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

“Rumor has it that the demons lost power, magical and all otherwise, and the humans that had been enslaved overthrew them. In fact, if memory serves me right, those demons are now being used as slaves in the north and are being sold south to lords in large cities, even here in Jatte.”

Theissen stared. “But if that is what happened, then why all the rumors? Is Westhaven a powerful country? Is their magic superior to ours?”

Both magicians looked at him quite startled. Pandoros started to laugh and Undi joined him.

“Superior? What gave you that idea?” Pandoros said between chuckles.

Undi smirked, trying to contain his own laughter.

Shrugging, Theissen decided not to mention the book. “It’s just that you two often give so much credit to things coming from Westhaven as if you think it is superior.”

Both men looked shocked again. This time, they regarded him soberly.

“Of course not,” Undi said. “Magic is universal. However, the north uniquely influences magician style. They experimented a lot there, you know.”

They had mentioned that on a number of occasions. Theissen nodded. He knew.

It was time to go.

Both magicians followed Theissen as he gathered up his coat and scarf. One patted him on the shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“Your wizard skills are not inferior to that of wizards in the north, if they still have any.”

Lifting his eyes, Theissen met their gaze with a frown. “Sirs, I’m afraid we still don’t understand each other. I’m not a product of our country. In fact, I don’t even know where I belong.”

Their faces seemed to fall as they watched him walk down the stairs. Undi had taken a step forward as if to chase him, but he didn’t go any further than the top step. Pandoros only sighed and walked back towards their work to finish cleaning up. The cook handed Theissen a bun right before he stepped out of the door into the snow.

*

But winter melted into spring, and as the flowers were blooming and Theissen’s rose bush (which he had planted the spring before) was now blooming multicolored flowers just outside his master’s shop the journeyman’s mood had lightened, and he was now presenting Boid and Tomis tool belts as recommendations towards becoming journeymen. Boid was now fourteen. Tomis was sixteen.

Business was thriving. Lordri Carpenter had even started to do his own style of woodcarving for his customers, making a substantial profit. Now in town there were two major carpentry shops and one minor carpenter that cursed a great deal the coming of men from Lumen, cursing more that Theissen’s younger brother was not going journeying himself, but staying in Lumen.

Letters from home came regularly. Doreen had sent word of her marriage to a tinsmith that lived in the peninsula, still casting jibes at Theissen that he’d better hurry up and marry Milrina before it was too late. Milrina’s letters were not anything of the sort, mostly talking about an offer to travel with a cousin that next summer. His mother’s letters had abandoned all hope of him getting married at all, telling him of other things going on in town. The first was how Lonse was now in charge of his father’s shop. Apparently the shoemaker had an accident with a horse and was kicked in the chest. Bedridden, he could no longer work. The other news was about the magician who was charged with meddling with someone’s chickens and had fled out of the village right before he could be apprehended. After all that, she bragged about how well Kolbran had been stepping up to take his older brothers’ place in helping his father with work orders. He was almost a journeyman and aching to prove himself. His letters from his cousin in Danslor were also full of good news. Their village was now flourishing and their farm was the pride of their neighborhood.

After finishing a good day’s worth of work at the shop, cleaning up after the spring holiday, Theissen found time to study the herbalist section of the Westhaven magic book. That part was less depressing than reading about demons. He had just finished studying the section explaining the mechanics of drawn spells and all the kinds of spells that can be made with them. Of course, the writer did focus a bit much on dealing with demons, including protective spells and traps for them. The herbalist section mostly was about potions for cleaning and curing things. It also had a rather nice list of herbs and other natural chemicals used in potions along with their natural properties that aided in magic, things the witch of Danslor hardly had time to teach him. Some of the more startling information was what kinds of common spices he had normally eaten were in fact toxic.

“Nutmeg—tree seed kernel. The aril is also used separately and is called mace. Dried and ground up. Often considered a hot spice, it is mostly used in baking with cinnamon and cloves. Gives a warm sensation. Must be taken in small doses, as they can cause hallucinations in large doses and can be toxic.”

He sighed. His mother used to make these biscuits that was dipped in butter and then rolled in sugar and nutmeg powder. They had been his favorite. There were also warnings about eating licorice root in large doses and about mushrooms, other foods that he had enjoyed. There was even a section on tobacco. It was recommended as a topical herb for treating bruises on animals, not meant to be ingested or smoked, as was tradition among several people he knew in town and back in Lumen. The herbal cures did not even mention alcohol, though it did have section on vinegar.

Turning the page, reading about witch hazel, Theissen casually glanced out the window. For a second his eye caught on something that he thought was a bird, and he set his eyes back out on the page again. But as he read, he heard a slap against the glass. He looked up. It was a letter. Two actually.

Getting up and opening the window, he plucked both letters off the glass. The first one was from his mother. The second had his home address written in an inexperienced hand. The letter itself was in a strangely colored envelope, and as he turned it, Theissen could see that a written spell was on it, the magic sparkling and singing like a ditty children made up. Lifting open the top flap to that strange envelope, he saw several sheets of regular non-spelled paper inside. He took them out.

Unfolding them, Theissen stared at the strange foreign script. It was almost perfectly like the map the magicians had only this handwriting had a hasty swoop to it, though with even elegant shaped letters. He couldn’t read a word.

Checking every page, they were all of the same. The last page had a signature. Theissen stared at it, his mind spinning with wonder as he realized what this was. It was his answer to the letter he sent to Westhaven.

Excited shivers ran down his arms. It was a letter from the writer of that book. He was in communication with that author of magic knowledge. Taking the papers and stuffing them back into the envelope sideways so it would not close, the spell on the outside obviously one that sent the letter flying directly back to the original sender once the envelope was shut, he hopped from his chair. He grabbed his mother’s letter to read on his way to the magician’s home. That letter was easy enough to read.

 

Dear Theissen,

Son, there are times when I look at the flowers in the yard growing with that perfect rainbow you made that I miss you excruciatingly. I thought I ought to tell you that Milrina has left Lumen with a cousin to travel. She said for me to tell you not to expect a letter until her arrival at South Town. Really, you ought to send a letter directly to South Town begging her to join you in Liptan Town. You really have got to stop pretending that you two are just friends. She’s your soul mate. Accept it.

 

He lowered the letter with a look to the sky. When was she ever going to give up on that?

 

You know, I can’t wait forever for you to get married, and you said so yourself that the girls of Liptan Town were shallow. Besides, I’d like to see a grandchild from you before I die.

 

He moaned again, but kept reading.

 

Oh, by the by, a strange letter came for you. We didn’t open it, though Kolbran really wanted to. I figured you would call for it when you called for this letter. Your father says you ought to have a post box set up in Liptan if you are intending to stay there. Apparently he had heard of your reputation up north on his deliveries. He also told me to write that if you keep stealing away his customers he might have to come north to give you a talking to. Of course you know this is all in jest. He misses you.

Take care, my son. We love you.

Mom.

 

Closing the letter, Theissen sighed. Reading letters like that made him want to return home. However he had work to do, and this errand was now the most important.

“Where are you going?”

Rolling his eyes, glad the threesome of Munden quit grabbing at him (they learned not to touch him after the first year), Theissen replied, “I’m off to the magicians’.”

“Weren’t you just there?” one of them asked.

Theissen gave him a sharp nod. “Only briefly. They had work to do in the south farms. They said they’d be home late.”

“Why don’t you just get out of Liptan?” one of the three said.

Hanging his arms, Theissen put his hand to his head. “You know, that is getting really old.”

“You aren’t happy here,” one said.

Pausing, lowering his hand, Theissen gave him the eye.

“Come on. We’ve seen it,” that one continued. His hate was less than the others. He was speaking honestly.

The other two glanced at him wondering at the change in Theissen’s reaction.

“Why do you stay?” that one said.

“What’s your name?” Theissen asked.

The apprentice of Munden stared at him and blinked. “You don’t know after all this time?”

Theissen shook his head. “No. I didn’t see the point while you were attacking me.”

For a moment it looked as if the apprentice would not tell him. Then he said, “Darol.”

Nodding to himself Theissen nodded. “So, Darol, why do you care if I’m happy?”

Darol made a face. “Look, you know we don’t want you here. But I figured if I appealed to how you felt, maybe—”

“If you treated me like a person instead of a freak or an enemy, you mean?” Theissen said.

Blinking first, Darol then hung his head with a sigh. “Fine. I’m sorry. But it is true, isn’t it? You aren’t happy here. You keep sending letters home and spending time in the shop rather than with the ladies or even the other men.”

Theissen looked down the street, avoiding looking at him.

“You play with children, using your magic for fun and pranks rather than just going out and meeting people your own age.” Darol walked over to him. “Admit it. You aren’t happy here. Even with those magicians. I’ve been watching you. Lately you look like you want to curse at them. Why stay?”

Lifting his eyes, Theissen half wanted to cry. However, it was unmanly to admit he was feeling lonely and angry. Instead he met Darol’s gaze with a firm set jaw. “I don’t leave because I made a promise when I was hired. Besides, how can I possibly join in with all those ladies who look at me as if I’d cast a spell on them and eat their hearts? And the men? They see me as competition. Every one of them.”

The other two glanced at Darol and then the ground.

“I didn’t come here to compete,” Theissen said. “I came here to practice my trade.”

“But why here?” Darol asked.

Theissen