Wizard for Hire

by Obert Skye

“I think so, but I haven’t seen one yet.”

  “I think they can’t be, but then here I am, having a conversation with a metal bird.”

  Clark hopped onto the porch and looked Ozzy in the eyes. He tilted his head. “So—are you going to do something about it? Do you think someday your parents will just walk up and say, ‘Sorry, we got a little distracted. We’re back now—how about some soup?’”

  “Soup?”

  “It’s a comfort food,” Clark informed him.

  “Not the dehydrated kind from the basement.”

  “Forget the soup; think big picture. What if your parents never return? You have water, but at some point you’re going to run out of food. There are fewer boxes of it in the basement every month. You have your garden, but you’re still hungry. How often do you think about roasting something meaty over a fire?”

  “I wouldn’t mind that.”

  “Just make sure it’s not a raven.”

  “Is that what you are?” Ozzy asked.

  “I think so.”

  “Well, what if the world is only filled with horrible people like the ones who roast ravens and took my parents?” Ozzy asked.

  “Wouldn’t you like to find that out? Some people are mean and some are nice. You just met some of the bad ones first. You said there were nice people in New York.”

  “I was little and I can barely remember. Besides, Oregon is so far away from there. I read in a book yesterday that New York is almost twenty-five hundred miles to the east. Twenty-five hundred miles.”

  “Yeah,” Clark said. “But who really knows how long a mile is?”

  “Five thousand, two hundred and eighty feet.”

  “Well, what if you started out walking that way?” Clark pointed east with his right wing. “And you counted each foot? Eventually you’d get there. We could do a little each day. Or at least explore the world around you a bit more. The cloaked house isn’t going anywhere.”

  “I can’t lose sight of home.”

  “Yes you can. Come on.” It was a plea that Clark had given to Ozzy many times. He’d begged the boy to move farther into the trees, to find a world outside of the cloaked house, to go to the beach. But Ozzy had always refused. His heart felt certain that if he left, worse things would happen. “Seriously, Oz. It’s time to push farther.”

  Ozzy looked at Clark.

  “I’ll be right with you,” Clark promised.

  Ozzy steeled himself and stood up. He turned and faced west. “Okay, but let’s go this way, towards the ocean.”

  “Really?” Clark chirped. “It’s the opposite direction of New York, but I like that you finally made the decision. They have some terrific seashells that way.”

  Clark tweeted happily. Since he was made of metal, his chirping sounded more like hot wires sparking together than a bird. Still, his enthusiasm was contagious. The bird flew up to Ozzy’s head and did a sort of dance in his hair.

  “By the way, your hair has all the makings of a terrific nest.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Seriously, give me an hour, a few twigs, and some sap and I could make something amazing.”

  “Please don’t.”

  “I can’t promise I won’t. Let’s go!”

  Ozzy reached down and grabbed two handfuls of dark dirt. With soil in hand he began to walk west.

  “One, two, three, four, five . . .” he said as he walked.

  Each time he said ten, he would drop a little soil and then begin to count to ten again. When he ran out of dirt he would reach down and get more. With his heart pumping wildly he moved farther and farther away from home. He contemplated turning around countless times, but Clark was always there to make sure he didn’t.

  Ozzy continued picking up soil and marking his path for almost an hour before he came to some stony ground where he couldn’t find dirt to pick up. Where the stony ground began, the trees ended, the land dropped away, and past that Ozzy could see nothing but sand and ocean.

  “Wow!” Ozzy was mesmerized by the sight—his tight secluded world unfolded in a way that made him shiver. “I should have done this sooner.”

  “Yeah, you should have.”

  Ozzy climbed down the stone cliffs and ran to the water.

  The sun set slowly, like stubborn butter refusing to melt. The last rays hit the front of the castle and lit up the two beings standing at the door, one a wizard, the other unimportant. The wizard pushed back the sleeves of his oddly short, bathrobe-like robe and knocked three times. He looked over at his trollish companion.

  “Pay close attention and you’ll see how things work.”

  His companion only sniffed.

  With a loud whine, the doors were pulled open and the wizard and his companion were escorted in. They were led quickly down a hall by a man with very little chin and too much forehead.

  “Tell me the need?” the wizard asked the man as they walked.

  “She needs sleep,” little chin said. “It’s been days and her livelihood suffers because of it.”

  The three of them entered a small sleeping chamber. Near the end of the bed there was a woman sitting in a soft chair. In the low light, she looked dark and troubled.

  “You seek sleep?” the wizard asked.

  “I require it,” she whispered fiercely. “Give me slumber and I’ll reward you. Fail and you will pay.”

  “Sharp words from such a desperate soul,” he replied. “But your terms are more than fair.”

  The wizard pushed back his sleeves, pulled out his wand, and went to work.

  Almost every day for the next few months, Ozzy and Clark would run through the forest and make their way to the beach. That particular stretch of shore was always empty, but every once in a while there were footprints on the sand from someone who had walked through at another time.

  But those footprints always faded.

  To Ozzy, Oregon seemed like a place with no inhabitants and miles and miles of lonely forest and sand.

  A few times they saw boats miles out on the water, but they all eventually disappeared into the distance. Ozzy wanted Clark to fly out and see what the boats were hauling, but Clark had an irrational fear of water, so flying over the ocean was a no go.

  “Say I break a wing and fall into the deep water. I’m all metal and plastic, and I don’t have lungs. I’ll sink like a stone or, in my case, a metal bird.”

  The lonely beach area was cut off on both sides by rocky cliffs and boulder-strewn shores. Ozzy would swim in the water and play his music as the sun beat down. The melodies sounded even better when accompanied by the ocean.

  Did Mother Nature tell you, boy

  You come and go as you please?

  That’s what she said to me.

  Ozzy would also build sandcastles in the shape of buildings he had read about in books. Then Clark would hop around them until gravity or the waves caused them to break up and fall apart. When darkness came they would walk back to the cloaked house through the forest and fall asleep dreaming of the next day.

  The hike to the beach became a routine, and before Ozzy knew it he was thirteen and almost four inches taller. His father’s shirts he wore were no longer dress-length, they were shirt-length. So to cover his bottom half, Ozzy would wear his mother’s pants. Having no idea what society deemed appropriate, Ozzy didn’t mind borrowing from his mother’s wardrobe at all.

  The ocean was bright and sunnier than usual. The brown sand along the shore was warm and begged Ozzy’s toes and fingers to bury themselves in it. He set the cassette recorder down on a large, flat rock and pressed play. The air filled with songs that were overly familiar to him now.

  “Do you ever wish you had more music?”

  “I think I’m lucky to have this,” Ozzy said.

  “I can set my beak to auto-play and we could listen to me for a while.”r />
  “No thanks—I like this song.”

  Ozzy played in the waves and collected some shells. When that was done he built a large sandcastle in the shape of Hogwarts. Clark hopped around the outside pretending to be a dementor as Ozzy perfected the edges.

  “Is that supposed to be Hogwarts?” a strange voice asked.

  Both Ozzy and Clark froze.

  “I mean, it’s not bad.”

  Ozzy looked up from the castle and saw what could only be described as a human. She looked female and close to his age. She had long, black, curly hair and smiled even though she wasn’t trying to. Her skin was light brown and more interesting than the entire sea.

  Ozzy didn’t know whether to throw up or pass out.

  “Are you all right?” she asked. “And is that your toy?”

  She was pointing at Clark, who was standing completely still near the front entrance of Hogwarts.

  “Are you okay?” she asked again. “I like the music you’re playing.”

  “It’s good,” Ozzy awkwardly managed to say.

  A tall woman in the distance yelled, “Sigi! Come on. Let’s go!”

  The girl turned and yelled back, “Coming!”

  Sigi looked at Ozzy.

  “Well, I guess I’ll see you later. Or maybe not. Either way, nice Hogwarts.”

  The girl took off running down the shore toward the tall lady. Sigi’s exit didn’t do anything to put Ozzy at ease. He stayed in the same hunched-over position until Clark finally spoke up.

  “Wow, you are not good around other humans. Not good at all.”

  “I . . . well, I . . . you . . .”

  “See what I mean? You should probably find a book in your house that explains how to interact with others.”

  “I’ve never seen anything so amazing or strange.”

  “I’m sure whoever that was would love to hear you describe her as strange.”

  “I mean, she looked like the sun.”

  “Ugh—do I sound that bad when I talk about metal or birds?” Clark’s gold beak sparkled under the sunlight as he spoke. “She’s a girl and she tried to talk to you and you said nothing. She ran off, and now you’re free to be alone again.”

  “She might come back.”

  “You think that about everything.”

  “Do you think she lives around here?”

  “I’ve seen a few homes and other buildings on my flights.”

  “Maybe it’s time to start exploring other directions.”

  “A girl named Sigi compliments you on your sandcastle and suddenly you’re Magellan.”

  “The explorer?” Ozzy said. “Still, that’s not a bad idea. We should map out our surroundings. You could fly and report things and I’ll draw them.”

  Clark clapped his wings. “Great, with my wings and your hands we can’t fail.”

  “And I think we should start with that direction.” Ozzy pointed down the beach in the direction Sigi had run off.

  “Even if I wasn’t observant, you would still be easier to read than a book. You want me to follow her?”

  “Just to find out if she’s a visitor or if she lives around here.”

  “Right.”

  “I’ll head back to the cloaked house to sharpen some map-drawing pencils.”

  Clark took to the air and Ozzy stood up and shook sand from his clothes. He turned off the music and picked up the cassette player. He put it in his backpack and then started the run back home.

  Existence is so much more enjoyable when you have a purpose for moving.

  From the Tapes of Dr. Emmitt Toffy: Subject #1

  Lisa

  It was the middle of the last act of an off-Broadway musical titled Lament. The theater was small but sold out. As the story built and the music swelled, the audience could feel the rise of emotion and the climax approaching.

  Lisa stood up from her seat and walked down the aisle. Wrapped up in the story, nobody paid much attention to her. She got to the front of the stage and turned left as if to exit out the side door. Instead she pushed through a heavy velvet curtain and climbed three steps up the side of the stage. Without pausing she walked into the middle of the performance and began to sing and dance in place.

  I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes

  and I am happy now!

  The shock of it caused the entire cast to momentarily stop what they were doing and stare at the strange woman.

  Two stagehands raced in from opposite sides of the stage and hauled her off. The actors, ever professionals, picked up where they had been interrupted and continued to act.

  Lisa was taken to the nearest police station and questioned.

  She had no idea why she had done it.

  She also had no police record, no history of mental illness, no prior moments of impropriety. She was a well-to-do New York socialite who had never done anything remotely out of place. She also didn’t care for the song she had been singing.

  Lisa was released and instructed to check in with her doctor.

  When she did visit her physician, he found no signs of any illness. He also couldn’t explain why she had done what she did.

  Ozzy was fourteen. He had no way of knowing this because despite his desire for learning and inquisitive mind, he had never begun to keep track of the days. The weather grew slightly colder and then warmed up a bit. Summer followed and fall stomped in behind that. His parents’ books made him aware of time and dates, but he’d never made the effort to keep track. There were no clocks or phones or TVs to yell out the time and date. He had grown from a child to a boy who stood over six feet tall and looked considerably older than he was.

  During the last year he had gone to the beach often, hoping to see Sigi again. But he never had. In fact, he’d not seen another single soul on the shore.

  But things were different in his other directions of exploration.

  Ozzy and Clark had mapped out an ever-widening circle from the cloaked house. Ozzy no longer thought he was alone in the world. He and Clark had found countless homes and roads and even a small town, Otter Rock, about five miles to the north. Ozzy had walked on paved roads, peered through store windows, and lived to draw about it.

  “That’s looking amazing,” Clark said as he watched Ozzy sketch another tree on the master map. “You must have cartography in your blood.”

  “I just like knowing where things are in relation to home.”

  Clark hopped around the map. It was spread out on the kitchen table, drawn on thick white sheets of paper taped together in a giant square. The map detailed the shore and about five miles in all other directions. It didn’t show every tree and puddle, but if there was an unusual landmark or oddity, Ozzy had drawn it, like a tree that grew sideways, a rock the shape of a lounging hippo, bushes growing in a perfect circle, and of course the cloaked house, sitting in the middle of the map like the sun, sketched out to the last bushy detail.

  Ozzy and Clark had spent a lot of time exploring Otter Rock. Careful not to be noticed, they had walked each street and drawn every building. There was a main street with stores and restaurants. There was a McDonald’s on one end of town and a Jack-in-the-Box on the other. There was a drive-in movie theater that Ozzy and Clark had watched from a distance. There were a few motels and some houses, but the building that interested Ozzy most was Otter Rock High School. He had watched children coming in and out and marveled at how many people his age existed in the world. He’d seen long yellow buses picking kids up from the side of the road and dropping them off at the school, and also observed those same buses shuttling kids home when the day was done.

  “Who drives those things?” Ozzy asked Clark.

  “Someone important, I bet.”

  Ozzy thought about his parents, his life, and his surroundings, but most of all he thought about school. It seemed like a bre
eding ground of possibility and acceptance.

  “I mean . . . shouldn’t I be going?” Ozzy said. “I could hike to the road every morning. The closest is Mule Pole Highway—it’s only two miles away.” Ozzy pointed to the map on the table. “I’ll stand next to the road and wait for the bus. When it picks me up, I’ll ride it into town, and then see what happens when I get to school.”

  “It does seem like a lot of kids your height or shorter stream into that place.”

  “I think I have to do this. Don’t get me wrong—I love hanging out with you, but if I’m ever going to find my parents, I need to understand the world better.”

  “You really just want to see if Sigi’s there, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “So take the bus. Do you think they allow birds?”

  “Probably not.”

  Ozzy set his pencil down on the map and sat down.

  “Hey, Clark, do you remember those movies we watched?”

  “At the drive-in?” the bird asked.

  Ozzy nodded. “I know we couldn’t hear what they were saying, but everyone looked so . . .”

  “Large and two-dimensional?” Clark guessed.

  “No. They looked cleaned up.”

  “Oh . . . right,” Clark said. “And you’re the not-cleaned-up type. It might help if you took the leaves out of your hair and didn’t wear your mom’s shirts.”

  Ozzy pulled a leaf from his hair and looked down at the T-shirt he was wearing, which was light purple and covered with a dozen butterflies in flight.

  “I read a book once where a fairy changed a young woman from a poor, uneducated person to a dressed-up one,” Ozzy said.

  “Well, then, let’s do the same to you,” Clark suggested. “Your dad’s clothes will fit you better now you’re so tall. And you can cut your hair and wash your teeth and put on some shoes. Go get the scissors so you can chop off your hair!”

  “You think that’s a good first step?”

  Clark nodded his tiny bird head.

  Ozzy went to get the scissors, and, without his parents around to tell him differently, ran back to the kitchen with them.