Summoner: The Novice (Book 1) SAMPLE OF NOW PUBLISHED BOOK

Chapter 26

A carriage to Corcillum would have cost an extortionate six shillings per person, but Othello knew of a town a bit further down the main road that might be cheaper. Half an hour's walk and another ten minutes of negotiation later and the group had found transport on the back of a horse-drawn cart for one shilling each. They purchased a basket of apples for another shilling and munched into them, enjoying the sweet tartness. Even the shower that beat down on them could not dampen their spirits as they laughed and tried to catch the raindrops in their mouths. Atlas's Lutra enjoyed the rain the most, yapping and rolling on the wet boards of the cart.

They were dropped on the main road, which was thronging with vendors and customers despite the downpour. As they huddled in a street corner, people stared at their demons and uniforms, some smiling and waving, others hurrying past with fear in their eyes.

'I want to go to the perfumery,' Genevieve said, as two girls walked by under pink parasols. They wafted an exotic fragrance that reminded Fletcher of the mountains. His stomach twisted as he realised how little he had thought of Berdon over the past few days. He needed to get in contact to let him know everything was OK.

'I need to run some errands, send some messages, that sort of thing. Othello, do you know someone who might be able to make a scabbard for my sword?' Fletcher asked.

'Sure . . . as long as you don't mind stopping by my family home on the way,' the dwarf replied, tugging on his beard in excitement.

'Why not? I haven't been to the Dwarven Quarter yet. Are there tailors there too?' Fletcher asked.

'The best in Hominum,' Othello said firmly.

'Well, someone has to come with me to the perfumery. I can't go alone,' Genevieve wheedled as more young ladies walked past. Seraph's eyes lit up at the sight of them, and he volunteered without hesitation.

'I'll go. Perhaps there is some cologne that will help me melt Isadora's cold heart,' he said with a wink.

'Rory? Are you with us or them?' Fletcher asked.

'I think I'll go with Genevieve. It would be interesting to see what they do with all the flowers. My mother collects mountain flowers and sells them to perfume merchants,' Rory said, with a sidelong look at the pretty girls walking by. Fletcher was sure Rory's motive was based on more than the art of scent making, but he didn't blame him. It was only two days ago that he had been awestruck by the beauty of Corcillum's girls and their painted faces. Atlas had already begun to wander down the street, but Fletcher assumed he would not want to come with them to the Dwarven Quarter, given his animosity towards Othello.

'Meet back here in about two hours. There's plenty of carts on their way to the front lines along that road, so just leave if the other group is late,' Othello called.

They parted ways and increased their pace as the downpour intensified, ducking under the awnings in front of shops and keeping close to the walls. Ignatius purred in the dry warmth beneath Fletcher's hood while Solomon followed several feet behind, struggling to keep up on his stumpy legs. The dwarf had the foresight to bring a hooded jacket of his own, but poor Solomon looked miserable in the wet.

'So what do you need other than a tailor and the blacksmith? Did I hear you need to send a letter?' Othello asked, looking over his shoulder to make sure Solomon was still in sight. As Othello threaded his way through the narrow alleyways, Fletcher realised that the dwarf would be the perfect guide to help him make the best of their trip to Corcillum.

'Yes, I need to send a letter to the elven front,' Fletcher said. It would be best not to send anything directly to Berdon in case Caspar or Didric intercepted it. Maybe if he sent it to Rotherham, then the soldier could pass on the message in secret.