Wizard of Jatte by Rowan Erlking (ereader ebook .TXT) 📖

at the men behind the captain. “Theobold! Over here!”

The birdman flapped up and over, pointing at one of the Angledons in khaki. “That one over there. He’s the one who came to the tower.”

Theissen nodded, not interested in the details, but in getting out of the way. However, the moment Theobold had used his wings, everyone now stared at them.

Captain Schmiter recoiled from Theissen. “That’s a demon!”

“So?” Theissen then set his arm around Theobold’s shoulders. “He’s my friend. But you were about your business. Leave us out of it.”

Shaking his head, struggling with inner priorities for just a brief moment, the captain finally took Theissen’s advice and faced the Westhavener again. “Koi kokkan!”

Wearily gazing upon the captain, the Westhavener drew a peculiar object from his right side belt pocket. At first Theissen had thought it was a tool belt, but the thing in the Weshavener’s hand did not look like any tool he had ever seen. It was about as long as a chisel, yet fatter, the general shape like a right-angled ruler. But it was not a flat thing. The way the man held it was like one would a dowsing rod. Two pipes jutted out from the handle on top of some kind of mechanism. A small moveable piece cocked at the top at the rear, and on the underside of the tubing mechanism was a place for a finger to rest. Examining the threads of flow within the thing, Theissen could tell it was not magic in the least. Yet he detected combustibles within the hollow chamber, as if its purpose was to make fire. But the way the Westhavener was pointing it, it had to be a weapon.

“Mekani. Noi mo no mo.” The Westhavener lifted his tool/weapon, pointing it at the captain.

The opposing Angledon soldiers took out their cross bows.

Sweat broke out on the captain’s face. He stiffened, staring at the weapon in the Westhavener’s hands.

“What is that?” Theobold whispered to Theissen.

Theissen shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve never heard of anything like it, though obviously the captain has.”

The captain backed away, uttering curses at the Westhavener. Then he shouted to his men. His fear was palpable. He and his men retreated from the docks, yet he called viciously to the Westhavener to (probably) watch his back because they would be coming for him.

“You have better leave here, Carpenter!” the captain shouted in Jatten now. “Westhaven men are brutes! All of them!”

Blinking, Theissen watched him and his soldiers go. Then his eyes turned toward the huge Westhaven man who had lowered his weapon. The giant gently uncocking the tiny lever and set the thing back into its belt sleeve.

“What is that thing?” Theissen pointed to weapon. He turned to the Jatte dockworker.

There was smirk on the dockworker’s face. His eyes assessed Theissen approvingly, perhaps because he had not run off after the Angledon captain, despite the warning.

“That?” the dockworker said. “That thing is called a pistol. A dangerous weapon they use in Westhaven with their army. That man there used to be one of their soldiers. His name is Emrit Yarran.”

“His whole name?” Theissen murmured aloud.

The Jatte worker laughed. “Yeah. They have short names in Westhaven. I suppose we’d call him Emrit Yarran Dockworker.”

The large Westhaven man walked up to Theissen, though he gestured at Theobold. “You have demon friend. Why?”

Theissen blinked, realizing he could speak Jatten. He stared at the man, wondering. Emrit was about two inches taller than he was, but that man’s chest was like a rowboat, so broad and muscular that it was possible the man could crush him with his fingers.

“Uh, well, he saved my life, for starters.” Theissen pulled his arms closer, feeling all the stares oppressively watch him—especially the one from the foreigner.

“And what is wrong with having me as his friend?” Theobold’s feathers ruffled. His wings poked out again as if he would fly up and peck the huge man’s eyes out. If angered more, he probably would have.

But the Westhavener only smirked. “No wrong. I have demon friend.” He then looked to Theissen. “Most men no have. You strange.”

Theissen blinked at him, then he looked to Milrina. “Am I strange?”

With a nervous laugh she shrugged. “Unusual, maybe. I don’t think he knows Jatten well enough to say that.”

Emrit passed her a friendly smile and nodded. He then snatched up the letter from the Jatte worker’s hands. “I read. You give words.”

Eying him once, deciding this foreigner was not going to harm Theissen, Theobold landed on a barrel and whipped out the writing things again. “I’m ready.”

But Theissen still felt a little rattled. He drew in a breath, and waited for what Jonis had to say.

Emrit peered at the writing first, reading the words swiftly. But then he blinked at it as if the letter struck him funny. The giant turned the pages over, skimming the writing all the way to the last page. There he just stared at the bottom line. Lifting his eyes from the letter, he rushed over to Theissen. “You get from Jonis?”

With a big man suddenly towering over him, Theissen almost fell back. Yet he braced his feet on the dock and nodded. “Yeah. Do you know of the magister? This Jonis?”

The giant hung his arms, his meaty head turning towards the sky, wide, as if it had answers. He looked so weary and yet amazed. Shaking his head, Emrit turned toward Theissen again. “This from Jonis Macoy. How you know Jonis Macoy?”

“I…” Theissen halted, realizing the question. “Wait. How do you know Jonis Macoy?”

“Quit with the standoff and just read the letter,” Theobold snapped. He had sat down, resting the writing kit on another barrel so it lay flat.

Both men impatiently huffed.

Emrit looked to Theissen. “I no read. You tell first, or I no read.”

Rolling his eyes, Theissen tossed up his hands and hastily recounted how he found the book one winter in Liptan Town and how he wanted to further his study of magic. Of course through that quick summary, it came out that he was a wizard besides being a carpenter. Milrina listened in, enraptured at the story, while the others stared as Theissen then related how he had started correspondence between Jonis for that knowledge. He even showed them the envelope, keeping it out of Emrit’s hands, as he stared at it with the inclination to take it and use it for himself.

“So, you’re a wizard?” The Jatte dock man repeated, staring at Theissen in awe.

Exhausted with that topic, Theissen wearily nodded. “Yes. Now can we please get on with reading the letter? I have been dying to know the answer to my questions.”

But Emrit just stared at him, still holding the letter in his hands as if he hated to give it up. “What questions?”

Tossing up his hands, Theissen glanced once at the height of the sun in the sky, wondering how much more time was going to be wasted on explanations.

“Well, for starters, the magicians I worked with said this Jonis was a demon besides being a magister. The magister stuff is what interested me in writing him, but the demon stuff had me uneasy at the time.” He then glanced at Theobold with a smile. “Though now it is not such a problem.”

“Good,” Emrit said, lowering the letter to read it. “He demon.”

Theissen blinked. “Really?”

Emrit nodded, but he smiled. “My friend.”

“Really?” Theissen’s eyes opened wide now. “Wow! I mean really?”

Nodding more, Emrit’s smile expanded.

“Read that letter right now, or I’m flying home this instant!” Theobold snapped.

Blushing, Theissen settled down and motioned with a general hand roll for Emrit to start. The man gave him an encouraging nod then started to read aloud in his native tongue, pausing so the Jatte dockhand could translate.

 

Dear Friend,

Two years? Not my fault. Your address didn’t give me much to go on to send with magic. I sent your letter by regular post last time. This time I think I can do much better with that new address. Obviously your magic studies are paying off. By the way, I hope those who translate this for you will do it right. Westhaven is the old name of our nation, long since changed to Brein Amon by the people. In our old language it means the land of man. Long story. I’ll share it with you later.

Anyway, about the one question that seems to be bothering you, and I suppose it would bother most humans: am I a demon? I would not say so, but others would argue with me. I am a Cordril. First off, did you ever finish reading the book? If you did, then you would know that Cordrils aren’t demons. Secondly, you’d think a man, no, a wizard would have some compassion for misunderstood beings. You might show a little more tolerance for someone who is trying to be straight with you.

But, well, I guess I am expecting too much.

By the way, thanks for the information you sent me. I’ve already started on a new edition of the book. Please don’t take offense to this letter. I’ve just been discouraged lately, wondering what exactly is my place in this world anyway.

Please write,

Jonis Macoy

 

Theissen lowered his head. “I didn’t think he’d take that question all that hard.”

“What about the other letter?” Theobold gestured to Emrit. Emrit was already skimming it, chuckling to himself. The man glanced over at Theobold and grinned more.

“I read,” Emrit said and nodded to the man who helped translate.

The Jatte dockworker looked tired, but he nodded back. “I’m ready.”

 

Dear Friend,

Or rather,

Dear traveling silly man,

Did you know your name is really long? What do people call you on a daily basis? That whole thing? I’ll just keep calling you Friend if you don’t shorten your name for me so I can address you properly.

Anyway, I was incredibly happy you did not quit writing me. A lot has happened since I last wrote you. In fact, I can tell you freely that I am now a father. Imagine that! Anyway, my wife just had a boy and we are about as excited as two parents could possibly be….

 

Emrit broke into laughter. “He sound so—” He said something in Westhaven language, snickering again. He continued to read between chuckles.

 

I never told you I was married. The first time I wrote you, I wasn’t. And the second time I got your letter my wife and I have been in hiding. I’m afraid I caused quite a stir, but that is the way it goes when a Cordril seeks after true love….

 

Emrit burst out laughing again. “He funny!”

He then rambled in his language to the Jatte worker who translated his words with a smirk.

“He says that this boy Jonis used to say it was impossible for someone like him to get married. He says that Jonis really did cause a stir. That’s why Emrit can’t return home.”

Theissen blinked at Emrit. “You can’t return to Westhaven?

“Brein Amon,” Emrit corrected. “No. No go home. Jonis problem. He cause.”

Barely understanding him, Theissen turned to the dockworker who asked Emrit to explain. Emrit did with a through rambling, shaking his head half the time. Turing back to Theissen the dockworker said, “Apparently Jonis had taken the leader of their country’s Sky Child slave and ran off with her. Emrit doesn’t know all the details because he was out of the country when it happened. Except…he does know that the leader of their country has set a price on Jonis’s head and anyone who was once Jonis’s friend is regarded as a traitor to the country. Emrit apparently is one of them.”

Regarding Emrit with a smirk, Theissen nodded. “I can see how that would be a problem.”

“Finish the letter, please.” Theobold gestured to Emrit.

Milrina giggled. She sat next to the birdman to pat his shoulder consolably.

Emrit passed him an apologetic look and nodded.

 

Besides that, I’ve taken up new residence in a place that is somewhat inaccessible to most people. I hope you forgive me for not being more