The Sorcerer's Legacy by Brock Deskins

little goblin. “No, Grick, I will not use any magic on you. I just need someone to catch rats for me,” Azerick assured him.
    “Ok, Grick catch rats as long as you no use magic on him,” he agreed.
    Grick realized that he still had a long, ornate dagger hanging from a belt that he wrapped around his narrow waist twice to make it fit, took it off, and began to set it down.
    “Let me see that a moment, Grick,” Azerick directed and held out his hand.
    Grick handed the belt and dagger over to the sorcerer. Azerick pulled the blade out and studied it intently. The long blade shone brightly from the reflected lamplight and came to a very fine point like a stiletto. The blade was a solid eight inches long and sharpened on both sides. The hilt was made of ivory covered with scrimshawed scrollwork.
    “It is a nice blade, Grick, why don’t you keep it,” Azerick said, sliding the blade back into its tooled leather and silver capped sheath.
    Grick took the blade back in wonder and wrapped the long belt back around his waist. No one had ever given the goblin anything. No one had ever even been nice to him and now this strange wizard gives him a knife worth more than a merchant probably makes in a year. Grick was unsure whether he should fear this sorcerer or worship him. He settled for simply following him.
    “Come, Grick, you look hungry. Let us get you some food and I will show you where you can stay.”
    The goblin’s stomach growled its appreciation as he followed the sorcerer up the stone stairs and into the kitchen where four women were just starting to clean all the bowls from feeding the workers lunch. The women were chattering along as they are want to do but fell silent as Azerick entered the kitchen and saw the goblin trailing behind him.
    “Ladies, this is Grick. He will be staying with us for a while. Please be polite and see that he gets plenty to eat,” Azerick ordered.
    The women stared at the repulsive little goblin for a moment before the oldest one spoke up. “Well, he can’t be half as wild as that filthy little Wolf child.”
    “Has he been on another of his raids?” Azerick asked, amused at Wolf’s refusal to be domesticated.
    “Aye, the grubby little sneak thief darted in here, stole a whole roast chicken, and snatched a pie as he jumped out the window!” the head cook complained.
    Azerick just laughed at the half-elf’s antics and left Grick in the care of the kitchen women.
    “C’mon, Grick, pull yourself up a seat here and we’ll get ya fed,” the head cook told him.
    Grick sat on a tall stool at the small table in the middle of the kitchen while the woman filled a large bowl of stew for him and gave him a small loaf of bread. Grick was amazed as he picked up the bread. It was actually soft in his hand, no weevils, and rolled oats covered it instead of mold. The stew was full of chunks of beef that had not spoiled and vegetables that obviously did not just come from a refuse pile.
    He was still nervous around the humans and ate warily. He used the spoon the woman gave him as he had seen humans do on occasion. It felt awkward and that made him feel self-conscious. He knew that even the lowest of humans viewed him as little more than an animal and he was determined not to give them further reason for thinking so.
    “You see,” the head cook said to one of the other women, “he even eats nicer than Wolf.”
    Grick had just finished his second bowl of stew and third roll of bread when the sorcerer returned.
    “Ready to go see your room?” Azerick asked the goblin.
    Grick nodded his head, slipped off the stool, and followed his new master up the newly built wooden stairs the encircled the inner wall of the tower. They came to the third floor, passed one door and stopped in front of another. The sorcerer opened the door to a small room that contained a bed, a wooden trunk, desk, bookshelf, and a small window looking towards the mountain that abutted the rear of the tower.
    “This will