He giggled. “You know my name is Billy, Miss Esther. Now I’m the Crimson Protector.”
“Okay dear. You must come down.”
“I can’t. I’m protecting you. I have to save you from the bad thing.”
“That’s nice dear. Can’t you save me from down here?”
Billy pointed to the ground with his sword, a plastic toy sword. “If I was down there you wouldn’t have come.” He giggled again.
“It’s not safe on the roof. How’d you get up there?”
“I ran up the wall. I’m faster than gravity now.”
“Where’s your mother at?”
Lower lip growing fat, he looked ready to cry. Without another word he turned and walked over the roof’s peak. Out of sight on the back of the house.
Esther went around the Chapman house, through the gate into their back garden. Billy wasn’t on the roof. She walked back and forth, examining the roof from all angles. Billy had disappeared.
“Mrs. Horace? What are you doing?” Janet Chapman stood outside the door on her back patio. Her red eyes and blotchy face told Esther she had been crying.
“It’s Miss Horace, dear. Never married.”
“Miss Horace, what on earth are you doing back here?”
“Sorry. I tried ringing you. I saw Billy on your roof. Didn’t seem safe.”
Janet gasped. Her hand flew to her face and covered her mouth.
In the distance a siren wailed, an alternating low-high tone.
Janet’s expression changed from horror to anger. “Having a laugh? Well, it’s not a bit funny. You’re sick Miss Horace. Sick.”
“I was looking through my kitchen window—”
“William died in hospital last night. Get off my property. I never want to see you again.” Janet Chapman went back inside, slamming the door behind her.
Esther stared at the closed door. What had happened? Billy hadn’t look dead. Nor had he looked like a ghost. Was she mental? If you worried about your sanity it meant you were okay, didn’t it? But if you knew you only needed to worry about your sanity to be sane, then you could still be crazy but smart enough to worry about it. Which meant worrying about your mental state wasn’t an indicator of your mental state.
The siren’s wail interrupted Esther’s thoughts. Closer now. She walked around the house, back through the gate, to the front. Across the street, out her open kitchen window, white smoke billowed.
Esther felt nothing but a numb acceptance. She hadn’t turned off the electric heater. Sad, yet funny … almost.
She stood at the curb, watching flames engulf her kitchen window curtains. A fire truck pulled in front of her house, blocking her view. Esther sat down on the curb. She’d have a bloody hard time getting back up. No matter. One of the nice men from Fire Services could help her.
She removed the small, framed photograph of George from her purse and touched his cheek with her fingers.
“Looks like the boy really did save me, George.”
Wizard Lottery
I had never seen so many people around the castle. Street merchants were selling everything from multicolored fabrics to jewelry and other trinkets, from eggs to lamb-cuts, from farm tools to pots and pans. They filled the streets outside the castle with their tables and tents, making passage to the castle courtyard near impossible. Others, besides the merchants, also clogged the streets. There were men walking on stilts and performers juggling, clowns making children laugh and musicians playing instruments of every shape and size. People everywhere. They were standing, talking, laughing, and spending coin. It was carnival. The wizard lottery only happened once a century.
Still, too many people. I prefer the wide, open country over crowds of people.
I hadn’t been near the castle in a year and wouldn’t be here now except the king required it. Every fourteen year old girl and boy had to assemble in the castle courtyard for the lottery.
“Boy, watch yourself.”
I spun around. A tall man, cornstalk thin, glared at me. He held a half eaten turkey leg and pointed at my feet with it. I had stepped on a scattering of pellets, feed of some type. A few feet away, under a table, cowered a small white goat.
“Sorry,” I said, stepping backwards.
Continuing to back away, I tripped over a rope tied to a peg in the ground. The rope connected to a pole supporting the canopy over a merchant’s table. I scrambled to my feet and reached for the pole. Too late. The canopy collapsed onto the table. Angry shouts came from under the canopy.
I jogged away, glancing over my shoulder as I ran. The man with the turkey leg still glared.
Walls surrounded the castle’s courtyard on three sides. Twenty feet above the center wall was a balcony from which the king could look down upon the courtyard. Along the rightmost wall, stone steps extended from the ground to the balcony. I wouldn’t want to climb them. There was no hand rail, nothing to keep you from falling off the side if you tripped—which I tended to do. Half the courtyard, the half closest to the balcony, was cordoned off with ropes. A row of guards, dressed in their bright blue uniforms with shiny brass buttons, stood in front of the ropes. There must have been two hundred kids behind the guards. I didn’t know there were that many fourteen-year-olds in the kingdom.
I approached the group of kids.
A guard held up a hand for me to halt. “Name?”
“Tayte, son of Barwick,” I said.
The guard scanned a list, found my name, and stepped aside, revealing a gap in the rope. I stepped through the gap into the crowd and scanned the faces, trying to find somebody I knew. I saw Rachain, a boy from a neighboring village. My father traded oats and hay with his father. I turned away, not wanting to talk to this annoying braggart.
That’s when I spotted Gytha. Her family worked the next farm over. She hadn’t noticed me yet and I took a moment to admire her. As usual, her red hair extended halfway down her back in a long braid. She turned, saw me, and smiled. “Tayte.”
For a moment her green eyes captured mine and I couldn’t respond. Finally, I found my tongue. “Ho, Gytha.”
She bounded to me, reached out and mussed my hair. “I see you still fear the barber’s scissors.”
I jerked away. “Why mess with perfection?”
“You call a stringy mop perfection?” She smiled. “Isn’t all of this amazing?”
“Not the word I’d use.”
She cocked her head at me.
I sighed. “I don’t want to be here. Pa’s got to get in the hay on the north field before it rains or the crop’s lost.”
She held a hand over her eyes, shielding them from the sun. “Not a cloud in the sky.”
“And ma’s getting worse. She can’t even get out of bed now.”
She put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
“I pray I’m not selected,” I said.
“Seriously? Imagine what good you could do as wizard.”
“How could I help pa if I’m forced to stay here and do the king’s bidding?”
She punched me in the shoulder. “You need to think of using something other than your muscles.”
A trumpet sounded. I looked up at the balcony. On a small dais stood King Leofric. The color of his scraggly beard matched his golden crown. He wore a red robe and his belly, as big as a sack of grain, protruded through the robe’s front. Queen Heloise, a tall, thin woman, stood to the king’s right. She stifled a yawn. To the king’s left stood Ealdred the Wise.
I had never set eyes on the wizard before. He dressed entirely in black. A high, starched collar extended behind his head. His face seemed wax-like, without a single wrinkle betraying his advanced age. His hair looked like sun-bleached straw. In front of his chest he held his hands, fingertips touching. A scowl clouded the wizard’s face.
Revulsion swept through me.
The trumpet stopped and the king spoke. “Dear Citizens. Today we continue the tradition passed down through countless generations and select a new wizard to guide
me and future kings for the next hundred years. And for the first time in history, young women as well as men have been added to the lottery.”
He glanced at the queen. She smiled at him. Ealdred’s scowl seemed to darken.
“Now,” the king said, “without further ado. Let’s select Ealdred the Wise’s successor.”
The wizard moved his hands apart and a large glass bowl appeared in them.
The crowd gasped.
Inside the bowl, tiny pieces of parchment swirled as if an invisible spoon stirred the bowl’s contents. The wizard held the bowl out to the king and the swirling stopped. The king reached inside and retrieved a single piece of paper.
The wizard looked directly at me and his upper lip curled.
The king unfolded the parchment. “Our kingdom’s next wizard is Tayte, son of Barwick.”
It felt as though a donkey had kicked me. I couldn’t breathe.
The crowd cheered.
“Where is Tayte, son of Barwick,” the king asked.
Still numb, I didn’t respond. Gytha grabbed my hand, thrust it high into the air, and waived it back and forth. “Here he is, your majesty.”
The king raised a finger and the guard stationed at the foot of the balcony stairs marched toward me.
“Congratulations,” Gytha said. “You are so lucky.”
I stared mutely at her. Gytha looked happy, but behind the happiness I detected something else. Disappointment maybe? She had wanted to be the first woman wizard.
The guard reached me and put his arm around my shoulders, attempting to steer me toward the staircase. I balked, ducked under his arm, and put my fists up. The other fourteen-year-olds crowded around us.
“Tayte,” Gytha said, “What is wrong with you?”
Her words snapped me out of it. I didn’t want this, but to turn it down or try to escape would be a great insult to the king. I lowered my fists. “Sorry, reflex,” I said to the guard.
“Follow me,” the guard said.
He strode toward the stairs. The crowd parted in front of him.
Gytha shoved me after him. “Go. Don’t be stupid.”
I followed the guard up the stairs while thinking through my options. I couldn’t escape my fate. I would be the next wizard and wouldn’t be able to help pa on the farm. As he got older he’d probably lose the place. And ma. With my new responsibilities how often would I be able to see her before she died? My future had seemed certain before the lottery. Now my life was no longer my own. Maybe I could ask the king for help to take care of my family.
We reached the top of the stairs. The guard gripped my shoulder and guided me next to the king. I looked down, amazed at the size of the crowd. A sea of people stretched out from the courtyard into the streets. All eyes were upon me, their soon-to-be wizard. I felt no nervousness. Instead, I felt relief. The king would surely help my family. Maybe this was the best thing to happen. Gytha was right. I could help my family in more ways than just working on the farm. I had hope.
The king placed an arm around my shoulder in a fatherly way and we both faced the crowd.
“At dawn,” he said, “we will have the transfer ceremony and Tayte, son of Barwick will become Tayte the Wise.”
I wanted to ask the king to help my family but before I had a chance a short man came up to me and took my hand. The man was almost as wide as he was tall. His yellow hair curled into ringlets which were plastered against his sweaty brow.
“Tayte,” the king said, “Cleland will see to your preparations.”
“I—” , I began.
“—Ohh,” squealed Cleland, lifting my arm up, examining me. “You’re all muscle, aren’t you?” He winked at me and tugged me forward. “Come, you gorgeous boy, we have much to do.”
Cleland led me into the castle, into a small room with stacks of fabric, a sewing machine, and several mannequins with suits and dresses in various stages of assembly. He pulled me over in front of a window. “Let me look at you.”
I felt like a prize calf on display.
“Turn around, sweetie. I need to see you from all angles.”
I turned around. “Mister, uh, Cleland—”
“—Just Cleland.”
“Cleland, I need to see the king.”
“Around again, slowly this time with your arms above your head.”
I lifted my arms up while turning.
“Ooh, not much fat on you is there? All muscle and hair.” He reached out to touch my hair.
I knocked his hand away.
“Ooh, feisty. I’m thinking green. Light green leggings and blouse. A dark green velvet robe.” He looked around as if afraid someone might hear him. “Black for a wizard is so last century. Green symbolizes new beginnings. Springtime. Mustn’t forget pockets. A wizard must have many, many pockets.”
“I need to see the king,” I repeated.
“Sweetie, the king sees you. You don’t see him. Don’t move.”
“Cleland produced a measuring tape and measured my chest, my waist, my hips. He moved my arm down and measured from shoulder to wrist and then from armpit to wrist. He measured from hips to floor and then reached his hand up between my legs.
I stepped back, raising a fist.
“Easy boy,” Cleland said. “I need to get your numbers. You don’t have anything there I haven’t felt a hundred times before.” He winked at me again.
“I want to see the queen.” Maybe she could help my family.
“Why?” Demanded a smooth voice from behind me.
I spun around. Ealdred stood next to the window, arms across his chest. Had he just appeared there? I hadn’t seen him open the door or cross the room.
“Leave us tailor,” Ealdred said.
“Cleland bowed, backing away from the wizard. He disappeared out the door.
“Why do you want the queen?” he asked.
“My ma’s ill and my pa’s getting old. I wanted to make sure they’d be taken care of.”
Ealdred laughed. It was soft and gentle. I’d have thought he’d have a crazy, maniacal laugh.
“I’m worried how they’ll get along without me.”
“Don’t bother the queen with such trivialities,” he said.
“Would I have the power, after the ceremony, to take care of them?”
“Boy,” he said, “after tomorrow you won’t exist.”
I spent the rest of the afternoon with Cleland. He measured me again. Then I waited, bored to death. Eventually he returned and I tried on the clothes he created. Then I had to wait again while he made adjustments. I tried to leave Cleland’s room but a guard stopped me. I was a prisoner until the transfer ceremony.
Finally, Cleland deemed my clothing finished and he took me up a flight of stairs to my room.
“Rest up,” he said. “Tomorrow is a very busy day.”
I took in my surroundings. The room was small. A large bed occupied most of the room’s space. A fruit basket sat on the dresser next to a candle. Mounted on either side of the door were more candles. It wasn’t yet dark enough for the candles to be lit. The room’s single window opened to the west and let the sunset’s feeble light into the room. I looked out the window. A field below me contained archery targets, jousting dummies, and other contraptions whose purpose I couldn’t fathom. A couple sheds were on one edge of the field and on the opposite end was the backside of a large, wooden barn—horse stables I presumed.
Sighing, I selected an apple from the basket and took a bite. The sweet juice filled my mouth. I opened the door and peered out.
“Can I help you, sir?” asked a guard posted outside my door.
“Thought I’d take a walk,” I said.
“You must remain in your room. Ealdred’s orders.”
I shut my door, turned around, and hurled the apple against the wall. It burst into pieces.
I wasn’t even tired and they expected me lie down and sleep like a good little dog. Why had the gods cursed me into winning the lottery? I grabbed another apple, hefted it
and cocked my arm back, ready to throw it with all my might. Instead I just let the apple roll from my fingers and fall to the floor.
What were my options? There wasn’t an opponent I could fight. Just fate and how does one fight fate? I could escape and live my life somewhere far away, but then what would become of my family?
What would happen during the transfer ceremony? I had the vague knowledge that every hundred years the current wizard transfers all his knowledge to his successor. What would happen to Ealdred after the transfer? More importantly, what would happen to me? Ealdred had said I wouldn’t exist. Was I just a fresh body for him to occupy? Surely, even if tomorrow meant my death they’d take care of my family.
I picked up the apple I had dropped and plopped onto the bed. What will be will be. There was nothing I could do. Hopefully things would work out but I had no control over the outcome.
After finishing the apple I tossed the core out the window and laid on the bed without bothering to undress or get under the blankets. I had done no physical work today, just hours of waiting and standing for Cleland, yet I was more tired than I would’ve been plowing a field all day.
Cleland didn’t seem to be a bad guy. Strange, yes, but harmless. Helpful even. Maybe in the morning I’d seek his advice.
I closed my eyes.
The next morning Cleland barged into my room, his mouth moving non-stop.
“Get up, Boy. Much to do. Ooh, this is so exciting. People began gathering in the courtyard three hours ago. There’ll be thousands of spectators. Come now, get up.”
I swung my feet out of bed, sat up, and rubbed my eyes.
Cleland was a sight. He wore knee-length, green britches and a puffy, yellow shirt so bright it was hard to look at. Over the shirt he wore a white vest which seemed to be made entirely of feathers. He wore green, yellow, and white—our flag’s colors—and looked oddly patriotic.
“Let’s go, Tayte,” Cleland said. “Time’s wasting.”
I stood and stretched.
“Your clothing is ready.” He pointed next to the window at a mannequin dressed in the outfit he had created for me.
“Here.” He handed me a cup. “This tea will calm your nerves.”
Strange Perceptions Page 4