Duality - Rowan Erlking (sight word books .TXT) 📗

carved door with stained glass, to the gold bells used for hailing staff.  The foyer itself was smooth walled, brown tiled, with pictures of dignified individuals hung to precise angles. There was one dangling chandelier where lamp oil burned a sweet odor. To the right he saw an amazing white marble-floored room filled with the best carved furniture surrounding a woven rug, the design clearly Perri style with rich purples, yellows and ochres, though the furniture had a distinct southern flavor as if it had all come from Jatte. Everything seemed to be imported, including the electric light that hung in the chandelier over the central table, decked with a glass vase and fresh cut tropical flowers.

“This way,” the butler said, looking down his beaky nose at Bernum. On the butler’s heels was a lean boy slave in a tunic, the little islander’s eyes flickering to Bernum’s face with fear as he lugged Bernum’s suitcase over the floor to keep it from scraping on the tile. The servants left the locked chest in the foyer.

The butler led Bernum to a room just two doors from the main entrance. Stepping inside, Bernum saw it was just as eclectically arranged as the other parts of the house that he had seen. There were stained glass lamps; a large wooden cabinet which looked like it was backwards because all the fancy carving stood opposite the wall whereas a plain side faced them with three locks on one side and a handle hastily attached under them; an enormous mahogany desk, and a matching chair sittig counter to it. In the chair behind the desk sat a middle-aged man with rich dark skin in a button-down waistcoat somewhat puckered around the middle where he was getting fairly thick from good meals. His peering eyes were already fixed on Bernum’s face assessing what kind of boy had been sent to him.

“So, Magician Jimmit really did change his mind,” the man murmured in his rich rounded voice. “How curious. I wonder, can you tell me why? His words were most violent in his rejection letter.”

Bernum lifted his eyes. “Really? Well then, I—” He was about to say he was just as stumped as the man was, but his eyes set on a curious golden bell that hung from the wall. There were etchings of a spell on it that Bernum recognized. Bernum sighed. “He hates you.”

The man blinked, straightening up. “Is that why he sent you?”

Shrugging, Bernum told the truth. “Yes. Are you Mr. Omori?”

“Omoni,” the man corrected, narrowing his eyes at him.

“Oh.” Bernum took a step back with a look around the room.

“He said he wouldn’t even send his worst enemy to me,” Merchant Omoni continued. “So why did he send you?”

Bernum knew that bell would ring if he lied so he selected the best truth that could be taken both ways. “I’m a troublemaker. Maybe he wanted to punish you with me.”

Merchant Omoni broke into a laugh. “Really? And what kind of trouble have you gotten into that would make him so angry?”

Shrugging, Bernum said, “I once sicked flies on a classmate for treating me like a dunce. I’ve moved things, started fights.”

“Fights?” Omoni leaned in.

Shrugging, Bernum said, “I got in a fist fight with my once-best friend. He’s my fiend now again, but—”

“But that was in the past. What did you do recently that changed his mind?” Omoni looked interested.

Looking out the window, Bernum murmured, “I don’t know if it is so much what I did…”

Merchant Omoni snorted. “Come on. Why you?”

Sighing with a glance at the bell again, Bernum said, “He’s hoping I’ll cause you trouble, maybe. But to be honest, I asked him for an internship in Jonori. And I guess when I…well…filled the kitchen with soap all the teachers were begging for him to punish me.”

The bell didn’t ring.

Omoni seemed satisfied. He smiled. “Really?”

Bernum nodded. He then looked to the door. “Head Magician Jimmit even prepared a chest of things for me to use for this so-called job. I haven’t even been able to open it yet. This kind of thing is humiliating for a guy like me, you know.”

Nodding, Omoni rose. “Fine, but we need to discuss this addendum he added. I’m hiring a permanent magician, not just an intern.”

Frowning, Bernum stepped back. “Yeah. He told me about that. He also told me to insist that this is only temporary. He wants to see my face again. And I think if you don’t let me go, according to his written agreement, he’d come down here himself and curse you.”

To that Omoni blinked. “Curse me?”

“I told you he didn’t like you,” Bernum said, hoping that was enough.

“He can’t legally curse me.” Merchant Omoni said. He walked from behind the desk over to Bernum. Standing upright Bernum saw that the man stood just an inch shorter than him. The man was assessing Bernum’s height also, nodding to himself. “But I suppose I don’t want to risk an angry magician. The last time I saw him he made some rather impertinent remarks about putting me in my place, if you can believe that.”

“I can believe it,” Bernum murmured under his breath.

Omoni led Bernum out the door, speaking to the butler. Then he turned to the young magician again. “He will arrange for your lodging in town tomorrow. Don’t expect anything fancy. You are only a boy intern, untested. But if you like the fame you will find in this job, we’ll arrange for something better.”

But the man was smiling to himself, practically gleeful that he had acquired a proper Maldos magician. Merchant Omoni ordered the servants to take Bernum to their quarters and give up a bed for him. As the servants led Bernum off, Omoni strolled back into his study, already beckoning the butler in to draw up a scheme undoubtedly for keeping his new acquisition. The look on the butler’s face said it all, his approval of this fresh arrangement flickering in his eyes.

The servants passed through many rooms then an internal courtyard with a fountain and potted plants to get to their quarters, Bernum following, though his eyes were searching the house with hope. He looked up at the second floor balcony in the courtyard that overlooked them, and like a flash of lightening, there he saw her. Malkia was staring down at him, her expression horror-filled. He met her gaze with a tremble of excitement, giving her a knowing look they often shared in the past. She immediately wiped off her shocked expression, retreating with a look of warning for Bernum though tears flooded her eyes with gratitude.

“Keep going,” one of the servants said.

“Who’s that?” Bernum asked, faking his ignorance very well while he pretended to be enamored rather than comforted that he had at last found her.

“The witch wife.”

“The what?” Bernum blinked at him with pretended puzzlement.

“The witch wife,” that servant repeated.

Bernum looked back to the balcony, but Malkia was gone. A servant reached out and turned his head to look away.

“She is a witch that the master tried to save from the hag that came to the manor pretending to be a midwife.” The servant looked fierce. “The master is trying to cure the woman from her affliction.”

Blinking at them with a wry smirk, Bernum said, “Witchcraft is not a disease. It is a practice. If she has been training to be one, she is one.”

All the servants nodded in chorus, whispering now as they ducked their heads into a huddle. “We know. But the master insists on keeping her. He is enchanted by her beauty, which even she cannot remove to free herself.”

“Is there any way to make him let her go?” Bernum asked. Then he added, “You know, for his own good.”

They all shook their heads, the leader of them hissing earnestly to Bernum, “We tried everything. And she has tried everything. This house has seen plagues of rats, flies, beetles, cockroaches, and chaos erupting everywhere she goes. The master won’t give in.”

“Why can’t she just walk away?” Bernum asked.

And they all shrugged, shaking their heads.

“We don’t know,” the leader said. He then looked to the empty balcony himself. “We keep hoping her father would come and demand her back. Legally he would be able to reclaim his child. But he hasn’t come. We fear the worst.”

Bernum looked to the balcony also, wondering if a brother had that same right. The Merchant had not tried to kill Dennik, but then if Dennik came the people would easily accuse him of being a demon and have him killed. Bernum had to find out if it was an option to simply demand for his sister. If not, his former plan was still in effect.

Chapter Six: The Witch Wife

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Omoni’s steward found Bernum a small one-room apartment the next day near the amphitheater where Bernum was to start work almost immediately. There were still papers to draw up, contracts to forge and of course, legal fees to pay. Bernum had a tiny bit of cash, just enough to get the odds and ends the sparse little apartment still needed to make it somewhat like a home. Mostly he collected the barest of necessities at the closest market, such as a bowl, a set of blankets, a pillow, and a cooking pan with eating utensils. He settled down for sleep the next night, mentally listing the tasks he had to do first. 

Bernum barely closed his eyes when he heard a hollow-ish clunk on the cement floor. Opening one eye blearily, he then blinked and opened them both to stare at a coral and white conch shell the size of a small hat resting in the middle of the floor.

He rolled off his bed onto the floor then crawled over to the shell. Encircling the mouth of the shell was writing in what looked like blood, the handwriting style familiar though sloppy. The moment he set his hand on it, it emitted a sound as if it were clearing its throat. He dropped the shell.

“Bernum,” the shell said, as it clattered on the floor, in Malkia’s voice. “What in the world are you doing here? Don’t you know what kind of man Merchant Omoni is? I don’t know what you think you are doing, but get out of Jonori now. You hear me? Get out of Jonori now!”

Bernum blinked at the shell, then picked it up, tilting to read the writing as the shell continued to give off words from Malkia. Clearly she had used her own blood to enact the spell, a clever spell, but still—why use blood?

“I suppose you are waiting for an explanation,” Malkia’s voice said after a moan. “Somehow I know you won’t leave without a good one. So, fine. If it will convince you to leave here, I’ll tell you everything that’s happened so you can go back to Dennik and…I don’t know, start over.

“Sometime back in the summer when Ludy and I went to our usual vacation spot, unbeknownst to us Merchant Omoni saw me on the beach. I swear I was dressing modestly. I never changed my style behind your back, so I really don’t think I deserved what happened next. The man got it into his head that he wanted me—I mean, the idiot is married. But you