TWO HUNDRED THIRTY-THREE: Here-to-There XIII

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Olget regretted it.

The shenav was a warm tongue laving his brain. It was twenty fingers moving softly against his belly and along his spine. His brother had made a show by overspending on gifts for people who had forsaken their family’s village, and now the drink he’d gifted was hoisting Olget up so high he briefly imagined himself on the courtyard pedestal at Ivoova House—a shining vision in which all the students who’d looked down on him were forced to brush hands together and fill the air with the whispers of their approval.

Shenav had never been his first choice of indulgence. Perhaps that would change after today.

He sank deeper into the plush pillows of the longchair and drank some more. He had decided the bottle should be empty when they called to give him the terrible news about the wand. That would happen very soon, wouldn’t it?

Yes, soon.

He would be the last of his mother’s children called, but he would be called. And his siblings’ faces would be filled with disgust at the state he was in. His mother…she would be too distraught to notice. Of course. Weeping. Regretful.

Poor Mother.

But this would pass. Olget would comfort her and make it up to her.

I did it because of you. One half of his brain accused the heavy black bottle in his hand. The other half lingered on the brother and sister who would never believe Olget could cast in this state. Especially not such a good spell. His best striking spell.

“Slip, slip, slip through all the walls in your way. Clever, helpful magic like the wizard who maaade you. Slip. Slip. Crash.” He sang the words until he realized he was singing about his crime and stopped himself.

I could stand on the balcony and shout it, and they still wouldn’t believe I could do it.

Why be angry at a boy who’d been born to walk upon the bowed backs of others for disparaging his diploma? Olget’s own family had no more respect for him. Brother, sister, father beneath the soil…mother soon to be.

Incompetent healer! Incompetent healer, making errors with the body of a village master!

If his mother was not unwell, she would have appreciated the wise son at her side more. Her stress had led to mindhurt that led to such an unnatural, emotional decision. To make a valuable thing worthless by giving it to someone who couldn’t use it!

The wands were her life’s work as much as the village. She had to be taught not to throw it all away so casually, so wildly. When she was gone, her son would still be left behind.

She has shown she’s willing to live with only one of them, so she will now.

Olget would still be with her through it, and she would eventually see he’d been right all along. The bors would return. They’d proven their loyalty was less than a wizard could wish for from his assistants, but they would follow Uro back. And Olget would look after Uro faithfully until the end of her days. He would look after his mother. This shock would be forgotten over time and all would be as it should again.

His village would prosper.

Twenty fingers tickled him. A tongue asked his brain, “But what if they do realize it was you?”

“No, thrice no,” he told it. “They won’t. Because I am here, and the wand is—was—there. Through a wall and a wall and a window.”

Besides, even if someone did wonder…so many peculiar, wrong things had happened to the wand that could have caused this. Separated from its owner, transported to a new land, exposed to the ordinary fingers of bors and to the presence of inexperienced knights.

Knights who were so unsettling.

That one looked at me like she wanted to kill me when I was showing off with the koobas. And the boy knight is as grim as a gut-knotted elder with a mouth full of dirt.

They were not at their best. Respect to them. Respect! But…if anyone suspected Olget, and he mentioned that the young knights were not at their best, wouldn’t all the questions disappear? Nobody wanted to discover that they had erred.

And there was a human with them. He could have stupidly touched the wand. He could have picked behind his ears with it. Maybe it broke because it couldn’t tolerate him.

Who was to say? Who would dare to investigate that group?

And Olget’s mother had always stood up for him until these past couple of years, her time of stress. She would stand up for him again when it came to a matter this serious.

The beautiful wand, sweet Uro, his dear mother…he would make sure it was all for the best. He would care for everything and build something wonderful, as Uro and Mother dreamed for him. The other wand would be his, and with it, he would be everything a village master should.

A truly proper wizard.

Olget regretted that it had to happen. But he was glad that nobody could change it now.

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In the bor family’s living room, Konstantin’s chant sounded almost as bizarre as it did on Earth. The cries, whistles, and wails of his spell impression clashed with each other and with every situation Alden had heard them in. But nobody here was going to complain.

Every eye was on the Adjuster and the wand that was piecing itself together between his hands. Alden’s breath was held, and he didn’t dare let it out. In his peripheral vision, Bithe stood perfectly still. Stuart wasn’t making a single noise.

Come on. Work.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted it more for Kon, for Uro-bor, or for Bithe. Tass-ovekondo, too. And Stuart. Ryada and Emban.

Nobody needed this extra dose of misery today.

And if Kon could fix it…

It’s really great, isn’t it? A spell like this.

It felt like Kon had been casting for a long time, but surely he was almost there. The wand looked like a wand again. Alden watched the last shards return to their former position, watched the cracks in the milky surface seal.