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

He noticed that exceptionally short woman from the caravan walking around pinning up printed signs with bright colors on them. One of the dog trainers and a spangled looking lady was doing the same, also handing out note-sized sheets of paper to passersby. That was when he noticed a ragged kid dipping his hand into the edge of his own coat pocket.

“You can’t have that.” Theissen smacked the kid’s hand before the child could jerk it out.

The child’s face stared up at him, his—no, her eyes widening into a froggish stare of shock. She then stamped on his foot, but that didn’t do any good either. His boot toes were steel reinforced.

“Really, did you have to try and—?”

She then kicked him in the shins and ran off.

It took only a second for Theissen to register that she had run off with his coin pouch, stolen before she had been trying to pick his outer pockets. He only had handkerchiefs and old wool gloves in those anyway. With a sigh, he secretly gestured to make the strings of his bag slip out of her fingers so that it dropped to the wood planks of the dock. Unfortunately he felt them fall between the planks then sink to the bottom of the bay.

“Blast it.” Theissen trudged over to the edge of the dock. He stuck his hand into the surprisingly cold water. Slowly he felt around until he located his coin pouch and dragged it back up with a good push of waves into his hand.

“Aren’t you coming?” The Hann merchant called out to him.

Shaking off the wetness from the coin pouch, Theissen answered him. “I’m coming. I’m coming.”

 

The Hann merchant was good on his word. The translation sounded like the original writing of the first half he had read under the seeing glass. Theissen holed himself up in his small room on the docks and read the rest of the letter, wrapping himself up in his cloak for warmth.

 

…I trust you are not as dire of circumstances as I am. You did mention that you have a trade as innocuous as carpentry. That’s a good sign the people don’t see you as dangerous as all that. Keep with it. Stay respectable. The last thing you need is for people to want to hunt you down. There are too many stories about wizards gone bad for power and greed. Of course, if memory serves me right, most stories are meant to scare for entertainment or to teach children to be good, and I have yet to meet a wizard that is all bad. It is like meeting an herbalist that is entirely wicked or a magician whose schemes are all selfish or a magister only obsessed in killing demons. They are things for folk tales, not real life. Magic users are a highly misunderstood lot.

My guardian, Mr. Farren used to tell me that he wished there were more of them in the world. He said a lack of them and growing of skeptics in science is why there are so many demons spreading throughout the land. You know, demons, especially parasite ones have been spreading up here in Westhaven. How is it down in Jatte? Is there as large of a demon resurgence as we have up here?

 

Theissen set the letter down. So far no indication that he was a demon showed in the letter. This Jonis still did not ask him to do anything peculiar. It all read right, right like a man reaching out for someone to talk to rather than manipulate.

 

That is my prime concern actually. But then I suppose you might have noticed that already by reading this letter. I do have other questions, though. Mostly out of curiosity so please forgive my prying. But what is Jatte like? My ancestors come from all over Westhaven and Ki Tai. I’ve been all over Westhaven besides, even to the border near Maldos in the city of Ladis. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of it. The land up here is pretty rough and the winters are cold. The Hann and Lords of Maldos I met come from warm lands and they brag a bit too much about it is paradise on earth but way too dangerous for a person of my country to enter. I think they like to perpetuate the lies that their lands are frightening to keep the Westhaven army at bay. I figure, let them. I used to be a soldier in the army and I can tell you that it is a good thing the Patriarch of our country is ignorant of the countries beyond its borders. But still, I am curious about your people. Actually, I’d love to hear about all of Minor Gull if I could. The more I can cram in my already full memory, the better, I figure.

Write me, please.

 Jonis Macoy

 

So, his name really was Jonis.

 

Theissen finished writing his letter to Jonis promptly the following morning. He had a lot to think about before he wanted to answer for sure. There was nothing essentially wrong about the letter. It sounded like the man was lonely.

So he started:

 

Dear Friend,

Did you know it took nearly two years to get a response from you? How come? Ah, well, I was overjoyed to get the letter anyway. Unfortunately, upon receiving it I had a quarrel with the magicians I had been studying under, and they told me that if I kept your book or responded to your letter they would make sure I never practiced magic in our town again. So anyway, I decided to leave. Don’t blame yourself. It was time to go anyway. I wanted to see more of the Jatte coast and then head inland.

You asked about my country. I think it is only fair to share since you told me about your land, though I do have more questions to ask you. Jatte is a beautiful country. Our schoolmaster had us memorize its laws and long history so I can assure you we are certainly a proud people. But really, to brag, we border just south of Hann. Our shared border divides what you call Greater Gull from what you call Minor Gull. We have just always called it the northern and southern continents. It is said that in Jatte at the north is the southernmost Ki Tai outpost. We held those red warriors back from controlling the rest of the south, something we are very proud of. As for something as mundane as the weather, Jatte doesn’t sound too different from this Brein Amon you mentioned. Is that the same as Westhaven?

Now I have one question before I continue this correspondence. Answer me honestly. The magicians say that you, Jonis, are a demon. Most specifically a cordril. Is this true?

Signed with hope of friendship,

Theissen Darol Mukumar Carpenterson

 

He folded the paper in his hands then took out the bespelled envelope. Carefully he tucked the paper in. Then after a thought, Theissen wrote out on a piece of paper, send a response to the front windowsill of Sarton Lubanar Scolderan Carpenter and Malana Rosepetal Brisina Tristeen Carpenterwife of Lumen Village. You can’t go wrong. There is only one of them in all of Jatte.

He tucked that one in and then closed the envelope. Almost instantly the envelope shuddered and lifted off his hand. Theissen watched as it shot out through the cracks between the window and into the night sky.

*

Theissen worked around Shoredge doing odd jobs for the locals collecting money as planned. However, as he inquired after caravans he received bad news.

“No caravans travel between these mountains until the rainy season,” the owner of one of the mercantile shipping companies said, leaning out of his booking shop window to get a good look at Theissen.

“But why?” Theissen had to hunch to see him properly also.

The man looked at him, assessing Theissen’s journeyman garb with a smirk. “The forest between the mountains aren’t safe until the rainy season.”

“But what about the conditions of the road? Won’t rain—”

“Eh. I’ve been in the shipping business a long time. And no one travels this road unless it is raining most of the time.” The man still sounded amused. “Don’t you know there are demons in those woods?”

Theissen blinked at him, then bent closer to the open window. “And they’re scared of the rain?”

The shipping merchant started to close the window to his office, trying to shove Theissen out of the way. “Not scared. They just don’t like to go out in it. Mess the feathers and all that. Muddy holes and things.”

He shut the window. Theissen stared at it for a minute and then just shook his head.

“Are you looking for a caravan?”

Turning with a nod, relief coming to him, Theissen stopped and stared up at open space behind him to look for who spoke. He then lowered his eyes to that extremely short woman who stood there on the road as if to sign up for a caravan herself. “Uh…”

“We got one, but we’re heading north to Tucken Town and then to Coastal Town. If you come along we’ll give you a ride.”

Feeling somewhat uncomfortable, Theissen cheeks flushed. “Uh, yes, well. I hadn’t exactly planned to go to Tucken Town, and I really don’t want to go to Coastal Town at all.”

“It’s just a small detour,” she said, grinning at him. It was like looking at an adult, only squashed and compacted. He could tell it was natural, though unusual, because there was nothing wrong with the flow in her. Everything smelled nice, though somewhat like there was pain.

He frowned. “I’m sorry. But I have a brother in Coastal Town, and I promised my father I would not tread on his territory—”

“You can stay with the caravan when we stop there.” She was getting a little too insistent for comfort.

“No, thank you,” he said more deliberately. “I really ought to be heading directly east. Thank you again for your kind offer, though.”

He turned before she could insist more and walked back towards the shore district. However Theissen did notice that ragged child again eyeing him. There was also a smell he didn’t like coming from the right. He spotted the large muscular man standing next to a strange hairy long necked animal. Others were staring at them also, but it felt like these strangers were also watching him. Unnerved, he hurried off.

*

Theissen returned from helping a merchant sand and seal his worn shop counter, feeling his joints ache at missing so much steady work. Most of the time he sat on a curb and carved animals out of scrap wood left by the boat builders in the shipyard. He sold those for petty coins. Once a lean man from that performing caravan approached him and offered him a job making and selling such trinkets at their shows. Theissen politely declined him, informing the man that he only did such carving as a hobby.

“I make furniture,” Theissen said. “Bureaus. Cabinets. Dressing tables. This stuff is just to pass the time while I wait for a eastern traveling caravan to come by.”

The lean man shook his head at him. “This is an excellent job opportunity for you. Besides, the rainy season won’t be here for another two months.”

Theissen frowned, inspecting the turtle he was making. “I know. But I’d rather not. I heard your group was going north. I have no interest in the northern coast. I have a brother up there that would not want to see me.”

“Oh, did you quarrel?” the man asked him.

Shaking his head, Theissen turned the turtle over and started to carve the underside, perfecting the grooves. “Nope. But he would see me as competition, even if I were just visiting.”

The showman frowned, extending a flier to Theissen to take. “Well, please come to see our show anyway. I am sorry you won’t join us.”

Theissen watched him walk away; made sure he did. It wasn’t the flow. It wasn’t even an odd smell. There was just something in that man’s