The Young Magician

The days always seemed fine and sunny at the Burning Oak. Of course, the winters had their share of rain, but Samuel always seemed to be catching himself looking up at the sky-clear and blue or filled with stars. He was never particularly hot or particularly cold and he had every comfort that he imagined he could need.

During one such fine day, Samuel was helping Mr Kelvin in the garden. Mr Kelvin seemed to have more free time than before and was enjoying getting on his hands and knees and doing some of the work himself, taking pride in his small, yet neat gardens all along the walls, and Samuel was happy for the company. He was a terribly nice man and Samuel had never heard an ill word cross his lips. He was always polite and considerate to everyone. He was not as good as Samuel remembered his own father being, and was not as friendly as Mr Joshua was-buying him presents and such-but he was certainly much, much better than Samuel’s uncle. Sometimes, Samuel wished he could have a whole afternoon free to himself so he could go and see Jessicah, or play with the boys in the streets, but Mr Kelvin always said that he was needed too much here and was not allowed to roam about in the town. The guests could need their horses at a moment’s notice and it would not do to keep them waiting. Samuel wondered why Kans could not ready their horses if they needed it. It took Samuel far longer by himself, often having to use the stepladder to fix and buckle all the saddlery. Most often the guests helped him anyway. He began to suspect that Mr Kelvin just did not want him talking to people in the town about the inn. Sometimes, it frustrated Samuel so much that he would tell Mr Joshua every little thing he could think of about the Burning Oak and its guests, even if it was only partly true. Mr Joshua, however, had a way of telling when Samuel was exaggerating, but Samuel was getting better and better at slipping small ‘untruths’ past Mr Joshua without him noticing. They were not big things-just little white lies and the odd exaggeration.

‘It sure is hot today, Mr Kelvin,’ Samuel said, throwing some weeds behind him.

Mr Kelvin wiped his brow with his dark sleeves and peered to the sky. ‘It is,’ he agreed. ‘The sun is very hot today, indeed.’

Samuel plucked several more weeds before pausing and, looking thoughtful, he said, ‘Now I have a good question for you, Mr Kelvin. What exactly is the sun?’

‘To my knowledge, no one has ever touched it to find out, but I suspect that it is a great ball of fire. It casts heat, throws light and is yellow, just like a flame, after all.’

‘If it is a fire, then what does it burn? Are there sticks inside?’

Mr Kelvin laughed. ‘No, Samuel, I think there are not. Or, if there are, they would have to be very big, or very many sticks indeed would be needed, for the sun is many, many times larger than the world on which we live.’

‘It doesn’t look very big,’ Samuel replied.

Mr Kelvin made a tiny gap between his fingers and peered through it at Samuel. ‘Look, Samuel, it appears that your head can fit between my fingers, but of course I know it is not so. The sun is merely very far away.’

‘It’s very high in the sky?’

‘So to speak, yes.’

‘And where does it go at night and where do the stars come from?’

Mr Kelvin chuckled and sighed. ‘It goes below the horizon to light the other lands of the world, where there are different peoples with different languages and cultures. The stars are always there, but they cannot always be seen.’

Samuel gawked up in awe, trying to spy the stars, but his eyes became watery and blurry and he had to look down.

‘Careful, Samuel,’ Mr Kelvin told him. ‘The sun is like truth: bright and beautiful, but dangerous to behold. Still, we all strive for knowledge even when we cannot understand what the answers will bring. It’s better to hold a knife when you face the Devils of Korda,’ he then quoted, but after a moment, he noticed Samuel’s confusion. ‘I’m sorry. I talk too much sometimes, don’t I? Don’t look at the sun, Samuel, or you will go blind,’ he finally explained.

Samuel was complete befuddled. He looked up once more and blinked at the glaring sun, before rubbing his eyes and looking blurrily at the gritty soil below, purple streaks marking his watery vision.

On the occasional night, Samuel still found himself waking up, as if automatically, and so would crawl up onto his stable roof to see what was happening inside the inn. Most often, the men would only be sitting still or walking about slowly and Samuel found himself longing for more men like Lomar, who would jump around and do more exciting things. When he was sure no one was watching, Samuel would close the stable doors and try the same movements that Lomar had made. He could only remember a few and so he made up the rest. He knew they were entirely wrong and foolish, but he had a desire to learn more and this was the closest he could manage. From then on, when he was awoken at night with the tingling in his bones, he would sit up on his bed and assume the same position that the men inside did. He took deep, full breaths and, at times, it felt calming and peaceful and he would often fall asleep in that position.

Lomar returned on occasion and Samuel was always greatly excited when he did. He was the one man who would sit and talk to Samuel, telling him stories of far-off lands and all the mythical fairy tales he had heard. He surprised Samuel by even offering to play a game of kick-ball and they stood opposite each other for hours, sending the ball between them. The other guests glared at Lomar as he did so, but Lomar did not seem to care what the others thought. He also delighted in showing Samuel all his best juggling tricks, making his small red balls vanish and reappear with a twist of his hand, and Samuel enjoyed seeing the tricks just as much, trying every time to discover how it was that Lomar did them. Lomar told of the strange ways and customs of foreign lands, but was ever evasive as to his reasons for travelling and of the other men of the inn. When Samuel’s questions became too direct, Lomar would only smile and look away or make some comment on the bees or flowers.

One fine and warm day, three new guests came to the Burning Oak Inn, two middle-aged men and another absolutely ancient one, all wrinkled and with barely a hair on his head, save his bushy white eyebrows and his wispy old beard. As they arrived, Kans hurriedly fetched out all the men currently staying from inside the inn. There was a great hubbub as Samuel was called to fetch the guests’ wagon from the front entrance and shut the great gates behind it. They all vanished inside as quickly as they had appeared and there was not a trace of anyone that night or the entire next day.

Not one person took their usual garden strolls and Cook said they barely even wanted their meals, calling for light snacks to be brought into the meeting from time to time. The place seemed desolate.

Finally, just before twilight of the next day, Mr Copperpot and Mr Sloan sent word to make ready their mounts, and they soon left, dressed not in their black robes, but instead in normal garments of brown and grey. They looked strange out of their usual garb and it made Samuel wonder what could be happening.

Samuel was awoken much earlier that night than usual, with pins and needles jabbing his whole body like skewers. He almost tripped over himself in his hurry to get onto the roof. He had not woken the previous night, but tonight he felt as if the air was rattling with excitement.

Peeping through the window, Samuel could see the old visitor sitting cross-legged on the floor and, one by one, all the candles in the room were igniting. There was no one near them; they each simply burst into flame in succession, as if by some trickery. Samuel was astonished and peered closer to try and spy any sign of someone ducking down and lighting them in secret, but there was none. They truly were lighting of their own accord and Samuel could barely believe it. He watched on with anticipation. If this was only the start, even more amazing things were sure to come. The soft hairs on his arms stood up like bristles.

The old man then began making broad, slow arm gestures and slowly, slowly stood to his feet. He stepped forward and began the same set of actions that Lomar had first performed, although much slower-as if he was in no hurry to complete his exercises before the long night was even through. Instead of jumping and spinning, he very slowly stepped and turned with effortless precision. His arms moved and made circles and arcs in the air; sometimes as if carrying huge objects; sometimes as if doing delicate finger-work. In some moments, it seemed as if he was struggling against great forces, pushing and striving to hold his ground; at other times, it seemed like he was weightless and about to sail up from the floor. With each movement, the old man’s aura blazed and grew like a bonfire in a gale; his every footstep and gesture trailed countless azure ribbons billowing in the wind. Samuel saw at once the many mistakes he had been making on his own and added as many corrections to memory as he could.

Eventually, the old man gathered himself back to his original position sitting on the floor. Samuel could hear