Chapter Ten
> But with plush robes apparently came great power. Better than a pair of tights and a thirty-pound sword any day.
>
> ----------------------------------------
>
> James had been tempted, but once they exited the dark woods, which had grown even gloomier as the sun had set and cast the world in dusty shadow, he had insisted Gabriel set him down. Even though the young man didn’t seem winded in the slightest. It seemed like the polite, “grown up” thing to do.
>
> And if seventy wasn’t grown up, James didn’t know what age was.
>
> He was thankful another town was directly northeast of the Bewitched Woods. The cheery glow of lights in the distance was a welcome sight in the dark of night, although James had spent most of the ten- or fifteen-minute walk from the woods to the town looking up at the stars. He’d never seen so many. They gleamed like millions of headlights or streetlights, a midnight canvas glittering and winking down at them. New York might have been filled with light, but all their light was gathered below, on the streets and shimmering on the sides of buildings and advertisements. Here, the heavens seemed to glow. It was beautiful.
>
> And James had only tripped on his own robes three or four times.
>
> As they left the dusty, dying grass and made their way to the cobbled street that led into town, James turned to Gabriel, still without a single hair out of place, and asked, “What’s the name of this town? The Town?”
>
> “That name was already taken,” Gabriel said with a serious expression on his handsome face. “This town is called the Hamlet.”
>
> “Of course.” And the next town will be called ‘the Borough’ or ‘the Center.’
>
> The Hamlet was different than the Village in design. Where the Village was mostly constructed from stone, the Hamlet had clearly taken advantage of the forest to their south—most of their buildings were made from wood, with tall, triangular roofs and lots of round windows, most with a candle that illuminated the area like soft, golden eyes. The pair didn’t see anyone out on the cobblestone streets, and James noted that the grass seemed a little less dry and brittle than the grass in the Village or by Beacon Tower. A good sign that they were getting closer to the Green Queen. She seemed to radiate life, and the further she was from the land, the more parched and dust-ridden in became.
>
> The largest building in the Hamlet sat in the center, with an intricate, hand-carved sign made out of wood that read “the Inn.”
>
> Convenient.
>
> “Let’s rest at the Inn for the night,” James said, readjusting his crooked, pointed hat and beating at his beard in a vain attempt to rid it of the constant dust.
>
> “I am happy to keep going,” Gabriel said brightly, but James was determined. Maybe the Inn would have the comfortable beds the witch had promised but not delivered on. She’d gotten his hopes up, and how far would they be able to travel in the dark anyway? James would probably fall in a ditch and break a hip or something, and he wasn’t looking forward to being carried like a damsel in distress all the way to the Crimson King’s castle mansion place.
>
> “It is not wise to travel at night,” James said, doing his best to lower his voice and narrow his eyes in what he hoped was a look of wisdom and warning.
>
> “What kinds of creatures stalk the night?” Gabriel asked, blue eyes widening.
>
> “All sorts of terrible things, like taxis, and addicts, and stray mutts.”
>
> “Taxis? Those do sound vicious…” Gabriel said, a hint of fear in his voice.
>
> “Much safer to stay the night in the inn. Besides, that will give my magic time to recover,” James said. He had no idea if that was true. He’d been so reluctant to use any “spells” that he had no idea if he needed to rest or recover between magical moments. That would make sense, but magic, by definition, didn’t make much sense. So maybe he could just cast spells forever without rest. That would make him ridiculously powerful. But with plush robes apparently came great power.
>
> Better than a pair of tights and a thirty-pound sword any day.
>
> Gabriel was still muttering under his breath about the dreaded “taxis” when they approached the Inn’s wide, wooden stairs. The Inn, which was already perched on a hill in the middle of the Hamlet, seemed even grander because it had been built on a sort of raised base, with stairs leading up to the massive double doors.
>
> James grumbled. They could have saved everyone a lot of hassle and built the inn on the ground like every other structure in the Hamlet. They wouldn’t have needed stairs, and James wouldn’t have needed to climb them.
>
> Grateful once again for his reappropriated broom handle, he ascended the stairs as gracefully as possible. As Gabriel pushed open the massive double doors with ease, James sniffed appreciatively at the wonderful scents and smells that wafted through the intricately carved wooden doors. It reminded him of the Tavern on the Green, back when he and his parents had gone there every weeknight in person.
>
> Maybe they’d have his personal favorite.
>
> The moment he and Gabriel entered the massive great room, they were greeted by waves of riotous laughter, loud conversations, arguments, and the usual sounds of clinking silverware on stone plates and glasses being thunked down on tables. In the center of the space was a wide, circular bar that featured multiple dancers, dressed in strange, colorful clothing that covered their ankles up to their necks and down to their wrists, with countless tassels that swayed and waved as the dancers gracefully strutted on top of the circular bar to the cheers and admiration of the men and women sitting at the many round tables that filled the room. Each of the dancers had long hair littered with the occasional small braid, whether they were men or women. A man with a wild mane of red hair pulled tight into a high ponytail was playing the flute, the high, woody notes drifting over the crowd and joining the smoke billowing from two fireplaces on either side of the large, bustling room.
>
> There was even a juggler, who had the audacity to not only juggle more than three things, but was tossing whatever people threw to her into her fast-moving, flawless act. It looked like she was currently juggling several tankards, a thick chicken leg, and even a spoon. She was so thin James wondered if he’d be able to still see her if she turned to the side. Her hair was black, her clothing was black and formfitting, and even her skin was a dark tan. The only splash of color were her eyes, a perfect emerald green.
>
> Gabriel seemed intrigued by the juggler, but James wanted nothing more than to find a seat in a far corner and jerry-rig a pair of earplugs. The cacophony of sights and sounds was enough to threaten him with a splitting headache.
>
> When Gabriel continued to stare at the performers in the middle of the room, James tapped him with his walking stick and pointed in the direction of the far end of the room where a table sat, unoccupied.
>
> Gabriel, shaken out of his stupor, nodded and began making his way over to the table, expertly avoiding the multiple servers who flew around the room, bearing large platters of food, drink, and a strange kind of dessert that seemed to involve apples and lots of cinnamon. James followed behind him, so intent on reaching the available table and sitting down that he didn’t realize people flowing out of his way like water, pointing at his hat and walking stick and whispering to their friends in awe.
>
> James would sit, order something to eat, eat it as quickly as possible, and then retreat to a nice, downy bed somewhere upstairs, far away from the noise and hustle and bustle of the Inn’s great room.
>
> He reached the table shortly after Gabriel, who had scooted his chair to give himself the best view of the performers. The young man didn’t seem perturbed by the eruption of noise surrounding them and seemed to be enjoying himself. The joys of youth. If only James had lost most of his hearing like some of his friends.
>
> He wasn’t even sure how they would pay for their food or a room. He didn’t have any coins, or gems, or diamonds, or whatever fantasy currency they used here in En.
>
> “How will we pay for the food?” James asked Gabriel. The young man was still staring at the performers in rapture. He probably hadn’t even heard the old man.
>
> Fighting off the urge to roll his eyes, James tried again, louder this time. “How will we buy food?” he shouted.
>
> Still nothing.
>
> Growling in frustration, James cleared his throat and bellowed at the top of his lungs, “Have money?”
>
> Gabriel didn’t even blink, and no one else in the room looked over at him, which in hindsight was a good thing. If the entire room had plunged into silence and all stared at him yelling at a young man about having money, they might think he was going to rob Gabriel or something. Or cast a spell on him.
>
> “Ah ha!” It dawned on James, and for the first time in his life he eagerly reached for the tome of mysteries hanging from his belt and plunked the heavy book down on the table before flipping through the book, searching for a spell to make the boisterous room more manageable. Maybe he could conjure magic earplugs, or force everyone to whisper, or something like that.
>
> After flipping the book open to the middle and then working his way toward the front, James stumbled on what looked like the perfect spell. “Silence” was even in the title. Eager to soften the loud din surrounding him, he muttered under his breath,
>
>
>
> “Peace and quiet,
>
> stop the riot.
>
>
>
> Instead of blab,
>
> just like a slab,
>
>
>
> you will be perfectly silent.”
>
>
>
> Unlike all the other poems he’d read from the spell book, this one didn’t cause his voice to boom authoritatively throughout the room. Instead, as soon as he uttered the word “silent” he felt a strange sensation starting in his throat. He tried to speak, but his vocal cords seemed to be taking a well-deserved rest after seven decades and didn’t make a sound.
>
> You will be perfectly silent.
>
> This is what he got for jumping into magic without reading the instruction manual, or the actual contents of the spell, before casting it.
>
> Right at that moment, a young blonde woman with her short hair in a ponytail rushed over to their table.
>
> This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
>
> “What can I get for you, esteemed wizard?” She spoke to James, but she was clearly sizing up Gabriel, although he continued to be oblivious and studied the performers, who were now singing in perfect harmony while balancing on their hands, their feet in the air, tassels shimmying. The juggler was now also tossing a knife.
>
> Kids these days.
>
> “……….”
>
> Right. James couldn’t say anything, thanks to his own ineptitude. Just imagine how much easier this quest would be if he stopped sabotaging himself at every turn…
>
> James nudged Gabriel with a bony elbow, which knocked the blond man out of his stupor.
>
> “Yes, Just James?”
>
> James tried to use his eyebrows as expressively as possible to indicate the waitress looking at the two of them with growing confusion.
>
> “Ah, so sorry, I hope we haven’t kept you waiting too long. If Just James has already told you what he would like, I’ll make it easy on you and order the same thing,” Gabriel finished with a bright smile that seemed to pierce the woman’s heart.
>
> Oh Gabriel… sweet, sweet, infuriating Gabriel. You couldn’t have made it easy on me and just ordered a chicken or something.
>
> “Umm… I don’t think Wizard Just James has told me what he would like to eat yet. Have you?”
>
> She once again looked at James in anticipation. He inwardly sighed. He’d never been good at this game, but his sister’s grandchildren loved it and had roped him into it once or twice. After straightening his robes and sitting up as straight as his tired bones would allow, he gestured at his mouth with as much dignity as he could muster and shook his head curtly.
>
> “Is he telling me he doesn’t want any food?” the woman asked Gabriel.
>
> “Just James? Is something wrong?” the young man turned to look at James, who had to exercise a vast amount of self-control not to turn red in embarrassment… and frustration. The kids had been right—Great Uncle James was terrible at charades. He racked his mind for a moment, then pointed at his spell book… which he’d conveniently shut after finishing the spell. He had no idea where to find that specific spell in the massive tome and settled for opening the book to a random page and making an obvious show of studying its contents.
>
> “I guess my companion has no need for food right now. He is a wizard after all, a brilliant man filled with great wisdom. He must think right now would be best spent preparing for our quest,” Gabriel said with a shrug. “But I’ll have a loaf of freshly baked bread with a slab of butter, roasted potatoes and carrots, and several slices of whatever meat the chef has prepared for the evening.”
>
> James felt his mouth watering and frowned, trying to catch Gabriel’s eye. The young man looked abashed. “I’m not as disciplined as you are, Just James. I… I don’t even know how to do magic, so studying right now wouldn’t help in our cause.”
>
> James couldn’t even frown correctly it seemed. Yes, charades was definitely a lost cause. He just waved at the young man and hoped it conveyed that Gabriel was free to eat. One of them might as well eat, and it clearly wasn’t going to be James.
>
> The young woman looked at the two of them and finally just nodded before rushing away, slipping between other servers with ease and disappearing into the kitchen, which seemed to be in the circular section behind the performers. It was a unique design, but James didn’t have the patience for it at the moment. How long would this spell last? As long as his last spell, which had turned the witch into a hulking behemoth for multiple hours? If so, James would probably end up being rushed out to continue traveling in the dark, spurred on by Gabriel’s enthusiasm and James’ inability to disagree.
>
> And he was so looking forward to sleeping in a nice warm bed.
>
> As they waited for Gabriel’s delicious food to arrive, James grimaced. If anything, the room seemed even louder. Was it just him, or could he hear the entire conversation of the people sitting at the table next to them? He closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to shut out the laughter and music, which demanded his attention like a teenager.
>
> “I’ll ‘ave another, on you o’ course!” a man with a deep voice chortled.
>
> “No, you will not,” a dignified voice protested. “Sire, you’ve already had three.”
>
> “Which means I’m late for a fourth…” he laughed, slapping someone next to him on the back.
>
> A female voice entered the mix. “Is Lord Lilak pleased with the apple cobbler?”
>
> The dignified voice whispered, “A little too much, miss. I know he’ll beg you for a fourth, but…”
>
> “No buts about it, you ol’ stuff! I’ve never had anything so good during all my time living at the manor. And you know the missus, she tries, but most of the time it’s hardly edible,” the deep voice insisted.
>
> James had never been one for eavesdropping—he was strictly a people watcher—but he had to admit it was kind of fun. He peeked over at the source of the conversation. Sure enough, a large man dressed in finery was digging into his fourth apple cobbler while a toothpick of a man was shaking his head in disapproval, well-groomed mustache and all.
>
> Gabriel was still enthralled with the performance, so James shrugged and closed his eyes once more, eager to see what else he could learn from his newfound magic ears.
>
> “Are you certain you heard she was visiting?” A young woman’s voice, maybe early twenties.
>
> “Certain as the grave,” an older woman said in a stately tone.
>
> “But we’re not prepared to receive her at all!” This voice belonged to another young woman, maybe a sister of the first.
>
> “You’re going to need to be. Especially you, Lydia. I’m expecting twice as many hours spent practicing.”
>
> “But you know I hate the flute, Mother.”
>
> “And the flute hates you… ouch!” Definitely Lydia’s sister.
>
> James mentally laughed and moved on. Sure, he would probably develop a debilitating migraine, but it was worth it.
>
> He mentally migrated to the next table.
>
> “Roses are red, tomatoes are red, the sun looks red, sometimes,” a young man rattled off under his breath.
>
> “Fredrick, you’re supposed to rhyme, not just list things that are red,” a young woman chastised.
>
> “I, well, I like red things,” he said shyly.
>
> “I thought you liked Sarah, not red things,” the woman said.
>
> “Shhhush, not so loud!” the man hissed under his breath.
>
> “It’s not like anyone can hear us.” James could hear the eye-roll, even with his eyes firmly shut.
>
> “But I haven’t gotten up the courage to tell Sarah yet.”
>
> “To tell her you like red things?”
>
> “No,” he sputtered, “to tell her I like… ugh, you know.”
>
> The young man was clearly as gifted with rhyme as James was.
>
> James continued mentally bouncing from table to table, listening in on each conversation with his supersonic hearing. He didn’t even mind not being able to talk. Gabriel was in his own little world currently anyway, and James didn’t even have food to look forward to. He could only fervently hope that Gabriel would be merciful and set them up with somewhere to sleep for the night. Hopefully the young man had some kind of money. He had to if he’d ordered food, right? James hoped so. For the first time in his life, he was broke.
>
> It was kind of refreshing. No reason to stress about money if one did not have any money to stress about.
>
> At some point during James’ auditory voyage Gabriel’s food had arrived, and the blond man was about to dig in when James opened his eyes, eyed the food, and slowly reached out a hand to steal a slice of bread slathered with melting butter.
>
> Gabriel only had eyes for the fantastic display in the middle of the great room and could have cared less that an old man in a robe and slippers was “borrowing” some of his dinner. Smacking on the bread with satisfaction, James grinned and closed his eyes once more. He’d have to go through the tremendous hassle of digging through the spell book and bookmark this spell for future use. It was just too much fun listening in on everyone from the safety and comfort of his own little table in the corner of the room.
>
> He’d made it the center of the room now, near where the performers were captivating the crowd with their acrobatic feats, music, and juggling. The last time he’d glanced over with his eyes open, the dark-haired woman was now juggling with one hand while eating a slice of buttered bread with her other hand.
>
> What a showoff.
>
> “Sister, I’m telling you, I only need to talk to you for a moment,” a male voice said, so quietly even James with his super hearing had trouble making it out.
>
> “And like I’ve told you a million times, not while I’m working,” a woman responded, her voice slightly husky.
>
> “Master Kepler said you could take a break from juggling to eat,” the man insisted.
>
> “That’s true,” a baritone voice rumbled. “Go ahead, lass, enjoy the food. You’ve more than earned it with tonight’s performance.”
>
> “Thank you, Master Kepler.” The woman’s tone betrayed her lack of enthusiasm.
>
> “What do you want, Night?” the woman asked, her voice louder now. James peeked open an eye. True to what he’d overheard, the female juggler was no longer on the circular platform in the middle of the room and was now following a tall, slender man who could be her twin over to a table wedged in the back by one of the cozy fireplaces.
>
> “I’ll tell you everything later, where prying ears can’t hear us,” Night—or was it Knight?—insisted, and James inwardly groaned. His prying ears were eager to learn whatever the man’s juicy secrets were.
>
> “I can’t afford to waste time on conjecture,” the woman said. “One of us has a full-time gig…”
>
> “But that’s the thing, Day, it’s not conjecture.”
>
> “So you actually have the location of the Emerald Lady?” Day whispered, clearly intrigued.
>
> “I’ve heard rumors…”
>
> James was no longer listening. The “Emerald Lady” had to be the same as the Green Queen—the odds were definitely in his favor—and without thinking about it, he stood up from the table and started making his way over to the pair.
>
> “Just James, where are you going?” Gabriel asked quizzically. The young man had finally torn his attention away from the circular platform and was enjoying his food. He seemed to also be intrigued by the pair in the corner and their clandestine conversation.
>
> James turned to answer, only to remember belatedly that he still couldn’t respond. The funny feeling in his throat was still there, and his ears were still hearing things a normal person’s couldn’t, so the spell was still active.
>
> Instead, he shrugged his shoulders and simply winked before shuffling onward. He needed to talk to this Night and Day duo. The fact that Night was flipping multiple knives expertly in one of his pale, slender hands as he conversed with his sister wasn’t lost on the old man. Gabriel was a man of many, many talents, but James was more expendable if things went south. The young man had his whole life to live. James had already lived a respectable life, and besides, what kind of person would stab a harmless old man?
>
> Hopefully not the person flipping knives around and under his fingers with practiced precision.
>
> As he shuffled forward, on a mission, he startled several waiters and waitresses, who didn’t seem to know he was behind them until he passed them. After thinking about it for a moment, he inwardly chuckled.
>
> Of course. He was now “silent.” Apparently, the spell not only worked on his voice, but on his feet as well. Now that he paid attention to the fact, James noticed he was in fact moving with perfect stealth. Not even the rustling of his robes gave him away. He was like a wizardly specter, slowly making his way to the people with all the answers on the “Emerald Lady.”
>
> A large man with a larger belly got up suddenly from one of the tables and bumped into James, who toppled over and fell in the lap of an equally big man with a massive black beard that put James’ facial hair to shame.
>
> “Blimey, Harry, you dropped a wizard in my lap!”
>
> “‘Orry, Larry, didn’t mean to. He looks nice enough though.”
>
> The pair looked at James expectantly, waiting for him to respond. James merely grinned in what he hoped was a friendly and not constipated way and struggled to untangle himself from his robes and get back to his feet.
>
> “Least you could do is help the little man up, Harry.”
>
> “Of course, of course, sorry about that, Mr. Wizard.”
>
> James put both hands together and bowed his head toward the big man, hoping he understood.
>
> “He’s givin’ you some kind of blessin’, Larry!”
>
> “Or a cursin’! I’m sorry, Mr. Wizard sir, I didn’t know you were there. You were so silent.”
>
> “Of course he was silent, Larry you big brute, he’s a magical being.”
>
> The two were still arguing when James got back to his feet with the help of Harry and continued his shuffle to answers. It was becoming increasingly obvious that James had made the right choice with the satin robes. Not only was he in constant, cloud-like comfort, but people thought he was a mystical, wise, magical “being.”
>
> Nice.
>
> He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t realize he’d already reached the table where the pair were sitting, still locked in deep conversation. They hadn’t noticed James’ silent approach, so he took the liberty of sitting down, taking a bread slice from the middle of the table, and eating his snack as he continued listening to the siblings’ hushed words.
>
> “I’m telling you, Day, this time the rumors are true. The Red Lord…”
>
> “Hush. You know we don’t speak his name…”
>
> “But why is that the case?”
>
> “Because I don’t like the name Lander. Sounds strange.”
>
> Night was about to respond when he suddenly glanced up, his dark brown eyes meeting James’ as his mouth fell open slightly.
>
> “It’s you,” he breathed.