Wizard of Jatte by Rowan Erlking (librera reader txt) 📕

a touch. Instead, he had the wood torn out and new wood put in. That took up the rest of the day. That night, he went over to the merchant’s home and knocked on the door.

“Can I come in?” Theissen asked, when the eldest son opened the door.

“Tippany’s crying because of you,” the boy said, but he opened the door wider to let him in.

Blinking, Theissen walked in. “Tippany?”

“My sister.” The eldest son stepped aside for Theissen, but glared at him. “You shouldn’t make her cry.”

“How did I make her cry?” Theissen looked up to the stairs, baffled. He shrugged and walked into the kitchen to find the woman of the house.

The twelve-year-old boy followed him. “I don’t know. She’s a girl. She cries. What are you doing here anyway?”

Theissen stopped and peered down at the kid who was four years younger than his youngest brother. “I’m looking for your mother. I need to have dinner made for the others, and my cousin doesn’t have anything to cook with.”

“Your cousin? One of those people out there is your cousin? Is he a wizard too?” The boy ran to the window to peer out.

“She. And no, she isn’t.” Theissen walked towards the stairs. He still had to claim his things from the eldest daughter’s bedroom.

The boy ran in to block him. “You shouldn’t go up there.”

“And why not?” Theissen asked, taking a step back.

“Because, Tippany is crying up there.”

Frowning, Theissen hung back. “Ok, fine. Then can you go up there and get my things from her room. I need my pack and what was left of my food.”

Making a face, the boy did as he as asked. “I’ll get it. You stay here.”

Turning with a shrug, Theissen looked away, exhaling. It had been a very long day.

It was only seconds before the brother was back down again with the bag. The boy rolled his eyes as he stuffed it into Theissen’s hands with a forceful shove. “Is that all?”

Theissen checked the bag over. His silver teacup was still in it. What was left of his food and his birdman robe was inside, but that was all. He had very little anyway. The rosebush had already been taken to the tower by the former birdmen. And his useful cooking tools were there as well.

“Yes, I guess that’s all.”

The floor above creaked as if someone was just standing in the hallway at the top of the stairs. Theissen touched the wall to feel if there were someone there. Through the wood, Theissen detected bare feet on the floor and a damp hand on the wall. Through that he could sense the girl’s heart beating as if with a panic. He let go of the wall with a sigh. What was he to do? How could he deal with the expectations of a fourteen-year-old girl feeling the pangs of first love? Obviously he had broken her heart somehow, though he could not figure exactly what it was that he had done wrong. Perhaps breathing was cause enough.

“Ok then. If your mother comes back soon, can you have her come over to the inn? I could really use her and your sister’s help.” He walked to the door.

The boy just glared. “Yeah, yeah. I might tell her.”

Theissen halted just before going outside. Bending down to face the merchant’s son, he said, “You know, you could work on that attitude.”

“I don’t like you,” the boy said.

“And why is that?” Theissen asked.

Scrunching up his nose, the boy said, “You cause trouble, and you make girls cry.”

Theissen blinked at him. “You know, I’ve been accused of the first plenty of times. But really, that is the first time I have ever been accused of making girls cry.”

The boy just scowled at him.

“Look,” Theissen said. “I’m sorry I made your sister cry. I think she is a nice girl. But girls get very emotional at that age, so you really can’t entirely blame me, can you?”

The boy’s expression did not change in the slightest.

“Fine. Hate me. I don’t care.” Theissen walked out the door. “I grew up with people hating me anyway.”

The boy slammed it shut as soon as Theissen was out.

Theissen looked over at the inn across the street where Theobold and Milrina were hauling in food they had just purchased from a shop down the road. He sighed. “I’ve only ever had two true friends anyway, and one’s getting married.”

He stepped down to the road.

Chapter Forty-One: No Bothering the Wizard With Petty Complaints

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Korgin’s gang, it was said, had moved their center of business to somewhere else in the city. His thugs were not seen on the highway road to Serjiev since the burning of the Wizard’s Inn at least.

That is what Milrina and Vans decided to call it. The Wizard’s Inn received business almost as soon as its doors officially opened, which was two weeks after the fire. In the time between, Vans went about purchasing wood. He had Theissen construct tables, chairs, beds, bureaus, closets, cupboards and all other wooden house fixtures for the inn. Theissen also carved the outside molding of the inn so that it had the flavor of magic about it. It was all for the sake of business allure. Mostly he used old Lumen architectural style, though he add some spires and twists for colored banners to flag down passersby. Vans also negotiated with the birdmen to give up some feathers for feather mattresses and pillows for the beds inside. Milrina went about purchasing wool blankets and cloth scraps to make quilts and sheets. Their cupboards stocked, their kitchen full, their floors and windows cleaned, and all breaks in the stone and glass mended—the inn was open.

During that same two weeks of work, the people at the tower finished their cleaning and had been busy dividing up the floors into living quarters and then workspace. With all the black ash gone, they discovered amazing woodwork and stonework all about them. It was carved in foreign Ki Tai style. Disagreements about who got what filled the tower almost daily. Fortunately, Theissen had time to visit the tower while the varnish of the furniture for the inn dried (he continued to use the conventional way despite Vans’s pleading that he speed things up), and he went about straightening up the rules of the tower. Those he posted on the wall in the main floor when he went back to the inn to finish the woodwork on the outside.

“His rules stink,” a former moleman grumbled. He glanced at the carved wooden plaque as he hauled out the bucket of wash water still swirling with black ash no matter how much they washed every crevice of the tower.

A former birdman snorted at him. Lifting his chin as he passed the rack where the snake now curled and climbed around the poles at leisure, he said, “Don’t blame us.”

Theobold trotted down the steps to the bottom floor. When he saw the sign, he suppressed a smirk. Theissen had carved the rules with his fingers, setting it in the stone so that it didn’t just hang on the wall but was a part of the tower. He even put a fireproofing spell on it.

There were only five rules:

No room sharing with the opposite sex unless officially married to your roommate. No eating food from the kitchens without contributing work. No harassing the demon upstairs. Respect others’ property, space, and privacy. No bothering the wizard with petty complaints.

 

Most of the people in the tower knew Theissen put it up just to annoy them. The only real rule Theissen had was to not make his life more complicated than it already was. He had repeated it several times that week when Ronen and Daanee tried to move into the same room together. Hence rule number one. The second rule was actually for the twin pickpockets whom Theissen noticed didn’t do anything around the tower except get into mischief with the dog. Their mother was a genius in the kitchen, but she really proved to be a lousy disciplinarian. Rule three was for Teppan who had ‘accidentally’ locked the tower hatches one night to spite Theobold, the same night it dumped freezing rain on the city. Theobold had flown, soaked and trembling, all the way to the inn where he shook water from his feathers into a puddle on the floor, sneezing violently. Rule four was again for the twins who still were struggling with keeping their thieving hands to themselves. Rule five was written when Theissen had at last chose a room for himself near the top of the tower and had started to build furniture for himself. On that very day everyone had ganged up on him to complain.

But that happened the week before when he had visited between carpentry work. Theissen had resolved most of their complaints with one charge: for them all to get a life and do what they came to Jattereen for. The crowd had hushed in that moment, looked to their feet, muttered something, and then walked away. Since that time, the former birdmen went out themselves and hunted down the location of the feather merchants they had formerly dealt with. The finally started to plan their price negotiations on their own. The former molemen did the same, seeking out the metal merchants and jewelers they had been dealing with without Theissen’s help. So far, their complaints reduced to a minimum.

Crossing over the wide and spacious hall—passing the newly formed front doors (which Theissen got the bright idea of making out of stained glass with a wooden frame, protected easily by the hate ward as well as a strengthening spell Theissen had discovered in a letter from Jonis that week)—Theobold had the newest letter in his hand, bringing it over to a back door they had recently made.

The door opened into a shop front newly attached to the tower. Like the front door, there were stained glass windows as well as clear ones. A counter for goods to sit in the window for display remained unfinished next to the newly crafted racks for hanging items. The rest of the shop was open space. Theissen was working near the back, sanding a stepstool he was constructing.

Theobold stopped in the doorway. “Hey, carpenter boy. You got a letter.”

Theissen looked up. His eyes set on the red envelope, and he hopped up, snatching it from Theobold’s hands with a grin. “Wow. They’re getting here quicker. Did you open it?”

With disgust, Theobold shook his head. “I can’t. It seems that the envelope will only let you open it.”

That made Theissen smile more. He lifted the seal open then pulled out the brief looking letter. It was still in full Westhavenese.

“I’ll have to get this translated.”

Nodding, Theobold turned, plucking the letter from Theissen’s fingers. “Not to worry. I told that big fellow what’s-his-name—”

“Emrit.”

“Fine, Emrit, that I’d come back if ever you got any news from his old pal.” Theobold said.

Theissen nodded, thinking a little wait would be fine. He exhaled, crouching down back to his work.

Theobold paused at the backdoor as he was going out. He leaned on the jamb. “You know, you’ve been keeping to yourself a lot lately. Is something bothering you?”

Blinking up at him, Theissen held in a response.

“I mean, really. You seem down for