Confusion and befuddlement struck Brevon like a slap to the face, and he became too stunned to speak. Theryn slumped back into his seat, similarly confused.
“Ten years is a long time to raise a boy, I am sure he caused you much pain and trouble, and that you had to spend a small fortune just to feed him, bathe him, clothe him. He has his letters, and I am sure that was quite the investment as well, but whatever it had cost you, I wish to pay it and then some.
“So, now that we have cleared it all up, I should ask again… How much were you thinking, Mr. Fendrick?”
“This is… outrageous…” Brevon said listlessly, his mind still catching up with the sharp turn in the conversation.
“I think one thousand Crowns per year sounds like a good place to start, that would be a sum of ten thousand for ten years. He is ten, isn’t he?”
Brevon rose to his feet sharply, knocking his chair back, his face red. “I-I will not—” he stumbled over his own anger, unable to get the full sentence out.
“Yes, of course, you are right,” Talador put his hand up in a conciliatory gesture. “To buy a man’s fatherhood for one thousand per year…” he shook his head. “That was quite rude of me, I’m not sure what I was thinking,” he smiled kindly, and Brevon seemed to relax, only then noticing that his hands had been balled into fists. He let them go. “How about two thousand?”
“Come on, Theryn,” Brevon snarled. “We are leaving,” he turned and began making his way out.
“But—”
“Now, boy!” Brevon yelled, and Theryn made to follow, but… he was torn. The opportunity to study magic was right there, so close, and yet… what of his father? What of his family? Did he really have to leave them behind if he wanted to become an apprentice?
Would he?
Could he?
It wasn’t his choice after all, his father had to decide, and his father… His father was finally proud of him. Finally! For once! How could he be asked to turn his back on that? Family was… family. It was important, it meant something, it couldn’t be bought or sold, just like that, not for anything… could it?
“Everything has a price!” The wizard declared, and somehow Theryn felt that was directed at him, as if in answer to his thoughts. “As a trader, I am sure you’d agree with that, Mr. Fendrick,” but Brevon ignored him, heading for the exit. “You can leave now if you want, but we both know that within a week or two you will remember what brought you here in the first place, and regret turning down this offer.”
Brevon Fendrick took three more steps before grinding to a halt, halfway through the hall. His son was beside him, clutching his stupid, rotting book. The boy was useless, too honest and awkward to be a trader, too weak and fragile for any physical labor. The best Brevon could hope for was making an accountant out of the brat, and even that wouldn’t be terribly useful considering how small their business was. Traveling from town to town, selling odd trinkets and goods, it wasn’t that hard to keep track of things; in fact, Theryn keeping track of things was part of the problem. ‘Buy low, sell high,’ was a concept too complex for his naive little brain to understand. If they bought something for 30 Crowns, then in Theryn’s eyes, it was worth 30 Crowns, and that was that. How could such a hopeless fool be his son? Blood of his blood?
Brevon gritted his teeth, seething, thinking.
“Forty thousand Crowns, Mr. Fendrick. Forty for ten years.” Talador said.
Forty. Forty thousand Crowns. That was more money than he had held in his entire life, and he could make it in a single day.
Brevon looked down at Theryn. The boy’s black hair was his black hair, and his brown eyes were his, too. He was his son. Blood of his blood. How could he give that away?
“I see,” the wizard chuckled, “you drive a hard bargain, Mr. Fendrick. Very well, I am willing to go higher – sixty thousand Crowns. Sixty thousand for your fatherhood. What do you say?”
Brevon squeezed his son’s shoulder, “Go outside, Theryn.” He smiled… warmly, kindly… fatherly. “Tell your mother I’ll be right out.”
Theryn lowered his head and obeyed. He didn’t notice the doors open up before him, all on their own, to clear his path; nor did he notice the torches light up as soon as he got close, and dim as he drifted away. He wasn’t going to be a wizard’s apprentice, he wasn’t going to study magic, or history, or any of that other stuff… but he wasn’t sad, because when it came down to it… When it really came down to it… His father chose him.
As the last torch faded and he reached the bottom of the stairs, the exit—another double door—creaked open to clear the path outside. Sunlight shone in through the expanding slit between the doors, blinding Theryn, and as he raised a hand to shield his eyes, in his heart, he made a promise. He would try harder, he would improve, he would become a better son. His father chose him, and he would do everything in his power to ensure that that was a choice he would never regret.
***
The Fendricks’ wagon was parked only a short way down the trail from the wizard’s tower. It was a spacious vehicle, covered by a canopy, and pulled by a strong mule. The Fendricks relied on it for everything; it was their home, their store, and of course, their means of travel.