The old used book store. ‘A perfect place to set up shop,’ thought Milo. He never would have dreamed of a magician holding out there as he inspected the front of the sleepy store. It wasn’t an unfamiliar location, so he didn’t notice anything unusual until he saw the ornate sign that read ‘MC&C in the back!’
“It can’t be that easy to find,” Milo muttered. Milo suspected he was already familiar with Mr Hawkshaw’s magic but couldn’t think why it was suddenly visible. The how was easy, but the why was not as easily definable. Perhaps it had something to do with the calling card he was given.
As nonchalantly as possible to not look suspicious, he walked to the back, where he saw the door that used to say ‘manager only.’ He knocked, no response initially, and the door swung inward. Revealing a cozy office space with leather chairs, a desk, and lined with bookshelves with small stacks strewn across the carpet.
The door closed behind him, the click of the door enough to startle him. He turned to see nothing behind the door, ‘Magic,’ he decided. And behind him, he heard a familiar voice say, “Hello.”
Milo spun around, finally setting eyes on the Magician, William V. Hawkshaw, sitting cross-legged on the ground beside a stack of books. He looked in the middle of a very worn copy of ‘The Restaurant At The End Of The Universe,’ which he carefully closed and set down. This morning, he was wearing a giant hoodie and sweatpants. “How are you doing today, Milo?”
He was unprepared for the grinning magician in front of him; he seemed totally different, whereas before, he seemed esteemed. “I’m fine, thanks,” he managed in return. “Do you own the bookstore?” he asked.
“I do,” he said with a chuckle, “I wasn’t sure you’d come! I’m so glad you did. Miss Banks takes care of that business and manages it. Please sit down,” he gestured to a spot on the carpet across from him.
“I thought I was insane,” he said, sitting likewise, “just who are you exactly?”
“I am a Magician,” he said plainly, sipping from a mug only now noticeable.
“Yes, I understand that, but what do you want with me?”
The magician grew severe, “I’m not entirely long for this world. I fear the time is finally upon me when I may truly rest. And I need someone to take over when I retire, and you are perfect.”
“Perfect?”
“Yes!” the seriousness dropping away, “Milo, you are perfect; you are a clean slate and ripe for molding into a successful magic user. I don’t expect you to work for free either; think of this as a paid internship; $2,000 monthly ought to do nicely?”
“Deal,” the words jumped out of his mouth before he processed them; he was nearly broke and jobless. He was hard-pressed to find suitable work in the current economic climate.
“Fantastic!” the magician exclaimed, “we should begin immediately!” jumping up to his feet in a motion that didn’t entirely correspond with his observable age. Milo scrambled to his feet too late, because the magician was gone again.
He perused the books lining the office with nothing to do but wait. Some had never been opened, and some had been read dozens of times, especially those he recognized as high fantasy or that dipped into the absurdly whimsical and dark fairytale. And most of the Xanth series had made up a portion of a shelf; all but the latest one had been read. And as far as he could tell, this magician was in love with everything magical.
Seemingly appearing out of thin air, Mr. Hawkshaw, clad in denim and a trench coat, asked,” Are you ready?”
“For what?” he asked cautiously.
“I’m going to blow your friggin ‘mind!” laughing at something only he understood. He held his hand out straight, grinning like a madman. Milo gingerly took his hand, unsure of the present situation. Revealing what looked like a remote detonator with his other hand, laughed once more and pressed the button.
All at once, the world spun; he felt his mind implode, his body turned to sand, and his stomach wretched like a hundred G’s had suddenly torn through his abdomen. Coming back, he immediately vomited the meager breakfast he had. The air smelled horrific; he wanted to vomit again but was unable to. Sound returned with his sight in toe, and his mind did somersaults before he decided he was staring at a vast, otherworldly, and wholly magical market.
“Wha-WHERE ARE WE?!?” he shouted at the magician, not entirely as composed as he thought he was.
“Welcome to the Fair Market. Don’t touch anything; these guys can trade literally anything, and usually, it’s not in your favor. Got it?” he gestured for Milo to follow.
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There were creatures out of myth and legend, and even ones resembling STAR WARS characters present and milling about the stalls and tents. Noticing something across the way, he asked Mr. Hawkshaw, “Are those little gray men aliens?”
“Yea,” he said,” those guys are generally what people think of as aliens due to their habit of galavanting through different worlds; most UFOs are just “magic carpets” they fly around scaring folk with.” He smiled, “they are very talented and throw crazy parties.”
“How did you get us here? Where even is here, the gravity feels off, and the air seems thick.” he may have been worried. Still, even an entirely sane person with an excellent relationship with reality would have been concerned.
“This is the Fair Realm,” he said, explaining, “I used a Beskers Crook device to move us here. It works like a fishing hook. It grabs you, pulls you in, and returns you to where you came from. Stay close. I think we’re nearly there.”
It was three more minutes before they stopped in front of a purple tent studded with tiny glowing pearls. Without hesitation, Mr. Hawkshaw entered with Milo on his heels into a large room four times the size of the tent outside. Mr. Hawkshaw walked directly up to the counter off the side and spoke to the little knobby creature before exchanging a pendant of brilliant metal for a stack of gold coins. He turned to Milo, tossing the pendant, “Wear this; you’ll need it.”
Milo inspected it as it was less brilliant and now resembled a star. Confused, he put it on as his guide dictated. Immediately, Milo realized he was seeing much more than before but could not explain it to himself. Outside, the Market was twice as packed. He now noticed animals and giant insect-like bugs scurrying around and more strange folk milling about as if most of them had been veiled. When he finally saw Mr. Hawkshaw looking at him with a smile, Milo asked, “What is this pendant?”
“Simply let you see behind the curtain, if that explanation will suffice?” without waiting, he walked off with Milo, following with greater certainty he should be as close as possible. They walked for about another ten minutes before stopping at another tent, this one tan and plain. The inside was much the same as the last; the dimensions inside did not match the outside. This tent resembled a bookstore with rows of shelved books like the one in town. He followed Mr. Hawkshaw to the desk where a colossal man sat; he looked like a logger, muscle bulged under red flannel, leading Milo to believe as much.
The large man jumped to his feet, eyes gleaming brightly, exclaimed on sight, “Bill! You old bastard where ya been?” before assaulting the gentleman with a massive bear hug, then frowned, “You need something dont’cha?”
“Yes,” and he went on to explain how the boy with him needed a couple books in English on Magical Theory and Practice, how he would pay him but would let him call in a favor later.
“I see,” he looked over at Milo with arms crossed,” ok, you got it. I’ll go talk to Batty; she always has cookies anyway.” Then, from a wallet that produced what looked like a key card, slid it into nothing, turned it 90 degrees to the right, and disappeared. They spent around an hour or so waiting for the logger, whose name, he was informed, was Greg.
Greg appeared out of thin air with a soft pop as the air was displaced. Munching thoughtfully on a giant chocolate chip cookie, handing a thick leather book to Mr. Hawshaw, who passed it directly to Milo.
“Batty says’ hi,’ by the way,” settling back into his desk. “She is still mad. Said a lot of nasty stuff, following and preceding your name.”
“And She’s crazy,” retorted Mr. Hawkshaw. He suddenly seemed uncomfortable, “But I’m curious, is the library any bigger?”
“Not by much, changed floor tiles though,” munching on the last of his cookie and waving them away.
“Great, we got what we needed,” he said when they stepped outside, holding out his hand again the same as before. “This time won’t be nearly as rough; just prepare yourself for the same.” with the click of a button, they were back in the office.
“Sit with me,” said the magician, “let’s review.”
“Oh, thank god,” Milo sighed and slumped to the floor.
“What did you learn today, and what questions do you have?”
“Ok, for starters, there are other intelligent societies besides ours?”
“Yes,” confirmed Mr. Hawkshaw, nodding as he did.
“And Magic is the primary power on which they thrive?”
“Well,” he leaned forward, tapping his chin, “it isn’t the only power; most use some electricity for daily living. It’s less mystical than you may think; it’s not that we aren’t super magical here on earth; it’s that we are more super technical and all into science and stuff, and only a handful of us are even wise to it.”
“This necklace?”
“Crafted for students who wish to learn but don’t have a natural grasp of magic,” he explained. “It lets you see what you are working with and focus. A side effect is seeing that beyond the curtain.”
“Curtain?”
“It’s why people don’t see magic creatures and the Waylines coursing through the world.”
“Waylines?” this was getting confusing.
“Let’s go outside”
Outside, he finally understood that magic could actually be seen. It reminded him of how northern lights looked; they looked to be flowing through the sky, a giant flowing river of energy.
“That is where Magic comes from,” he said. “It’s what we draw power from, and the Waylines are the easiest to reach. The closer you are to one, the easier it is to draw on and utilize.”
“Are all magic users book nerds?” Milo asked with a smile.
With a chuckle, Mr. Hawkshaw said, “Not all, but most human Magicians are. Some are crazy.”
“Like, Batty?” Milo asked cautiously.
This time, he laughed genuinely, “Yes, like Batty. Speaking of, I should give you my library card as I am banned for eternity and have less use for it than you will.”
From the magician’s wallet came an identical keycard to the one Greg in the shop used. “Don’t use it where people can see you.”
Milo stowed the keycard without question. He had a feeling it was something to get used to. Milo also felt the world he entered shouldn’t be taken at face value. Milo was finally aware of the giant bear in the room and wanted to protect himself.
Back in the office, he sat with Mr. Hawkshaw, asking questions, until he was abruptly and politely asked to leave. He was informed of when he would show up for work, work the desk, and register at the used bookstore. Armed with new knowledge, the large leather book headed toward home. With more questions and fewer answers, he was ready to start work and learn.