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

“Dream come true!” one sailor called out. He hopped off of the crate he was sitting on to greet them. “Women coming to us!”

“I’m looking for a Westhavener,” Tippany said, giving the man a sharp glare.

The Jatte dockworker stepped back with a dejected look. “You’re after that type, huh?”

“A particular one!” Tippany shouted.

“Hey, witch! Watch the temper.” The man backed off though. “We’re only playing.”

Increasing her glare, Tippany called over to the foreigners. “We’re looking for someone who is a friend to the Wizard of Jatte.”

“We’re all his friends.” One of the dockworkers laughed too loudly to make either woman comfortable.

“We’re looking for a specific one!” Tippany shouted out. “A large man.”

“How large do you want him?” A Westhavener swaggered over, reaching out to touch her.

Slapping his hand away, Tippany squeezed Milrina’s arm. “Come on! Which one is he?”

Milrina looked up. Her eyes darted from man to man, staring desperately at the crowd. She shook her head. “He isn’t here!”

Tippany looked now from one man to the other. Several sailors smirked at her, waiting for what she would do next. Many leered.

“What’s going on?” a Westhaven sailor dressed in clothes of rank called out over the edge of his ship.

“These girls are looking for a big Westhavener,” one of the dockworkers shouted back, laughing.

The Westhavener swore in his language, shaking his head. “Leave them alone.” He then called to Tippany and Milrina. “Pretty women like you shouldn’t be wandering around on the docks. Let me get you some escorts to take you back to shore.”

Milrina broke into a sob.

Tippany frowned, closing her eyes and clenching her teeth. She shook her head. “We have to find him.”

The uniformed sailor returned, walking down the gangplank with two other men, one in a sailor suit and the other dressed as a Jatte dockworker.

“That’s him! That’s him!” Milrina cried out, pointing at the second man.

Emrit blinked at her, walking down the plank towards them. The sailors with him turned to look.

Milrina ran over, dragging Tippany now.

“You’re the one we met on the dock that day! The one that translated Theissen’s letter!” Milrina shouted.

Nodding, Emrit looked from Milrina to Tippany. “What you want?”

Tippany stared up at the huge man in horror. Her eyes said she was more likely to run for her life. However she grabbed Emrit’s arm and pulled. “You have to help us find Theissen!”

“Find?” Emrit stared. “He lost?”

Pulling harder, Tippany’s tears returned. “Yesterday in the tower a plant came out of the ground and pulled him inside. You’ve got to help us! We’re looking everywhere for him, but we can’t find him!”

Puzzled, Emrit turned toward the uniformed man for a translation. Tippany talked too fast.

“He’s probably dead,” one of the sailors murmured.

“Don’t say that!” Tippany shouted at him

But Milrina broke into sobs again.

“He no dead.” Emrit’s eyes narrowed into a glare—but not at the women. He took hold of Tippany’s hand. “You say plant come and take him in ground?”

Tippany nodded vigorously.

He growled, clenching his teeth. Turning toward the captain again, he rambled off something in his native tongue. Then Emrit ran back up the plank to the ship.

The captain nodded to him then turned to Tippany. “He knows what magic stole the wizard. He’s going to get some things. Just wait a moment.”

Emrit was gone for barely a few minutes before he trampled back down the plank and onto the docks. He nodded to Tippany. “Tell me. What do day before?”

Together they marched down the docks. Both Tippany and Milrina had to run to keep up with his long-legged stride. Breathless, Tippany recited everything that she remembered, from when she saw Theissen deal with the lord baron to what she had heard about his visit to the jewelers.

“Right now we have friends spying on the magicians to see if they took him. And others are checking out the jewelers and the herbalists to see if they have him. We already went to the lord baron, but he didn’t even know Theissen was gone. No one else that we know could have done this to him unless that creep Migdrin hired an herbalist to kidnap him.”

Tippany pointed to the carriage. They had paid the driver to wait—and he had happily obliged. They turned that direction, going as quickly as possible.

Emrit climbed quickly in with Milrina. Tippany turned to the man as she got inside with them, asking, “We don’t know what else to do. So please, where do you think we should go?”

“To tower,” Emrit said, gesturing up at it. They could see the red Ki Tai fortification just above the tops of the buildings. It really was the topmost structure in the city.

Tippany tapped the driver on the shoulder. “To the tower! Hurry!”

As soon as they started off again, Milrina said to Emrit, “Do you think he is there?”

Emrit shook his head. “No there. But me have idea. Need see tower first.”

“He’ll need to see the spot where Theissen was taken from.” Tippany nodded as she understood.

“No,” Emrit replied. “Need see heart.”

“The heart?” Tippany stared at him.

“You mean that cursed thing?” Milrina asked.

Emrit nodded. “No worry. I find him.”

The moment they reached the cul-de-sac, they jumped out of the carriage and dashed into the tower. They practically ran up the ten flights of stairs to Theissen’s room where Tippany threw open the box.

It was empty.

“No put in here,” Emrit said. He picked up the bloodied teacup, glancing at the pot lid on the desk. He lifted the lid to peer at the underside. “It no here.”

He turned and walked from the room.

“Where are you going?” Milrina chased after him.

Tippany stared at the desk, blinking as her own mind followed his. “The jewelers.”

Emrit turned, fixed a look on her face and nodded. “They take heart. They take wizard.”

He had a headache. That was all Theissen comprehended as familiar voices echoed in shouts over his head.

“But look at the stone! The curse is gone! How did he do that?”

“He’s a wizard. What did you expect?”

“I expected him to be turned into stones that we could sell. Him threatening us….”

“Look. You hired me to bring him and that thing here. I did that. Now pay up.”

“Pay you? Put the curse back on the heart!”

“I can’t. Do you know how long it took to even make that spell? The fact that he can undo such a complicated spell without even being affected is proof that he is a powerful wizard.”

“What are we going to do with him anyway?”

“That’s right. We can’t have a dead body in the building. Everyone will smell it.”

“Lock him up. He can’t remember himself anyway.” That voice had a distinct disinterested sound to it, and was entirely unfamiliar to the others. Theissen grabbed his head, trying to sit up.

“He’s moving.”

“He’ll also have a headache, residuals from being taken so abruptly,” that unfamiliar voice said.

Blinking open his eyes, Theissen stared up at three men in elegant clothes. There was a woman with them dressed in a simple robe worn over a more elaborate gown. Attractive and healthy, she smiled as she crouched down to face him.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked with that unfamiliar voice.

Theissen closed his eyes and briskly shook his head to clear the fuzzy feeling he had going on between his eyes. He opened them again and sighed. “My head hurts. Where am I?”

She smiled more, glancing at the men behind her. “You are home. Want me to get you something to eat?”

He clutched his stomach as it gurgled. Then he stared down at his bare body. Looking up, he covered himself. “Where are my clothes?”

“Here.” She took off her robe and wrapped it around his shoulders.

Pulling the robe tight over himself, Theissen shivered, slowly feeling his body warmth as it really was. Freezing.

“Oh, your hands? What happened to them?” the woman asked him with a light tone of concern.

Theissen felt her trace two scars across both of his palms with her delicate fingers. He stared at them.

“And your wrist? You poor boy. What happened to you?”

He looked at the scar that ran around his left wrist, blinking at it. “I…I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

She glanced up at the well-dressed men with sympathetic smile, her eyes saying something different than what her lips were saying. “You poor thing. I see you’ve had it rough. I saw the scars on your stomach and arm also. Barely there, but oh, they must have hurt.”

Pawing under his robe, Theissen found the scar on his stomach and then the one at his right side. Both were faint as if they were made ages ago. He looked up to the woman. “Who are you?”

With that sweet smile, she patted his head. “I’m called Trista. And what’s your name?”

He blinked at her. “I—”

Theissen stared into space. Fuzziness clouded his thoughts like pea-soup fog. All around him, the flow swam as if trying to reach him, but a woven flow that surrounded him interfered, and smelled faintly of flowers. He shook his head and looked to the floor. “I don’t know.”

“I see,” one of the men said.

Trista stood up, nodding once to the stern looking gentleman. “He must eat only bread and vegetables. No meat. Meat would do him harm.”

“Will I get my memory back?” Theissen hopped to his feet, clutching the robe around himself.

“My goodness, what a strong young man!” Trista giggled with a spreading grin. She then turned to the eldest man, the one who had a foppishness about him that repulsed Theissen. “Can I keep him?”

“Certainly not!” the more middle-aged man said. “You seen walking out of here with him? Can you just imagine the scandal that would cause? No. He has to stay in the building.”

Theissen watched the woman’s face drop into a pout. She placed one of her slender arms around Theissen’s shoulders and leaned in towards his face. “It’s a shame really. I think I would have enjoyed you.”

She then kissed him.

Instinctively, Theissen shoved her away. Panting hard, he stared at her shocked expression. “I’m not that kind of man! I hardly know you!”

Now seriously put out, the woman really did begin to sulk. “Hmm. So you’re that kind of man. Pity. It would have been more fun if you weren’t.”

But the stern man in the group chuckled.

She cast him a glare.

“It just shows he has good taste,” that man said.

Trista glared deeper. “Don’t you dare mock me. I delivered. Now pay up.”

Theissen swayed on his feet, looking about the room dizzily. He staggered to one of the large armchairs. He sighed stroking the table then blinking at it, the aroma of the wood waking him a little. It was familiar. Uncanny, how familiar, really.

“Where am I?” he muttered again.

“Home,” the stern man replied.

Looking around, Theissen exhaled a sigh. “Not my taste. Are you sure this is my home?”

The eldest of the men nodded. He sat in the chair next to him. “Of course we are sure. You are…my servant.”

“Servant?” Theissen blinked at him. He then looked at his hands. “Are you sure?”

That elderly man nodded, leaning back. “Yes. You make things for us.”

The middle aged man agreed. “Yes. You do.”

“Make things?” Theissen murmured, trying to make sense of the muddle in his head.

“Wooden things,” the eldest of the trio replied.

That