Book I - The Magician's Boy (Chapter 1)

The man’s chest bobbed up and down with each breath, mouth hanging open as his loud snores filled the space of the small tent. Erich lay opposite the man, watching him and counting the intervals between each. It was as good a way to pass the time as any, seeing as the boy was not one to sleep. Already he felt he’d been conscious for longer than those three years older than him, and he knew he was smarter. It didn’t take a genio to understand that just because a boy was schooled didn’t mean he had any more wit, or wisdom about things. Things bored him after a while, though, and he found that counting the spaces between the master’s snores made him want to continue forever, in that obsessive way that Erich knew was bad. Count a hundred snores, you’ll want to count a hundred more. For what purpose? So he got up, quietly as he could, pulled on a pair of trousers and a shirt, moved aside the leather that held the entrance, and stepped out into the cool night.

Their camp was on a hill, in the midst of a hundred others. The hills were subtle and rolling, and the wind whistled along the taller grasses making them jump and dance and flow in waves. Erich had never seen the Western Ocean, though he thought that maybe when the clouds rolled over and the storms came it would look something like this. It was beautiful, even in its simplicity, and Erich sighed and sat down, crossing his legs behind one another. From here he could see quite a few other tents, all perched on other hills, little white bulges that housed other merchants and sellers of antiques. All here for the same reason, and if he squinted Erich could see the city walls they would go beyond in the morning. The gate was a speck, and to him the distance only meant he’d have to do more work when the time came. Pulling the cart with his master inside, along with every other prop and trinket the man had in his possession.

Going away had always been a thought he’d tucked away in the back of his mind for when he needed it. He could just start walking, or maybe a slight jog. The master wouldn’t know for hours, and by then Erich would be so far away that recovery would be near impossible. He could leave right now-

“Boy.”

Erich’s body twitched. It was the master. He turned. The man was sticking his head out of the tent hole and staring at him.

“Yes, master?”

“You ain’t been thinking about running away now, ha’you? Sitting out there all alone, plotting your escape?”

Erich’s lip quivered. How’d he know? I'd only just been thinking about it.

“No master.”

“If it weren’t for the fear in your voice I might believe you. Let me tell you again, boy. You leave, I hunt you down. I find you, you gone. You dead. And there ain’t no mistake, I will find you. You try to get a job, they spot the brand on your cheek. They recognize it, I come to get you. You dead. Ain’t no place you can hide from me, I got magic on my side. You belongs to me, boy. Krutt the magician – most respected in all of Meil. I find out you still planning your run, I cut your legs off. Then let’s see you try it.”

Even in the black Erich could see the way his master’s face molded into a mask of twisted happiness. Glee, almost. There was no doubt the man was serious, and for as long as they’d been together Erich knew Krutt was a man who prided himself on his word, and his keeping it.

“No master, I wasn’t going to run, not now not later. I’m yours, I know it. I seen the brand on my face. I just been sitting out here watching the wind go over the grass, and thinking about tomorrow. Master.”

Krutt’s face changed again, this time into something resembling thoughtfulness.

“Aye, boy. Tomorrow’s a gret big day. Lots of money to be found, more of it to be taken. Market Fair’s always good for that. You’ll earn some, providing you work for it. And you working for me means you’d better.”

“I will, master. No mistake, that.” He was glad to have the conversation coming to a close. Rarely could he appease Krutt this quickly, the man was a taskmaster if the boy was his horse. Most likely Erich would earn two or three silvers, enough to buy himself some new clothes or a loaf of finer bread. Krutt always let him keep what he bought, it was one of the few things about the man the boy respected.

“Good. Now get in here and get to sleep. Work’s going to be breaking your back in the morning.”

Though he knew sleep wasn’t going to come, had never come, not for him, Erich followed his master’s head back into the tent and lay down, closing his eyes. After a while he began counting the spaces between his master’s snores again, and had reached two thousand before the sun’s glow told him to rise.

The Market Fair was the most important event in Hatha every year, and it lasted a week. Travelers and merchants from every kingdom came with their skills, services, and goods to camp outside the Hathan gates before being let in, in a great parade of colors, smells, and shouts. Peasantry and royalty alike stood on the sides of the Road, the widest and longest of any in the Kingdom, and watched as the strange people carting their strange capital went by. Those at the front of the parade marched right up to the castle gates and set up their booths right there, while those behind them set up their booths all down the length of the Road.

Erich, pulling the cart his master sat in, forgot all about his work and stared down the line at those ahead of him, unable to see where they came to an end. Someone was playing music, loud and exciting, and the boy smiled wider than he had in months. Smells of pastries and sugar, bright reds and yellows flying on flags high above him. Erich had never been to Hatha in his life, he’d been born in a smaller kingdom, Tojo to the East, and everything here amazed him. The buildings rose so tall, and the people spilling from them clapped their hands in unison with such speed and vigor Erich knew they’d practiced this many times before. Was each Market Fair as exciting for them as the last? The strange sights seemed to last forever, and Erich savored every moment even though to him it felt as if he’d been walking forever as well.

They’d just passed a man who was having his dog perform on a rolling barrel, and the booth in front of them (a man and his wife selling a melon of some sort) stopped. Looking up the line, beyond all the settling booths and showcases, Erich could see the very top of a great building. It was the castle, center of the Kingdom of Hatha. He was sure that if he were closer, it would be magnificent. The largest thing he’d ever seen, and probably ever would. If he could only just break away from Krutt for a couple hours he’d be able to run up there…no, it was better to just not think of it. The master would never let him go, not for an instant. He was too valuable a helper, and he’d be apt to run away, get swept into a side alley and disappear forever. Something about that didn’t strike true, though. Krutt was not an old man yet, he could run his business (if it could be called a business) just fine without Erich. So why did the man keep such a tight leash on him?

“Quit standing there like an idiot, boy, and put this thing down. We haven’t got all day to set up, you know. Crowd’ll be at us in a few minutes, we gotta greet ‘em with all we got.”

Erich set down the cart and Krutt hopped out of it. The man took a few appraising looks around, then glanced at the boy.

“Yep. This is the spot.” His voice was filled with so much recognition that Erich was confused.

“The spot, master?”

“A good a spot as any, is what I mean. A good place to do good business,” Krutt sighed, “now let’s get a move on!”

“Yes master.”

Out of all the merchants and tradesmen in the Market Fair, magicians either had the most stock or the least. The ones in it for the money sold petty things, witch fingers and animal tails, skulls of dead warriors and necklaces that held jewels (and a black curse, the magician would add). The other type of magician, instead of trying to sell a “magical” item, instead tried to sell the magic itself. The concept was strange for many newcomers to the Market Fair, and yet for those who’d bought the magic in prior years it was a familiar thing.

The magician would set up his shop, which was really just a backdrop with a deep blue color to soothe any patron who would be passing, and then sit in front of it, staring ahead and not saying a word. Anyone with a wish on their mind or a need in their hearts would step up to the magician and look into his eyes. They would state their purpose, and the magician would stop them with a hand on the shoulder. “I know what you seek,” he would say, his voice low. And then he would do a little bit of trickery with his hands, moving them about the way no man schooled in a regular skill could follow. His eyes would close and his mouth would open and from it would issue a series of phrases not familiar to any man in Meil. He’d open his eyes and the buyer would open his money pouch and the transaction would be complete.

No one knew if the magic really worked, and truth to tell no one whose relatives weren’t dying really cared that much anyway. The magic was in the experience, and the excitement of seeing magic be performed in front of them. At least, that’s what they thought. Erich knew, as Krutt had told him, that a real magician has knowledge about the manipulation of the human mind. While he’s doing all of his special magic dance, he’s putting a calmness into their mind. And for a good magician, no one ever complained.

Krutt was a good magician. Erich knew this because the man who had branded his face with a one side of a smoking hot coin could hold groups of people steady at a time. He’d do his magic for them all, all at the same time and each man who witnessed it was absolutely sure it had been performed for him and him alone. Besides the ability to do group magic, Krutt also had a face people were drawn to. Erich didn’t much understand this part of it (to him, Krutt was uglier than a one-eyed wolf) but he figured that if the man could reach into a person’s mind to persuade them that what they were seeing was true magic, maybe he could change his own face in that person’s head as well. Make himself beautiful.

If Erich had been like other people, easily manipulated like that, he supposed he wouldn’t have to be put on a leash at all, he just wouldn’t ever feel like disobeying. The thought of that made the boy uneasy, and yet he still wished in his heart that he was the same as everyone else, slept like everyone else. If he was like that, Krutt would have never found him, never picked him up like he did. Never burned the scar into his cheek.

The two had the cart turned on its side and backdrop pulled down as quick as any other man could have done it, and Krutt pulled on his tall hat. Erich brought out the stool and placed it in front of the upturned cart. Krutt sat down on it, and pulled out a fabric bag and gave it to Erich.

“That’s for the payment. Make sure each puts it in.” The command wasn’t really necessary, because Krutt took care of that as well when he was touching the people’s minds whose eyes met his. “All it takes is a little reminder, and they’ll pay. Not many can resist my will,” Krutt had told him once, after they’d set up in Nahim, a fair sized kingdom to the Northwest. But I can, master. And you treat me like a dog with hair a-falling off, but maybe you’re just a little frightened as well. It pleased him that Krutt couldn’t touch his mind, and the thought that his own master might be afraid of him as well put a smile on his face that didn’t drop off soon after.

Soon enough, people started showing up, and Krutt began his magic.

The bag in Erich’s hands grew heavier with every golden clink. The boy knew it wasn’t good to look into the faces of the people whose money he was collecting, (they ignored him anyway, what with the scar on his face, so what was the point?) but he couldn’t help himself. He’d never seen so many folk from such a big place before, and he was interested in the way they dressed, many in bright colors that showed they had money, ears long with the weight of gold and silver, and he smiled at each one. One, a pretty woman wearing a golden scarf and red robes, caught him smiling at her and turned her eye mean. Erich gulped, and did his best to wipe the stupid grin from his face. It was hard to remember what he was to these people. They didn’t see a boy who’d lived nine summers without a night of sleep, they saw a rich magician’s slave. And that made him dirt. It was lucky he’d stopped smiling, he knew, because any big man he looked at that way was apt to knock him down, and then tell Krutt to keep his reins tighter around his little slave boy’s neck. Master would starve him and ignore him, after he had the boy tied to the cart like an ox.

Erich knew his master was capable of much, much worse. Better to keep the man happy. And so he held to a few simple rules. Don’t make eye contact with the men, don’t smile at the women. Hold the bag, keep your head down and nod slightly every time you hear a clink. And yet, ever so often he’d forget himself and once again stare longingly at the jewelry and the dress, until someone gave him a look and he remembered again. He got through until closing without anyone complaining, and with the sun setting he was happy to be able to sit.

“Boy, give me that.” Krutt snatched the bag of money from his hands and shoved it into his robes. He was off the stool now and tossed it at Erich, who was nimble enough to catch it even with the light going down.

“Put that away and make us up a fire. You’re cooking my dinner tonight.”

Well, he’d get to sit eventually.

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