“Wow.” Fritz marveled at the fabric.
“This is your apprentice’s outfit,” said Boroda. “Wear this tomorrow for the ceremony. The rest should be here in time for school.”
Fritz rubbed the fabric of the cape between his fingers. The thick, silky texture slid smoothly back and forth with a satisfying swish swish. A moth darted from the folds. Fritz slapped at it, but it evaded his hand and flapped up to the light.
“Watcher, curse the bugs,” Boroda swore under his breath. “One of the downsides of living in the country, I’m afraid.”
“It’s ok,” Fritz said. “We had way worse than that at the orphanage.” He held up his clothes. “Thank you!”
“You’re welcome,” Boroda replied warmly. He turned to leave. “I sent word to The Order earlier today. They are eager to meet you. I have some other items to take care of, so I’ll be gone the rest of the evening. Get some sleep. We have a full day tomorrow.”
Fritz watched Boroda leave. He waited a few minutes, then checked the hallway to see that the wizard was gone. He closed the door quietly behind him and padded down the stairs.
In the kitchen, he pocketed some cheese and a large chunk of bread and let himself out the back door to the garden. The full moon bathed the snow-covered fields in a creamy light.
While eating his snack, Fritz meandered a bit and ended up near the old shack on the dock. Light leaked through the decrepit ceiling and illuminated messy piles of fishing equipment, boat paddles, and several pairs of ice skates. He swallowed back the lump in his throat and picked up the skates Franz had worn the day he left.
He hoped his brother was happy. He ran his hands over the tired leather. A tag sewn into the tongue interrupted the otherwise smooth surface, and Fritz squinted to look at it. There were shapes drawn in faded ink.
Fritz leaned in closer.
The marks were the same as on the clock in the kitchen. Not as jagged since they’d been drawn rather than carved, but definitely the same shapes.
He wondered if the clock had belonged to the same person who owned the skates. He set the skates down, closed the door, and walked back toward the house.
In the distance, the windows shone golden. Fritz breathed in deeply, then took a large, deliberate step. He saw the field and garden blur, and his room materialized in front of him. He laughed out loud, his voice bouncing off the wooden walls of his bedroom.
He climbed into bed, reveling in the excitement of the day.
He was a wizard now.
Chapter 4
Fritz jolted awake early the next morning.
Boroda’s voice boomed through his room. “Time to get started. Breakfast is in the kitchen.”
Fritz fell out of his bed in a tangle of sheets. He twisted around, looking for Boroda.
“Are you up?” the wizard asked again. Fritz followed the voice and saw Boroda’s head floating in his mirror in a hazy greenish specter.
“I am now,” Fritz stammered.
Boroda’s face vanished, and Fritz flopped backward on his bed. He yawned and stretched, slowly tracing the outline of his room with his eyes.
“Now, Fritz!” Boroda’s voice cut through the air like a cannon firing. Fritz scrambled out of bed, grabbed his clothes, and rushed to get dressed.
Over breakfast, Boroda said, “I have some work to attend to this afternoon, so we need to address your training this morning. During the week, it will be after school—in the afternoon and evening.”
Fritz listened as he spooned large piles of scrambled eggs into his mouth.
“Merciful Watcher, Fritz. Stop eating your food like a starving dog.” Boroda looked away.
Fritz lowered his fork, unsure of how to proceed. He looked at his plate of food and then back to Boroda.
Boroda sighed, picked up his fork, and held it out for Fritz to see.
Fritz switched his grip to match Boroda’s.
Boroda scooped up a small piece of egg and brought it to his mouth.
Fritz shoved his fork under a large pile of egg and began lifting it, but it slammed back onto his plate as if driven down by a large hammer.
Boroda shook his head and demonstrated again.
Fritz stiffened his posture and copied Boroda’s movements. He watched Boroda’s face for expressions of approval.
“I want you to eat a piece of human-sized food,” Boroda told him.
Fritz picked up the fork and lifted a small amount of food to his mouth.
“Very good,” Boroda muttered. “Now do that every time you eat.”
After several more bites, Fritz set down the fork and announced that he was full.
Boroda stood up. “We need to train. Follow me.”
They walked through the house and into a large, empty room. Boroda waved his hand, and a table with two chairs appeared.
“Some of the most necessary skills for a wizard to have are pushing, pulling, lifting, and traveling,” Boroda began.
“You’ve taught me to travel already,” Fritz reminded him.
Boroda shot him a look of annoyance. Fritz closed his mouth and gave Boroda his full attention.
Boroda waved his hand, and a teacup filled with hot water appeared on the table. “Traveling is not just something you do with your body. You can travel objects to and from places as long as you know where they are and where they’re going. If two objects try to take the same space, then the preexisting laws of physics take over.”
Fritz nodded, although he was confused.
“As a wizard in The Order, I have access to an infinity room, as will you,” Boroda continued. “In it, you can store any number of objects to be traveled for your use.”
He pointed to the teacup.
“I have water that is in a perpetual state of boiling, and I have a teacup, and when I traveled them here, I combined them.”
Fritz leaned in to study the cup carefully.
Boroda eyed him. “It’s a normal cup, Fritz. There is nothing magical about it—only the manner by which it was brought here.”
“Can I do that?” Fritz asked, pointing to the cup.
“Yes. Later.”
Boroda continued explaining the technique of grabbing objects and pulling them, pushing them away, or lifting them. He had Fritz practice the same moves on the teacup with his hands behind his back. Fritz became frustrated each time the water sloshed out, but Boroda refilled it.
Fritz tried using the pushing spell to hold the water still when he moved it, but Boroda snapped his fingers.
“Smart,” said Boroda, “but that’s cheating. Move the glass so that no water spills out.”
They worked for a few more hours until Boroda was confident Fritz could move the teacup in any direction without spilling the water.
Boroda stood up. “On your own time, I want you to practice that until moving something smoothly is second nature.”
Fritz sighed. “Yes, sir.”
Boroda whisked the table, chairs, and cup out of sight. “To Anadorn Market,” he announced, then disappeared in a puff of smoke.
Fritz followed. The fountain was blanketed in a fresh layer of snow. A gust of wind whipped around him. Fritz rubbed his arms, trying to warm his goose-pimpled flesh.
Standing beneath the stone arch leading out of the plaza, Boroda asked, “Where is your coat?”
“In … my … closet,” Fritz said in halted bursts.
“Travel it, and let’s go.” He turned and left the plaza.
Fritz envisioned his room, his closet, and then his coat. He reached out to take it from the hanger, and he felt the woolen garment in his hands. A moment later, he threw it around his shivering shoulders. Face beaming, he glanced up at Boroda, but the man had already turned away.
Fritz sighed, then followed Boroda down the alley to an open plaza. Empty carts were arranged in neat rows in the center, and shops lined the perimeter of the market square.
Boroda walked into a large corner shop.
The shop owner, a squat man with dark hair
around the sides of his head, nodded to Boroda but said nothing.
Boroda walked to the back of the shop and opened a door. He led Fritz up a steep stairway to a long hallway spanning the entire length of the shop below.
The hallway was empty, save for six doors set at equal intervals. Boroda walked to the second from the last one and whispered something. The doorknob turned with a click. He held it open for Fritz.
The room had a wooden floor like the rest of the shop, but the walls and ceiling looked like an open sky at night. It wasn’t just dark; it had a spaciousness that conveyed the absence of light. Fritz felt his head begin to spin.
“What is this?” Fritz asked with breathless wonder.
“It’s an infinity room,” Boroda said. “There are only six in existence. One for each member of The Order.”
Fritz walked around staring at the unending rows of objects. “Where did all of this come from?”
“These objects were collected by the first wizard who occupied my position in The Order, and every subsequent wizard has added to the collection.” Boroda bowed slightly.
“How far back does it go?” Fritz asked and ran his hands over a wall full of axes and spears.
“As far as you need it to,” said Boroda.
“You can travel any of this when you want it?”
“Yes. If I can remember where it is, anyway,” Boroda confessed. “As an apprentice, I tried to memorize all the contents in here but there are centuries worth of accumulation.”
Fritz wandered around, gasping at each new find. He threw open the lid of an old trunk and yelped.
Boroda looked in his direction. “Ah, yes. That is one of many trunks of gold collected by an especially greedy predecessor of mine. Called himself Palan. Squirreled these trunks all over this place because he didn’t want anyone to find all his wealth.”
“Is he dead?” Fritz asked, running his hands through the treasure.
“Yes,” Boroda said and motioned to the trunk of gold. “But his greed and selfishness are still evident.”
“So why did he hide all this treasure if he can’t use it?” Fritz asked.
“It’s not enough for selfish people to have something. It must be theirs—and theirs alone—to use.” Boroda glanced at his watch. “We don’t have much time. I want to show you some important sections of the infinity room.”
Fritz followed him past mounds of items to a newer-looking section.
“Here are my weapons,” Boroda said. “You will be learning to use them.”
Fritz picked up a sword and swished the thin blade back and forth.
“You will need to memorize that section.” Boroda pointed to another area of the room. “Here are my food and provisions. I have meals delivered regularly and preserved so that the food never spoils and always remains at the correct temperature. You will also need to memorize this region.”
He walked over to another area. “Furniture. You will need to memorize this zone as well.”
Fritz glanced away from the food and took in the furniture.
“And finally, here.” Boroda pointed to an empty spot on the floor lit with a muted, yellow glow. “This spot is a special space. Anything that is touched by this light can travel to us without us needing to see what’s there. It is used mostly for mail and special deliveries.”
“Like my clothes and shoes?” Fritz asked.
“Exactly,” Boroda said. “Whether you know what they look like or not, you can travel them.”
“Who puts them here?” Fritz asked.
“The only person allowed in here, outside of the wizards of The Order and their apprentices, is the shop owner. All deliveries go through him.”
“Aren’t you afraid the other wizards will steal your stuff?” Fritz asked.
Boroda looked away. “Each door is locked and can only be opened with a secret word.”
“What’s the word for your room?” Fritz asked.
Boroda answered flatly, “If you need to come in here, I will let you in.”
Fritz blushed and silently purveyed the objects around him. Boroda glanced at his watch and hastily exited the room.
As they made their way back to the fountain plaza, Boroda pointed out important shops and stores to Fritz. Anadorn was a sprawling network of alleys, courtyards, and squares. Each section had a distinct personality and Fritz, who had never been outside Ivanov’s, consumed the sights and smells with a voracious appetite.
“See you back at the house,” Boroda said once they had stepped into the fountain plaza and disappeared. Seconds later, Fritz joined him in the kitchen.
“I want you to travel as many objects from the weapons section as you can remember and put them in the training room,” Boroda said. “I have some work I need to attend to.”
Fritz asked, “Is there enough space in the training room?”
Boroda raised an eyebrow. “If you can fill the training room, I’ll give you one of Palan’s chests of gold.”
Fritz dropped his jaw. “Really? Ok. Deal.”
“When I get back, it will be time to go to the Life Bond ceremony.”
“What about my fake name?”
Boroda cursed under his breath, then waved Fritz off. “I’ll figure that out.” He vanished, and Fritz made his way to the training room.
Fritz closed his eyes and pictured the racks of weapons in vivid detail. Swords, shields, axes, and spears appeared in the room, filling an entire wall. He waved his hand and stacks of arrows, bows, whips, and clubs clattered to the floor in piles in front of him. Weapons rained down until there was no space left.
There were still racks of weapons left in the infinity room, but Fritz figured this would satisfy Boroda and win him the chest of gold.
He traveled back to his room, took off his coat, climbed into bed and dozed until Boroda called him through the mirror. Fritz jogged down the stairs and met him in the den.
“A few things before we go to the ceremony.” He motioned for Fritz to sit down in a nearby chair. “Tonight, The Order will ask you to do some things that may sound … strange.” He took out his pipe and lit it. “I need you to obey without question.”
Fritz agreed.
“After the Life Bond ceremony, you and the other apprentices will travel to the garden until The Order finishes some business at hand. The other wizards will have tasked the apprentices with gaining any information about both you and me.” Boroda lowered his voice. “I cannot stress the importance of telling them nothing.”
“Yes, sir,” Fritz answered.
Boroda leaned forward and punctuated each word. “Tell. Them. Nothing.”
Fritz nodded, and Boroda dismissed him. He returned to his room, dressed, and waited to be called. He passed the time pushing, pulling, and lifting a mug of water he’d traveled into his room.
Boroda appeared in the mirror, and Fritz slung the mug into the wall in shock.
“Meet me in the foyer,” was his only command.
Fritz descended the stairs to find Boroda pacing impatiently.
“Is this ok?” Fritz asked, adjusting his cape.
“What?” Boroda glanced at Fritz. “Oh, yes. You look fine. Let’s go.”
He wrapped his arm around Fritz, and they melted into a misty portal. They emerged in a small, circular glen in a dark forest. There was no moon present, but a pale light bathed everything in a soft, blue glow. The outer ring of the glen had six concave openings with one large chair per space. Each chair nearly filled the opening, though each was shaped in a wildly different fashion.
“Go to the center of the ring,” Boroda commanded Fritz. “Do not speak unless spoken to.”
Fritz obeyed, and no sooner had he planted himself in the center of the field than he heard a rush of wind. He turned and saw a tall, thin man standing in front of an oak tree, dressed in coal black clothes that glinted in the faint light. His sharp nose matched the contour of his cheekbones.
He sat down on an ornate divan covered in purple cushions with golde
n tassels and gilded iron legs. He studied Fritz but said nothing. He raised his eyebrows, as if surprised or amused by something he saw.
From another cloud of mist, an olive-complexioned boy about Fritz’s age appeared near the oak and stepped to the side of the purple couch, standing at the ready. He had jet black hair and a lean, muscular build. His outfit and robes were gold and purple, like the cushions. He stared resolutely forward except when he caught Fritz’s gaze—then he gave the slightest wink.
A clump of ash trees to Fritz’s right fluttered, and he saw a slender, elegant lady in a long, shimmering blue dress take a seat in a gleaming silver chair. Its tall spires jutted out in sharp spikes. Her hair was pulled up loosely atop her head, only a few shades whiter than her pale skin. Her lips, in stark contrast to her ghostly pallor, shone dark red.
From behind the lady, a young girl, also roughly the same age as Fritz, stepped beside her master. Her dress was the same color blue, save a line of silver trim along the bottom. Her hair was blonde, but Fritz could see a streak of white running down the outside edges.
Behind him, a girl giggled. He spun around to see who had made the noise. A plump lady with auburn hair, glowing pink skin, and a dress made of hundreds of ribbons sat in a throne of woven tree roots and vines. The vines snaked through the roots, and flowers were beginning to sprout.
She smiled warmly at Fritz, and he heard the girlish giggle again. Next to the woman, in a flowered dress, stood a girl with a large, peach-colored flower held firmly on her head by a network of small vines, pinning her hair into a wild braid.
Fritz blinked and switched his focus from the girl with flowers to the girl in blue. The latter returned his look with a steeled glare.
They were identical.
The one girl sniffed a flower on her lapel and nodded as if to confirm his suspicions.
Two shrouds of mist wafted from the remaining alcoves as the last two wizards arrived with their apprentices.
One was a large man with a long, red beard. His biceps were the size of most men’s heads and covered in runic tattoos. He had an axe in one hand and a shield slung over his back. His protégé was only slightly shorter, a little smaller, and had no facial hair. His bright red hair hung in a series of knots and matted patches around his head. The younger boy brandished a large hammer.
Drosselmeyer: Curse of the Rat King Page 4