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

with her foot. She would have tromped over the yard, but that would have spilled the soup. Instead, treading with careful steps, she came to the shop door and peeked in. As usual, Theissen was bowed over the low table, carving away like an artist. Nothing chipped out with the ease he usually carried when magic was involved. Each sliver, each wood curl, was carved with real effort that spoke his true intentions about woodwork. He wanted to prove he could make things without the influence of magic. Kolbran was staining another chair. Her father was bent over his last chair, barely even carved into. Behind him were the other furniture pieces that he did not even get a chance to touch.

She drew in a breath. Both her father and Theissen looked up.

“Ah! Dinner!” Kolbran dropped his brush into his bucket of sudsy water and crossed over to her.

Doreen lifted the tray away from him. “This is for Dad!”

Kolbran just made a face and passed by her through the door. “I knew that, smarty pants. I was going inside.”

“Wash out that brush!” His father called after him.

Theissen smirked and continued carving as his brother marched back and did as he was told before stomping out again.

Doreen walked by Theissen to set the tray down on the old sawhorse. “Aren’t you going in too?”

He glanced over at his father’s tray and shrugged. “I’ll be there. I have a bit more to finish.”

Her face hardened, mostly out of jealousy. His manner was like bragging without the words, and it only made her angrier. Theissen was already back to his work as if he had forgotten she was there.

“Thank you, Doreen. And please thank your mother for me,” her father said.

Doreen lingered in the shop, peering over the endless pile of work that had to be completed that night. She drew in another breath and then turned toward her father. Speaking carefully, she asked in a voice not much higher than a whisper, “When is the lord baron coming?”

The carpenter drew in a sigh. He looked around himself also. “Tomorrow. In the morning, I hear. His steward stopped by the gate an hour ago. He is already in the village.”

She felt her insides squirm. Theissen lifted his eyes on her again. He set down his carving tool.

“Does he have to come in person?” she asked.

“He likes to,” her father said, and he started his carving again.

“But what will happen when he sees you aren’t done?”

The carpenter focused more on his carving. “Well, I’ve heard he has quite a temper, but I’m hoping that if he goes home with at least the dining set he will be lenient and let us have more time to finish the other pieces.”

“But I heard he’s not like that,” Doreen murmured.

Theissen exhaled a tired sigh a little too loudly. She was about to glare at him but she saw her older brother run his fingers through his hair, staring at all the unfinished furniture.

“Let us pray he will be more lenient,” her father said. He did not stop his carving though. She could tell that he did not believe the man was any more lenient than she did.

For a moment all she could hear was the scrape, scrape of the carving tools against the wood. Theissen’s feet shifted. He exhaled again.

“I—” He took a step towards the door, glancing guiltily at his father. “I think I’ll go in to supper.”

His father glanced back at the table then nodded to his son. “Yes. Go on in. There isn’t much more you can do tonight.”

Doreen saw Theissen’s face fall somewhat. It was not often that he looked defeated. His constant confidence had always annoyed her. Nothing had been out of his reach. But somehow, triumphing over him in this moment felt wrong, especially when her father could have benefited from a success.

Theissen passed her as he went out into the yard. She did not follow until she was sure he was inside the house. Glancing once more at her father, Doreen wished she had learned carpentry as a child—and not for her usual reasons. For once, she wished she knew the craft to actually help her father rather than prove she was better than her brother.

Turning from the door with a small ‘good night’, waiting to see if he would eat at all, Doreen stepped into the yard. The sun had already set, and a shadow fell over the yard like a dim haze though the river stones spread out in between the grassy spots near the chicken yard shone like mirrors, reflecting the moon. And as the shadows deepened into pitch dark pockets, her trudging feet taking her back to the house door, she saw Theissen go out again, pulling his coat on as he marched from the yard as though something was on his heels. The gate swung open without him even touching it. Little wind gusted around him, blowing things out of his way as he continued down the road, looking back only once, though it did not look like he saw her. Doreen almost followed, but her mother called for her from the open doorway.

“Hurry on in! It is getting dark!”

“Where is he going?” Doreen snapped with her usual temper, peering back into the poorly lit street where he had gone.

“On an errand. He said he would be back late. Now come in and eat.” Her mother waved her inside.

For once, Doreen sighed and obeyed without kicking a chair leg.

 

It was pretty bad. The Potters were just firing up their last pots that night. The Shoemakers were still adding embroidery on the several pairs of shoes. Even with the help of that lord baron’s former mistress doing work in secret for them to complete their quota they were having a hard time finishing in time. The Weavers had the help of Doreen, so they were nearly done. The Tailors were struggling to complete their brocade suit coats and pants, short on gold buttons and the perfected thread emblem they had to have on every item. When Theissen came around to each one as promised, he clenched his forehead in pain knowing what they were asking of him bordered on dishonesty. However, he had promised.

With the Shoemakers, all he had to do was make sure they had sufficient thread of certain colors. He spent only a few minutes turning the embroidery floss the right shades before moving on to the Tailors to do the same. There he mostly altered the cloth to have a more iridescent quality to it, something the lord baron demanded at an unreasonable price. With the Potters, he had to do the same with the colored glazes, though with the Weavers he merely visited them because his mother wanted a jam that they had run out of. It was late when he tramped home to find his father nearly asleep at his workbench. The last chair was nearly done.

“I can sand that tonight, if you want,” Theissen said, watching his father wake with a start.

The carpenter wiped dribble off of the side of his mouth. He blinked blearily at his son and then at the carving on the chair. “Oh, yes. Yes. I am almost done.”

He set to work again, trying to focus his eyes on the carving.

Tilting his head, Theissen almost spoke. He glanced over at the tabletop he had been working on only a few hours ago. It was not even near completion.

“Dad?”

“Hmm?” The carpenter tilted the chair as he dug into one side again, cleaning out more of the wood.

Theissen placed his hand on his father’s. “Why don’t you let me finish that tonight? I can do it. You need to rest.”

Blinking at him, the carpenter looked ready to send his son to bed rather than be the one sent. He opened his mouth to say so.

“You will have to face the lord baron tomorrow, and it will not do if you fall down from exhaustion.” He pressed hard on his father’s hand to force the tool out from his fingers.

Frowning, the carpenter closed his mouth. He drew a breath, looked around the shop then sighed. “I won’t be able to finish this tonight, will I?”

Theissen shook his head, also frowning. “No, Dad. But I can try to finish this one for you so you can sleep.”

At last nodding, more tired than he had let on, the carpenter rose from his work stool.

“All right. There comes a time when a man must admit defeat. I’ll go to bed.”

He walked stooped towards the door. Theissen watched him as he passed, his eyes fixed morosely on his father’s weary figure as the carpenter trudged out of his shop.

“Dad?”

The carpenter turned. “What is it son?”

“How bad will it be if we can’t complete this order?”

Letting out another sigh, the carpenter continued on. “It may ruin not only us, but also your brothers. The Carpentersons of Lumen may have no future after this.”

Theissen blinked, staring as his father dragged his feet towards the house. The work he had done that past month was more than any master carpenter could do in three. The artwork besides, they had produced some of the finest pieces they had ever made yet Theissen knew that Lord Baron Kirsch would condemn it all simply because it was not done in his unreasonable time frame.

With a turn, he glared at each piece of furniture as though they were each individually the lord baron himself. Shoving one sleeve up to his elbow, and then the other, Theissen took hold of the chair his father had been working on, seizing the carving tool in his fist.

“We’ll see who ruins who.”

“Dad! He’s here!” Kolbran ran into the house from the yard still wearing his nightshirt. He had just barely gone out to collect a few eggs for breakfast.

Doreen dashed to the door from the cook stove, poking her head out. “He’s early!”

“Spiteful man!” their mother said, tightening her morning robe over herself. “Children! Get inside and get dressed. I’ll go wake your father.”

“But Mom!” Doreen called back, tugging her own nightgown closed. “Dad’s furniture is not done yet!”

“Can’t we delay him?” Kolbran agreed, nodding his head like a bobbing duck.

Theissen walked in from the back bedroom, rubbing his eyes. He was still in his nightshirt also, barely opening one eye to peek at the porridge bowl. “No eggs?”

“Maybe Theissen can make it rain in the yard!” Doreen said, and then shoved him towards the door to force him to do it.

But he slipped to the side then dodged behind the table. “Don’t be daft. That’d make the yard muddy for the lord baron when he gets here.”

“That’s what I’m telling you! He’s already here!” Doreen shouted at him then punched him in the arm.

Theissen rubbed his shoulder. He also slipped by her again to peek into the yard through the open top half of the door. Sure enough the fancy carriage was there. The steward was already opening the front gate to let his smug looking master trot inside. The only thing pleasant he saw was that the man had yet to acquire another mistress to replace the last one.

“What’s his deal? Normal people are still asleep at this hour.” Theissen made a face, still scratching his head and then the inside of his ear.

Doreen nodded, peering out again with wrinkled nose. “He’s an ugly hateful man.”

“Ugly?” Kolbran peeked out once before darting through their bedroom door. “What does that have any…?”

“Go on and get dressed.” Their mother walked back into the front room now in her day clothes though looking annoyed with what little notice the lord baron had given her. The steward was already knocking at the door, peering over the lower half. His expression was dry and condescending as the first moment he had met Theissen on the road.

“Is the master of house in his shop?” the steward asked with a nod.

The carpenter’s wife frowned at him, folding her arms over her chest. “He is asleep in bed. You call