Chapter Five
> Maybe if the whole “wizard” thing didn’t work out he would become a farmer. Ehh, who was he kidding. Farming was way more work than being a wizard. Maybe he could get employment as a scarecrow. With a chair.
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> “Me? A what?” James had retained his hearing better than some people living through their seventh decade, but he figured he must have misheard the cat. It was one thing for sloppy Harold to be a… magically inclined individual… but James? James had never done anything magical in his life, unless a particular finger painting in kindergarten counted, and he had done his best to achieve only simple “excellence” since then.
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> “Not a what, a wizard.” The cat somehow managed to enunciate the word even more clearly the second time, which he didn’t understand, given that’s the furry creature’s mouth had not moved once the entire time. Maybe Harold had some sort of magical sound system plugged into the thoughts of his feline companion.
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> Doubtful. The man didn’t even seem to have a clean and matching pair of socks.
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> “I know you claim I somehow inherited this tower, even though I’m sure Harold is no relation of mine, on either side, but that doesn’t make me a wizard, Kat.”
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> “But you wear the wizardly robes, James the Just. And wield a wizardly staff. And have a most impressive wizardly beard. And you’re holding a book of spells.”
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> James looked down at the silky robe he was wearing, eyed the broom handle resting against his chair, and then looked down at the white scarf that trailed all the way down to his waist.
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> White scarf?
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> In the dark he’d figured it was part of the robes, some strange built-in accessory, but now that Beacon Tower was, well, a beacon, it was painfully obvious that this white scarf was, in fact, not a scarf.
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> It was a beard. The longest, most comical beard James had ever seen in his life. Even old Joey, a homeless man who often squatted on one of the sidewalks leading to Blaise’s Books, had never gotten his impressive facial hair to such fantastical lengths as the beard now firmly attached to James’ face. It explained the itching at least.
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> “Where did this horrible thing come from?” He didn’t yelp, but it was a close thing.
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> “What horrible thing are you referring to? My late master kept an entire floor of things he deemed ‘horrible,’ but that is on the twenty-sixth floor. Did he leave something down here that has caught your attention? A giant’s toe perhaps?”
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> “I’m referring to this.” He grabbed the beard and shook it at the cat, wincing as he pulled on it a little too hard.
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> “That is your wizardly beard, a status symbol of your great wisdom and experience.”
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> “It’s a wizardly pain in the behind. How am I supposed to organize this pitiful excuse for a ‘wizard’s’ tower with this trail of hair following me around? I’m not sure how I would even eat with something like this…. Is there a wizardly beard comb lying around this hovel someplace?”
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> “I could groom it if you want.” Kat seemed sincere, at least as sincere as a cat could look.
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> “On second thought, I’m sure I can manage. In fact, I’ll just cut it off.”
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> “The wizardly beard cannot be removed with something as trivial as a pair of scissors. Although it would be fun to see you try. My old master attempted such a thing twenty-two times exactly before giving up.”
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> “I see…. I thought you said this book was a book of ‘mysteries’ though, not a magic book.” James glared down at the black cat, who seemed ignorant to his anger.
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> “Is magic not the greatest mystery?”
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> You’re a mystery. And the fact that I’m talking to you in the first place is an even bigger ‘mystery.’
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> “But you can’t possibly say that a broom handle is a wizardly anything, especially not a staff.”
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> Kat just grinned at him, even going so far as to show her tiny pointed teeth.
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> “If you wish me not to say your staff is a staff, then I will refrain.”
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> “Too kind, too kind…” James muttered, going from frustrated to distraught to slightly excited to mostly just hungry. The excitement surprised him, but the rest was to be expected. He’d had a traumatizing day, even if most of it had been spent sleeping in a pile of hay.
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> “You mentioned a village, with able-bodied men and food? It seems like Harold didn’t eat much,” James said dryly, gesturing expansively at the filthy kitchen that seemed to host more dust than anything else.
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> “Harold has been gone for half a century now. Any food he left behind is now dust.”
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> Which explained a lot, truthfully. And better dust than mold.
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> “As for the village, I can point you in the right direction.” Kat puffed out her chest, which was all fur and not the comfortable chubbiness of Prince Charles like James had originally thought.
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> “Wonderful. The sooner I eat, the sooner we can find a strong farm boy to do the heavy lifting here at the tower.” James worked his way out of the kitchen chair, a much easier feat now that he had a walking stick. It was starting to make sense why wizards, who were classically always older than time itself, followed the same fashion, regardless of fantasy world or author. The robes? Incredibly comfortable, like wearing pajamas at all times. The staff? A convenient excuse for a walking stick to make hobbling around easier. The beard? Well, James didn’t have a good reason for the extreme amount of facial hair yet, but he’d probably come up with something. Maybe it was good for batting at flies or something.
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> It probably did make him looked venerated and wise. Hopefully.
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> “Okay, Kat, lead the way.” The cat stretched, arching her back and extending her claws before weaving her way around the odds and ends with practiced ease. James felt good about not toppling into a basket of dirty wizard robes or knocking over another dead plant, even if he took three times as long to make it to the front door, which looked identical to the back door.
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> He had to use his shoulder to push the door open, its hinges rusty from years of neglect, and when the door finally did open, James clung to his walking stick to keep from falling head over heels.
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> Warm sunlight streamed in, along with two or three inches of fresh dust, which settled over the already dusty room. James’ squinted as his eyes adjusted. This was probably what those pointy hats on the coat hanger were for. He reached over and grabbed one, picking the least pointy of the bunch and settling it firmly on his head. As he did he felt luxurious, soft tresses of hair flowing down to his shoulders and laughed out loud.
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> Diane would kill for the gorgeous hair James had spontaneously grown when he put on the deceiving robes, even if it was pure white like snow. It was pretty soft. And super thick—even the hair of his youth had never been this healthy. Maybe he could get used to this wizard nonsense. He approved of their fashion choices and excellent hair, even if the beard was too much and the magic was too magical for his taste.
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> Kat meowed to get his attention, which he found ironic. She had scaled a bookshelf next to the open door and put a paw on his chest, pulling his attention away from his new locks.
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> “Yes?”
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> “Follow the dirt path to the right of Beacon Tower until you reach the village.”
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> James poked his head through the door. There was a dirt path not two feet from the entrance to the wizard tower, and even though it was a little hard to distinguish between the path and the dead grass because of the excessive amount of dust kicking through the air, even he would have been able to put two and two together. There was even a wooden sign driven into the parched dirt with a helpful arrow labeled “village” pointing to the right.
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> “Thank you, Kat. I don’t think I would have ever found my way without your help. Will you be joining me?”
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> “I am bound to Beacon Tower. But I will be here when you return, James the Just.”
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> James peered down the road, grumbling under his breath when he didn’t see the village in the distance, just swirling plumes of brown dust, a stark contrast to the bluest sky he’d ever seen. It was almost as bright as a neon sign.
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> “Harold didn’t happen to leave a magical horse behind, did he?”
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> But Kat was already gone, scampering after another little furry creature, somehow managing not to knock over every precarious piece of furniture and junk in the process. This was the problem with having only a cat as companionship. They were notorious for their selective attention spans.
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> James hobbled his way out of the tower, closed the door behind him, and resigned himself to a long walk. He felt something weighty hanging at his side and realized Kat had somehow hooked the tome of mysteries to the belt around his robes. So much for not being help because of a lack of “opposable thumbs.” Kat’s teeth seemed to more than make up for the finger deficiency.
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> “I could see if there’s anything in this spell book that could magic me into town,” James contemplated. He didn’t believe in magic, barely believed in the internet (and that was only when one of his grandnephews or nieces shoved a little tablet or computer at him), but what was the harm of dabbling with the impossible in a hallucination?
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> But what if this crazy land was real? James had no desire to end up with a tail or to accidentally set everything on fire with a magical explosion. He would just walk to the village the old-fashioned way, with his two feet. He’d found some cozy slippers under the kitchen table while he’d been sketching out his renovation schemes, and since Harold didn’t need them anymore, James had borrowed them. True to form, they were also wildly comfortable, like walking on clouds. As he made his way onto the path into town, both the cloud-comfort slippers and walking stick made the journey more bearable. He would be fine. He didn’t need to consult any hocus pocus and accidentally take someone’s eye out. It was just a leisurely stroll into town to grab some groceries and hire out some help for home organization.
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> Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
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> He was an old man after all, he couldn’t be expected to move Harold’s many cauldrons by himself.
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> ***
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> The walk had been uneventful. No one else had been on the path, and James knew why. The dust was a little ridiculous. He had quickly jammed the hat as far down on his head as it would go and then wrapped his luscious beard around his face like a scarf until only his eyes and the tip of his nose were showing. It was also strangely windy, and James felt like a bedraggled scarecrow by the time he reached a large wooden post with the helpful label “Village.”
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> “Maybe the village really is called ‘Village,’” he murmured to himself. The lack of creativity didn’t bother him—it would make the name easier to remember. And he’d never been good with names. Sure, he found it easy to remember Bel’s name, but he had known her since grade school. And “Bel” was an easy name. A soft, pretty name that rolled off the tongue.
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> It was short and easy to pronounce. That was all.
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> As soon as he passed the sign, he started to see hints of civilization. Skinny cows were grazing on dead grass more out of habit than anything else, huddled together in one corner of their massive fenced enclosure. A young man was attempting to pull a plow through ground that seemed to be more rock than dirt, a straw hat on his head that he occasionally took off and waved around him, trying to beat back the grabbing fingers of dust.
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> As James got closer, the young man dropped his plow and rushed over to him, simultaneously bowing and tripping over his own feet in his haste to reach James.
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> “High Magus! You have returned! My grandpap said you would, said you weren’t one for timeliness, but thank goodness you have returned and graced our humble village with your mighty presence!”
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> James eyes widened. The young man was still talking, going on about honorifics and similar nonsense, but James was too busy sizing up the man’s size and wondering if he would do for James’ tower projects.
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> “What’s your name, young man?” James asked gruffly. He’d swallowed his fair share of dust on the walk over and his throat felt sore and parched.
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> “I am beyond honored to be addressed by a magnanimous wielder of the magical arts such as yourself! My name is Gabriel.” The young man had lost his straw hat in his haste to greet James and was now blinking rapidly, trying to keep the dirt at bay. Gabriel looked strong, and ironically looked like the perfect fit for James’ ill-fitting initial outfit. He was the definition of handsome and could have posed on the front of one of Diane’s favorite magazines—if the issue was covering handsome hicks or hillbillies. The boy had a strong jaw, soft, strangely intense blue eyes, and golden locks that curled slightly and rested on his shoulders, which were as big as bulldozers. The comically thin waist, the broad chest… Gabriel checked every box for typical “hero.”
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> The only thing he was missing was a sword and a certain level of swagger and confidence someone like him should have been gifted at birth.
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> “A pleasure to meet you, young Gabriel. I come looking for… sustenance.” Were wizards supposed to talk like wise old sages? Did James need to up his vocabulary? It wouldn’t hurt. He wasn’t a wizard, regardless of what the talking cat had said, but he didn’t need the villagers to know that, especially if magic people were evidently held in such high esteem. Maybe he could get some free food.
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> “Sustenis… is that a magical herb or concoction?” Gabriel looked at him with such unmarred innocence and seemed too genuine to be pulling James’ leg, so James mentally adjusted his speech and tried again.
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> “Sustenance is things like water, bread, vegetables and such. I have just come from far away and am looking for, well, food.”
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> Gabriel’s perfectly blue eyes lit up and James knew he had hit the mark this time.
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> “Please allow me to escort you, your wizardliness!”
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> That title wasn’t going to work.
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> “James. My name is James. No need for the wizard stuff.”
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> “I wouldn’t dream of addressing such a powerful being as yourself by a first name. Please, sir wizard, how should I address you?”
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> “How about ‘Just’ James?” the old man said dryly, fighting back an eye-roll. Gabriel wouldn’t get the joke, but he’d been insisting for the past fifty or so years that people call him “James” and not “Jamie” or “Jim” or “Jay” or any of the other variations of the word that it was second nature at this point.
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> The young man nodded eagerly, his perfectly coifed hair blowing in the breeze like a supermodel photoshoot before resting gently on his shoulders once more.
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> James wasn’t jealous that Gabriel was unusually handsome, just irritated that people like him existed. They made average joes like James look bad.
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> “High Wizard Just James! And to think, I was the first person in the Village to greet you. I will help you find as much food as you need. Follow me!”
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> True to his word, Gabriel’s eagerness didn’t fade as they left his sad little plot of land behind and made their way to the heart of the Village. Although, James thought, I would be just as eager to get away from that plot of rocks.
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> The Village was obviously suffering from the same drought that seemed to have spread throughout the entire land of En. Their grass was just as dry and brown, just as crunchy underfoot, but James marveled at the expansive corn fields they passed by. He had read something about corn being a “drought-tolerant” vegetable, and now that looked to be true.
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> “Has the Village managed to grow anything beside corn?” James asked, enjoying the mesmerizing motion of the corn stalks as they undulated in the dusty breeze. It looked like a field of gold. He’d never seen anything like it. Manhattan wasn’t exactly known for its rolling farmland. He hadn’t ever considered moving out of Chelsea—he’d never known anything else—but this was peaceful. Was this what Bel felt when she cared for her ever-growing garden? A sense of wonder at life, a sense of peace and calm that transcended daily worries and cares?
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> It was nice. Maybe if the whole “wizard” thing didn’t work out he would become a farmer. Ehh, who was he kidding. Farming was way more work than being a wizard. Maybe he could get employment as a scarecrow. With a chair.
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> “We also grow melons, peppers, squash, cucumbers, eggplants, and tomatoes,” Gabriel replied. He paused for a moment, lost in thought, which gave James a change to walk a little faster in a subtle attempt to catch up to the young man’s muscular legs and long gait.
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> “Must make for some good salads,” James commented.
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> “If you want a salad, High Wizard Just James, I will make one for you myself! I… am not much of a farmer,” the young man admitted, looking down at his broad chest in obvious embarrassment. “My parents were kind enough to gift me my very own plot of land, but I don’t understand the complexities of dirt like they do I’m afraid. But I am stronger than I look, and I am quite skilled at composing salads.” A sliver of pride returned to the young man’s handsome face as he finished, and he held himself a little straighter.
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> “What is it like being a wizard, James the Most Just and Honorable?”
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> If Gabriel kept this up, it would take him a good thirty seconds just to get past James’ name and made-up titles, which were growing longer with every sentence the young man spoke.
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> “Being a wizard is…” James’ wracked his brain. Tiring? A lot of work? I have not idea because I’ve only been a wizard for less than a day, and most of that was spent unconscious?
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> “… a grave responsibility. We are charged with protecting the people and creatures of En… this world.”
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> “I can only imagine,” Gabriel said gravely. He was about to launch into another question—James could read it on his face—when they passed the last corn field and entered what was likely the town square. A dried-out fountain sat in the middle of the square, which was actually circular in shape. There were stone buildings surroundings them, all with thatched roofs and quaint green or orange shutters. Flower boxes sat under every windowsill, but they were empty, nothing but piles of dust sitting within. Various stalls were set up around the fountain, which was shaped like a wizard with billowing robes. The stone statue was posed with the mouth wide open, shaped like a “O,” which was probably where the water usually came from. The dish-like shape under the stone figure was littered with little green and blue pebbles that reminded James of the quarters and dimes people chucked in ponds for good luck or wishes or something like that.
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> “High Wizard!” a voice rang out, and a man even taller and broader than Gabriel seemed to materialize from the crowd, rushing to James’ side with such intensity that James took a few steps back, glad he had his walking stick on hand.
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> “That’s me,” James said lamely. Given how the other villagers instantly gave the man room and how they looked at him, this was likely the mayor. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Mayor.”
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> The man, who had dark brown hair slicked close to his head and a thick handlebar mustache, grinned, revealing teeth that weren’t quite white. One of them even seemed to be plated in something shiny, maybe gold or silver. He kind of reminded James of a pirate or an old-fashioned barber. Or a weird conglomeration of the two. “And please, just call me…”
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> “This is High Wizard Just James,” Gabriel said proudly, puffing out his chest, interrupting James, who shrugged. Whatever would get the required pleasantries out of the way so he could eat. He now deeply regretted not finishing his delicious roast Maryland turkey. “I have been showing him around our humble town. He had requested food after his long and taxing journey.”
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> For such a muscular farmer, the young man knew how to give quite the speech, even if it was a little long-winded.
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> “My name is Burgomaster Steele. I am the elected leader of this little village, more like a hamlet really.” The mayor’s voice was deep and rich, like 80% dark chocolate. “We have waited many years for another high wizard such as yourself. The late high wizard, Harold the Humble and….” Steele continued talking, but James found his attention wandering. It was about nap time, and he still hadn’t managed to get any free food, even if he was the wonderful wizard of En. He glanced around the stalls and found his mouth watering as he saw dark-green melons, small red tomatoes, peppers in green and yellow and orange… even the eggplant looked tolerable. But wait, hadn’t the mayor claimed he was a master of something? Ah, yes. James’ attention returned to the big man.
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> “Thank you for your hospitality, Burger Master Steele. I haven’t had a good hamburger in probably twenty years, but right now that sounds perfect. Do you burn them to a crisp or prefer thicker patties?”
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> Steele gave James a strange look and was about to respond when James waved him away and said, “You know what? I’ll take either. Or some of both. Just give the patties to young master Gabriel here. He’ll know what to do with them.”
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> Gabriel and Steele looked at each other in confusion, but James was focused on his next task. Visiting each of the stalls and collecting food.
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> “Hello, all!” James proclaimed. He’d never been one for public speeches, but he didn’t know anyone here, and even if he had, none of them would recognize him in this wizard getup. Not to mention the hair and beard. He absentmindedly undid the beard from around his face. The dust wasn’t as bad in town, and it made it harder for him to talk with all that hair wrapped around his lips and chin. The beard tumbled down past his belt. It really was extensive, wasn’t it? Oh, right. His first wizardly speech.
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> “I have come to visit your village and meet each of you. I have heard many good things about your food and hope to sample your wares. I come without any money, but….” What was he going to do about that? He was truly broke.
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> “Maybe I can barter for your services?” he finished hopefully.
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> As if the entire town had been waiting for James to finish speaking, multiple men and women started speaking at once, eagerly talking over their neighbors and pointing at their goods.
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> “Would the illustrious wizard like some of my freshly grown corn?”
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> “Tomatoes! On the vine, off the vine, plump and juicy—”
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> “High Wizard, please consider my husband’s freshly baked bread…”
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> “Eggplants, good for just about anything!”
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> “Fresh cow’s milk—”
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> “Butter!”
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> “Cream!”
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> James’ arms were quickly full. He had already handed his broom-handle-turned-walking-stick to Gabriel, who held it at arm’s length reverently.
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> “Gabriel, do you think you could maybe find me a basket?” James asked as quietly as he could.
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> Instantly four hands shot toward him, each with a different handwoven basket.
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> “Thank you, and you, and both of you,” James said, trying to find the people the hands belonged to in the crowd of people. The square had quickly filled to bursting, and James was starting to get a little overwhelmed. There was no way he would be able to bring all of the village’s generous donations back with him. That was unless…
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> “Gabriel. How would you like to return with me to the tower and be my assistant on a few tasks?”
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> The young man, for once, was speechless.