“How do I do that?”
“I have an extensive library at the mansion,” Boroda began, then stopped. “And when you learn to read, you can start there.”
“What is your specialty?” Fritz asked.
Boroda set down his fork and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Time.”
“Time?” Fritz said and then brightened. “Can you travel back in time?”
“Watcher, no!” Boroda burst out. “Time is an unbreakable barrier.” Then he mumbled, “Unfortunately.”
“So what does your power do?”
“Close your eyes and tell me what you hear.”
Fritz closed his eyes. The owner was sweeping a small pile of dust into a tray, and his wife was chopping vegetables for the evening’s meal. The “click click click” of her knife rang through the air in an even tick. The broom swished in a lilting manner against the stone floor.
Then the noise stopped.
Fritz opened his eyes and looked around.
The wife stood still. A small chunk of carrot held suspended just off the knife’s edge. The owner’s broom remained motionless in his grip, a cloud of dust frozen around the straw bristles.
“You froze them?” Fritz gasped.
“I stopped their time,” Boroda corrected. “The world outside my spell is continuing on as it always does. When they reanimate, they will be unaware that any time has passed at all—unless I let them stay stopped until the sun goes down or they happen to be conscious of their clock at this very moment.”
Fritz walked around the café, looking first at the owners, then at the magical shapes of the spell, dazzled by the complexity of the shapes and motions.
Boroda cleared his throat. Fritz looked at him and noticed a bead of sweat above his eyebrows.
“Oh!” Fritz said, realizing the incredible energy this spell must require. He ran back to the booth and sat down.
Boroda made a motion, and the lines vanished. The knife clicked away, and the whoosh of the broom picked up mid sweep.
“That’s incredible,” Fritz said. “Is this why you have so many clocks?”
“I use the clocks to test my ability and build endurance,” Boroda explained. “I started by freezing time in one room with two clocks until I could get them to click together. From there, I added more clocks and more rooms. Now, I can stop the entire cottage and set the clocks to the same exact moment.”
Fritz snickered. “Except for the little clock in the kitchen. You missed that one.”
Boroda’s eyes darkened. “Yes. I suppose I did.” He stood up and laid several coins on the table. “Let’s be off.”
“More training?” Fritz winced.
Boroda took a slip of paper from his pocket and wrote on it. He handed it to Fritz.
“Travel to the plaza near Anadorn Square. When you get to the square, find O’Dentry’s Bookstore. Tell him you need to purchase Madame Venetta’s Schooling Primer. Show him this slip and you shouldn’t have any trouble gaining access to the back room.”
Fritz nodded and took the slip of paper.
He traveled to the plaza and wandered up and down the cobbled streets, pausing to peer into windows. He was happy to be out of training and took his time walking to the market. He rounded a corner, and the tight clump of buildings opened up to a large, red brick establishment with piles of coal out front. Lying on a small pile of burlap sacks next to the coal, rubbing his feet, was Toby.
Fritz whistled.
Toby looked up and brightened. “Hello.”
“Hi,” Fritz said. “I need your help. I’m looking for O’Dentry’s Bookstore.”
“In Anadorn Square? I know it.”
Fritz held up the coin Boroda had given him. “I have to buy a book, but I’ll give you whatever is left over if you take me.”
Toby’s eyes widened. “Whatever’s left of a gold gilder?” He hopped up and led Fritz through a network of buildings until they entered the market square. He walked him down an alley to a store where the front window was completely covered with books.
They stepped inside as an elderly gentleman in a worn tweed jacket looked up from a book and peered over his half spectacles at them. “May I help you?” he asked in a monotone voice and returned his gaze to his book.
He addressed Toby from behind his novel. “If you are just escaping the cold, please leave.”
Toby made a move for the door, but Fritz stopped him. “My name is … Drosselmeyer. Boroda sent me. I’m here to buy a book.”
The man placed a slip of paper in his opened book and closed it with slow, methodical precision. “Which one?”
“Madame Venetta’s Schooling Primer,” Fritz said and laid the slip of paper on the desk.
The older man pursed his lips and took out a case from below the counter. He put his glasses in this case and donned another pair of glasses with a purple haze over the lenses. He studied the note Fritz had given him, his top lip moving over his teeth as he read it. Satisfied, he took the glasses off.
Fritz blinked on his magic vision and saw a twisting line of runes sparkling around the purple glasses and Boroda’s note. He guessed the glasses allowed non-wizards to view magic.
“This way.” The elderly clerk walked down an aisle of books with the two boys following. At the back of the store, he turned and, stepping over large piles of unshelved books, made his way to a large cabinet in the corner. He unlocked the door and when he opened it, the cabinet swung on hinges to reveal a spiraling staircase that descended into darkness.
Holding a lantern high, O’Dentry led them down the stairs, which emptied into a dark, cavernous room. He flicked a switch. Two large chandeliers and several wall sconces illuminated the room. Tables and couches sparsely filled the center area. Tall bookshelves lined the walls.
Fritz and Toby gasped in amazement.
“I’ve never seen so many books,” Toby whispered.
Fritz had to blink off his magic vision to keep his head from swimming. “Same here.”
O’Dentry watched as Fritz and Toby wandered around looking at the voluminous shelves.
“What’s this say?” Toby asked, holding up a book.
Fritz shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“I believe you were looking for this?” O’Dentry held out a book for Fritz.
Fritz took it, and O’Dentry pointed to the staircase.
As Fritz and Toby walked up the steps, the lights below blinked out.
Fritz gave O’Dentry the gold coin, which he exchanged for a small pouch stuffed with silver coins.
Once outside in the snow, Fritz handed the bag over to Toby. “Here. This is for helping me.”
Toby’s eyes bulged. “I can’t take all of that.”
“Why not?” Fritz asked.
“It’s too much for just showing you a bookstore.” Toby eyed the leather sack.
“Well … consider it an advance for the times when I’ll need a guide.”
Toby pondered a moment then held out his hand. “Deal!”
He took the coins and stuffed them in his pocket.
After Toby led him back to the fountain plaza, he reached out to shake Fritz’s hand. “Nice doing business with you, Mr. Drosselmeyer.”
“And you, Mr. Toby,” Fritz responded with a chuckle and shook the boy’s hand.
Boroda was waiting for Fritz when he returned to the training room. “I’ll show you to your room,” he said and led Fritz down several long hallways and up multiple staircases.
Fritz asked, “Did you ever find out how the ape found us?”
Boroda replied, “It was most definitely sent to my country house with specific intent on the part of the sender to do me harm.”
“Who would want to harm you?” Fritz pried.
“Who, indeed?” Boroda muttered. “How the sender found my house is the bigger mystery.”
“So, the ape wasn’t magical?”
“No,” Boroda quipped, then added, “I mean, it was physically altered and definitely had some regeneration enchan
tments, but it was a normal ape otherwise.”
Boroda led Fritz down a very richly decorated hallway. They worked through a long maze of corridors and staircases.
“It was under mind control,” Boroda said.
“Mind control? That’s a thing?” Fritz rushed to keep stride.
“Yes. It’s a … thing. It’s a very complex thing and highly frowned upon.”
“Who do you know that can do it?”
Boroda thought for a moment. “Anyone I know who is skillful enough to do that sort of magic wouldn’t dare attack a member of The Order. In the past, other groups of wizards have tried to challenge and even attack The Order, but that hasn’t happened in ages. Certainly not in my lifetime.”
“There are other wizards that aren’t in The Order?” Fritz asked, intrigued.
“Watcher, yes. Many, many other groups. But, The Order is the most powerful and has been for centuries.” Boroda opened the door and stood back. “Here’s your room.”
Fritz surveyed the massive space, complete with a bed and two fireplaces, desks and dressers, wardrobes and couches, chairs and tables.
“This is all mine?” he asked.
“It is. Personally, I prefer the smaller, more cozy accommodations of my country manor, but for now, this will have to do.”
Boroda walked to the two fireplaces and set the logs ablaze. “Can I get you anything else?”
“A map?” Fritz replied.
Boroda chuckled. “In the morning, I will show you the kitchen and give you extra time in the afternoon to explore the house.” He traveled out of the room, and Fritz closed the door once the mist had settled.
He flopped down on the bed, kicked off his shoes, and took out the book he’d purchased from O’Dentry’s. Emblazoned on the first page was a large, bronze seal. The paper-thin metal stuck up from the pages. Above the seal was a picture of a hand with an outstretched finger. As he looked at the hand, it began to move.
Fritz blinked. The picture was moving on the page. It took him a moment to realize the hand was tracing a spell.
He mimicked the path of the finger until it had worked its way around the edges of the page, enclosing the center seal with a series of shapes. “What now?” he asked out loud.
The seal pulsed slightly, then settled back onto the page.
Fritz collected the spell and cast it on the seal. A small beam of light appeared overhead. The light grew brighter until the entire room was awash in its warm glow.
The next thing Fritz knew, Boroda was knocking on his door.
“Get up. It’s time to train.”
Fritz rubbed his eyes and glanced down at his bed. Madame Venetta’s Schooling Primer was opened to the last page.
He read, “Congratulations. You can read!” as small streamers glided down the page.
Boroda walked in, noticed the book, then sighed with relief. “Ah. Good, you can read now. Let’s go.”
Fritz rushed through breakfast then traveled back to the training room.
Boroda took off his coat and began to stretch.
“Boroda,” Fritz asked between stretches, “when I finish my training—like, all of it—will I get to see Franz again?”
“Franz will not remember you, as we discussed. His memory was wiped for both his and your protection.”
Boroda picked up a long wooden staff and tossed it to Fritz. “Let’s begin with combat.”
Boroda and Fritz sparred most of the morning then worked on spells, enchantments, and hand-to-hand combat.
Shortly after lunch, Boroda announced the end of training, and Fritz traveled up to his room.
He jumped into his bed and rolled around on the plush duvet. He couldn’t help but think of the thin mattress he and his brother had shared less than a week ago. He hoped that Franz was enjoying his new life.
He rolled to his side and wiped a tear from his eye.
You will see Franz again, he promised himself. You just need to find out where he is.
A clock on the wall chimed eight o’clock.
There were not as many clocks here—only one in his room that he could see. It was a mahogany grandfather clock with gold filigree. It was large enough to see from his bed but not loud enough to hear the tick-tock.
Fritz rolled over on his stomach. He laid his head on his hands and looked at the clock. He thought of the odd clock in the kitchen at the country manor. It was so different from the masterful piece on display here. The tiny clock had been crudely nailed together and the figurines sloppily painted. The letters “PA” carved into the side were sloppy, much like the “PA” scrawled on the skates in the boathouse.
He burst into a loud laugh. “I can read letters!”
He lay back in bed, the fatigue of training washing over him. “I’m going to find the library and read all the books.” He stretched and yawned. “Tomorrow.”
He rolled over and fell asleep to the crackling sounds from the burning logs emanating warmth from the fireplace.
Chapter 6
Fritz threw himself into training, arduously performing every task and directive. He listened attentively to Boroda’s instruction, ever hopeful that the wizard would congratulate him on a job well done.
Even though he excelled in memorizing spells, their execution took a certain finesse which he lacked. His past life was a crude collection of utilitarian chores, and the endless nuances of magic frustrated him. Magic was, as Boroda described it, “part artistry, part force of will, but mostly knowledge.”
Enchantments abraded his patience the most. If an enchanted object didn’t work as intended, it could only be negated, or “turned off,” by drawing it backward—unlike a spell, which he could terminate with the sweep of his hand.
“Different materials hold enchantments differently,” Boroda explained. “Metal holds enchantments much longer than porous materials like wood and stone but require more skill to enchant. Wizard-grade metals, like the pendant you wear on your neck, can hold vast amounts of spells but are much harder to obtain.”
“Why?” Fritz asked, turning the silver charm in his hand.
“Wizard-grade metal has only been found in the Central Mines, and Czar Nicholaus is only interested in mining for gold,” Boroda said, his voice laced with ire. “On rare occasions, the miners have found a small deposit of a Wizard-grade metal, but it hasn’t happened in many years. So, as you might imagine, it’s quite difficult and expensive to come by.”
“I see,” Fritz said.
“To enchant or hold spells in your pendant, you draw the sign for Wizard-grade silver, then you draw the enchantment with the sign for silver worked in at regular intervals.” Boroda demonstrated. “See how the magic grows legs and attaches to the pendant? That’s how you know the enchantment holds and is successful.”
In the evenings, Boroda taught Fritz how to carve. “It calms the mind and steadies the hand,” he explained. “It also gives you an object to practice enchantments on.”
One night, as Fritz was practicing a simple walking enchantment on a wooden doll he had carved, he grew frustrated at the stationary toy and knocked it over with a huff.
He checked and double-checked the enchantment. It was perfect, but still no movement.
“Why?” Boroda quizzed him.
“I don’t know why! If I knew why, I would fix it,” Fritz huffed.
Boroda stood Fritz up straight with a flick of his wrist. He made a few more gestures, and Fritz’s knees and elbows locked in place.
“What are you doing?” Fritz yelled in protest.
“Walk!”
They can do whatever they want to you because you belong to them. Vivienne’s words rang back loudly now in his mind.
“I can’t!” Fritz said in a panic.
He searched around for something to defend himself against a blow, but his neck wouldn’t turn.
“Why not?” Boroda asked.
“My body won’t move. Please help, I’m falling!” He began to tip forward, unable to catch himself.
Boroda leaned back in his chair, waved his hand, and Fritz tumbled forward with perfectly functioning limbs.
“If you can’t walk without joints, how do you expect your doll to?” Boroda asked.
When he finally understood Boroda’s point, his panicked breathing switched to an excited gasp. “I need to make knees for my doll. How do I do that?”
Boroda set a small knife on the table. “You will need to carve them into the wood.”
Fritz picked up the knife.
“The closer they resemble the real thing, the more lifelike the doll’s walk will be,” Boroda said.
“What does a knee look like?” Fritz asked, then added, “On the inside, I mean.”
Boroda waved a few fingers, and a book appeared before Fritz. It was a large book on human anatomy. “Here’s where you start.”
The week progressed, and as Fritz learned Boroda’s teaching style, he began to enjoy the training sessions more. All of them except for combat.
Spells and enchantments were getting easier. He could memorize the shapes in seconds and recall them quickly. Once a word was connected with a spell, all he had to do was write it down and it was locked into his memory.
Even his doll was progressing nicely. Fritz continued to work on the anatomy and spent the evenings carving. The legs and arms received ball-and-socket joints, and the fingers and toes got phalanges. He hinged the wooden limbs together with high-quality copper, then used these to hold enchantments.
But combat was the bane of his apprenticeship.
Boroda held nothing back. Every strike was full force and when it landed, which it usually did, the pain made Fritz’s vision blur.
“Do not watch my knife! Watch my shoulder!” Boroda yelled, and to prove his point, thrust forward and buried the knife in Fritz’s arm.
Fritz fell back, hand clasped over the wound as blood oozed between his fingers.
Boroda knelt down and healed the wound. “Ok. Let’s go again.”
Fritz tried to use a blocking spell to stop a blow, and Boroda slammed him against the wall with a swift, but powerful, kick.
“Magic is not a crutch! Learn to fight without it,” Boroda said over Fritz’s prostrate body.
Fritz yelled and lashed out, but Boroda jumped back.
Drosselmeyer: Curse of the Rat King Page 7