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

from under the magician’s robe and more especially from his sleeves up out of his wrists, swirling around and dropping low along the ground as if it weighed heavily though it skimmed an inch from the floor as if a scum on water.

Everyone ducked low behind their benches and the wooden gate that kept the people from the main floor. His father and mother covered their heads ducking behind their barrier and looking up at their son. Theissen was the only one still on his feet. The bailiff was down, cowering in horror along with the judges. All eyes fixed on the suddenly dark look impressed so deeply in the magician’s face.

Theissen took a step through the barrier of the prosecutor’s circle, the wood before him suddenly like ripples of soft water, flowing and pulling apart as he walked through it, reforming into a solid bar again once he was past.

He shook his head at the magician. “You realize that no one will trust you after this. This is not pure magic you are showing.”

“How dare you talk to me! You disease!” There was a deadly look in the magician’s eyes, one of cold and calculating sickness that Theissen could smell. “I have been doing magic years before you were even born! Even before your father came into this town as a presumptuous little journeyman! You are nothing but an irritating boil that needs to be lanced and spewed out from the cracks of the body!”

Turning his head as if to vomit, Theissen’s face went green. “Please, don’t. Boils are a smelly—”

The magician blasted more pressurized air at him. Theissen momentarily staggered back. But then with a determined step he reached out, and with one hand the pressure balled up like a wad of tissue and then puffed away as smoke whirling and floating away through the window. Without a word, Theissen stomped across the room where he pressed one hand on the magician’s chest.

Before everyone’s eyes, they saw Theissen extract what looked like a long string of ink from the magician’s skin, pulling with his fingers in a tight grip. It peeled right off the magician’s flesh and with it, the magician howled, batting the young man away with all the force he had in his suddenly claw-like arms. The carpenter’s son tumbled backward, still pulling on the inky black threads, ripping them off of the magician’s chest with a yank. The black puddled onto the ground in droplets as Theissen landed on his rump. But he hopped right back onto his feet and leapt back at the magician, wrangling the magician’s arms, grabbing hold of them with a twist and a yank, tearing off something black as if it were a long thread. Those too splattered to the floor when the carpenter’s son drew back, panting hard.

Suddenly all the pressure and darkness was gone.

Blinking, slumped and staring at his arms, the magician just stood there, a pathetic man, now even older in his despair. There was nothing left of the dark towering threat. Even his flashy red scarves over his solemn robes looked dulled.

Theissen drew in a sigh of relief and turned, wiping his palms of the remaining ink as if it were dust flaking off his fingers. “Well, that’s—”

“North, South, East, West. Ward encircle and protect from hate!”

Everyone flew back as if thrown. Theissen also this time, chucked over the divide that kept his family from the main court, him flipping upside down and hanging with his face against the floor. He groaned, on his head, as he heard the magician shout.

“Not all my magic was written there!”

But the shouting stopped just as abruptly with a yelp.

As Theissen righted himself, wiping his bloodied nose on his shirt cuff, he looked back just in time to see the bailiff crack his staff on the magician’s back a second time, huffing and puffing with a fury at being tossed and terrified, his bailiff’s uniform mangled with askew lapels and belts.

The village elders peeked over their desks from above. Then one raised his head higher with a look of relief, nodding to a sheriff. “Cover his hands and keep them from one another some where in a cell until we can assess the situation.”

The bailiffs obeyed almost immediately, scuffling to their feet with haste no one had ever seen in their village. The magician was already in hand and struggling, gagged with a rag someone tore off their own shirtsleeve so the magician could not utter another word to a spell.

Then the village elder looked over at Theissen. “You boy. Come here.”

Theissen obeyed, wiping his bloody nose again with his hand to stop the bleeding. He bowed. “Yes, sir?”

“You didn’t finish what he was guilty of by the law, young man.”

There was exasperation in all the elder’s faces that Theissen understood. He smiled and bowed to them again.

“Yes, I realize that. I’ll try to be brief.” He glanced at his father again for a moment, just to see if he was still there. The carpenter nodded to his son from beyond the barrier, waving for him to go on while he helped his wife onto her feet. Doreen and Kolbran were both staring at Theissen, saying nothing though both looked likely to skirt away from him themselves from the magnitude of his power. “I was accusing the magician of creating a demon. That is punishable by Jatte law, though I don’t really know what that punishment is.”

He looked to Yuld Scribeson who remained in the room despite his attempts to leave like the others in the hall. Most of the villagers stared at Theissen with a newfound terror of his magic ability, each one cramming their bodies through exits in front of the school master as they all tried to escape the law building. Gathering his senses only slightly, Yuld reluctantly took a step to the center of the hall and said, “He is correct. Creating a demon is a law punishable by death, though no one has ever been able to enforce it, I suppose until now. Most of the perpetrators get away before they can be arraigned.”

Theissen nodded, but also frowned. The carpenter met his gaze, knowing what he was thinking. They had not brought suit against the magician to get him killed, just stopped. 

“How about, therefore, a warning?” the carpenter suddenly suggested, surprised that he was speaking up on behalf of the magician at all considering what the magician had just tried to do to his son. The carpenter stepped from the stall where his family still stood waiting for the final ruling.

“What do you suggest?” an elder asked, looking puzzled.

“Yes. That man nearly killed us all,” another replied.

Theissen cleared his throat, drawing their eyes back to him. “He was trying to kill me.”

They turned look to him again.

The bailiff smiled. “Then what do you suggest?”

For a moment Theissen just glanced at his hands and then his arms. He nodded slowly and looked up. “Brawling. He should be punished for brawling.”

They stared at him.

“Lose his hands?”

Theissen shook his head, then smiled as if something funny struck him. “One hand. And if he wants to keep it, he has to let me reattach it for him.”

The elders and bailiffs stared at him for a long pensive moment. Then murmurs broke out.

“That sounds way too merciful,” one sheriff who had just returned from the prison cells said. “I say he loses both hands, and he gets whipped for scaring us half to death.”

The bailiff raised his eyebrows in agreement. “Attempted murder, and he is an adult. I think losing both hands and threatening to turn him out onto the streets is fair.”

The carpenter sighed with a look to his son. Theissen’s frown returned. The young man nearly turned to leave, hesitating only in his regret that he might have done more harm than good by bringing up the issue.

“He still has that kirrel. What about that?” another elder asked. “It’s probably still around here somewhere.”

Theissen quickly spun around and hopped back to the circle of lawmen. “I have an idea. I was thinking about making a lure to trap it and then undo the whole spell thing, but you have to do something for me if I do.”

They all stared.

“Do what?”

Smiling, Theissen tapped his wrist again. “Stick with my proposed punishment for the magician.”

“Two hands,” the bailiff said, eyeing Theissen shrewdly.

The carpenter’s son made a face. “One hand. The man was only acting out of jealousy.”

A village elder peered down authoritatively giving Theissen a stern gaze. “Two hands, and we will ignore what you and that doctor have been doing, though the both of you have to quit visiting the graveyard from now on.”

Meeting the elder’s stare, Theissen replied, “Fine, but you had better offer the reattachment of limbs or the whole deal is off.”

They looked at Theissen with the same realization as his father had that day. Before them was a man, not a boy they were debating with. And more, he was a formidable wizard though even he did not seem to be aware of it yet.

“Agreed.”

Theissen nodded then turned.

“Carpenter, a word.” An elder waved over.

Watching his father, Theissen paused near the door, glancing also at his mother.

The carpenter patted his son on the shoulder, passing by to approach the bench. “Go on, son. Go take care of that kirrel. I will meet you at home.”

Theissen nodded then walked back towards his mother. She opened her arms, drawing him into a hug before also leading her other children out the door. Doreen looked back once, noticing the village elders watch her brother closely as he walked out into the hall.

As soon as they were sure the family had gone, the elder beckoned the carpenter closer. “Your son. When will he leave on his journey?”

Bowing low, guessing their discomfort, the carpenter said with firm gravity, “Around the next month. No need to worry.”

“Worry? My man, that boy saved our lives. I was wondering how long we can keep him.”

The carpenter looked up, startled.

“Actually,” another interjected, “I would like to know how interested that boy is in learning magic. That is to say, how serious is he about carpentry? Would he be willing to take up a different job?”

It was with a relieved sigh that the carpenter replied, “My son has shown great interest in carpentry, much I am sure to your disappointment. However, he has expressed an interest in learning more about magic. But, I must say for his benefit, that I think it really is best that he leave Lumen Village as planned. Theissen has been anticipating this journey for some time now, and it would not be fair to Kolbran to have his inheritance taken away.”

A sigh in unison and moan of disappointment was voiced from most if not all others in the room.

“That boy was not born to be a carpenter. He is a wizard,” one said.

“What a pity! He could have made a great doctor!” another punctuated with a gasp of disappointment.

“Are you sure you cannot convince him to change his mind?” the eldest asked one last time.

The carpenter only laughed as he backed away towards the door. “No, I will not try to change his mind. As for the rest, I think my son would be happiest as a carpenter. He considers his wizard skills more like common fun. I don’t think he’d like people constantly coming to him with their problems.”

“It is a shame though,” one of the elders said, sighing again. “A man with that compassionate of a heart and with that ability to change things certainly does look destined to do something greater than carve wood for all his life.”

The carpenter’s smile fell. His voice grated with annoyance. “There is nothing wrong with carving—”

The bailiff interrupted. “What he means is, the boy seems destined for more.”

But it was too late. Already the carpenter looked more likely to battle with them than agree, his frown now grooved with dislike and his glare fixed. “He is my son, therefore he was born