The Wizardry Consulted (Wiz, #4)(67)

Wiz looked back and saw Llewllyn had progressed to working his jaws, but not far enough to actually make noise. He also saw they had drawn a crowd.

“It, it, it . . . bounced,” Llewllyn finally managed. “It just hit you and it split to pieces and it bounced right off the top of your head.”

Looking around, Wiz saw that several councilors and the sheriff had joined the excited group.

“Think nothing of it,” he said over the rising buzz of conversation. “As a great wizard I am protected by a spell that renders me invulnerable to mortal danger.” The conversation grew even louder.

“But you froze. Like a statue,” his assistant said.

Wiz had been hoping no one would notice that. “A side effect,” he said with a wave of his hand. “So long as the danger lasts I am immobile and invulnerable. Now come. Let us be on our way.”

Maybe that will stop people from trying to terminate my contract with extreme prejudice, he thought as the crowd parted before them. At least it might if I can find someplace to sit down before I get the shakes.

Wiz didn’t see the bald little man with the leather sack of mason’s tools lounging at the edge of the crowd and wouldn’t have recognized him if he had. Nor would he have attached any special importance to the thoughtful way he rubbed his chin as Wiz and Llewllyn proceeded on their way.

Having a piece of rock dumped on his head may not have hurt Wiz physically, but it sure didn’t do anything for his mood. Between Llewllyn’s bragging, the mayor’s insistence on having the new spell before the next executive committee meeting and being sneered at by Pieter Halder on the town hall steps, he was in a foul mood when he got home that evening.

Anna, however, was still starry-eyed and bubbling. For once Llewllyn wasn’t hanging around, so Wiz was spared that, but the maid’s innocent prattling about the wonders of her true love was just as hard to take.

“ . . . and someday we’ll be married,” the maid finished up her latest, albeit short, line of thought.

“You hope,” Wiz said in an undertone, unable to contain himself further.

Not enough of an undertone, unfortunately. “Why of course we will,” Anna said innocently.

“Look Anna, I don’t mean to burst your bubble or anything, but are you sure Llewllyn is the marrying kind?”

“My bubble?” Anna said blankly.

“A figure of speech. I mean your illusions about Llewllyn.” As soon as he said it, he knew it was the wrong thing to say, but by then it was too late.

“But they’re not illusions. They’re real. As real as Llewllyn’s magic that saved me from the dragon!”

“Uh, yeah, his magic is another thing. I mean . . .”

“Oh, I know what you mean,” Anna burst out. “You’re jealous of Llewllyn’s powers and I think you’re awful!” Then she remembered she was talking to her employer and dashed from the room in a flood of tears.

Wiz watched her go and turned back to his tea. “Women!” he snorted.

“Men!” Malkin retorted. “Well, that was nicely done. What do you intend for an encore? Pull the wings off flies?”

“Now wait a minute. You’re the one who brought up the dull butter knife.”

“Aye, and I would too. But that doesn’t excuse being cruel to the child. That was cruel and all it’s likely to accomplish is driving them closer together.”

“Little trollop’s right,” Widder Hackett chimed in. “All you did was hurt her feelings.”

“But I was trying to let her down easy. To help her.”

“By making her miserable?” Malkin replied.

“Help her my left foot,” Widder Hackett grated. “Of all the shoddy, ill-done . . .” There was a lot more.

Wiz looked to either side at the women, one visible and now silent, one invisible and just working up a good head of steam.

“All right have it your way,” he snapped. “I’m a miserable failure as a human being. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get some air.” With that he stormed out of the kitchen with Widder Hackett still railing in his ear.

Wiz stood on the stoop for an instant, looking out along the dark street. There were no street lights and the moon was only half-full. There wasn’t so much as a candle showing in a window, which made the street gloomy and forbidding. It was as if the houses were bombed out and abandoned, he thought. Somewhere several streets over a dog howled, adding to the effect.

He turned and started away from the square, head down and lost in thought.

The truth was, he did feel bad about making Anna cry. But dammit! The girl was his responsibility and he couldn’t let her get too mixed up with someone like Llewllyn.

The other truth was he didn’t want the responsibility, he admitted as he picked his way along the dark, deserted way. In fact he didn’t want any of the responsibilities he had acquired since he got here. Yet he was stuck with them and he was juggling like a madman trying to meet them. That was one of the reasons he’d been so hard on Anna.

Ever since he got here he had been writing checks furiously. Sooner or later some of them were going to come due and he was way overdrawn at the luck bank.

It wasn’t just that, this wasn’t fun any more. In the beginning this had all been a big game, but now the joke was old and not particularly funny.