The Sorcerer's Legacy by Brock Deskins Page A

here.”
    Azerick took a seat in one of the several padded chairs he had delivered and set around the long, oblong table. “To be honest, I don’t know what I have going on here. I just meant to have a place to call my own, and then the next thing I know I bought an apprentice, stabled nearly a score of horses, and hired an orphan boy to take care of them, whom I now have to teach to read and write on top of training an apprentice.”
    “Like I said, quite an operation,” Ewen grumbled. “So tell me everything that’s happened since I last saw you.”
    Azerick raked a hand through his hair. “Gods, where to start.”
    Azerick told Ewen about the death of his mother, Jon Locke and his family of thieves, and the revenge he had enacted for them all. He explained his run in with Magus Allister, his acceptance at The Academy, and why he had to flee the city.
    Ewen interrupted Azerick for a moment. “Some rather shady-looking men came around asking about you. That was when I decided it was best to move on and head to North Haven.”
    “I am real sorry you had to displace your family and all, Ewen. It was because I did not want you or your family bothered or hurt that I never asked for your help, even after my mother was killed,” Azerick explained.
    “I would’ve taken you in, son, and moved us all up north if I had to, but it don’t do any good talking about would haves.”
    Azerick agreed and proceeded to tell Ewen about the attack on the ships, Captain Zeb, and their escape. He even bit back his tears and told his old weapons master about Delinda and what had happened to her and their unborn child.
    “It’s a damn shame you didn’t have a month or more to give that bug-faced bastard the pain he really deserved, but at least you killed him,” Ewen said angrily.
    Azerick finished his story by telling Ewen about his stay in Riverdale, fighting the dragon, his time with the dwarves, and how he came to owning the keep and convincing the ghost to leave.
    “So you killed a dragon,” Ewen said wondrously and let out a low whistle. “Can I see this treasure you say you found?”
    “Sure, it’s down in the basement.”
    Azerick led Ewen down into the basement and opened the heavy door with a tug on the iron ring. Ewen’s jaw dropped in amazement just as Simon’s had.
    “Would you look at that,” the old salt said in amazement and let out another low whistle. “I bet you have more gold in here than the king himself.”
    “I’m going to need it. Paying all these workers is costing me a fortune,” Azerick replied.
    “Lad, I may not know diddly about running a castle, but I’ve had quite a number of men working for me who all worked for your father and this would have been enough to pay all them men and finance a dozen trading ships before you even put a good-sized dent in it.”
    “You think so, Ewen? I really do not know the real value of what I have, and to be honest with you, I am not that worried about it. I will not be poor, probably ever, and that is good enough for me. However I did hire a good accountant and money counters.”
    “Good thinking, lad, so long as your man is honest. He’ll be able to tell you how to put your money to work,” Ewen said.
    “Put it to work? What do you mean?” Azerick asked, perplexed.
    Ewen turned and looked directly at Azerick. “Son, when you have this much gold, you don’t just let it sit and collect dust. You make investments, buy property, or start a trading company; that’s where the real money is. You find Zeb, I know him; he’s a good man. You say he has a ship? Offer to buy him four or five more, find crews, and start you an import-export business like your father.”
    “I have asked around for Zeb but he is out of port right now, but I will talk to him about it as soon as I can,” Azerick promised. “You know if you ever need anything, I have plenty to give.”
    Ewen waved his former pupil off. “I’m no pauper, son, not by a long shot. I miss the