“Now, Witherwick, what is this problem.” The GrandWizard said to the dirty man in his office, a wizard gone wrong, Witherwick was a drunken entertainer who only got to see the GrandWizard because he had once studied in the Tower.
“I don’ know your grandness.” Witherwick said. “It’s jes, the Magic is not listenin’ like‘t used to.”
The GrandWizard frowned. “Not listening? The Magic always listens to those with the Gift.”
“I know, your grandness.” The Witherwick replied, then turned as the door opened and the GrandWizard’s apprentice came in, carrying a very large book.
“The Tome you asked for, GrandWizard.” The young man said, setting the large book on its special stand. “I would like to begin my Quest, sir.” He added. “I’ve read the Tomes and finished my studies. I would like to begin my quest to become a true Wizard.”
The GrandWizard looked the boy over. His white hair was held in a headband he wore tied around his forehead, his brightly colored robes were short, revealing plain loose trousers and boots beneath. His shirt was white and loose-collared. The GrandWizard could see the young man’s inner Magic tumbling around inside him, excited, trying to get loose. He didn’t look like a wizard, and he didn’t act like a wizard, but he was a mere boy, and wisdom came with age.
“No one goes on quests anymore, Apprentice.” The GrandWizard said tiredly. “There are no more monsters to slay, no maidens to rescue, no heroes to save from tight spots. That’s all done by Knights now.”
“Then may I go quest to become a Knight?” The naïve boy asked. The GrandWizard stood, knocking over his chair in the violence of his movement.
“Become a Knight! The very idea!” The old man shouted. “I should take your Magic now if that is what you intend to do!”
The boy fell to his knees. “No sir, please don’t take my magic. I just want to learn more. Please.” He pleaded. “I just want to learn more.”
The GrandWizard sat down again, righting his chair. “Then go back to your rooms and study some more, then do your chores. I will see you at dinner.” The young man stood and bowed, leaving to room.
Witherwick, who had stayed rather forgotten in the corner, stepped forward now.
“Why don’ you jes let the boy go?” He said. The GrandWizard sighed.
“That boy has power, a lot of it. His magic is strong and lively. I do not like the idea of him being able to control it.” A sly smile crept over the man’s bearded lips as an idea occurred to him. “Witherwick, I know you have friends in the lower levels. Lure the boy out, to the festival, and take his magic away.”
“Magic can’t jes be taken away,” Witherwick protested. “It’s got to be contained, some ’ow.” The GrandWizard handed him a small glass butterfly.
“Keep the magic contained in that.” The GrandWizard said. “Keep it with you, and you won’t have trouble controlling the Magic.” Witherwick turned to go, grinning.
“Oh, and Witherwick,” The GrandWizard said, “If you stay away from the drink, then your own gift will not diminish.”
“Oh, uh, yessir, your grandness.” Witherwick said, bowing hurriedly and rushing down the stairs back to the alleyways he did business in.