Wizard Imposter [Thief of Magic, Ep. 1]
Wizard Imposter [Thief of Magic, Ep. 1]
a Thief of Magic tale
Robin D. Morgan was an orphan and a thief, or at least, he was on his way to becoming one. The thief, that is; he’d already been an orphan for many years. In fact, it was in his attempt to escape being an orphan that he fell into the path of thievery. So far, it was not going well.
“Tonight,” he told himself as he crept through the dark garden, hiding under the ridiculously large ears of an elephant ear plant, “is going to change all that.”
Naturally, as he attempted to cultivate his courage under the broad green leaves, a small vine from the neighboring blushing philodendron curled intimately around his exposed ankle and began slipping up his trouser leg. He jerked away and swatted the offending tendril, which pulled back, abashed.
He had no idea the plant was called a blushing philodendron, of course, nor that he was hiding under an elephant ear. He had very little training in horticulture or herbology, yet. He merely assumed that everything in the garden was enchanted. He was watchful as he moved through the garden that none of the plants were trying to reach out and grab him again.
“Tonight’s the new moon. The wizard always go into the forest during the new moon.” Robin reassured himself as he moved toward the back door of the wizard’s residence. As expected, it was locked. Robin pulled a pick from the leather pouch at his belt. He rolled his eyes gently as the mark on the tool reminded him of the thieves guild. Buying it had added another 7 shillings to his account with the guild. Nothing compared to the thousand silver crowns he owed them, but just another reminder of the current state of his affairs.
The lock clicked, and the door drifted open. He slipped in and closed the door behind him. He was in the kitchen. The smell of cinnamon and nutmeg flavored the air, along with another spice that smelled exotic and unidentifiable. A small fire in the hearth lit the room. This time of night, it would normally be just smoldering coals, especially in an empty house. Maybe it was a wizard thing. The flickering firelight made the knives and pots hanging on the wall look like they were moving. He watched carefully to make sure they weren’t before moving on.
“You never know with wizards,” he whispered and moved into the front sitting room.
This room was richly appointed with two soft chairs and a couch around a low table, all sitting on a deep carpet that stretched from one wall to the next. On shelves and in glass cases were a myriad of objects. Mysterious bottles, rings and amulets, small statues. A luxurious deep red cloak was draped over the railing of the stairs near the front door. As Robin examined a small lion statue on the shelf nearest him, it suddenly yawned and licked its lips before resettling its tawny copper head on its wide paws. Robin backed away.
“This stuff has to be worth hundreds of crowns, at least.” He shook his head. “’Coins are easy to carry, and easy to spend.’ Thieves Guild lesson ten.” He looked around the room, but saw no obvious chests or bags of money. “Must be upstairs.”
Robin tested each stair as he stepped on it. He reached the second floor and stared at the vast collection of things squeezed into the upstairs living space. There was a simple bed, a single chair, and two tables, but every inch of wall was covered in shelves, crammed with jars and books and bottles, in no discernible order. Robin did know how to read (the Calchester Orphanage had done that much for him, at least.), but beyond the books, he had little idea of what so many of the things here were. There were more of the little statues like downstairs, A variety of small tools for what purpose he could not divine, and one whole table beside the upstairs hearth seemed dedicated to the brewing of - well, of potions, naturally. There were glass vials, and little jars of ingredients, and an entire little basket of corks. On the other side of the hearth stood an ornate full length mirror, perhaps even a bit more than full length. Certainly it was taller than Robin. In front of the window, where tonight’s dark moon would normally stream light onto the pages, was a large, ornate book stand. A heavy tomb laid open upon it. Beside the book were unlit candles on tall holders. Robin carefully stepped through the dim room and pulled a flint and steel from his pouch. He lit the candles, and turned to get a better look at the room.
Robin nearly knocked over the book stand as the candlelight fell on the wizard. The old man was sitting on the floor, propped up against the near side of the other table. A long white beard flowed across the vibrant midnight blue robes onto the wooden floor. His head was uncovered, his hair thinning. On one hand was a green ring, perhaps jade, in the shape of a tiny dragon. The most remarkable feature, however, was the silver dagger jutting up from the bloody wound in the center of his chest. His eyes were closed.
It took a moment for Robin to catch his breath, though he could still feel his heart beating fiercely within his own chest. He crept toward the old wizard. He didn’t appear to be breathing. Robin was pretty sure wizards still needed to breathe. He knelt down beside him.
“Hello?” He touched the man’s shoulder with no response. “Are you, uhm, alright?” The wizard still did not answer. Robin was now fairly certain that the man was not breathing and quite likely dead. “I don’t suppose there’s anyone I could write to for you, is there?” He grasped the man’s near hand, wishing he had paid attention and learned what prayers to say for a dead wizard. In his defense, no one had tried to teach him any such thing.
Beneath his hand, something moved. Robin jerked his hand away, thinking the wizard had wriggled his fingers, but the bare hand lay still. The green ring, however, was now crawling around on Robin’s fingers instead. He shook it gently, unsure how a tiny jade dragon would react to being thrown down. The dragon merely spread it’s wings and continued to explore the unfamiliar territory. After a moment, it laid down along the third finger, curled its wings and legs around it, and grew still. Robin reached out and stroked it softly along the back. The touch was cold stone, and it did not move. It was again the jade ring, with no indication of being anything more than a beautiful bit of jewelry.
Robin tugged on the ring, but it would not budge. With a shrug, he decided he would figure that out later. It could be worth quite a few silver crowns just as a ring. He looked around again. A wooden chest rested on one of the shelves, and Robin stood and opened it. Inside lay a collection of broken egg shells. They had a metallic sheen, but it wasn’t gold or silver, so he closed the lid. He checked the sea chest under the table, but found it full of clothing and blankets. He searched the room and found nothing, until he was standing by the bed. He lifted the bed skirt and looked underneath to find an oak box with iron bands.
He pulled it out and set it on the bed. Instead of a lock or latch, there was merely a symbol drawn on the wood. Yet the box would not open. The little dragon around his finger pulled against him. It was a subtle pressure, but it caught Robin’s attention. Letting the pull of the dragon guide his finger, he traced an intricate pattern over the symbol, and suddenly, the lid opened. Inside, the box was lined with soft fabric. The grand total of the contents included five silver crowns, three shillings, two pence, and a hand written note: “Promise of payment for one hundred silver crowns. -Amarant K.” In short, less money than he would have gotten robbing a maidservant on her way to the florist. He sank to his knees beside the bed, head bowed. “There should have been hundreds, maybe thousands, of silver crowns here.”
It was becoming quite the night of surprises for poor Robin, and the new moon was long from set. The slightly more than full length mirror beside the hearth clouded until there was no longer any reflection at all. From it, came three polite knocks, which quite startled Robin. He stared, never having seen or heard of anything like this before, and uncertain what to do.
He stood and faced the mirror. The dragon tugged his finger toward it. He touched the glass, and the clouds parted to reveal a man with a staff walking toward him in the mist. He grew larger until he nearly filled the mirror and finally, stepped out of it.
The man wore black clothes under a cloak the color of rain. A gold pin held the cloak together across his chest, imprinted with an unfamiliar emblem. The emblem, of course, was only unfamiliar to Robin. The man who wore it, knew the emblem very well indeed, as he was a well respected member, indeed, a representative of, the Wizard Court.
“Good evening,” he tipped his back-swept wizard cap to Robin. “I am calling upon wizard Pierce Keaton. Is he about?”
Robin, wide eyed, looked back over his shoulder at the old man on the floor with a dagger in his chest.
“Oh, dear me! Well, I suppose it is good fortune that I called, after all.” He stepped around Robin to examine the dead wizard.
“Sorry, sir,” asked Robin, “but why is it good fortune?”
“Oh, my apologies! How rude of me.” He turned toward Robin. “I neglected to introduce myself. I am Alistair Shatterstorm, of the Wizard Court.” He tipped his hat with a kind smile. “I am afraid I won’t get to confer with Pierce here as I had intended, but at least I can handle the arrangements. Appears to have been murdered. Did you see it happen?”
Robin blinked twice before answering and immediately worried that the delay would bring suspicion upon him. “No, my lord.” He hadn’t even known there was a wizard court.
“No need with that lordship business. Just call me Alistair.” He waited, his eyes twinkling. “It’s usually polite to offer one’s own name in exchange, don’t you think?”
“Oh! Yes, sir. Sorry. I’m Robin.”
Alistair turned back to the body. “Have you been Pierce’s apprentice long?”
His apprentice? “No sir, uhm, not long at all.”
“That’s a pity. Hope you learned enough.”
“Enough, sir?”
“Well, yes. He’s dead now. I thought you’d noticed that.” Alistair stood up and sprinkled some dust from beneath his cloak across the body. “I’ll just take the body into custody for the investigation.” The dust glowed, and then seemed to cover the body until it was naught but a bright glow on the floor. The brightness in the dim candlelight made Robin blink. Alistair intoned “Pierce Jackson Mansfield Keaton,” and then the body was gone. Alistair turned to Robin. “Always guard your full name, boy, it has power over you, though I am sure Pierce taught you that first thing. Never hurts to be reminded of basic magical security, though.”
“There’s an investigation, sir?”
“Certainly. As I said, he appeared to have been murdered. Unless you happen to know who did it?”
Robin shook his head. “I- just got here.”
“Did he say anything to you about any recent enemies? Threats to his well being, or anything?”
“He didn’t say anything at all to me,” said Robin, “about that.”
Alistair’s look softened. “I am sorry. I wasn’t thinking. You’re clearly upset at the death of your master, and who wouldn’t be?” He pulled a roll of parchment from mid air and began scribbling on it. “However, I’ve not the time to let you grieve before taking care of things, unfortunately.”
“I’m- I’m alright, sir.”
“Good then. Should have known Pierce would pick a brave lad to apprentice.” He turned the paper around in mid air, and held out the quill he’d been using. It only just then occurred to Robin to wonder where the quill itself had come from. To be fair, he had quite a number of things to wonder about already. “Now, if you’ll just sign your full name here, then you can take possession of Pierce’s goods, and consider yourself a full wizard.”
Robin took the quill while trying to process what was happening. He stopped halfway to the paper. “I’m sorry, what?”
Alistair smiled again over the top of the paper. “I suppose Pierce hadn’t gotten into teaching you about wizard law yet. When a wizard dies, his apprentice is released from the apprenticeship, and inherits said wizard’s belongings, assuming there is no other claim on them, and that said apprentice wasn’t the one that killed him. You said you don’t know who killed him, so that likely precludes you being the one that killed him. Or did you kill your master?”
“Me? No! I’ve never killed anyone.”
“There you go, then, just sign your full name at the bottom.”
Robin hesitated. “I thought you said not to use my full name.”
“This is official paperwork. That’s different. See the Wizard’s Court seal at the top?”
Robin did indeed see the same emblem from Alistair’s cloak emblazoned at the top of the page. Either he signed, pretending to be the wizard’s apprentice, or he confessed that he was actually a thief who had happened upon a murder. He signed Robin Douglas Morgan on the parchment.
“Well done, Wizard Robin.” Alistair rolled up the paper and tucked it under his cloak. “I’ll file this with the Wizard Court.” He glanced around at all the books and objects in the room. “Need any more help with anything here?”
“No, sir, I’m good. This is all really mine now, sir?”
“Call me Alistair. All of Pierce’s things now belong to his former apprentice. I dare say you’ve earned it lad. Pierce was a strict taskmaster last I knew.”
Robin kept his mouth shut.
“Well. Sorry for your loss and all. Oh, being a new wizard, I should mention: If you see anyone using magic that isn’t a proper wizard, do let the Court know. We do not look kindly on impostors. Let me know if you need anything.”
With a final wave of his hand, he stepped back into the mirror, and the clouds closed about him before clearing to again reveal the simple reflection of the room. In the middle of the mirror stood Robin, mouth agape.
“I have to get out of here.” He pocketed the coins from the box on the bed and headed down the stairs. He had just stepped on the soft carpet when there was a sharp knock on the front door.
“Open in the name of the City Watch!”
Robin froze, and slowly looked toward the door. Beside the door was a window, and through the window was the face of a uniformed officer of the city guard. The city guard would be second on his list of The Last People He’d Want to See Right Now.
The dragon ring grasped the cloak on the railing under his fingers, and guided it around his shoulders as he trudged toward the door. Robin pulled the heavy hood up over his rusty brown hair and opened the door.
“Good evening. Can I help you gentlemen?” There were two guards outside.
“Ev’ning, mi’ lord. I’m Captain Ratcliffe. This is Lieutenant Knotley. We’re looking for a thief what’s been reported round here, and we think he may have snuck into your house. Have you seen anyone?”
Robin shook his head under the cloak, hoping it concealed his features.
Lieutenant Knotley lifted his lantern and leaned forward. “You look young for a wizard. I thought it was an old man what lived here?”
Robin thought quickly. “Oh, ah, spell gone wrong. Just a temporary inconvenience. Thank you for letting me know about the thief.” Robin began to close the door.
“Actually,” the lieutenant put a hand on the door. “We’d like to search for him, just to be safe.”
The captain gave the lieutenant an odd glance and then returned his gaze to Robin. “It might be a good idea, if you don’t mind, mi’ lord?”
Robin saw no reason he could object, and opened the door.
“I’ll check upstairs, captain.”
“Very well.” The captain stepped into the sitting room and looked around while the lieutenant trooped up the stairs. “Nice place you’ve got here.”
“Uhm, thank you. I’m actually hoping to leave soon.”
The Lieutenant came back down the stairs one step at a time.
“Find anything, Knotley?”
“No, sir.” He looked at Robin. “No one up there.”
“We’ll keep looking, then.” They made their way out the door. The Captain tipped his hat. “Don’t worry, sir, we’ll find him. Only one proper place for thieves in this city: prison.”
Robin closed the door and listened as the officers walked away.
“You may be up for a promotion, Knotley, but you aren’t Captain of the Guard yet. As long as you’re in my city, I decide when to go muscling into a citizen’s home. That’s a wizard, too, mind…” Their voices faded away and Robin breathed a sigh of relief.
“I have to get out of here.” Robin turned and reached for the doorknob, but the dragon ring turned his hand the other way. He stared at it, then realized it had a point. “Where would I go?” He sat down on the couch. “I can’t pay back the Thieves Guild. The City Guard is looking for me. I won’t go back to the orphanage. I can’t stay here. And now the Wizards think I’m an apprentice.”
The dragon ring reached forward and tapped a book lying on the low table. “Basic Garden Potions.” Robin looked from the ring and the book to the shelves of objects and back to the little jade dragon. “Fine. I guess I’ll try to be a wizard.”
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