Half-Wizard Thordric Collection

Chapter 6

Thordric got to the bank barely ten minutes before it closed, and arrived too breathless to state his business. He thrust the slip of paper that the inspector had given him at the desk clerk before his legs buckled. The clerk leant over to see if he needed to ask security to drag Thordric away, but discovered he was grinning up at him. The clerk sniffed, his long nose drooping slightly, and shuffled through his papers. Finally, he pulled out a bright pink sheet, scribbling on it intently.

‘Here you are…sir,’ he said, dropping it over the desk to land in Thordric’s lap. ‘Will that be all?’

Thordric put the pink paper neatly in his jacket pocket, and then pulled himself to his feet, using the desk as leverage. ‘I, er, think so,’ he replied, unsure if the clerk had actually done what the inspector had wanted.

‘Good day then, sir,’ the clerk replied stiffly.

The inspector was in his office when Thordric arrived back at the station. He was deeply engrossed in a book detailing the plans for the Wizard Council’s newest idea, spell powered carriages. He hadn’t noticed Thordric enter.

‘Inspector?’ he said, quietly.

The inspector jumped, almost falling off his chair, and his moustache curled around to touch his nostrils again. ‘Thornal!’ he breathed. ‘Don’t you know how to knock?’

‘I’m sorry, sir – I mean, Inspector. I thought you’d like to know that I completed all the tasks you gave me.’ He handed the inspector the day’s copy of the Jard Town Gazette.

Jard Town Gazette‘Yes, yes, get on with it,’ the inspector said. ‘Did the bank give you anything for me?’

‘Oh yes, sir – Inspector. Erm…here.’ He handed the inspector the pink sheet of paper. The inspector snatched it and unfolded it, his eyes glinting. Thordric watched them go from left to right as he read it, noticing his moustache getting more unruly with each second that passed.

The inspector screwed the paper up and tossed it in the waste paper basket, muttering something that sounded awfully like ‘lack of funds’.

There was a sharp knock on the door, and a constable came in before the inspector had a chance to respond.

‘Inspector, we’ve had an urgent call from the Wizard Council. It’s High Wizard Kalljard, sir.’

‘Yes? What about him?’

‘He’s dead, Inspector.’

‘Dead? But…but…dead? Are you sure?’ the inspector said. His moustache had gone completely straight, and it looked to Thordric as though it had turned several shades lighter than normal.

deadThe constable lowered his voice. ‘Well, he was over a thousand years old, Inspector; it was bound to happen at some point.’

‘What about his eternal youth potion?’

‘Perhaps it finally ran its course,’ the constable shrugged.

The inspector sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right. I best go and see what happened and pay my official respects,’ he said. He got up and put on his jacket, smoothing it down smartly. He gestured for the constable to leave, and then turned to Thordric. ‘You’re coming with me. If I left you here, I’d return to find the whole station reduced to rubble.’

Thordric fought to keep his expression neutral. ‘As you wish, Inspector,’ he said.

The inspector raised an eyebrow, not expecting Thordric to be so docile. Thordric ignored it. The inspector shrugged and led them out of the station.

The crowd was already thick when they got to the residence of the Wizard Council. It was a huge turquoise building, in the shape of a crescent moon, and had the black and silver symbol of the book and potion bottle that decorated every product they had concocted.

A group of burly constables held the crowd back from the main doors. Thordric gaped as he watched the people trying to clamour over them, simply for a glimpse inside the place. Some of them were even crying, genuine tears at the High Wizard’s death, but not everyone one was there for those reasons.

Waiting for the inspector was a crumpled-looking man wearing a top hat and doing his best to bear some weight. ‘Inspector!’ he said, rushing up and pulling out a notepad and pen. ‘What do you make of the High Wizard’s sudden death?’

The inspector cursed under his breath. ‘Macks! What are you doing here?’

you‘Why, Inspector, this is big news, possibly the biggest news ever in the history of all newspapers! Why wouldn’t I be here?’ Macks shrieked excitedly, his voice shrill and breathless.

allThe inspector’s moustache broke out in curls. ‘You despicable little rat,’ he said. ‘He only died an hour ago, and you’re already seeking to profit from it.’

‘Sticks and stones, Inspector,’ Macks said, dancing out of the way of the inspector’s fists.

The inspector growled. ‘Constable!’ he shouted to the one standing closest. ‘Take this walking cesspit and throw him in the cells until I get back.’

‘Yes, Inspector,’ the constable said, and caught Macks in a grip so hard that he didn’t bother to struggle.

The inspector muttered to himself, trying to smooth down his moustache. The line of constables parted momentarily to let him and Thordric through, and they found themselves in front of a set of double doors larger than most of the trees Thordric had seen. The inspector tugged on the oversized bell pull, and within moments the great doors opened to let them through.

A young wizard in full-length robes greeted them. The robes weren’t black as Thordric had expected, considering it was a period of mourning. Instead, they were a brilliant, bottle green.

‘Inspector Jimmson,’ the wizard said, nodding his head slightly. ‘We welcome you in this hour of great sadness.’ He gestured for them to step inside, and the doors shut quickly behind them, leaving only the light from the blue fires hovering at the sides of the wall.

Thordric had gone unnoticed until then, but now the wizard turned to him curiously. ‘And who might this be, Inspector? As you know, we have strict regulations about who we let inside our walls.’

‘Oh, the boy here?’ the inspector said. ‘He’s my errand runner. I thought I’d bring him along so as to keep him out of trouble. Deaf and dumb, you know.’

Thordric struggled to keep his jaws shut.

‘Curious. How is it that you get him to do what you want?’ the wizard asked, peering at him as though he were a goldfish in a bowl.

‘I write him notes, and he can lip-read to some extent.’

‘Can he be trusted? We carry a lot of secrets within these walls, secrets that we would prefer not to find displayed in those dreadful newspapers.’

‘Of course, of course. But I assure you, the boy could be questioned until his arms drop off before he speaks any secrets. We tested him on such matters recently, and he passed with ease,’ the inspector said, without any hint of a lie touching his face. Thordric only hoped that his own face gave none of his surprise at the inspector’s words away.

‘Excellent,’ the wizard replied, far too enthusiastically to be convincing. ‘Please follow me, then.’

The wizard led them down a long corridor, past rooms where many strange smells and sounds emanated. One door had been left open, Thordric noticed, and inside he saw a bright white room where squares of different sizes and shapes shuffled themselves around on the walls, trying to connect. The inspector caught him gawking and rapped him sharply around the head with his knuckles. It hurt.

The corridor seemed to stretch on and on forever, but then the wizard made a sudden gesture with his arm. A staircase appeared in front of them, narrow, twisting, and made of hard stone. At the top was a slender gold-leafed door, embossed with the Wizard Council’s black and silver emblem. The wizard paused before opening it. ‘We arranged the body in his chambers for those of importance who wished to pay their respects. I must warn you, however, that in death he does not look as he did in life. Due to the magical extension of his life, his body has deteriorated far quicker that one would expect.’

The inspector bowed his head gravely, and the wizard opened the door. Inside, the room was decorated with rich velvet furnishings in deep reds and blues, and bookshelves lined the circular walls. In the middle was a grand four poster bed, and on it lay the body, covered up to the neck in silk sheets.

Thordric took in a sharp breath as he saw High Wizard Kalljard’s face. The skin had become hard and leathery, curling his upper lip into a sneer and revealing several gold teeth. His hair and beard were thin and grey, hardly resembling the thick lustrous condition it had been known for. A strong musty smell came off him, although the other wizards had tried to mask it by covering the bed in flower petals.

‘Great Spells!’ the inspector said. ‘Is this really the result of his prolonged youth?’

‘It is our suspicion, yes,’ the wizard said.

‘How terrible. I don’t suppose you have any idea what killed him?’

The wizard shifted his face, his expression becoming unreadable. ‘There has been some speculation. Many, myself included, believe that he simply decided to stop drinking the potion sustaining him, although it would have taken several weeks for it to completely clear from his system.’

‘So, you’re suggesting suicide?’ the inspector said, glancing up.

‘Well, yes, I suppose you would call it that. However,’ the wizard said, dropping his voice slightly. ‘Others believe he was pressured into doing so. There have been a surprising number wishing to challenge his thoughts on half-wizards throughout his reign.’ He shot a look at Thordric, who almost tripped over the large rug on the floor.

‘You think he killed himself because of a few half-wizards? I wouldn’t have thought he would lower himself to their level.’

‘Quite, Inspector, quite. But it is not I who thinks as such. Only some of my brethren.’

IThordric shifted uneasily and went back to look at Kalljard’s sunken face. He noticed that he could see the outline of Kalljard’s bones under the covers, and had to shake himself slightly. He had never been good with dead bodies, even when he’d gone to visit his mother working away so peacefully at the morgue. He was about to turn away, when another smell hit his nostrils. It was tangy and metallic, like the smell of rust, but much stronger. He looked around to see where it was coming from, but noticed something odd. Above Kalljard’s right ear and almost concealed by his thin hair, was a brown dot, almost like a mole; it was so perfectly round that he knew it couldn’t be one. It reminded him of the paint marks he’d been practicing on the tree stump that morning, and the more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that someone had been using Kalljard’s head for target practice.

With a slight sinking feeling he observed that it was a lot smaller and neater than his had been – the work of a true master. Perhaps he could practice again when he went back to Lizzie’s on Sunday.

‘When will the burial take place?’ the inspector asked, bringing Thordric’s attention back to the conversation.

‘Unfortunately, it will take place no sooner than a week’s time. As unexpected as this was, we haven’t had an opportunity to prepare the tomb.’

‘I see. Well, I humbly offer my condolences and will of course keep the papers away at all costs.’

‘Thank you, Inspector. Let me show you out.’

Once they were outside, the inspector hit Thordric sharply over the head again. ‘What did you think you were doing, you great oaf?’ he said to him.

‘What do you mean, Inspector?’ Thordric said, rubbing his stubbly head. He hardly noticed that the crowd had disappeared, leaving the constables to collect all the litter that had been left behind.

‘Floating around the body, as if it were a great spectacle at the circus!’ the inspector said. ‘Whenever you are out of the station, you are to conduct yourself with the greatest possible dignity and poise. Regardless of your position, you are still a member of the station, and you represent everything we stand for. Behave like that again and not even your mother will be able to argue for leniency for what I’ll do to you.’

Thordric quailed and tried to mutter an apology.

‘Enough of that nonsense. Run back to the station and pour me a tea in the largest cup you can find, and I want a whole stack of Jaffa cakes to go with it.’

Thordric ran.

The inspector had calmed down enough after his twelfth cup of tea to ask Thordric to send for his mother. He caught the look of fear on Thordric’s face and assured him he only wanted to let her know about the body. Thordric was about to leave, when he suddenly remembered something.

‘Sorry, Inspector, I was supposed to tell you this earlier—’

‘What is it now, Thorndred?’ the inspector said wearily.

‘It’s your sister, Inspector. She’s asked me to help her with her chores every Sunday.’

The inspector choked on his tea. ‘Lizzie asked you to come back? I was hoping—’ He coughed awkwardly, forgetting himself. ‘I mean to say, I thought she may have chased you out with a broom, given her less than cheery disposition.’

‘She said it did cross her mind, Inspector,’ Thordric lied. ‘But she found that I have quite a skill for fixing things.’

‘Hmm. Very well then, if she wants you back, I see no reason why I should refuse to let you.’

‘Thank you, sir – uh, Inspector,’ Thordric said, and rushed off to the morgue.

His mother was completely shocked by the news of Kalljard’s death, but was profoundly impressed when Thordric said the inspector had taken him to see the body. ‘He must be starting to trust you, then,’ she said cheerily. Thordric didn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise.

While the inspector was entertaining his mother with the details of the whole thing, Thordric stood quietly by the wall, wishing it was Sunday already. He longed to be able to prove that half-wizards were people of value like everybody else, and he knew Lizzie’s training was the key. He couldn’t wait to wipe the smug expressions off the full wizards’ faces when he revealed his true abilities. He could do it; he knew he could.

‘Was there anything untoward about the body? Apart from its mummified state, of course,’ his mother asked the inspector.

‘Maggie! What a thing to ask. This is the High Wizard himself we’re talking about, not the usual rough and tumble lot who find their way into your hands,’ the inspector said.

Thordric’s mother laughed. ‘I’m sorry Jimmson, I’m afraid I get a little too carried away sometimes.’

Thordric listened, wondering if he should mention the strange rusty smell and the mark on Kalljard’s forehead.