The Tinker's Apprentice

The Tinker Trilogy

Book Two

The Tinker’s Apprentice

Shelley Ballard

As his head jerked up, he heard a voice, or was it more like having the memory of hearing a voice?

The Master bids you come.

The words echoed clearly in his head, so clearly in fact that he looked around the room half expecting to see someone there with him. He was alone.

He got up and walked through the house to the kitchen. He put water on the stove to boil for tea and looked for something to eat. Mother and Father had gone to visit a neighbor they hadn’t seen for some time. Paison remembered a time when neighbors dropped by almost daily, but people just didn’t do that kind of thing anymore. He wondered why. Too busy. Maybe. Or maybe there was another reason, a fear of something.

The Master bids you come, Thirteen.

That was not his imagination! He spun around to see who had spoken, but again found himself alone. Should he speak back? No. It might mean he was going crazy. And hearing voices isn’t crazy? He had to laugh. Now I’m talking to myself.

Bring The Gift with you and make haste. The Master needs you.

Published by UCS PRESS

UCS PRESS is an imprint of MarJim Books

P.O. Box 13025

Tucson, Arizona 85732-3025

Copyright 2012 by Shelley Ballard

Cover design by Marty Dobkins

ISBN: 978-0-943247-46-5

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to an actual person or persons is unintentional.

***

About the author

The creativity of this Flagstaff, Arizona denizen is ever evident, even in the name she chose for her day job—actually, a paperhanging business known as My Hang Up.

The Tinker’s Apprentice is the sequel to The Tinker of Petros, which marked Shelley Ballard’s debut as an author. Book three in The Tinker Trilogy is The Tinkers’ War.

For Ballard this allegorical trilogy is a labor of love, presenting the ageless theme of good vs. evil in a way that readers will never forget.

Novels in progress include The Eden Virus and Nazi Gold.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to Stephanie, my daughter. Thanks for your unwavering faith in me and for being my mirror. And to Jurden, my son the dreamer. God gives us the dream, but it’s up to us to give the dream feet. Thanks to my family and friends who encouraged me and helped me believe that I can be more than I am.

Table of Contents

One: A gala celebration

Two: Changes in Petros

Three: Carl’s return

Four: The woodsman’s song

Five: Vision of battle

Six: Amon’s proposal

Seven: A new tinker for the Village

Eight: The agents of Clovis

Nine: A visit from an old friend

Ten: Maddie overhears

Eleven: The theft of Clovis’ tools

Twelve: Carl’s dismal discovery

Thirteen: Maddie & Witty at the Café Louis

Fourteen: Derek’s troublesome sister

Fifteen: Journey to the Cliffs of Vari El

Sixteen: Secrets of the Ancient Temple

Seventeen: Maddie’s past

Eighteen: Tomas enters the black cave

Nineteen: Unexpected tracks at the cave

Twenty: Tomas’ death

Twenty-one: Finding Farion

Twenty-two: The Wilderness

Twenty-three: Escape from the pit

One: A gala celebration

The old tinker’s wagon rattled and shook as it made its way over the rutted road. Its driver tried diligently to rein the horse around the deepest of the furrows, but with little success. It carried its passengers, a rugged but kindly looking, white-haired man and a somewhat taller, slimmer and much younger man, up and down the gentle rises and falls in the road, passing through aspen sheltered groves, their tender leaves fluttering in the spring breeze, finally bringing them within sight of Paison’s home where a gala celebration awaited their arrival. Paison grimaced at each jolt of the wagon and clutched the item in his hands a little tighter. In his lap he held a brown leather satchel containing something very precious and likely irreplaceable.

Earlier that day Paison had ridden his own horse, Jake, over this same road, but in the opposite direction. Carl, his friend and mentor, had requested that Paison come to his home about mid-morning so they might share a private brunch before the commotion of relatives, friends and well-wishers demanded their attention.

When they had finished their meal they rose and moved to the more comfortable surroundings of the living room. A lively fire burned invitingly in the stone fireplace that straddled the far corner of the simply furnished room. Carl sank into the cushion of one of the two overstuffed leather chairs that took up the greater portion of the small living room. Paison fell comfortably into the other. Between the chairs stood a large round table; more a massive cross section of an upended tree trunk than a table and on this table was a three-wicked candle that had been made by casting wax into sand. Next to it laid Carl’s pipe which he leaned forward to retrieve, drawing it to his mouth and grasping the long stem in his teeth.

The pair sat in silence for a few moments enjoying the warmth of the fire and the easy companionship they shared. Carl rose and walked over to the fire where he picked up a long stick and lit his pipe, but instead of returning to his chair, he walked over to a large wooden chest overlaid with silver and embossed with intricate scenes and strange markings. Over the past three years of his apprenticeship to Petros’ loved and respected tinker, Paison had become more than a little familiar with that chest and watched as he had on numerous other occasions as Carl took two keys from around his neck, inserted them into the heart-shaped locks on either end of the lid and turned them simultaneously. As with each time in the past, Paison could not see what lay inside this mysterious chest, but also as with each time before he waited with anticipation to see what Carl would bring out. Today it was a leather pouch containing something that appeared slightly heavy.

Carl carried the bag over to where Paison sat and laid it on the round table next to the candle. The flames on the three wicks burned steadily, their soft light reflecting in Paison’s eyes. He could not remember a time he had been in Carl’s house that the candle had not been burning.

Paison, my son, you have shown yourself to be a dedicated and gifted apprentice and I’m very proud of you. But the day is coming much sooner than you realize when your apprenticeship to me will be complete. Then you will travel to a small town not far from here and become the tinker of that town. I have a special gift for you to commemorate this important occasion.

Carl pushed the satchel across the table in front of Paison who began to undo the folds of leather revealing a complete set of fine new tinker’s tools. Paison had never seen such beautiful tools, obviously hand crafted by a master tool maker. One by one Paison lifted each piece, turning it over in his hands and admiring it before placing it on the table in front of him. The handles were acacia wood engraved with intricate scrollwork and carefully rubbed with oil stain to preserve and enhance their beauty. Near the hilt of each and inlaid in finest brass were the initials PC.

Paison Clark, he whispered. Oh, Master, these are the finest tools I have ever seen. Any tinker would be proud to own such a set as this. Thank you.

A tinker’s tools are his most valuable possession, and you have earned these. Use them and care for them well, as I know you will. You have been a good apprentice and a quick study these past few years and I am glad to have had the opportunity to train you and set you on this path.

Paison continued to admire his new set of tools as Carl cleared the table of the remnants of their meal and made ready to leave. Following his master’s lead, Paison laid the tools back on the leather and began to wrap them up again. He paused as he began to wrap one of the tools and studied it more closely. It was very peculiar, though it had the same type of handle as the others, but where the metal implement should be, there was merely a shaft of steel, flat and rounded at one end. At the base of the handle, the number ‘13’ had been scorched into the wood.

Master, I have never seen a tool such as this. What is its purpose? He held out the tool in Carl’s direction. And what is the significance of this number?"

Carl drew a deep breath as if to delay his answer by that long.

"Paison, I have been apprenticing tinkers for, well, for many years. He paused as he heard a breath of surprise catch in Paison’ throat. No, you are not the first. Each young man I’ve trained, I’ve chosen from before they were even born, and each was very dear to me."

It seemed all the strength had been drained from Paison. He could only sit in dumb surprise, his mouth gaping. It should not have been such a shock that his master had trained others before him, but why had he not mentioned it before this? And his statement about choosing these men before they had been born was nothing less than incredible. Paison wondered how this could be possible, but then so little was known about Carl. No one really knew where he had lived before he came to Petros and became their tinker. No one knew his age, but then to his knowledge no one had ever asked him.

How many apprentices have you had? he managed, and how is it possible that you chose each one before he was even born? he added a bit louder.

Carl puffed slowly on his pipe. The smoke circled about him clouding his features in a veil of mystery.

"Now that you are so close to finishing your formal education, we will be able to focus more directly on the final phase of your apprenticeship. Over the next few years, you will come to a deeper understanding of me, and in the process you will learn many things about yourself. But now it is time for you to know how it was that I came to choose you as one of my apprentices.

"I have traveled The Land for countless ages, Paison, and have trained hundreds of apprentices. And for those who completed their apprenticeship in a worthy manner, I would give a set of tools much like the one I just gave to you. Each would then be given an assignment. I would give them charge over a town or village or hamlet somewhere in The Land where they would soon become a vital part of that community, working hard to meet the needs of the people under their care. Some would become very well known, greatly loved and respected by the townsfolk where they lived. But in every instance after a period of time, either long or short, the people would betray their tinker and begin to fix their own things. Some would even try to fashion their own crude tools. From that point on, the demise of the village or town was imminent. The tinker I had left in charge could do little but sit and wait.

"So I devised a plan. I would select twelve of the most brilliant young men I could find with strong, skilled hands and hearts that were tender towards others. These men I would carefully apprentice and, after their training was complete, I would give to each a special gift, a set of hand-crafted tools and a unique tool, like the one you have there. When first received, The Gift, as I call it, appears formless; without purpose, but gradually, it takes on a unique quality and shape in the hands of the tinker who owns it and uses it thereby giving that tinker an ability no other person can possess. That skill insures his usefulness to the people of his town and their continued reliance on him.

"My plan was to train twelve such uniquely gifted tinkers, placing them in charge of twelve different towns across The Land, and twelve I trained. Carl’s voice began to quake with emotion and took on a painful edge reflecting a hurt that lay deep within his heart. But then one, a particularly skilled tinker, was lost," he whispered.

Suddenly Paison understood. I’ve always had the sense that you were training me for a particular purpose. He looked again at the blank tool still in his hand. I am to replace the one who was lost.

Yes, my dear boy, you are. Carl laid his pipe down and rose to get his hat and gloves. But we will have to discuss your future at another time. Right now we need to leave. Your family will be waiting to celebrate your accomplishment and we don’t want to be late for that event.

Carl smiled as he opened the door and ushered Paison outside where the wagon was waiting. Paison tied Jake onto the back of the wagon and they set off down the long hill that led away from Carl’s home.

Master, Paison began after a few moments, there’s something I’ve wanted to ask you for some time now.

Carl smiled. He knew what Paison was going to say.

You want to know why, after pulling my cart around town for countless eons and never riding in a wagon I would suddenly change that practice.

Yes, that’s exactly right. The change surprised many of the townsfolk, particularly the older ones who have known you longer. They wonder if you had a particular reason for the change.

"Oh, yes. In fact, there are two reasons for the change that I will share with you. I very much enjoy pulling my old tinker’s cart around town to make my deliveries and would prefer to still do it that way. But a few weeks ago, I noticed Baron acted very strange every time I left with my old cart to make my deliveries. It was as