Chapter Ten
The door creaks open.
A door that is a foot smaller and a foot narrower than most doors on Earth.
Within it, there stands a diminutive young wizard in a robe and pointy hat similar to Baltazar’s.
He looks like a teenager out trick-or-treating as something from Harry Potter.
I even catch sight of a gnarled, branch-like stick that glows faintly. His wand, I presume.
He bows immediately upon seeing Prince Pickles.
And I mean bows, like his forehead scrapes the interior floor tiles.
I note he has an aura (which means he is indeed mortal), and so I immediately reach out to his mind but find only a jumble of thoughts in what I assume is the native language here on Grandar, since I don’t understand a word of it.
I presume the language magic only works on spoken words.
Anyway, the steady stream of gibberish clutters his mind enough for me not to be able to read it or control it.
“You are a mind reader, vampire?” he says, when he stands to his full four-foot height. “And a mind controller, too, I see; indeed, you have thoroughly manipulated our prince here.”
“I am both, and I did. I found you through his help.”
“I suppose that’s why he’s dressed as a pauper, and why you cradle a bound wood sprite as if she were a human baby.”
“Yes,” I say. “I’ll cut to the chase: there were a number of things that had to happen for me to be standing here with you now rather than fighting for your king’s pleasure.”
“The king and his subjects. You are playing a dangerous game, vampire.”
“No more dangerous than forced to fight for my life against creatures three and four times my height and strength.”
“Agreed. I assume you seek safe passage back to your home world.”
“You assume correctly.”
“You seek a temporary lifting of the spell that keeps you from using your teleporting abilities.”
“But of course.”
The little wizard, who goes by Azul, shakes his head.
“’Tis a very powerful spell, vampire. It is well above my pay-grade, if you will.
I cure toe fungus, ear itch, and finger boils.
A spell like this would need the assistance of the Dark One himself.
In the least, his most powerful demons. I must turn you away.
And no, you cannot command me to forget this encounter; indeed, I will be forced to report your visit to master Baltazar himself immediately, lest I be tortured unto death. I hope you understand.”
“I understand. Will you give us a head start?”
“No, even now, I am drafting a preliminary telepathic message that will appear before my master within minutes.”
“How soon will he be here, then?”
“No time at all. Do you see that fireplace over there?” He points to a rather deep one set within the far wall at the back of his house. It is blackened with soot and composed of thick bricks. “He will appear in there shortly.”
I nearly facepalm. “The floo network!”
“Say again.”
“It’s from Harry Potter.”
“I do not know of that which you speak. A hairy gardener?”
“A boy wizard, actually. Exists in stories only. Though the author, J.K. Rowling, was obviously a creator. Somewhere out there, a world really exists where Harry, Ron, and Hermione are living their best lives.”
“Methinks I would like to meet this boy wizard.”
“You and billions of fans on Earth. Except on Earth, he exists in story format only.”
“Well, Master Baltazar has confirmed receipt of my magical message and will be here shortly. I need only to light the fireplace. Why are you shaking your head? Ah, I see. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned that part about needing to light the fireplace.”
“Probably not.”
“I assume I will be taken prisoner?”
“You assume correctly.”
“Where does that lead us now?”
I reach down and pluck the wizard up by his right ankle. “Like you said, a prisoner.”
“Unhand me!”
“No.”
“Then may you itch!”
My nose itches immediately. “Stop that.”
“Then unhand me, vampire!”
“You must not light the fireplace.”
“Fine. I will not.”
“Do I have your word?”
“You do. Wizard’s honor.”
I set him right side up and the itch on my nose abates immediately.
“I am in need of help,” I say.
“What type of help?” asks the wizard.
“What do you know of the arena?”
“Enough. I, like all wizards, was trained in the bowels of the place.”
“So, you know your way around the place?”
“I do, yes.”
“Pickles look for rope to bind Azul.”
“That won’t be necessary. I will cooperate.”
“Will you perform magic if I need it?”
“For now, but it’s conditional. I will not hurt anyone for you.”
“Will you help me end the Gladiator Games once and for all?”
Azul hesitates. “If I can... within reason. But I will not knowingly throw my life away. I have no part in the Games, and they have never harmed me personally. To many here, they are simply... how things have always been. They unite the kingdom, however misguided that unity may be.”
I pluck his crooked wand from his front pocket and tuck it in my back pocket. Moments later, we are airborne again, leaving the little hamlet behind.
Then fortune smiles on me. A sudden gust of wind catches us, and I instinctively bank hard. The maneuver startles Azul enough that the steady stream of thoughts filling his mind falters for the briefest instant.
That is all I need. I slip inside his head before he can recover. I quietly take control.
Yes, he had agreed to cooperate. But such agreements are not a certainty.
Now, with a few choice suggestions, it is certain.