Wizard of Jatte - Rowan Erlking (year 2 reading books txt) 📗

weaved another flower into her garland.

Alania turned, picking up her basket to finish her work. “So. He is always in there at this time.”

“I asked him.”

Alania turned again.

“I asked him how he makes it.” Doreen did not look up.

“Makes what?” Alania said. “A stool?”

Doreen raised her eyes. She always held a serious expression as if smiling was too hard for her. She slowly shook her head. “No. The magic.”

Alania froze. “Dad said—”

“Dalance asked him.”

She set her basket down again. “And what did Theissen say?”

Setting her garland aside, Doreen frowned deeper. “He says he can see it. He says no one else can.”

Alania waited, wondering if he said anything else. Dalance had not told her he had asked Theissen about the magic he could do. She had believed that they were to keep their promise to their father. She certainly tried to. Now she wanted to ask him.

“It’s not fair,” Doreen said. She stared at the ground, tears forming in her eyes.

“I know, we can’t learn carpentry,” Alania said, getting up.

Doreen shook her head. “No. Not that. Who cares about that? I want to do magic.”

Tilting her head, Alania recalled feeling the same way at times. However, for Theissen lately it had only caused him trouble.

“Dad says he’s special. Mom says he’s special. Milrina says he’s special. Everybody says he’s special!” Doreen kicked the ground. “I want to be special!”

“You are special.” Alania crouched down again, inching close to her side.

Shaking her head violently, Doreen sobbed harder. “Am not. I’m only the second girl. They already have you. Nobody wants me.”

Leaning back first, Alania suddenly reached her arm around her little sister, pulling her close. “Well, I’ve always wanted you. I was mad when Theissen was born. I wanted a sister.”

“Really?” Doreen looked up at her with moist eyes. “Then how come you are mean to me sometimes?”

“Sometimes you act lazy,” Alania said.

Doreen made a face.

“Come on. Momma will want us to help with dinner.”

Still making that face, Doreen didn’t move. “That isn’t special. Who cares about dinner? Why don’t the boys make dinner?”

Alania tugged on her to stand. “The boys don’t make dinner because they don’t know how. They’d probably put wood shavings in it and then we’d all be sick.”

To that Doreen gave a small smile. That was the closest Alania had ever seen her happy. Of course, after she left to Pepersin her mother would rely on Doreen for help around the house. Then her importance in the home would be pounded into her. After all, everyone needed to eat. Everyone needed clean clothes and an abundant supply of soap and towels. They were the ones to keep the home livable. Her mother used to chasten her when Alania felt her job was menial and insignificant by saying the world would destroy itself if it weren’t for the cooking, cleaning and nurturing of dutiful mothers and wives. Then she’d add with a sense of pride that they were the guardians of the haven they called home.

Both girls went indoors, finishing up the afternoon tasks.

Theissen peeked his head out the door. He sighed then turned to go back inside. Doreen’s voice had carried, but her feelings had never been secret to him. She had asked him to show her how to make magic on a number of occasions, but he was just not able to do it. And that always made her mad at him. Tolbetan and Kinnerlin were also jealous at times. He could never tell if Dalance had been, but then being the eldest son gave him perks that none of them had so such jealousy didn’t suit him.

His brothers had paused in their work, but when they saw him come back inside they returned to it as if nothing had happened. Their father wasn’t home. He was out delivering a cabinet to the Potters. Potterswife was preparing for her daughter’s wedding and they needed a gift suitable for the occasion. He was also delivering some chairs to the Tinsmiths.

Going back to his workstation, Theissen picked up the sandpaper and his piece of wood then started sanding it again. All he could hear were the scrapings of the planer Kinnerlin was using and the grinding noise of the hand drill Tolbetan was struggling with. They rarely spoke when they worked on their projects.

 

 

Kicking the dust down the lane with the basket swinging in his hands, Theissen trotted past the stone wall of the high road leading to the skirts of the village where the Weavers lived. His mother had sent him after a jar of jam their aunt kept in her pantry. They had brought some from their old village where they had owned plum and apricot trees. His mother wanted both the plum and apricot jam, but he was thinking about forgetting her request for plum.

The wood fences rose around him, edging the Taylor’s yard and the Milliner’s yard, and the yard of the Cheesemakers. Their fences joined that of the Milkman’s where he kept five strong milk cows that lowed when they saw him. Theissen smiled at the fat animals, wishing that he knew what they thought. Though he could influence them to come to him out of curiosity, other living things’ thoughts were still a mystery to him. Some things were never influenced by magic.

Once Theissen crested the hill, he started to hear distant shouts. It sounded like playing at first, echoing in and out of the birch trees that lined these roads and extended into the grove at the edge of town, but as he got closer he could tell they were screams.

He walked faster then ran.

“Get away from me! Leave me alone!”

Theissen heard the Weaver’s dog barking. That echoed farther than the tiny shrieks of a girl whom he guessed was his cousin. Hurrying faster, Theissen rounded into the Weaver’s yard. But she was not there. The sound of her shouts was coming from the grove.

Dropping his basket at the gate, Theissen dashed towards the trees, rushing though the tall grass that grew around them. He listened then smelled, hoping the flow of magic he saw could show him where they were. There was a small stagnant smell of hate coming from deeper in the trees. Hoping he would find Milrina, he hurried further in.

Her screams grew louder, accentuated by the flow of magic in some way, her distress too strong for flow to go peacefully. The dog’s barking ceased with a yelp then a whimper.

“Hunter! No!”

Then he heard him. “Now who’s ugly! Stupid! Doggy’s gone. You’re all alone. Now stop moving or I’ll really hurt you.”

“Don’t touch me!” Milrina screamed. Theissen could hear her crying.

Breaking from the tall grass into a small covert of trees, Theissen stared at what he saw for just a second then rushed forward to stop Lonse. Milrina was on the ground. Her dress was ripped, half of it in Lonse’s hand. Their dog Hunter lay on the dirt, his chest still heaving as it breathed, though his head was crushed under a large rock. Lonse had a bite on his arm, bleeding somewhat. He was holding his cousin to the ground.

“Get off of her!” Theissen ran over, shoving Lonse hard though he had a gust of air follow through that blew the boy right over.

Lonse scrambled to his feet almost the instant he had fallen on his back, tumbling over with clenched fists. He grabbed a rock. “Thief! That’s my wench!”

“Your what?” Theissen spun around, glaring at him.

Lonse threw the rock at him.

Theissen raised his hand. The rock fell straight down, losing all momentum as if hitting a wall of hard air. Lonse grabbed another one. A larger one. “Stay away from me!”

Giving him a dirty glare, Theissen didn’t look likely to obey him. However, he heard Milrina shriek out again, and he turned. He saw her clutching the bleeding dog, shouting out his name. “Hunter! Hunter! Hunter!”

Crouching down at her side, Theissen reached out to Hunter. He was dying, yet not dead. It looked at him with imploring eyes, eyes that said he was in too much pain. The flow was still there, but Theissen recognized the scent of death coming. Shaking his head, Theissen stroked the dog’s head, feeling inside for the parts that were no longer working right.

“Oh!” Milrina leaned back.

Her dog had twitched under Theissen’s hand. His head did not look so crushed now. A second after, the dog hopped up, shook himself off then jumped on Theissen, licking him all over his face with happy barks. The only evidence that he had been hurt at all was the puddle of blood on the ground, the stained rock, and the caked blood in Hunter’s fur.

“No! You thief! You interfering little dung rat! That dog was as good as dead!” Lonse threw the other rock, aiming for the dog.

Hunter jumped away, hunching down and raising his hackles with a growl. He would have pounced on Lonse, but Theissen reached out and held him back by his collar.

“You almost killed him,” Theissen said, glaring with that same anger he had felt toward Migdrin.

Lonse threw back his head and puffed up his chest. “I wanted to. Just like it, you don’t deserve to live.”

Theissen said nothing, clenching his fists.

“He hurt me,” Milrina hissed in his ear. “He’s a bad boy.”

Theissen nodded.

Lonse picked up another rock. “Say that again, and I’ll really get you, girl.”

“Bad boy!” Milrina shouted. “Bad boy!”

Theissen moved in her way, giving Lonse a warning look. But apparently Lonse didn’t care if he was there or not. He charged them with his rock raised, ready to use it like a hammer against Theissen’s skull if had to.

Theissen reached up and touched it.

The rock crumbled as sand in Lonse’s fingers.

Lonse cursed.

Latching his fingers around Theissen’s throat instead, Lonse started to choke him, shoving the carpenter’s son to the ground with as much force as he could.

Struggling against the older boy’s weight and arms, Theissen reached up to Lonse’s throat also, shoving back. Almost instantaneously Lonse fell back. Staring up at the tree cover, he groped his throat, opening and closing his mouth like a fish gaping out of water not uttering a sound.

“Theissen! What is taking you so long?” Doreen’s voice called out from beyond the thicket. Another voice murmured with hers though they could not her it well.

“We’re in here!” Milrina shouted back.

Doreen staggered into the thicket followed by her father who was carrying the basket Theissen had dropped at the Weaver’s yard. The jars of jam were in it.

His father gestured at Lonse. “What’s wrong with him?”

Theissen returned the look with a hardened glare. “I shut him up. He won’t talk ever again.”

Chapter Five: Is His Magic a Weapon?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You what?” His father ran over to Lonse, crouching down to check his throat. Lonse’s lips were starting to turn blue. “He can’t breathe!”

“He was hurting Milrina, and he tried to kill Hunter,” Theissen said, holding back with his cousin.

“Theissen! He can’t breathe! What did you do to him?” His father shouted.

Theissen stared up at him, his gaze withered as if he had been unexpectedly beaten down. “I just closed his throat. The boy wouldn’t stop calling us names. He was trying to choke me.”

“You are choking him!” The carpenter turned from Theissen to stare at Lonse with panic