Off to Be the Wizard (18 page)

Martin’s body cracked like a whip, flinging him out in front of the staff as he lost his grip. Without his hand to hold it the staff lost all power and tumbled to the ground. Martin’s momentum flung him rear-end first directly into the now very startled duck. He and the duck fell earthward. For a crazy moment it seemed to Martin that he was sitting on the duck, which was horribly undignified for both of them. The duck seemed to agree, as it rolled between his legs and up the front of his torso, flapping wildly and quacking like mad the whole way. It bounced off of his face and for just an instant Martin was aware of a duck foot in his mouth, then the duck disappeared from his perception. Martin didn’t know where it went and didn’t care. He was more concerned with the ground, which was coming up to meet him quite eagerly.

As he tumbled, Phillip, Gary, and Jeff spun into his field of view, closing on his position very fast. Gary and Jeff seemed to be yelling something. Phillip was hurling his staff around like a lacrosse stick and shouting something as well. A blue ball of energy shot from the head of Phillip’s staff and flew like a line drive, hitting the ground directly in front of Martin. He had just enough time to feel gratitude for Phillip for helping him when he needed it. Martin hit the ground full force. The pain was instant and blinding. He bounced into the air and had just enough time to curse Phillip before he hit the ground again, this time rolling to a stop. He lay on the ground, groaning.

Jeff and Gary landed. Martin raised himself up from the ground and looked around. The spot where he had initially hit the ground was marked with a glowing blue circle. Radiating out from that circle were ever larger concentric blue rings spaced a foot apart. Gary was counting the rings. “Twelve.” Gary said, shaking his head sadly. That’s four yards. Jeff, you guessed thirteen, you were over. I had nine and Phillip had ten, so Phillip wins.”

“The duck slowed him down,” Jeff noted bitterly. “Guess that means we both owe you a buck.”

“No,” Phillip said. “To be honest, I lost our other bet this morning. Martin didn’t eat the stew bar.”

Chapter 19.

Day broke, and Phillip and Martin reluctantly got up and puttered around like men do when they’re pretending to be awake. Phillip ladled the increasingly thick stew into a bowl, which he handed to Martin, muttering something about needing a good breakfast. Martin muttered agreement, walked to the privy, and with the door open, turned strategically so that Phillip could see, and poured the stew through the hole.

Now that breakfast was sorted, Phillip explained that the training was almost over. They only really had one more subject to cover, then it would be a simple matter of practicing what Martin had learned until they were both sure he was ready for the trials.

“The subject of the day,” Phillip said, “is basic conjuring. Simply put, the creation of something from nothing. First, a little review. How do you copy an object?”

“You target it by pointing at it, either with your free hand, your staff, or your wand. Then you say
kopiu objekto
and a copy of the object will appear.”

“Any object?”

“No. It has to be small, about two feet cubed is the limit, and mechanically simple. Solid objects work best.”

“Because?”

“An object with moving parts is actually several objects working together. Copy a rock, you get two rocks. Copy a watch and you’ll probably get a spare watch band.”

“Well said. How about transporting things?”

“Well, all we’ve discussed is bringing stuff with us when we teleport. Our clothes, the things we’re holding and the things in our pockets seem to come with us naturally, for some reason.”

“Yes, the program has some way of organizing various objects defined in the file into units, but we’ve never quite cracked it. It’s a bit embarrassing really, but all of us have been working for all this time, and yet … anyway, you said you could hold things in your hand and bring them with you when you teleport. Can you bring anything?”

“No,” Martin said. “Again, small, simple objects are best. If you do need to transport something larger or more complex, you want to keep it small, and hold in it such a way that you’re … well, enveloping it, I guess is the best way to put it.”

“Indeed. Conjuring can best be described as copying something well after the fact, or transporting it from a state of non-existence. Now, when you copy something you have to target it by pointing, but when creating something out of nothing you need to define where it will be created, a set, predictable place for conjured items to materialize. So, Martin, tell me, what does a wizard need to wear for the shell to recognize him?”

“Well, we need a staff or a wand.”

“For?” Phillip asked.

“Targeting, flying, and looking cool.”

“Go on.”

“A robe with sleeves that have a cuff circumference of two feet.”

“Why two feet?”

“The shell looks for the cuffs to help it know where your hands are. Makes it easier to program energy beams and effects when you write a macro,” Martin answered.

“Very good. What else does a wizard wear?”

“A conical hat that is no less than one foot tall.”

“Do you have to be wearing it?”

“No, it can be in your hand or your pocket, but it has to be somewhere on your person.”

“Correct. What does a magician use his hat for?” Phillip asked.

Martin smiled as he saw where Phillip was going. “For pulling things out of!”

“Top man! Yes, the shell looks for the hat and uses it as the default location to materialize created items. There are certain items we figured would be useful to be able to create at will, and we programmed them into the shell.” Phillip held his hat so Martin could see that it was empty. He held it by the brim as if he intended to use it to carry things and said, “Krei monon.” He reached into the hat and pulled out a gold piece. Then he said, “Krei sekigitaj bovaĵo,” reached into the hat and pulled out a strip of beef jerky, which he handed to Martin.

“These are the things that we’ve hard-wired into the shell. You can use your staff to define and save a small item and program a macro to create it later. If the item is small enough it can be surprisingly complex. Krei rizo kaj fazeoloj ruliĝis en omleto!”

Phillip reached into his hat and pulled out a burrito. He said, “Enjoy your beef jerky,” and bit into his burrito.

“You could make real food all this time?” Martin asked.

“Martin,” Phillip answered, speaking with his mouth full, “Have you ever once seen me eat any of that stew?”

With the basics out of the way, the following days were made up of practice, review, and practical application. Macros were created. Miss Abigail’s goat got moved from one pasture to another a few times. The foundations of a life in Medieval England got made for Martin. He spent an afternoon creating a tidy war-chest of gold pieces. The lesson he learned in his own time still applied here – having a ready supply of money was as potent a form of magic as any. Martin and Phillip looked around Leadchurch for a cottage Martin could buy after he passed the trials. They didn’t find anything that excited Martin, but it was fun to look.

Finally, the day came to pick up Martin’s robe and hat. When Martin and Phillip entered Gwen’s shop, they found her sitting at her work table, stitching the hem of a tunic. On Gwen’s left there was a small stack of two or three neatly folded garments. On her right was a massive pile of garments in various contrasting shades of earth-tone and oatmeal. As they entered she tied a knot in the thread she had been pulling. The sleeves of her dark gray cloak were pushed up on her arms, giving the impression that she was putting in some serious effort. She folded the tunic she had just finished and put it atop the larger pile.

“You’ve been busy,” Phillip said.

“Busy, but not profitable. These are all free alterations, and this is just the first batch. That loudmouth Sam starts putting on weight and his waistband can’t accommodate his belly anymore, but he can’t accept that, so he says his pants have gotten longer. I agree to fix them, really just to get him out of my shop, and he tells everyone who’ll listen. Next thing you know his entire village comes in one by one doing their best Sam impression and I end up hemming an entire village’s worth of clothes for free.”

“And you’ll get to deal with them all again when they come in to pick up their garments,” Phillip said.

“No, when I’m done I’m just going to go out to their village and get it over with in one trip,” she said.

“Would you like some help?” Martin asked. “I could transport you and the pants magically. It might take a few trips, but with both of us carrying pants it shouldn’t be too bad. It’d be a lot faster than driving your cart out there, and I really could use the practice.”

Gwen smiled, which made Martin smile, which made Phillip smile. Martin’s eyes darted over to Phillip. Phillip quickly frowned and furrowed his eyebrows at Martin. Martin looked away quickly. Gwen nearly laughed out loud.

“Thanks for the offer,” Gwen said. “It’s sweet of you, but the last thing I need is any of these people thinking I have wizards helping me do my work. I have a hard enough time getting them to pay a fair price as it is.”

“What I don’t understand is, if this is everyone in the village’s clothes, what are they wearing now?” Phillip asked.

“Their other clothes,” Gwen answered. “Most of them own two full outfits, and they were very clear that they’ll want me to work on the other when these are done. I told them I’d charge for the second set. That should cut down on the bulk. Anyway, enough about my problems. I bet you gentlemen are here to pick up the robe.” She put down her work and exited to a room at the back of the shop, leaving the two wizards alone for a moment.

“How many shirts do you think you could’ve carried per trip?” Phillip asked.

“I wouldn’t want to try more than two or three.”

“It would take many trips. You’d have had to spend quite a bit of time helping Gwen.”

“Yeah,” Martin said. “Probably.”

“I could have shown you a way to move them all at once.”

“I wouldn’t have used it.”

“Martin, you’re not dumb. Not at all,” Phillip said smirking in spite of himself.

Gwen returned carrying a bundle of the same rough cotton his fitting robe was made of. For a moment he feared that his finished robe was made of the same cheap material, then he realized that the final robe and hat were simply wrapped in it for protection. Gwen sat the bundle on a bare patch of her work table, stepped aside, looked at Martin, and with a flourish motioned to him to proceed in unwrapping the package.

Martin unfolded the covering and lifted the robe so he could see it. The primary fabric was a highly reflective silver color with little flat pieces that reflected a surprising amount of light integrated into the weave. It sparkled and glittered as if Gwen had made the robe from the hide of a skinned disco ball. The trim was a lighter, less reflective fabric that matched the trim on Santo’s mask. Martin was delighted. As he held it up, Phillip grabbed Martin’s staff and put the bust of Santo up against the robe. The colors were an almost perfect match. Phillip gave Gwen a questioning look. She shrugged and looked at Martin.

“Gwen, it’s perfect!” Martin said, holding the garment up to the light.

Gwen smiled at Phillip. Phillip shook his head and said, “Well done.”

“I was worried it might be too flashy, but from what I saw on Martin’s first night in town, I didn’t think
too flashy
would really be a problem.”

Martin hastily shed the red loaner robe and hat. Gwen held the new robe by the shoulders so Martin could easily slip it on. It fit perfectly and instantly felt like a part of him. The silver hat sat easily and comfortably on his head. The cone of the hat did not flop over completely, but instead bent back slightly. Unlike Phillip’s brimless hats, Martin’s hat had a three inch brim, the color of his robe’s trim. Martin spread his hands wide and looked down at himself. Gwen directed him to the mirror, which was really a highly polished sheet of metal, but it did the job.

“What do you think?” she asked.

Martin said, “I look bitchin’!”

“That’s good.” Phillip explained to Gwen.

Martin wanted to strut back to the shop, but Phillip had insisted that Martin teleport them instead. They thanked Gwen, then paid her a great many gold pieces. The fabric was not cheap, but she knew wizards were good for it. Martin put one hand on Phillip’s shoulder, and held his staff aloft with the other hand. In his most impressive tone of voice, Martin said the magic words, “Transporti al Phillip butiko,” and they were standing in the front room of Phillip’s shop.

“Good. The shell is recognizing the robe and hat. Gwen does excellent work, but nobody’s perfect. It’s always a good idea to test a new robe before you try to do magic in public. Try shooting a beam.”

Martin pointed at a dead squirrel in a jar of yellowish fluid on the shelf and said “Trabo de ruĝa lumo.” A ray of red light shot from his hand, illuminating the jar, which was unfortunate. He moved his hand around, watching the beam track with the direction of his finger. After a moment Martin said, “Halti,” and the beam stopped as if someone had flipped a switch. Martin then tested the hat by producing two burritos for their lunch. As they sat in the crystal ball room, enjoying their meal, Martin asked what was next in the training schedule.

“Well, I’ve shown you all of the basics. Now we concentrate on getting you ready for the trials.”

“How long do you figure that’ll take?” Martin asked between bites.

“Two days.”

“That’s pretty specific,” Martin said as best he could while chewing.

“Very specific,” Phillip said. “Your trials are scheduled for two days from now.”

After Phillip had administered the Heimlich maneuver, Martin immediately started yelling, or would have if he’d caught his breath enough. Instead, Martin gasped emphatically.

“What do you mean the trials are scheduled for two days from now?!” he wheezed.

“I don’t know how to state it any more plainly than you just did,” Phillip answered. “In two days, we are going to go to London. Jimmy, as the chairman, will throw a party in your honor, all the while referring to himself as Merlin. Try to enjoy the party. There will be many wizards you haven’t met, pretty much every wizard in Europe. There’ll be food and drinks, and many top-notch insults will be hurled at Jimmy, by me. At the end of the dinner, you will show everyone the most impressive macro you can come up with. The next morning, you will face the trials. By that night you’ll be a full-fledged wizard.”

Martin smiled and said, “Thanks!”

“Or naked and hogtied in the back of a squad car.”

Martin sneered and said, “Thanks.”

Martin spent most of the next two days at Phillip’s house, hunched over his laptop. Phillip would occasionally stop by to quiz him on his Esperanto, or to take him out for a quick practice flight, but most of the time was spent with Martin working on his macro, and Phillip away at the shop, staying out of Martin’s way. At one point Martin had a question, and rather than just calling Phillip, he decided to stretch his legs. He teleported to Phillip’s shop.

After he materialized in the front room, the one designed to look like a shop, Martin thought about how easy it would be to become lazy as a wizard, and how much he looked forward to it. His eyes landed randomly on a small, ornate box, sitting among the other random objects Phillip had placed on his shelves solely for their ability to look mysterious.
The box was about five inches long, made of wood, and its proportions were similar to a coffin. It sat on tiny, carved, clawed feet. Its hinged lid and sides were decorated with carvings of dragons. He called Phillip’s name and got no reply. He tried again. Still no response.