Wizard of Jatte, Rowan Erlking [latest novels to read .TXT] 📗

by the farmer with an axe, but the farmer just stared at the entire roots in his yard and then at last at Theissen who still waited for something to be said. At last the man nodded to himself. “I see now why Lumen Village is so rich.”

Theissen made a face as if he had just eaten something bitter. “Well, don’t blame it on me. I did nothing to make it so.”

To that the farmer blinked and then suddenly laughed.

“Oh! That is…. Yes, you are definitely too much like me,” he said.

And he laughed more for even longer than Theissen waited for an answer before. Wiping his eyes, the farmer eventually said, “Come on then. Let’s clean up these roots and tree branches and go in to lunch.”

Theissen would have pulled back to ask if the farmer was going to chuck rocks at him, but with how the farmer was laughing, he decided it was safe to continue working. The farmer took up the axe then pointed to the other end of the roots at Theissen, asking if he would break off the other parts. Given no tool, Theissen knew he was meant to use magic. It felt like cheating, but Theissen did not complain. Going to where indicated, he plucked the roots apart one by one and stacked each bit into a pile. All the while the farmer chuckled to himself, hacking the smaller tree branches apart.

Both trotted into the kitchen for lunch. The farmer’s wife already had soup and bread dished out, setting churned butter on the table with a bone knife.

“You can’t turn our plates into china, huh?” the farmer asked him, nudging Theissen in the arm.

Frowning, Theissen shook his head with a glance at the carved wood. “No. And I wish you’d stop asking for it. I told you, I can only move things. Not change their nature.”

“What is this?” the farmer’s wife asked, setting a jar of berry preserves on the table next to the butter.

Nudging Theissen more, the farmer said, “Our guest is a wizard. He just told me.”

Ducking and blushing, Theissen could see her surprised expression. It took a whole two minutes for her to compose herself. She stuck out her hand, shoving her ring under his eyes.

“Can you make this gold?”

Theissen rolled his eyes at the farmer. “This is your fault.

“No,” Theissen said to her. “As I just told him. I cannot change the nature of a thing. If I were to turn that bone ring into gold, I’d be making a demonic ring that probably would turn you into gold or bone or whatever next. I won’t do it.”

The farmer’s smile dropped. “Is that true?”

Giving a sharp nod, Theissen said, “Yes. It is entirely true.”

“But then what good is magic?” the farmer’s wife said looking deeply put out as she slumped back in her seat.

The farmer’s looks seemed to agree.

“I helped with your yard, didn’t I?” Theissen then sat back, not even touching his bread.

Nodding, the farmer chuckled again and started to eat his soup. “Yes. That you did.”

“And it would have taken us how long if we had done it the conventional way?”

The farmer’s wife looked over at her husband.

The man nodded. “I know. I know. All week. Though I have to ask. Have you ever used your magic when doing your carpentry?”

Theissen made a face. “Only on very race occasions.”

He looked ready to go back outside without lunch. Squirming in his seat, Theissen glanced towards the door. One night seemed to be plenty here, especially since he still was not getting known as a carpenter but as a wizard. It occurred to him that if he wanted to lose his reputation as a wizard, he ought to resort to more veiled uses of magic in emergencies or none at all.

“Look,” the farmer suddenly said, resting his hand on Theissen’s arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you like that. I can tell you wanted to keep your magic a secret, though I really don’t see why.”

Turning back his gaze with a dry expression, Theissen said, “That’s because you didn’t grow up with a magician wanting you dead.”

The farmer’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

Nodding, Theissen at last picked up a piece of bread and spread butter on it. He was hungry after all. “You heard me. Our magician, as soon as I was born, wanted me dead. And darn near everybody I meet that finds out I can do a little magic suddenly wants things from me. I tell you, it gets annoying.”

“But, if you don’t mind my asking, how did you end up being a wizard.” The farmer’s wife set down her plate on the table.

Theissen returned her look with another dry glance. “I said…I was born that way.”

“That’s how most wizards are made, dear,” the farmer said, patting her on the hand.

“But magicians learn their magic, and witches do also.” She frowned. “I thought wizards were more of the same, only different magic.”

“No,” Theissen added jam then took a bite. Clearing his throat some after swallowing, he added, “It is the same magic, different approaches, though I don’t know much about this witch stuff you’re talking about. Until this last year I thought it was just things from stories.”

The farmer and his wife both stared at him.

“Oh, no. Witches are not things from stories,” the farmer said.

“Absolutely. There is a witch in our village,” she said.

Theissen blinked at the pair and leaned in. “There is?”

He nearly rose from his seat to find the witch at that very moment, but they both reached out to pull him down.

“Witches are not to be meddled with,” the farmer’s wife said.

“Truly,” the farmer added, glancing to the window. “And we definitely don’t want him angry at us.”

“Him? I thought all witches were women.” Theissen dropped his bread piece on the plate.

Both shook their heads.

“Oh, no. Witches can be both men and women. It is the kind of magic they do, not who they are.” The farmer looked very grave. So grave, that Theissen settled back in his seat.

“What kind of magic does a witch do, aside from making kirrels?”

The farmer’s wife nodded at that. “Yes, they need their sneaky animal pets, but they also make lots and lots of brews.”

“Brews?” Theissen remembered some talk in stories about witch brews, but nothing beyond that. “What are they for?”

Gesturing to the soup the farmer’s wife also motioned for her husband to eat also as she talked. “Witch brews are for just about everything. Blights. Sicknesses. Stomach ulcers. Cleaning the air. Useful things.”

“Causing or curing?” Theissen asked as he tilted his head.

She smiled. “Curing mostly, though I dare say a crossed witch just might cause a few illnesses. Personally I think that is why your village is so successful. You have a magician there, as you said. And with you there, a witch definitely would not dare strike it with a plague.”

The idea made Theissen feel ill. Of course he knew that he also had the capacity to spread the sicknesses he had helped cure with the doctor, but the idea of the stench reeking everywhere felt wretched. Besides, such hate would have an awful reek also. Some of the villages he had passed by were like that, full of festering anger and hatred. It was no wonder to him why they had not prospered. He started to wonder if this village prospered as far as it had because the witch had made a home in it.

“Of course, very few magicians would want to take on our witch.” The farmer’s wife’s word’s seemed to confirm it.

“However, he would be no match for a wizard,” the farmer added with pleasure.

Theissen sighed aloud. “Fine. I won’t go see what the witch is like, though I still am curious. I’ve never met one.”

Neither farmer nor wife answered him.

“Eat your soup,” the farmer’s wife at last said.

Shrugging, Theissen did.

 

They worked in the yard the traditional way for the rest of the day. Theissen helped the farmer split logs and set up more of the fence, digging holes for posts and hammering them down with rocks and soil to keep them in place. With the roots dusted off and stacked with the woodpile, their work was nearly done at sundown. By that time a neighbor had come by, nodding to the farmer with a friendly yet offish smile. He gestured to Theissen, not even looking at him. “I hear you have hired yourself a carpenter. Is this some sort of joke?”

Theissen dusted his vest and pants off as he turned towards the house, not interested in the conversation.

“You aren’t even making chairs with him, you know,” the man said. There was a jeer in his tone of voice.

“I’m a farmer, Waren. I don’t need help with chairs. I needed a man to help me with my fence and my field.”

Looking back, Theissen smirked. The farmer’s voice was chastening enough, letting his neighbor know that he had somehow failed to offer the help the farmer obviously needed.

But then the farmer turned to him and said, “Carpenterson, this is my brother-in-law, the miller.”

Theissen gave him a cordial bow. “How do you do?”

The miller slapped his own belly and let out a guffaw. “Ha! So formal! Where do you hail from? Pepersin Town?”

“Lumen Village.” Theissen’s look was dark.

The smile wiped from the miller’s face also. “Did you say Lumen?”

Giving a brief nod, Theissen continued on his way.

But then he heard another snort and a slap against the farmer’s back. “Well, I’ll be. One of your southern cousins, isn’t he? Knock me up and call me a woman. He even looks a bit like you.”

Theissen turned, blinking first at the miller. Then he stared at the farmer. The farmer clenched his eyes shut as if pained. The miller was laughing at his expense, but Theissen could see bitterness in both men.

“Cousin?”

The farmer opened his eyes and nodded. “Yes. Father’s side.”

Blinking harder, Theissen could see the resemblance. Uncanny in fact.

“But…but why not tell me?” Theissen marched back and stared at the farmer, just out of arm’s reach. He looked around at the farm. “Why pretend you didn’t know we were family? I told you who I was last night. You could have told me then!”

The miller started to pat Theissen’s shoulder. “Shame, my boy! He’s ashamed! This Carpenterson can’t put together two sticks to make a fire.”

Jerking from the miller, Theissen faced his cousin, regarding the man who was perhaps a bit older than Kinnerlin with a more inspecting eye. “I wouldn’t have cared what profession you chose.”

“Profession…” the farmer murmured, turning away. He waved his hand at him with a dismissing flick. “You Lumen men are all like that. Profession.”

Theissen stared, his arms hanging useless at his sides.

“Do you know why you didn’t know about me?” the farmer asked. His face grew flushed, tears at the cracks of his eyes. “Your father was my father’s younger brother, but your father was the talent in the family. Gifted even, they said. And like all Carpentersons, they had to go on journeys and make their way in the world. So my dad figured that if he went far enough from their home village he would not be overshadowed by the great Sarton Lubanar Scolderan Carpenterson.” The farmer frowned. “So my father settled here in this village.”

“Far from the northern coast,” Theissen said with a nod. He had heard his father had a brother, but his dad had not talked much about it except to say that he had a falling out because of competition. They had lost touch. In fact, his father had made Theissen promise not to settle in the same town as any one of his brothers to prevent the same thing from happening again. “But my dad said they both ended up in Brakirs Town first.”

The farmer gave a painful smile. “He told you that, huh? Well, did your dad tell you that my father left first?”

Theissen nodded. “My dad followed.”

“He should have stayed in Brakirs Town!” The farmer made an angry face,