The Wizardry Consulted (Wiz, #4)(46)

“Now here in section three, paragraph five, sub-paragraph C, item three, you can clearly see . . .”

“All right, Wizard, I see,” the mayor said hastily. Dieter and the others didn’t seem disposed to argue the point, so Wiz gestured again and the “contract” disappeared.

“I think under the circumstances an additional four gold pieces a week would be reasonable, don’t you?” he said blandly.

The mayor obviously didn’t think it was all that reasonable, but he nodded nonetheless.

“Very good. Now if you gentlemen will excuse me I need to go find my new assistant.”

Wiz found Llewllyn in the hall looking like he couldn’t decide whether to bolt or brazen it out.

“How did you do that?” Llewllyn asked. “Interfere with my spell, I mean.”

Wiz just smiled.

“Come now. Fellow professionals and all that.”

Wiz thought that Llewllyn’s racket had more in common with a bunco game than magic. Then he remembered what line of work he was in just now. “Oh it’s quite simple really. I guess the Sparrow forgot to tell you that.”

The young man’s eyes widened. “You know the Sparrow?”

“Well enough,” Wiz told him.

“Oh,” he said in a small voice, eyes shifting left and right. Then he straightened and his voice firmed. “I wonder that I never met you when I was with him,” Llewllyn said. “But you must tell me about him sometime-ah, about your experiences with him, I mean.”

“Oh, it wasn’t very interesting,” Wiz said. “You know the Sparrow. Dull as dishwater, really.”

“Well, yes, of course, but . . .”

“That wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about. I’m afraid your performance just now offended several rather powerful members of the council.”

Llewllyn looked even more apprehensive. “Oh, but surely . . .”

“I know you didn’t intend to, of course. But, you know how clients, ah, councilors are. So very, very petty about things like results.

“Now,” Wiz went on, “in spite of that I managed to convince them that you have potential. That given supervision and a little guidance you could be an asset to the operation here. So as an alternative I got them to agree to let me take you on as a junior assistant.”

Llewllyn was more apprehensive than ever. “Alternative?” he asked faintly.

Wiz smiled. “Why dwell on unpleasantness? Especially when it need never happen?”

“Of course. Assistant you say?”

“Junior assistant, but still a consultant with all the rights, privileges and duties thereof.” He smiled even more broadly. “I’m sure the Sparrow would advise you to take it, were he here.”

The young man’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean he is likely to come here, do you?”

“Llewllyn,” Wiz said sincerely, “I can guarantee the Sparrow will never get any closer to this place than he is right now.”

“Oh.” The young man sighed. “I mean, what a pity.”

“I know what you meant,” Wiz said. “Now let’s get on with it, shall we?”

“Uh, a moment, My Lord. What about my remuneration?”

Wiz did a quick calculation in his head, based on what junior consultants in his world made versus what the consulting companies charged. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll pay you one gold piece a week. You’ll work in the office here under my supervision. Your primary job will be client contact and low-level problem solving. Be in the office for at least four day-tenths a day, five days a week. You can set your own office hours, but keep them.”

Llewllyn’s nose wrinkled. “That sounds like a clerk, not a magician.”

“It’s a consultant. And the less magic you use the better.”

“I don’t know . . .”

Wiz shrugged. “Consider the alternative.”

Llewllyn’s face fell. “The alternative?”

“Dieter thinks you sold him a bill of goods. As my assistant you are under my protection. Otherwise . . .” Again the shrug.

Llewllyn swept a graceful bow to Wiz. “My Lord,” he said grandly, “you have a new assistant.”

Wiz tried to look happy.

Anna was upstairs cleaning when Wiz got back, but Malkin was in the kitchen, brewing a pot of herb tea.

“What do you know about a magician named Llewllyn?”

“Never heard of him,” the tall woman said cheerfully, cocking one leg over the corner of the table and sitting on the freshly scrubbed surface.

“Slender, long blond hair, really white teeth. Handsome and a born con man.”

“Oh, him.” Malkin said. “He’s from around here. Used to hold himself out as a bard but I never heard of anyone who paid him for his singing. I’m kind of surprised he showed his face in these parts. Here, you want some of this? It’s a mixture Anna made up.”

“Thanks,” Wiz said and poured himself a mug of the tea. It was mostly peppermint with a lemony-orangey overtone. A little weak but not bad, he decided. “I take it he had a good reason for leaving.”

The thief gave a snort of laughter. “Only a due regard for his own skin. Seems he’d been stealing old man Colbach’s chickens and bouncing his daughter at the same time.” She grinned and shook her head. “I don’t know which made him the madder.”