by Janice Ayre
Chapter Thirteen
Disclosure
The room was filled with light when Brock awoke. Never had he appreciated how wonderful a soft clean bed could be. He glanced out the window and from the intensity of the light, calculated that it must be late morning. He rolled to his other side so that he could look at the wizard's bed. He expected it to be empty, but Zebulon lay stretched out upon it, his arms behind his head. He appeared to be in deep thought but with the sound of movement he turned to look at Brock.
A table between the beds contained a tray of refreshments. The attractive arrangement spoke of the creative and caring attention of Elvira.
They were finishing their meal when there was a knock at the door. Uri entered followed closely behind by Elvira and Minerva. Uri had a beaming smile on his face as he gave Brock a huge hug. Elvira and Minerva also hugged him. They treated him as a family member and there was no condemnation towards him. They were simply relieved he was safe.
"The villagers have heard you have been found," Uri told Brock. "They want to see you. They were tireless in their efforts to find you."
"Yes," said Elvira, "some of them are waiting outside the inn for a glimpse of you."
Brock looked trapped and looked to Zebulon for a way out of the situation.
"Can he wave to them from the window? He has had a difficult time. He does not feel ready to mix with them yet. Do you mind?" said Zebulon.
"Excellent idea. I'll arrange for them to come around this side of the inn," said Uri.
A small eager crowd gathered outside the room and Brock stood at the open window and waved. He had insisted that Zebulon stand with him. Uri hovered in the background behind Zebulon and Brock stood soaking in reflected glory and excitement. The villagers were in a state of celebration. Even the old man who had given the information to Zebulon at the inn was in the crowd.
On seeing the man, Zebulon asked. "Old man, what is your name?"
"Clarence," said the old man.
"Then Clarence, we thank you. May you be blessed."
The people cheered and Clarence felt like a hero. He was used to being ignored, but this attention felt very good. They patted him on the back and congratulated him. The pain of his loneliness lifted and he, for the first time, felt a part of the community that he had lived in for many years devoid of recognition or care. The present gathering realised that they had never known the man's name or anything else about him other than he was a drunk. Though they regarded themselves as a caring society, they had neglected him. Some were already planning to invite him to some of their social gatherings.
Finally the window was closed and the three in the room turned to more pressing issues.
"You can stay here as long as you need to," Uri offered.
"That is kind of you Uri," said Zebulon. "Brock needs time to heal but then we must be on our way. I have put a spell around the inn so as to hide our presence here from Mustafa. I have also placed another spell in the area near where he had the hut. Because he expects us to be there, it will take some time before he discovers he has been tricked. Fortunately Mustafa was as poor a student as me when it came to scrying. Poor Kareem would pull his hair out over us."
Zebulon and Uri laughed at the last remark. "Of course he may have improved since then," added Uri.
"That's true," said Zebulon, "so we should not wait around too long. When we leave here I intend to cast other spells to mislead him further so he will not come and cause trouble in the village and especially so you and your family are not placed at risk."
When Uri left to attend duties in the inn, Zebulon turned to Brock. "We will need to leave here as soon as you have recovered. I know where the final gem is and I believe we will be able to extract it fairly quickly. Will you still accompany me?"
"If you trust me to come with you, I will," replied Brock. "I don't understand what happened to me."
"We need to talk about that. You need to tell me everything that happened from the time you met Orville here."
For the rest of the morning, Brock related the story of how Orville had pretended to be his friend, while at the same time casting doubt on Zebulon's honesty. Zebulon did not interrupt him until his story was completed.
"When you went to the inn with Orville, did you eat or drink with him?" he asked Brock.
"Yes I did. I didn't want to eat because I wasn't hungry, but he insisted, even giving me some of the food from his plate. So as not to offend him, I ate most of it."
Zebulon sat silent for some minutes before saying. "I believe Orville placed a spell on the food."
"Orville said he can do magic!"
"No, it would not have been any feeble spell Orville could manage, if indeed he can do any. This magic has a master's touch. I believe it was Mustafa who did this by giving you the spell in the food. It has been done before, and seems to work very effectively on you." Zebulon’s lips curled up in a quick smile as he recalled his and Brock’s first encounter. Brock was too focused on Mustafa's reasons to notice the reference.
"But why? To get to you? Has he a grudge against you?"
"Something of a grudge, but it goes much deeper than that. I'll explain that more to you in time."
"So what did this spell do to me? Did it make me doubt you and consider Orville my friend?"
"In simplistic terms, yes. But it is more complex than that. Some of the art of magic is to understand people and use that knowledge for spells. The skilful magician has learned to take fears, weaknesses and strengths to design a spell to gain control."
"So if you had no fears or weaknesses, the magic user wouldn't have any power over you?"
"Not all magic is used in this manner, but the type of spells we are talking about here, do rely on a certain condition being present for them to take effect. Remember I told you that you could have overcome the spell I put on you. But easier said than done. Everyone to my knowledge, has weaknesses and fears. Those can be used by the magician to enforce the desired results. Also individual strengths can be used in positive ways as well. Magic should be used for good and you must learn that when I began teaching you more."
Brock's face lit up. "After all this, you are going to teach me more magic?"
"I intend to do that. Time for real lessons is when the student is ready. Not only the student, but the teacher. I am ready, and you, I hope, are almost ready. There are just some things to talk about first."
Zebulon looked rather stern so that Brock began to feel uncomfortable. He had an idea that Zebulon wanted to talk about the happenings of the last few weeks. Although Brock rationalised that Zebulon couldn't hold him too responsible as he was under a spell. As the silence continued, Brock began to wonder what sort of wizard Mustafa was that he knew Brock's weaknesses and concerns to use a controlling spell on him. He was anxious also to steer Zebulon away from some things that he didn't want to discuss.
"Mustafa must be very powerful if he knew about me without even meeting me," said Brock.
"That's where Orville comes in. He is a shrewd young man and you, an open book, He only had to relay some of his impressions to Mustafa and then be crafty enough to guide you in the direction desired. The spell then continued to work upon you after you left his presence. That is why he didn't meet you the next morning, he knew that the spell would work better by leaving you to dwell on the story he had given you, building in strength until it all but consumed you."
Zebulon began pacing up and down the room. It was unusual for him to be agitated, he normally had excellent command of his actions, and it unnerved Brock to think what might be the cause.
"Let's go outside for a walk, we have been too long cooped up," he finally said.
"But people will harass me if we leave the inn. I can't face that yet."
"I will put a cloaking spell around us."
"Will we be invisible?"
"They will see us, but not recognise us."
After telling Uri they were going out for a while, they set out in the direction of the park. It was a v
ery attractive park and at any other time Brock would have enjoyed going there, but painful memories of his encounter with Orville were much too fresh in the elf's mind. He wondered why Zebulon would choose to go there after Brock had given him a vivid description of his misadventure, but he could tell by the wizard's purposeful stride that he had made up his mind and Brock would not be able to persuade him with an alternate direction.
The afternoon was sunny and clear and there were few people around. Brock could have enjoyed the outing, had he not felt a troubling sinking feeling. What he was troubled about he wasn't sure, only that there were many events of the past weeks that left him raw and vulnerable.
They walked in silence until they reached the park. Zebulon, who had been much more instructive and open to conversation than normal, had once again closed off into his own mind and shut Brock out. Brock did not know how he could be admitted into this private world and could only wait to be enlightened as to Zebulon's intentions.
As they reach the spot where Brock had met Orville, Zebulon stopped. His eyes were dark as he glanced at Brock, asking a silent question. Brock responded with heightened colour and a downcast look.
"So this is where you met Orville?" A small muscle stood out on Zebulon's jaw.
"Yes."
"Tell me about it again."
Reluctantly Brock recited to Zebulon, the first meeting with Orville. Now that he stood on the spot, the full emotional impact hit him once more and he trembled visibly. The impact of his remembrance and the intensity of Zebulon’s gaze unnerved Brock. He began opening and closing sweaty fists in his agitation. Zebulon seemed to tower over him and Brock felt a new threat, not of physical violence but of mental and emotional probing. There was nowhere to hide.
Zebulon, although observing every emotion travelling through the unfortunate elf, pressed on with his interrogation. He had his reasons for getting Brock to relive the beginning of his trials.
"So you felt relieved when you found you were not going to get a thrashing? What other feelings did you have when you discovered that Orville intended to befriend you?"
"I feel sick. Can't we talk about this another time?" Brock felt like a cornered rat, and the vividness of his imagination took him to his unfriendly encounter with the cat. He glanced up at Zebulon with an expression of fear.
"I would like to leave it, but it needs to be discussed now, while it is fresh in your mind. Besides, we have little time, and if we are to continue on together then we must have understanding. Come, sit over here," said Zebulon, indicating a bench under a large shade tree.
As they sat, Brock tried to organise his thoughts. "I was surprised."
"Surprised that Orville would be so friendly after he had bullied you at the farm?"
"Yes. But he explained his reasons. He was very persuasive."
"I'm sure he was...but then you like to take the line of least resistance, don't you?"
"What do you mean?"
"You want to please everyone and avoid as much effort as you can at the same time."
"Why would that be wrong?" Brock asked indignantly.
"It's good to take an easy way, and also to please others, as long as it is the way you should be going. You have got yourself into enough trouble by not being true to yourself. Now, regarding your feelings about me. Why were you so convinced that you couldn't trust me?"
Brock had dreaded this question. He watched some ants making their way along a little ant track, carry their spoils to the nest. He wished at this moment that he could be travelling the same path away from here. He mumbled something under his breath. Then he felt a determined finger under his chin pushing up so he was forced to meet his companion's eyes.
"I can't understand you. Don't talk to the ants, they are not interested in what you have to say," said Zebulon in a tense tone.
"I...I felt so isolated when we left the farm...and you were so distant...I was afraid to confide in you," stammered Brock.
"So it is my fault?" The question was asked in a casual way, with no condemnation or hurt.
"No, I didn't mean that!"
"Then what?"
"I should not have been fearful. Even though it was difficult I should have asked you more questions and told you of my concerns."
"Yes you should have."
Both became lost in their own thoughts. Brock could not tell if the wizard was angry with him, and he dared not look at him. He jumped like a guilty dog found raiding the rubbish heap when Zebulon finally spoke.
"You are beginning to understand, young lad. And I owe you an apology. I am not the easiest to talk to and I need more space mentally than most people. Come, we should return to the inn." Zebulon rose as he finished speaking.
"But I need to understand what happened to me, in those lonely days of doubting...about the opal."
"I was wondering when you would have the courage to bring that up. That part has been missing from your story so far.”
Brock glanced up in surprise. "You knew about that?"
"Only when I found it misplaced in my bag. Now that is enough for now. We will talk later after we have had our meal."
There was to be no more talk that evening as it turned out. Zebulon socialised with the family for a long while after the meal. He talked and laughed with Uri as though he had no care in the world.
Brock, meanwhile, worn out by the bruising to his soul, and injuries he had sustained, went to bed early. Even though he was anxious to know more about the opal and receive explanations from Zebulon, his body demanded he obey its needs in the healing process. He was in a deep sleep by the time the wizard came to their room.