Enchanter (Book 7) Read Online Free Page B

 Banamor wasn’t thrilled - he had work to do - but I was his boss, and he knew when it was time to kiss my ass.  That was one of the things I liked about the former footwizard.
     
    He looked almost nothing like the grizzled figure who hiked his way into rustic Sevendor Village four years before.  Gone were his travel-stained cloak and well-worn boots.  Now he wore a dark green cloak of rich wool, trimmed with rabbit fur at the collar, and a tastefully embroidered robe and hose under, pinned with a silver snowflake pin with the stylized banner that told him as the Fairwarden.  
     
    He wore good sturdy shoes designed for walking cobbled streets, not dusty roads, now.  Where once he’d held a simple footwizard’s staff, now he bore a smart-looking rod I knew was hung with custom enchantments.  Instead of his battered leather hat he now wore the pointed cap of our profession in dark blue.  As he hadn’t ever sat for his exams, he did not add the three additional ‘points’ that had become mere triangles for most professional magi, now.  Instead Banamor added an owl feather to the hat.  It was quite striking.
     
    Indeed, Banamor was quite striking.  Fleshed out and well-dressed, his hair and beard regularly attended by the barber, he was exactly who he looked like: a powerful local figure.  Banamor was Mayor of Sevendor Town, which had purchased its charter from me at a handsome price last year.  And while that granted the town - and Banamor - a measure of autonomy, the man was wise enough to understand I was the one ultimately in charge of the fate of the domain.  He did his best to stay on my good side.
     
    “So, did you enjoy your holiday with the kiddies, Minalan?” he asked, when I met him in front of his store that morning.  “Store” isn’t quite the right term.  While Banamor sold quite a lot of magical merchandise, his business was not open to the public.  He preferred to allow others to sell directly.  He had the heart of a wholesaler, and he saw his greatest benefit in ensuring that there were plenty of retailers to supply . . . and charge booth space to.
     
    “It was lovely,” I nodded, looking up at the building.  Banamor had added a third story to the already large hall, including a small spire that dominated the High Street. “Nice tower.”
     
    “It’s a spiritual retreat,” he chuckled.  “When the Spellmonger’s new hall had one, how could I not?  You set the style, Magelord,” he said, bowing smartly.  “Besides, I can sit up there and look down on my holdings.  I find it soothing.”
     
    “And the third floor?”  The topmost floor jutted out over the snowstone foundations of the first two stories by three feet on all sides.  “Someplace to put all of your money?”
     
    “Are you mad?  I have the Temple of Ifnia for that.  That’s their vault going up over there, on the Street of Temples.  Karshak designed and built, then professionally enchanted against theft.  It will have a nice dome up there, someday.  No, I built the top floor as a private apartment.”
     
    I eyed the dimensions of the place.  “That’s a pretty big apartment.”
     
    He shrugged.  “I entertain a lot for business.  I have three smaller chambers for select guests, and the other half is mine.  I’ll have to give you a tour of it,” he grinned. “That’s where I keep my special pieces.”
     
    “Not now.  Now I want to see the fairgrounds.”
     
    “Let’s get walking, then,” he grunted, shouldering his rod.  Banamor only treated me with ceremony as much as he had to.  He preferred to talk business.  “We can stop for a pint on the way, if you’re thirsty,” he offered.
     
    We walked slowly through the cobbled High Street, enjoying the crisp air of autumn and the bustle of the town’s business.  The Sevendor Inn across the street from Banamor’s palace was filled to capacity. The tavern next to it was likewise busy with weary travelers and bored