Read Online Off to Be the Wizard by Scott Meyer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Scott Meyer
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What’s your name?”
Damn right I have the advantage of you, Martin thought. He had this “wizard” figured out. The friendly words, the confident demeanor, the impressive robe, it was all classic con artist stagecraft.
“Says his name is Martin the Magnificent,” Pete the innkeeper said, before Martin could respond.
“Ah, very pleased to meet you, Martin.” The wizard bowed again, more deeply. His eyes caught the plastic bag. “Oh, my! What is this?!”
“He calls it see-through cloth ,” Pete said, again cutting Martin off. “Says he made it.”
“Indeed!” the wizard said, his eyes wide with wonder. “Might I please see it more closely, Martin?”
Martin didn’t want to hand him the plastic bag. Who knew if he’d give it back? He could always zip back to modern times and get more plastic, but if this Phillip person made off with the bag, he’d have given the charlatan another tool to use in conning these rubes into believing he was a wizard. Martin didn’t want that on his conscience. He held the bag up closer to Phillip, but kept a tight grip.
Phillip smiled and poked at the plastic with his forefinger a few times. “Impressive! Clearly, you are a wizard of prodigious power, Martin. Tell me, can you make more?”
“Don’t bother telling him to make himself a tent, ‘cause I already did.” Pete said.
“I was sure you’d already covered that, Pete. No, I just wanted to see him produce more of this wondrous material. It’s always a pleasure to see another wizard work. Perhaps I might learn something. How about it, Martin? You made this cloth you can see through. Can you make more?”
“Of course I can make more! Any time I want!” Martin said.
“Splendid!”
“But I can’t do it while people are watching.”
This caused some laughter, but Phillip raised a single hand and silenced it instantly. “Of course I understand. There are things we wizards are required to do that are not for others’ eyes to see. It was unfair of me to ask that he conjure more transparent cloth right here in front of us.”
Martin exhaled, happy that he had dodged that bullet.
“We shall have to find him a private place in which to work.”
Gert threw Martin into a small room filled with casks and slammed the door behind him. It was dark, humid, and musty. Beyond the door Martin could hear the wizard and the innkeeper, his captors, talking.
“He’ll have no light in there.”
“Oh, he shouldn’t need any. They are called the dark arts, after all.”
“And what if he can’t produce any more of the cloth you can see through?”
“That would mean he’s a liar. So, naturally, we take all of his belongings, smear him with dung, and chase him out of town.”
Martin had a vision of himself in filthy, torn clothing, fleeing into the woods while Phillip went through his former belongings and happened across his smartphone. It was an awful thought, but Martin knew it would not come to that. Of course, he could just teleport out of here, but then what? No, he had to demonstrate that he was a wizard and shut up this con man. Once that was done, things would be much easier.
Martin turned on the smartphone. Its screen lit up the room.
“I think I see a faint glow under the door!” The innkeeper’s muffled voice exclaimed.
“See,” the wizard said. “I think we’ll find this Martin is quite resourceful.”
You don’t know the half of it, Martin thought.
Walter and Margarita Banks stood, bewildered, in the kitchen of their house in suburban Seattle. Their youngest son Martin had just burst in, hugged them both, and told them, “Just remember, I love you, and it isn’t true.”
As Martin walked toward his old bedroom Margarita asked, “It’s not true that you love us?”
Martin stopped. “What? No! I love you. Something else isn’t true.”
“What it isn’t true?” Walter asked.
Martin said “You’ll see soon enough. I’ll be in my room,” and retreated to his room, closing
Damn right I have the advantage of you, Martin thought. He had this “wizard” figured out. The friendly words, the confident demeanor, the impressive robe, it was all classic con artist stagecraft.
“Says his name is Martin the Magnificent,” Pete the innkeeper said, before Martin could respond.
“Ah, very pleased to meet you, Martin.” The wizard bowed again, more deeply. His eyes caught the plastic bag. “Oh, my! What is this?!”
“He calls it see-through cloth ,” Pete said, again cutting Martin off. “Says he made it.”
“Indeed!” the wizard said, his eyes wide with wonder. “Might I please see it more closely, Martin?”
Martin didn’t want to hand him the plastic bag. Who knew if he’d give it back? He could always zip back to modern times and get more plastic, but if this Phillip person made off with the bag, he’d have given the charlatan another tool to use in conning these rubes into believing he was a wizard. Martin didn’t want that on his conscience. He held the bag up closer to Phillip, but kept a tight grip.
Phillip smiled and poked at the plastic with his forefinger a few times. “Impressive! Clearly, you are a wizard of prodigious power, Martin. Tell me, can you make more?”
“Don’t bother telling him to make himself a tent, ‘cause I already did.” Pete said.
“I was sure you’d already covered that, Pete. No, I just wanted to see him produce more of this wondrous material. It’s always a pleasure to see another wizard work. Perhaps I might learn something. How about it, Martin? You made this cloth you can see through. Can you make more?”
“Of course I can make more! Any time I want!” Martin said.
“Splendid!”
“But I can’t do it while people are watching.”
This caused some laughter, but Phillip raised a single hand and silenced it instantly. “Of course I understand. There are things we wizards are required to do that are not for others’ eyes to see. It was unfair of me to ask that he conjure more transparent cloth right here in front of us.”
Martin exhaled, happy that he had dodged that bullet.
“We shall have to find him a private place in which to work.”
Gert threw Martin into a small room filled with casks and slammed the door behind him. It was dark, humid, and musty. Beyond the door Martin could hear the wizard and the innkeeper, his captors, talking.
“He’ll have no light in there.”
“Oh, he shouldn’t need any. They are called the dark arts, after all.”
“And what if he can’t produce any more of the cloth you can see through?”
“That would mean he’s a liar. So, naturally, we take all of his belongings, smear him with dung, and chase him out of town.”
Martin had a vision of himself in filthy, torn clothing, fleeing into the woods while Phillip went through his former belongings and happened across his smartphone. It was an awful thought, but Martin knew it would not come to that. Of course, he could just teleport out of here, but then what? No, he had to demonstrate that he was a wizard and shut up this con man. Once that was done, things would be much easier.
Martin turned on the smartphone. Its screen lit up the room.
“I think I see a faint glow under the door!” The innkeeper’s muffled voice exclaimed.
“See,” the wizard said. “I think we’ll find this Martin is quite resourceful.”
You don’t know the half of it, Martin thought.
Walter and Margarita Banks stood, bewildered, in the kitchen of their house in suburban Seattle. Their youngest son Martin had just burst in, hugged them both, and told them, “Just remember, I love you, and it isn’t true.”
As Martin walked toward his old bedroom Margarita asked, “It’s not true that you love us?”
Martin stopped. “What? No! I love you. Something else isn’t true.”
“What it isn’t true?” Walter asked.
Martin said “You’ll see soon enough. I’ll be in my room,” and retreated to his room, closing
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