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

would have been a perfectly level platform.

“Uh, I’m actually trying to reach the other side. I was going to travel to South Town to visit my cousin if she is still there,” Theissen said.

They tilted their heads in birdlike unison. One smiled generously.

“Are you in a hurry?”

Theissen sighed then shook his head. “Not exactly. I’m a journeyman carpenter. The idea is for me to find work along the way and then settle in a village or town that suits me.”

“I thought he said you were a wizard.” One of the elders turned to glare at Theobold for some sort of prank. However, Theissen sighed again and touched the corner of his grey robes, turning it a sharp shade of red. The elder birdman nearly jumped from shock, flapping his wings with a hop.

“I am that too,” Theissen said.

An echoing intake of breath went all around the circle. Theissen turned the birdman’s robes back to gray and he shrugged.

“But I’m a carpenter by profession.”

“But why?” one asked him, pulling for Theissen to sit down and get comfortable.

Shrugging, Theissen reluctantly took a seat. In truth, he felt inclined to find a way out of that tree so he could go on his way. “I happen to like carpentry.” He even took out his carpenter’s belt from his pack to show them.

“He’s a carpenter’s son,” Theobold offered.

Mensin chuckled at Theissen’s left.

From that alone, Theissen could tell there was some sort of joke to that. He just could not grasp what was so funny.

“You are a wizard,” one of the elders said. “Why bother with such menial work?”

Theissen blinked. That was why.

Getting up, Theissen put on his carpentry belt with some dignity. “It is not menial work. It is an art.”

Every one of the birdmen fluttered, glancing from one to the other.

“Yes, we are sure you believe that—”

“And I don’t appreciate you demeaning it!” Theissen parted from the group at the table and walked back to the edge of the platform to see if there was a way down besides just jumping off.

Hopping up, the birdmen fluttered over to him. One pulled him back from the edge.

“We apologize! We had not meant to offend you!”

“Please forgive us! We did not know this was a tender point!”

“We stand corrected! Oh, please wise wizard, do not leave us just yet!”

All their flapping and scraping and bowing was flustering, enough, but being surrounded by demon stagnation and feathers along with it, Theissen was starting to feel lightheaded. He grabbed his forehead for a moment to steady it, also trying to calm them down by assuring that no harm was done, but as he walked back toward the center of the flet he found the sensation increasing.

“Someone, Catch him! He’s going to fall!” Theobold shouted, flapping up to do so himself if he could.

Someone did catch him. Theissen looked up, wondering if he had just fainted. He had never fainted before. There had never been any occasion for it before. Looking up, he saw another birdman. This one was as white as Theobold, including the shockingly white and feathery head of hair that hung down in straight lines from his tanned face. This one smiled calmly when he detected that Theissen was still conscious. The demon lifted Theissen up and wrapped an arm around him to hold him steady.

“Careful there. This one looks half-starved. Really, you shouldn’t crowd him like that.”

Theissen felt a few other birdmen flutter over, the wind gusting from their wings like a pleasant yet stale breeze.

“You forget that wizards are adversely affected by demonic auras,” the white haired birdman said.

“He didn’t say anything,” Theobold murmured with a sound of surprise.

“He was obviously trying to be polite.”

The white haired birdman had a gentle sound to his voice. So gentle that Theissen found it hard to keep focus as they walked him over to one of those boat-like depressions in the platform.

“I recommend bed rest and lots of liquids. He looks dehydrated.”

“He looks hungry,” Mensin said.

The white haired birdman chuckled. “Yes. That too.”

Almost immediately Theissen felt himself being lowered into the softest fluffiest whatever-it-was, someone folding his arms across his chest. Another had taken his pack and set it to the side. It was hard to keep focus after that, even as they lifted water and then a strange yet warming liquid to his lips. It had been a rough night, and now set into such an exact opposite surrounding, it was almost impossible to keep awake. 

He blinked his eyes open briefly, hearing the sound of wooden flutes playing from platforms around him. The tunes played like a game, though unusually breezy and rustling as the wind dancing with a butterfly among the stalks of wheat in his neighbor’s field where they sometimes played ball. There was something faintly Jatten about the tune, but it diverged into its own sound, one that he did not recognize. He tried to put a name to it, but his head swam back from consciousness and he just listened instead until his mind floated back into sleep.

Theissen awoke again only briefly feeling someone lift him up, setting a wooden cup to his lips. He took a sip, and then another one. Then he guzzled down the rest. Faintly, he remembered drinking something like it, but he could not recall where. It was not something his mother made. Tender hands caressed his arms, which somehow felt bare though he didn’t remember taking off his long sleeved shirt or his coat. He tried to clutch his cloak for a blanket as he had done so many nights before, but all he groped were soft strange cloth of the clothes that hung from his caretakers. They gently urged his hands to rest back down into the soft fluff. He drew in a deep breath, his thoughts rolling over with slight wonder where his cloak had gone and if he could get just one more drink of that warm liquid they had given him earlier.

It was evening by the time Theissen truly awoke. He looked up and saw stars. His view was clear. Nothing, not even tree leaves, blocked his vision. Up above he could see the millions of speckles of light crossing with a band as bolder stars shone out in their broad patterns. The constellations he learned from the magicians’ myth books shone like watchers keeping an eye on him. Up to the north he made out the figure of Jodis looking down over his territory. The eastern god Temis was rising on the horizon and the southern god Klodil stood true as always. He could not see Hanin. He usually rose later near autumn. The other mythic creatures hung in the sky like awkward dot-to-dots his older sister would invent for them to keep him and his younger brother and sister occupied. Tilting his head, he made out the star cluster of Tuperi, the dog kennel of the demon god Gusbern.

“Ah! So you are awake!” Theobold stuck his head right into Theissen’s view. “You moved, so I figured you might be.”

Theissen tried to sit up.

“No, no.” Theobold shoved him back down again with a gentle nudge. “The doctor says you shouldn’t move for at least another day. Apparently whatever the molemen gave you to eat, most likely dirt, it didn’t agree with your already empty stomach.”

Dropping back down into the feathers, Theissen just stared up at him. “I didn’t eat dirt.”

“Did they give you anything?” Theobold asked, perching on the edge to peer over.

Rubbing his still somewhat light head, Theissen blinked, wondering if they had. He seemed to recall a woman with some soup, but it was fuzzy. Maybe she only gave him water.

“I was sitting in slime. I think they tossed me some of my own bread. I may have gotten that slime on it.”

Theobold let out a disgusted sigh, shifting his weight. Theissen let out his own sigh and stared up at the stars again.

“Do we really make you sick?” Theobold asked. His voice sounded dismayed.

Blinking, Theissen looked back at Theobold’s face. “Pardon?”

Theobold leaned over the feather bed more. “The doctor said that wizards don’t like demonic auras. He said we make you sick.”

Theissen cringed and wished to pull his face away from Theobold’s, but the birdman looked truly concerned. However, the question was direct and he did not want people misled into a lie.

“It isn’t your aura exactly,” Theissen said. “But anything that is a demon has a certain stifled smell about them. I’m sorry.”

“Smell?” Theobold then promptly sniffed himself.

Theissen broke into laugh and sat up anyway, facing him. “No, it’s not like that. Only I can smell it. Not even other human beings can smell the odors of demons.”

“Ah! He’s awake!”

Almost immediately a flurry of feathers and wings gusted over, nearly blowing Theissen to the side of his boat-like bed. These were not the elders though, but birdwomen and all remarkably beautiful. Each one was uniquely colored, though there tended to be more white and gray winged kinds than of the other sort. These women were all dressed in the same elegantly draped blouse that tied just behind their necks, leaving their backs bare. They also wore loose pants. Apparently it was impractical for flying ladies to be wearing dresses, though these women wore sheer shawls on their hips, draped and tied in such a relaxed way that all looked much more comfortable than the ladies of Jatte. In fact, they seemed more alluring, which made Theissen retreat to the side closest to Theobold who was now laughing at him.

Theobold patted him on the head. “What? Never seen women before? Your face is turning red.”

“What? No! Stop that!” Theissen pulled from him too. “I just…I was startled.”

The women giggled, resting on the edge of the bed.

“So, stranger. We hear you’re a wizard,” one birdwoman said.

“Can you show us some magic?” Another batted her remarkably beautiful eyes at him.

“Now, ladies,” Theobold still patted Theissen’s head. “He’s still quite sick. You wouldn’t want him to overexert himself.”

“Oh….”

Several of them scooted back from the bed with disappointment. Some hopped up, as if they were being urged to go away. Theissen watched with some disappointment, though also feeling otherwise happy to have a little room to breathe.

“You are no fun, Theobold,” one of the women said.

“He looks a lot better now,” another said.

“How bad did I look?” Theissen turned to inquire. That’s when he saw the white haired birdman fly down to their platform through the boughs above them, landing with all the grace of a swan.

He strolled over with a smile as he gently shook his head. “You are supposed to be resting.”

Theissen felt cowed. Never had he seen anything so elegant. This birdman made lord barons look like silly ducks. Even the way this demon walked was like dancing, though his stink was the same stale odor as the rest of them.

“And you, ladies, are supposed to be helping him get better, not stirring him up again so that he becomes faint.”

Theobold snickered. “Don’t worry. I kept them at bay.”

“And you’re the worst of them,” the white haired birdman said with some bite. “I thought I told you to go back to your flet. What are you doing here?”

“I’m staying so he could see a familiar face.” Theissen saw Theobold grinning like one of his playmates back home. Now he was sure he liked this birdman. There was free mischief in this birdman’s eyes. Harmless mischief.

“Poppycock. You’re staying because you want to see more magic. Now back off, or I’ll push you off the flet myself.” Then the white birdman turned toward Theissen, his scowl softening only a little. “And you, you should be sleeping.”

Theissen just shrugged. “Sorry.”

Remarkably, the white birdman laughed, entirely losing his scowl. He turned and walked over to the table.

“As you wish, though really, you ought to rest. It seems you have been undergoing some nutritional deprivation. On top of that, you seem to have contracted a bug, which will take a while to clear our of your system.”

Theissen blinked, peering at his hands and