“Does it have to be now?” Yulda asked pitifully as Marlen brought her tea with a request from Zerathon. He placed the tea service on the usual oak sideboard and poured her a cup. The steam wafted up with a sweet, earthy scent as he gently put it in front of her.
“He says he’ll wait all day if he must,” Marlen told her.
“What for?”
“He wouldn’t tell me. He says it’s for your ears only."
“I’m tired,” she whined. “Now is the only real chance I’ll have before evening, isn’t it?”
“It would seem so,” Marlen said apprehensively.
“...It’s about Maziar, isn’t it?” she asked.
“It would seem so,” he answered with an understanding grin.
Sighing, Yulda sank into her chair and looked at the ceiling. “What’s he done this time?”
Marlen was about to answer her when she pointed at him and said, “Don’t answer that, just send Zerathon in. He has a mouth. He can tell me.”
Marlen smiled. “Drink your tea first.”
Marlen Linrel had served the Grand Magician long enough to know a few things. One was that the woman never stopped working, and even if she were told to take a break by the gods themselves, he was pretty sure she wouldn’t. Another was that he knew that if he didn’t watch her drink the tea, she wouldn’t. And another was that she would do anything short of destroying the world for her son, no matter what he’d done wrong. There were other things, of course, but those were the ones that always stood out to him the most.
That, and the fact that she was far too beautiful to have birthed two now-adult children and be divorced, but he kept that bit to himself.
When she finished the tea and had had a few moments to breathe for herself, Marlen took the set away and went back to the waiting room where Zerathon and Maziar were. There was a girl with them, too, one Marlen didn’t know and found to be quite oddly dressed. Rather than Maziar this time, Marlen wondered if it was the girl who was the reason they were there.
Unless Maziar did something to the girl, which was also entirely within the realm of possibility.
“The Grand Magician will see you now,” Marlen told him.
Maziar and the girl stood, but Zerathon shook his head. “I’ll go in first and explain the situation,” he said. “You two stay here with Marlen until I call for you.”
“Why?” Maziar asked.
“To keep you from making a bigger fool of yourself, for starters,” Zerathon grumbled and nearly slammed the door behind him as he entered Yulda’s office.
Ah, thought Marlen as he absently straightened the papers on his desk. So Maziar did do something. He'd have to arrange more time for Yulda to pay attention to him in the coming months. If he could, that is. The Darklands seemed to be moving more than any of them liked, and Yulda was already planning to head to the front in Kvell as soon as she was able.
Maziar knew roughly what was going through Marlen’s head as he sat scribbling something in his notepad. He eyed Marlen warily but didn’t say anything. Doing or saying anything in front of him was just as good—or as bad—as doing or saying something in front of his mother. Unlike Zerathon, at least Marlen would take his side more often than not, but that didn’t make Maziar like him any better.
It had always been a little strange, entering his mother’s life so late and meeting the people around her. Marlen hadn’t ever done anything bad, but he clearly harbored feelings for the Grand Wizard since long before Maziar had come. He’d never been able to figure out if Marlen had already been turned down or just never said anything in the first place. He just hung around, did his job, and occasionally acted like a know-it-all.
And as far as Maziar could tell, his mother was either oblivious or simply didn’t care.
Scratching the back of his neck, Maziar sat back down next to the girl he’d accidentally summoned.
Ennette was still deep in thought when Maziar nudged her with his elbow.
Glaring at him, she asked, “What?”
“Why did you ask that?”
“Ask what?”
“About the time thing?” he huffed, annoyance bleeding through his tone.
“You were listening?”
“I’m sorry, am I supposed to be deaf, too?” Maziar gave her a sour face. “I haven’t even done anything! Outside the obvious, of course, but that was entirely unintentional, and it could have been anyone.”
She had to give him that, at least. “Fine,” she said. “I was just curious.”
“Liar,” he smirked.
“Why do you say that?”
“Your information is too specific to fall into the category of ‘just curious,’” Maziar said, leaning back. “If you’re going to lie, you need to learn to lie better.”
“I really don’t need you to tell me that,” she said. “And it’s not a lie. Not really.”
“A truth that avoids the answer is still, in its own way, a lie.”
“That’s a terribly negative way of looking at it,” Ennette told him. “What if it's just that I’m uncertain of the real reason to begin with and would rather not waste time going down rabbit holes that don’t apply in this case? I’ve been in this world for, what, two, three hours? Pardon me for not being fully adjusted to the reality that you’ve summoned me to.”
Pursing his lips, he looked at his feet. “...Sorry,” he said.
“Pardon?”
“I’m sorry. For summoning you,” Maziar told her. “It wasn’t meant to be like this.”
Ennette looked at him as he sat with strands of pale, brownish-blonde hair escaping from his ponytail, some sticking to a light sheen of perspiration on his neck. “I guess I’ll forgive you. For now.”
It was hard for her to understand what exactly was going on, and she supposed that it wasn’t fair to judge him for things he hadn’t done yet. If he was willing to apologize to her, then he wasn’t a totally lost cause. In the event that she had to win him over, she should probably play it safe for now.
It had taken them time and a lot of stairs to get to the top of the tower where the Grand Wizard’s tower was. She found it surprising that they didn’t have some kind of elevator magic—or even technology—but when Ennette asked Zerathon about it, he explained that it was because all casters still needed to practice Physical Magic, and the Grand Wizard had ordained that if anyone really needed to see her than they should do so with a heart full of meditation. The professor seemed very proud about this, but to Ennette, it sounded an awful lot like she was just trying to stop idiots from coming to her with stupid problems.
Had she just wanted to issue a simple complaint, Ennette certainly would have turned around and said forget it after just looking at the stairs that seemed to spiral up indefinitely toward the tower's peak.
Looking out a nearby window, Ennette saw that it had already gotten dark. She cursed the stars earlier, but they weren’t even the same stars that she knew. New stars. New moon. Two new moons, to be exact.
Ennette groaned as her stomach growled. What time was it, anyway?
Maziar gave her a side glance, and she blushed.
“I don’t even know how much time has passed since I left my world and ended up in yours,” she said sheepishly. He laughed.
“Here,” Maziar said, handing her an apple.
“Where did this come from?” Ennette asked. Taking it hesitantly from him, she turned it in her hands, inspecting it for signs that it had been tampered with.
“Somewhere.”
“Is it poison?”
“Why the heck would I poison my own familiar?”
“I don’t know,” Ennette said. “You’re the villain.”
“Am I? Ah, well. To you, I must be. I’ll try to be less evil in the future.”
“Are you always like this?”
“Maybe,” he said, smirking.
Ennette couldn’t help but laugh as she rolled the apple around a little more before taking a bite. It was sweet. Juice dribbled down her chin, and she wiped it off, hoping that no one else had seen. She was already sweaty, tired, and in pajamas–why was her body trying to embarrass her? When she looked up, though, Marlen was staring at them.
“What are you looking at?” Maziar asked, scowling.
“I’m just… wondering,” Marlen said, turning his gaze back to his papers.
“About?”
“Whether or not I should warn the young lady about your… tendencies.”
Making a face, Maziar said, “You make it sound like I’m some kind of pervert.”
“Are you?” Ennette asked.
“Hey, now! We just met!” he exclaimed. Ennette and Marlen chuckled as Maziar turned red. “Seriously!”
“No, no, young miss. Maziar may be a troublemaker, but he is mostly harmless,” Marlen said. “It’s just unusual for him to take an interest in someone else, especially after what I assume is a short period of time, given I’ve never seen you before.”
Ennette nodded. “Yeah. That makes sense. I just got here thanks to someone, you see, so I don’t really think he has a choice.”
“Oh?” Marlen said with interest. Before he could inquire, however, the door of the Grand Wizard’s office opened again. Zerathon bowed to someone they couldn’t see before walking back over to Ennette and Maziar. He didn’t seem particularly worried, so Ennette tried to quell any fears she had that she would be turned into a toad, at least.
“The Grand Wizard has agreed to see you,” the professor told her. He took her hand in his and patted it gently. “She promised that appropriate arrangements would be made after she personally assessed the situation.”
“And me?” Maziar asked.
“You’re to go in with her as well,” Zerathon said. “She’s quite cross, as you can imagine.”
“I thought I’d get to talk with her alone?” Ennette said, pulling on his hand.
Zerathon shook his head. “You’ll have to make that request yourself, I’m afraid. She wants to meet you both first so she can get a better picture of what, exactly, has happened.”
Crestfallen, Ennette swallowed. Even if she was willing to give Maziar a chance, she still didn’t want him to know more than he had to—whether it was about her or what she knew.
“Zerathon!” a fierce voice snapped from inside the room, causing Ennette to jump. “Maziar! Bring the girl and get in here!”
“She’s in a mood, isn’t she?” muttered Maziar under his breath.
“And whose fault is that, I wonder?” Zerathon grumbled back.
“If you please,” Marlen said, pointing to the door. “Unless you want to make her even more upset, I suggest you enter while she’s still sitting down.”
With a deep breath, Ennette took a brave step forward. “Here we go,” she said and entered the office of the Grand Magician.
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