprentice." He reached out and pulled on Fred's beard. The long hair popped off and Ned showed the clips that had hung it over Fred's ears. "All of it is an illusion, but that is perhaps the most useful tool for castors." Fred tried to walk, and stumbled over the hems of both his sleeves and the lower part of his cloak. The hat slid back over his eyes. "Careful you don't get the sleeves dirty," Ned teased.
Fred stiffened, lifted up the hat, and glared at Ned. "You know I hate you, don't you?"
Ned smiled sweetly and adjusted the hat. "It helps me sleep at night, but if you don't wish to have such fine clothes, you may take them off," he teased.
Fred happily complied, and with each divestment the material disappeared in a poof of glittering smoke. "I didn't know castors could really do small magic. You don't seem to use it that often," Fred pointed out.
Ned seated himself on the bed and leaned on his staff as he looked over the boy. "The loudest castor is generally the worst. What he lacks in skill he makes up for with showy parlor tricks."
Fred sat himself beside Ned. "So don't show people what you can do?" he asked the old man.
Ned smiled and gave a nod. "Precisely. Your adversaries won't know your full potential until you choose to reveal it."
"Adversaries like Canavar?" Fred guessed.
The old castor's eyes flitted over the boy. "You haven't heard much of him, have you?"
Fred raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"
"Because very few people would toss his name out as you did without at least a tremor of fear," Ned replied.
The boy scrunched up his face in thought. "I know he made all those creatures we met on the way to Galaron, and that he wanted to kidnap Pat to use her, but I don't know anything else about him."
Ned pursed his lips together and his bushy eyebrows crashed down over his eyes. "Lord Canavar is a very dangerous man. He has ruled a kingdom in the far south near the ocean for well over half a century, and caused trouble for good folks for far longer than that."
"Why does he cause trouble to anyone? What does he want?" Fred wondered.
A small smile slipped onto Ned's lips. "If I said he wishes to rule the world it would be very cliched, and wrong. Lord Canavar's ambitions currently lay in manipulating others to further his ambitions as a castor."
Fred blinked. "Wait, so he's a castor?"
Ned chuckled. "How else do you think he was able to attack us with those creatures?"
The boy shrugged. "I just thought maybe he had somebody else do it for him."
"Unfortunate for us that Lord Canavar himself controls the magic. Anyone else would have a conscious and could be turned away from such plans," Ned replied. Fred detected a hint of bitterness in Ned's voice.
"So have you met Canavar?" he asked Ned.
Ned closed his eyes and gave a nod. "Yes, I have met him several times, but those were all a long time ago. Before you were born."
Fred glanced at Ned and narrowed his eyes. "How do you know when I was born?"
"Lord Tramadore told me, and I believe he heard from you," Ned informed him.
The boy blinked. "Oh, right." He remembered telling Tramadore his age. "So Canavar is trying to become more powerful to do what?"
Ned sighed and rose to his feet. "The one best able to answer that would be the lord himself, and if I were you I wouldn't go looking for him," he advised the young man.
"I don't think I'll ever have a reason to go looking for him unless he gets Pat," Fred replied.
"Pat will be relieved that's one trouble you won't get yourself into," Ned teased. "Especially since you must finish the one you have with Ruth. The kitchen staff retires at midnight, and arises at four, so you have a narrow window to return her to her father."
"What about that whole life-debt?" Fred reminded him.
Ned chuckled. "I'm afraid that's one problem I can't help you with. Gargoyles are very stubborn and proud, and even Sampson will have a difficult time convincing himself that Ruth's oath must be broken to keep her beneath the hill."
Fred frowned. "Especially since you gave her that necklace that keeps her form hidden."
The old man turned his eyes to the ceiling and gave a small whistle. "Yes, quite short-sighted of me to aid her in her foolhardy oath. I must be more mindful next time to avoid doing that, but for now what say we start your training?" Fred's stomach replied with a loud growl; the boy blushed and Ned smiled. "An excellent point, Fred's stomach. No castor can properly work his magic without food. We will have a lesson and procure ourselves of the king's kitchen at the same time."
Ned led the boy down to the entrance to the kitchen. The hour was eleven and none of the guards had returned from the inner city to fill their posts inside the castle, but there were still a few servants in the kitchen employed with fulfilling the whims of guests who craved late-night snacks. Ned slipped beside the entrance and held out his hand against Fred's chest to keep him from passing into the room. He nodded at a platter with half a cake still on it, and dropped his voice to a whisper. "For our first lesson you will float that cake over to us."
Fred glanced between Ned and the cake, and blinked. "How am I supposed to do that?" he asked him.
"First call forth your staff," Ned advised. Fred fumbled for the stick and concentrated hard; nothing happened. Ned sighed and pulled them off to the side away from the kitchen entrance. "You try too hard. A castor's abilities come from the natural gift inside themselves, and you must use that to release your staff, not this." He rapped the top of Fred's head.
Fred waved away Ned's hand and rubbed his head. "How am I supposed to do that?"
Ned smiled and pointed a finger at Fred's chest where lay his heart. "It's in there waiting for you to find it. Can you feel it beating in your heart?"
Fred wrinkled his nose. That sounded like something a girl would think up. "Isn't there a more manly way?" he asked the old man.
Ned chuckled and leaned in close while his eyes twinkled with a dark light. "I could scare you into using the staff," he suggested.
Fred gulped; the threat sounded serious. "I-I think I'll try the heart way, but how am I supposed to know when I've found it? Is there some sort of feeling I'm supposed to, well, feel?"
Ned rubbed his chin and pondered the question. "I would describe it as the same sensation as releasing a very good burp."
The young lad's face drooped. "Are you serious?"
"Am I not ever serious?"
"All the time."
"Well, this time I am serious, and you are not concentrating," Ned scolded him.
"All right, all right," Fred grumbled. He closed his eyes and held the stick in his hands. His mind searched through himself for that special feeling, and before long he felt something bubble up beneath the surface of his being. The stick in his hands quivered and twitched, and he concentrated harder on that feeling. He didn't expect the range of emotions that washed over him as the power built up inside of him. There was joy, grief, and a solace he'd never before felt. When Fred opened his eyes he held not two broken bits of stick, but his staff. "W-whoa..." he murmured.
Ned chuckled. "An interesting statement. Did you feel the staff's power come out from your very being?" Fred dumbly nodded his head. "And also a wave of emotions?"
"Y-yeah, how did you know?" Fred asked him.
"Most enchanted items retain a piece of those who created and used them," Ned explained as he nodded at the staff. "A castor's staff is a very powerful magic, and thus retains the memory of their former master very clearly. You felt the emotions of its former owner, and by overcoming them you earned the right to use the staff yourself."
"And that's it?" Fred wondered.
"What were you expecting? A long, drawn-out rivalry of old versus new owners?" Ned teased.
Fred shrugged. "I don't know, just something more epic."
"What would be more epic is if you would repeat the transformation," the old castor replied. Ned swiped the staff, which promptly reverted back to a stick, and stepped back. His eyes twinkled with mischief and he dangled the pieces out in front of Fred. "Now try it again."
Fred angrily grabbed them. "You could have asked," he replied. Ned chuckled, but didn't argue. In only a few seconds he had the staff transformed again.
Ned softly clapped his hands. "Very well done, you are a quick learner." Fred beamed with pride, and Ned wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulder and guided him over to the kitchen entrance. "Now let's put that staff to the test and float that platter."
Fred was on top of the world. He felt he could do anything, and he stared down that cake with all the confidence of a prize bull-fighter. He pointed the end of his staff toward the platter, careful not to peek the tip around the corner, and focused his sights on the food. The stone at the tip softly glowed and he felt a power ripple out of the wood and across the room. Fred could just taste that delicious, soft, velvety fork dancing across the table, over the floor and into his mouth.
Only he didn't want that, but that was exactly what was happening on the table. Instead of attracting the cake platter his magic touched the silverware spread out over the table. Forks, spoons, and knives stood at attention like trained soldiers, and marched their way toward across the table. They floated over the end of the table and toward the kitchen entrance. One of the kitchen servants turned to the table and dropped the pan she held. She slapped her cheeks with her hands and let out a blood-curdling scream.
Unfortunately, that caught the attention of the sentient silverware, and they turned on the wailing banshee and the rest of the servants. Everyone turned at the scream in time to see the utensils dive off at them, and they joined their fellow servant in a chorus of fright. The servants ran screaming about the room with the utensils in close pursuit as the silverware bounced along the floor and off the tables, ovens, and barrels. Forks forked the rear-ends, urging the servants on to greater speeds. Knives knifed the air and sliced off hair, apron strings, and belt buckles. Spoons spooned food out of the bowls and boiling pots, and lodged the contents at the hapless humans.
The first servant to scream managed to duck, dive, dodge, and outmaneuver long enough to make it to the entrance and out into the hall. The others followed suit, and the stampede of servants nearly ran over the stunned pair beside the doorway. The silverware made to follow, but Ned pointed his staff at the utensils and negated the magic. They dropped harmlessly in the hall, and the only sound was the retreating screams and footsteps of the servants.
Fred stared down the hall, but turned his head when Ned passed in front of him and walked into the room. He took a slice of cake off the unharmed and ummoved platter and bit into the sweet dessert. When he spoke crumbs splattered out of his mouth. "That wasn't quite how we were to get the cake, but I must applaud your effort."
"Yeah, effort," Fred shakily replied. He kept one eye on the dropped silverware and slid around the corner into the room.
Ned frowned and tapped his beard with the piece of cake. Crumbs peppered the snow-white hair. "But perhaps for the rest of the night we should not attract so much attention. Pat may become angry with us."
Fred came up behind him and did likewise with the cake. "Yeah, good idea," he mumbled through a mouthful of the dessert.