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

at the dignitary, Theissen noticed it was one of the respected landowners of the southern side. The man gave Theissen an acknowledging nod (no one ignored a wizard if they were smart) and then gestured towards a large book on the high shelf.

“That atlas. I also want that.”

The bookseller nodded and then looked to Theissen. “I’ll try that step stool now.”

With a small laugh, Theissen heaved it over the seller’s shelf to set it on the ground for him, pulling at the hinges so that the wheels rolled and then locked it into place. The shop owner carefully stepped on it, weighing himself before feeling confident enough to trust his whole weight on the stool. He lifted down the book and set it on the counter.

“Good stool. I’ll pay you after I’m done with this gentleman,” the bookseller said.

Theissen bowed appreciatively. “Thank you, sir.” He then glanced at the even higher shelves that the shopkeeper assistants accessed with old wooden ladders that they moved about by lifting and heaving. “You know, I can also install two more taller ladders on wheels that won’t tip when your boys get books down. I’m sure they’d appreciate it.”

“For a higher fee no doubt,” the landowner said in a tone of spite. “Always trying to drum up business for your master are you?”

Somewhat surprised, Theissen was almost at a loss for words. “Well, not exactly. My master’s business speaks for itself. I was only—”

“Self promoters, the lot of them,” the landowner murmured. He gestured to another book. “That dictionary. I would like that also.”

It was not wise to argue with a landowner, Theissen knew that well enough. However, he also had gained a great deal of strength from working with magicians. They taught him that a man should not cower when challenged, especially one who could do magic.

“The lot of who are self-promoters, sir?” Theissen asked.

The shopkeeper nearly dropped the dictionary, his eyes bugging out with warning for Theissen to watch himself.

The landowner glanced at Theissen with a look of ‘oh-are-you-still-here?’ “You heard me. You. Lordri’s men. You are all self-promoters. That man’s work is nothing to Munden’s.”

Theissen frowned. “I disagree. I think Munden is an overstuffed chair.”

“Munden’s work is art,” the landowner said, his spite growing. “Lordri makes stepping stools and baby chairs. Munden creates masterpieces.”

Theissen gave him a dry look. “Munden creates useless junk.”

“How dare you!” The landowner shouted, blustering.

Too tired to care, Theissen gestured to the stool. “I bet if Munden tried to make stepping stool, it’d break the moment someone stepped on it.”

One of the shop assistants rushed past, heaving up another stack of books through the open door, dropping them on the table. He had been unloading a cart of new merchandise from outside when Theissen had arrived with the stool. Theissen saw the shop owner whisper for the assistant to hurry up and unpack the books and papers, giving Theissen an anxious glance to not cause trouble in his store.

The landowner snorted. “Munden would not waste his time on peasant tools. Ladders? Certainly a carpenter from Lumen would be able to see the difference in quality? Your father wouldn’t have—”

“My father made ladders.” Theissen balled his hands into fists. “He says a good carpenter should never lose sight of the basics.”

Snorting again, the landowner turned. “So says the man who is bored with Lordri’s methods. I heard you had an argument with him about teaching his apprentices the finer arts of carving. He told you not to waste your time.”

Theissen stiffened. “That was a private conversation.”

Looking smug, the landowner gave him a nod. “Why don’t you give it up? Work for Munden. He’d appreciate your skills.”

Gazing at the snow that brushed past the windows, Theissen shook his head, saying nothing.

“He’d even let you spend more time with those magicians.” The landowner raised his eyebrows. “Admit it. Even you think you are wasting your time on simple wood work when what you want to do is create art.”

“I would never work for Munden,” Theissen at last said. His eyes were fixed in a glare. “That man has done nothing to keep his goons off my back.”

One of the assistants climbed up the ladder, heaving up his armload of books mostly to get out of Theissen’s way. The journeyman was advancing on the landowner as if to slap him.

“He trains nothing but ignorant lackeys who want nothing more than to have the name Munden slapped across their chests. It’s no wonder Kinnerlin left Liptan,” Theissen shouted.

“Then why don’t you leave?” the landowner said, his own glare fixed on the journeyman’s face.

Pulling back, Theissen relaxed. “Because, I promised myself I would find a home of my own. And I happen to like it here.”

“Under Lordri?” The landowner looked ready to laugh at him.

Theissen’s own face steamed from embarrassment. “That issue is none of your business.”

The landowner opened his mouth to protest, but Theissen cut him off.

“And don’t think I don’t know how you have invested into Munden’s carpentry business this past year either. You just want to scare me off.”

Blustering, this time the landowner looked ready to pounce on Theissen. He accidentally knocked the ladder with his arm. It tipped and so did the assistant, crashing right down on top of a pile of books. Theissen barely got out of the way in time, tripping with a fall backwards on another book pile. His ankle throbbed almost immediately.

“Keegan!” The shopkeeper shouted.

“Sloppy boy! Watch where you’re falling!” The landowner yelled at the assistant.

Getting up from his own pile of books, Theissen limped over to where Keegan the assistant groaned. He could smell an unhealthy change. “Where does it hurt?”

Keegan groaned more, rolling over towards the ground. His employer looked likely to shout at Theissen rather than the landowner, but Theissen was the only one coming to help out.

“I’m sorry,” Theissen said, helping Keegan sit up. “I shouldn’t have been near your ladder. Here. Show me what’s broken.”

“Broken?” the shopkeeper murmured aloud.

Keegan merely clenched his arm, shaking. That, Theissen reached out and held, pulling first, which made Keegan shout out, but then letting it rest back into a straight line.

“That hurts!” Keegan barked, climbing off the book mess to his feet.

“Yeah, I know what it’s like to lose a hand. But how does it feel now?” Theissen waited to see how the shop assistant looked.

Keegan moved his arm and then his wrist and laughed. He then rounded on Theissen with a bark. “Be more careful next time. Look at the mess that was made!”

Theissen did look and then gave a sigh. “I’ll clean it up.”

The shop assistant was about to shove Theissen out of the store before he could make good on that offer, but the books moved by themselves, crawling up one another and stacking back in neat pile. He had not, however, put them away for the assistant.

The bookshop owner closed his eyes with a sigh of relief. He then walked to the till to get Theissen his money to send him on his way.

“You could have killed him,” the landowner snapped, watching the shopkeeper with enjoyment.

“Funny,” Theissen said, also seeing that he was being sent off. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

Keegan coughed though he started back up the ladder to avoid attention.

Theissen took the money for the stool, meeting the shopkeeper’s eyes with an air of resignation. “Think about it. A ladder that won’t tip is an investment, not an expense.”

He turned and was about to go out of the shop without another word, but his eyes fell on the cover of one book in the stack of new arrivals. The title was long, but intriguing. He picked it up and held it out.

“How much is this one?”

The shopkeeper grimaced, crossing over to where Theissen was standing. “I’ll give it to you for free if you go now.”

Theissen eyed the landowner with a frown. Obviously he owned more than just the south end. Nodding to the shopkeeper, Theissen passed over a copper piece.

“I don’t steal.” Theissen glanced at the landowner. “Even if I have the power to.”

Turning once more, Theissen took the book and marched out into the street. The snow was still blowing, but his anger gave him warmth enough. He could hear the shopkeeper’s bell ring as the wind whipped around in a howling whirl.

The good thing about the winter was that the trio did not loiter on the streets. That gave Theissen ample freedom to go from place to place on errands without being harassed. His next stop was the florist. That man usually welcomed Theissen with open arms.

The jingling bell heralded his arrival and the florist’s wife turned, greeting him with a nod. “Good afternoon Journeyman Carpenter. Is there anything we can get for you today?”

Theissen nodded to the potted rose bush, pruned with no greenery for the winter. “I’d like that please.”

“Planting early, are we?” the Floristwife said with a chuckle. “Would you not prefer some hot house flowers for your lady fair?”

Theissen shook his head, turning somewhat red in the ears. “No. Thank you.”

Floristwife leaned over the counter with a teasing smirk. “Really, why this now? Hmm?”

He glanced at the florist who merely shook his head at his wife. Theissen had been in buying flowers almost weekly for his wood carving projects, mostly using them as examples of what the plants looked like for his studies. Lordri had actually picked up three more apprentices in the past year and was insisting that Theissen not practice woodcarving at all, but use all his time on teaching basic wood piecing and shaping. The man didn’t seem to understand the need for varied tasks with his apprentices. His woodcarving lessons had changed Tomis’s and Boid’s attitudes about carpentry, both now skilled in carving toys out of scraps of wood to sell. It was also what attracted the other three boys to the craft. That was what their argument had been about. Unfortunately, gossip had a way of twisting the truth.

“Timing,” Theissen said. “So please, can I have the rose bush?”

She frowned. Theissen was not one they could wheedle much out of.

“Fine. But really, I hear you have an eye on someone in town. A certain lady?” She went over and picked up the rather dead looking plant.

Theissen took it with a smile, grasping it at the base where the thorns had been picked off. “Really? Fancy that.”

He then gave a wave to the florist.

“Are you coming in for more flowers later?” the florist asked him.

Giving a sad shake of his head, Theissen replied, “I’m afraid not. My master has decided that I ought not spend more of our funds on flowers. He’s been keeping me on an allowance, these days.”

“Stingy,” the florist remarked to himself, sad to see business go. “You can’t just borrow some?”

With a chiding look, Theissen pushed on the door. “No. I can’t.”

They waved once more, and Theissen was back outside.

Going through the snowy streets again, Theissen paused once near the hat shop, looking in at the window where he could see Lilissa talking happily with two of her friends. He sighed as he ducked into the narrow alley between the homes where the snow merely bypassed because of the wind. It was less cold there. And feeling less inclined to go home directly, Theissen set the rose bush down and inspected the cover of the book he had just bought.

Translations of Westhaven Magic.

He turned it over. The binding was simple. The paper, cheap. Nothing extraordinary about it except two words on the cover: Westhaven and magic.

Westhaven was a land to the far north nearly bordering on the icy wastes. The Liptan Town magicians had talked about Westhaven as a place full of magic as complex and elegant as the fancy black and red robes they always avoided wearing except to public functions. They said the craft of magicians had originated somewhere in the southern part of that land. Hann merchants, men from the country just to the north, said that Westhaven was ruled by a blood thirsty lord who