“Welcome to the temple of the greatest soothsayer!” a booming greeting sounds, directed at this week’s first visitor to the small magic shop. “What kind of prophecy interests you, young man?” the man, who calls himself a true master of divination, unlike all the other fortune-tellers of this and other worlds, asks with a polite smile.
“Please tell me, when will I die?” the young man, who has lost all confidence in tomorrow, asks uncertainly.
“Right now,” the wizard replies, slightly more serious but without losing his professional smile. The visitor’s heavy head slowly bows, his glassy stare sliding across the soothsayer’s calm and completely unsurprised face.
“You killed him!” an outraged voice echoes from the assistant behind the curtains of the shop’s back room.
“Now, why invent such things, my dear friend,” the soothsayer calmly returns to his usual business behind the counter. “I assure you, it’s a pure coincidence. It’s simply that the decisive moment of this poor fellow’s life has come. Though, why poor fellow? The young man lived a remarkable life. I’m even a little envious of him,” the owner of the magic shop modestly admits.
“What is there to envy?” the assistant looks with a sympathetic gaze at the guy, who is peacefully lying under the counter. “Your life is much more interesting.”
“Perhaps,” the soothsayer smiles lightly. “It’s just unknown whose life was more alive,” he says slightly detached, as if viewing the past of the week’s first visitor.
“You’re delving into philosophy again, which no one needs.”
“Why unwanted?” the wizard protests, returning to the present time. “Philosophy is a great science!”
“Oh, here we go again,” the assistant shifts a skeptical glance towards the door, remembering the sign. “Please, don’t start again,” he flips the ‘open’ sign to its reverse side with the word ‘closed’. “Let me calmly deal with the body of our visitor, and then we can discuss dinner.”
“All right!” the soothsayer readily agrees. “And over dinner, we’ll discuss your strange aversion to philosophy.”
“Let’s better discuss my sincere love for silence and peace,” the assistant starts escorting the first visitor of a tough week.
“Agreed! Let me help,” the wizard generously comes to the aid of his fairly strong assistant. In some cases, physical strength isn’t enough; friendly support is needed more. “Oh, these Mondays,” the soothsayer watches the entrance door with a smirk, hurrying the first visitor towards the back exit.
“Welcome to the temple of the greatest soothsayer!” a booming greeting sounds, directed at this week’s first visitor to the small magic shop. “What kind of prophecy interests you, young man?” the man, who calls himself a true master of divination, unlike all the other fortune-tellers of this and other worlds, asks with a polite smile.
“Please tell me, when will I die?” the young man, who has lost all confidence in tomorrow, asks uncertainly.
“Right now,” the wizard replies, slightly more serious but without losing his professional smile. The visitor’s heavy head slowly bows, his glassy stare sliding across the soothsayer’s calm and completely unsurprised face.
“You killed him!” an outraged voice echoes from the assistant behind the curtains of the shop’s back room.
“Now, why invent such things, my dear friend,” the soothsayer calmly returns to his usual business behind the counter. “I assure you, it’s a pure coincidence. It’s simply that the decisive moment of this poor fellow’s life has come. Though, why poor fellow? The young man lived a remarkable life. I’m even a little envious of him,” the owner of the magic shop modestly admits.
“What is there to envy?” the assistant looks with a sympathetic gaze at the guy, who is peacefully lying under the counter. “Your life is much more interesting.”
“Perhaps,” the soothsayer smiles lightly. “It’s just unknown whose life was more alive,” he says slightly detached, as if viewing the past of the week’s first visitor.
“You’re delving into philosophy again, which no one needs.”
“Why unwanted?” the wizard protests, returning to the present time. “Philosophy is a great science!”
“Oh, here we go again,” the assistant shifts a skeptical glance towards the door, remembering the sign. “Please, don’t start again,” he flips the ‘open’ sign to its reverse side with the word ‘closed’. “Let me calmly deal with the body of our visitor, and then we can discuss dinner.”
“All right!” the soothsayer readily agrees. “And over dinner, we’ll discuss your strange aversion to philosophy.”
“Let’s better discuss my sincere love for silence and peace,” the assistant starts escorting the first visitor of a tough week.
“Agreed! Let me help,” the wizard generously comes to the aid of his fairly strong assistant. In some cases, physical strength isn’t enough; friendly support is needed more. “Oh, these Mondays,” the soothsayer watches the entrance door with a smirk, hurrying the first visitor towards the back exit.
“Why are you rushing to put him away?” the assistant asks, surprised.
“Tell me, Theo, how many times have I been wrong in my predictions?” the wizard stares intently at the young man, waiting for the best possible answer.
“It has happened,” the assistant quietly recalls.
“Fine, I agree, I was sometimes wrong,” the master soothsayer reluctantly admits. “But do you think I can predict the next visitor right now?”
“But I flipped the sign on the door,” the assistant pauses, confirming the moment of closing in his memory. “We’re closed,” he asserts, based on the hazy recollections of the unexpected incident where the first visitor played the main tragic role.
“No sign will stop this person,” the soothsayer hints slyly.
“You know each other?” Theo is surprised, as if the meeting has already taken place.
“And you’ll meet him soon,” the wizard smirks, closing the cellar cupboard door. “Let’s hurry,” he lightly nudges the assistant up the stairs.
“What is the great soothsayer up to?” the voice of the very predicted next visitor drifts from the front of the shop.
“Not great, but greatest!” the wizard corrects, proudly and seriously.
“Yes, truly, the greatest!” the new visitor corrects himself, looking seriously at the soothsayer and his assistant. “Some things never change—you’re still the same self-absorbed trickster with a barely noticeable inflated sense of self-importance,” the visitor recalls, laughing.
“Tricks and real magic are blood brothers, born of fate.”
“Only you can so eloquently veil your questionable dealings,” the visitor acknowledges with respect. “Won’t you introduce me to your friend?” he shifts a questioning, slightly distrustful gaze to the young man standing a little behind the soothsayer.
“Theo is a wonderful assistant,” the soothsayer assures him with a smile. “He can be trusted,” he answers the unspoken next question.
“This is the first time I’ve heard such words from Ewan,” the guest examines the young man, as if visually verifying the truth of the statement.
“Meet him, Theo, this is my old friend and colleague, Colin,” the wizard nods slightly, smiling at his comrade.
“A pleasure to meet you, young man,” the polite guest offers a hand in a white glove.
“My hands are dirty,” Theo meticulously tries to wipe the light film of dirt onto his equally grubby clothes.
“It’s nothing, lad. If you sail under the same flag as Ewan, I’m ready to accept the terms of your journey,” Colin removes his glove and confidently shakes the unsure young man’s hand.
“Why would you,” Theo quietly worries about the guest’s perfectly clean skin.
“These hands have done many things in life. Your hands, compared to mine, are cleaner than the morning dew,” Colin smiles with a hint of sadness, putting the glove back on. “The light film from your work won’t affect me in the least.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure, if I were you,” Ewan smirks.
“Speaking of work! What exactly were you two doing back there?” Colin tries to peek over Theo’s shoulder.
“Just work-related hustle,” the assistant abruptly pulls the curtains shut.
“That’s rude, Theo,” the wizard quietly observes. “I just vouched for you to my friend. Such trust must be mutual. You can entrust any secret to Colin, and rest assured, the world will never hear a single spoken or thought word of your secret.”
“All right,” the assistant bravely pulls the curtain back.
“What are you doing?” the soothsayer hastily stops him. “I didn’t say to immediately give away all our secrets,” he looks at his old friend with a sly smile.
“Some people never change,” Colin remarks with a smile.
“Some ordinary people never change, but special ones certainly always remain themselves,” the wizard confirms proudly.
“Apparently, you’ve forgotten, my dear friend, that you’re not the only one with a special gift of prophecy,” the guest reminds him, not yielding in pride.
“But mine is the best!” Ewan smirks.
“My gift is certainly enough to guess who’s lying in your cellar. Or, more precisely, inside that old oak cupboard that you move from one magic shop to the next,” Colin looks as if he is staring right through the curtain and the floor into the basement. The assistant looks puzzledly at the soothsayer.
“You’re right to say ‘guess’,” Ewan runs his hands over the darkened documents beneath the counter with a strained smirk.
“Okay, I admit, I merely ‘guessed’ in some matters,” Colin smiles. “That cupboard has hidden many of your ‘magical dealings’. But there is one thing I am absolutely certain of.”
“And what is that?” the soothsayer looks intently at his friend, waiting for new guesses.
“That the oak cupboard hides my nephew, Joseph,” Colin states, not hiding his regret, and awaits understanding from his old friend.
“Your nephew,” the soothsayer repeats in a whisper, suppressing his surprise.
“We both know that you feel a bond of blood,” the saddened guest smiles.
“Teacher,” Theo nervously whispers to the soothsayer.
“I apologize for hiding him,” the wizard seriously apologizes. “But we didn’t kill your nephew.”
“I know, my dear friend,” Colin reassures him, smiling. “Joseph himself sensed his coming death, which is why he asked me for the name of the best soothsayer to dispel his gloomy apprehensions.”
“And you sent the boy here, instead of telling him everything yourself,” the soothsayer quietly guesses.
“I don’t know any other greatest soothsayers,” Colin smiles respectfully at his friend.
“Forgive us, we’ll return Joseph to you right now,” the soothsayer urges his assistant.
“I’ll join you,” Colin calmly follows the wizard and the assistant down the steps, straight to that very old oak cupboard in the cellar.
“Will you help us lift the young man upstairs?” Ewan asks, almost pleading. “We managed to get him down, but for two of us to get him up will be a little problematic. Age,” the soothsayer admits with a smile.
“There’s no need,” Colin reassures him. “Please open the cupboard.”
“You remember the secrets,” the wizard smiles contentedly.
“Some things cannot be forgotten, however much you might want to,” the guest smiles, concealing his sorrow, and steps a little further away from the cupboard.
“We’ll free you now, Joseph,” the soothsayer runs his hand down the right edge of the cupboard from top to bottom, and down the left edge from bottom to top. He traces a circle with both hands in the middle. He pushes the doors forward. With a faint creak, the doors open inward, revealing an empty space, then close and swing open outward, revealing the week’s first visitor.
“Hello, dear nephew,” Colin whispers with a sad smile, examining the young man’s peaceful face. “Let’s go home; they’ve been waiting for you there,” with a smooth motion, he pulls a golden cigarette case from his inner pocket. He takes out a single cigarette. The nephew transforms into golden smoke and is fully drawn into the unusual cigarette. “Thank you for your help, gentlemen,” he carefully places the cigarette back into the case and puts the magical flat box back into his pocket.
“I wish you had come even a little earlier. We might have tried to extend your nephew’s young life,” the wizard sincerely regrets.
“That’s exactly why I only came now,” Colin smiles. “Joseph’s decisive moment had come. And I must return to the matters of the living, whose age is so endless.”
“I understand,” the soothsayer nods in agreement, accepting the laws of the Universe.
“Forgive me for taking up so much of your magical time,” Colin confidently hurries towards the exit.
“Not took up, but gifted good time in conversation with my best friend,” the soothsayer corrects, escorting the guest.
“I hope you’ll postpone your next relocation a little,” Colin looks at the soothsayer somewhat mysteriously.
“Your nephew’s death isn’t so simple?” the wizard quietly guesses.
“I hope we’ll have the opportunity to discuss some complications related to my dear nephew,” the guest smiles hopefully.
“Of course, any time,” the wizard openly assures him. “The move is postponed indefinitely.”
“Thank you, friends,” Colin hugs Ewan. He removes his white glove. “You have a wonderful assistant,” he shakes Theo’s hand.
“Thank you, sir,” the young man returns a firm handshake.
“Until we meet again,” Colin hastily puts his glove back on and exits the magic shop of the greatest soothsayer.
“Is Colin a soothsayer too?” Theo asks quietly, peering out onto the street through the glass of the front door, his gaze failing to find the guest who had left just a moment ago.
“A soothsayer?” Ewan repeats thoughtfully. “More like a wizard with the skills of a conjurer, a showman, and a detective,” he concludes with a smile, looking out the window and knowing for a fact that his friend vanished the moment he crossed the threshold of the magic shop. The soothsayer even doubts for a moment whether his friend came at all, but those doubts remain in the recesses of his mysterious soul.
“How long have you known each other?” Theo asks cautiously, turning the sign to the word “open“.
“It feels like an eternity, but in reality, it’s only a thousand six hundred sixty-nine years, eleven months, and twenty-nine days. I don’t recall the exact time. We were quite drunk back then, celebrating another magical holiday,” the soothsayer remembers with a smile, secretly glancing back at the long-past day.
“Only a thousand six hundred sixty-nine years?” the assistant asks in surprise.
“Eleven months and twenty-nine days,” the soothsayer finishes with a smile.
“I thought you were thirty-five,” he voices the assumption, deep in thought.
“That age is just for ordinary people. Colin praised you highly, which means you’re not an ordinary person anymore. And you deserve to know the whole truth.”
“The whole truth?” Theo asks excitedly.
“Almost the whole truth,” the soothsayer corrects himself with a smirk.
“But I’ve been serving you for many years; why wasn’t I worthy of trust and truth before? Doesn’t serving you make me special?”
“You don’t serve, you help!” Ewan importantly and respectfully rephrases. “Of course you’re special if you help me and learn a few tricks. But meeting Colin makes you even more special. And it makes me more special, too,” the soothsayer quietly admits.
“Is Colin older than you?” Theo guesses uncertainly.
“Not just older,” Ewan returns to his papers with a serious expression. “Colin has much more experience than I do. I was still a soothsayer’s assistant when Colin had already grasped many secrets that remain inaccessible to me even now.”
“And how old is Colin?” the young man asks directly.
“I think he’s over two and a half thousand. I can’t say for sure,” Ewan muses in a whisper. “Possibly more. We don’t make a habit of counting the years of other soothsayers and wizards. And no one counts their own years anymore,” he smirks, shuffling papers from place to place, trying to bring order to his affairs.
“Then why do you remember the day you met Colin so clearly?” Theo wonders, bringing over a box of other papers that require attention and organization.
“The day I met that wizard is imprinted on my memory also because...” the soothsayer’s sentence is cut short by the chime of the bronze bell on the front door.
“The bell didn’t ring when Colin came in,” Theo whispers almost inaudibly, recalling that moment.
“We’ll discuss it later,” Ewan sends the assistant behind the thick curtain that separates the sales floor and the back room, which conceals a great number of secrets, with a smile. “How may I be of service?”
“Good day,” a man around forty removes his hat, not so much out of respect as from nervous heat, even though it’s cool outside. Spring is just creeping up on the city’s inhabitants. “I was recommended to you as a worthy soothsayer.”
“The best soothsayer,” the wizard corrects him proudly and confidently.
“Yes, exactly,” the visitor agrees immediately, paying little attention to the words, worrying more about his own problems.
“So, how can I help you?” the soothsayer intently studies the man’s dejected expression.
“You’re a soothsayer; you should have known immediately why I came,” the visitor looks at the wizard indignantly, suspecting him of being a charlatan.
“I’m a soothsayer, not a schoolboy taking an exam,” Ewan retorts. “Tell me what interests you or,” he strongly wanted to say ‘get out’, but holds himself back. “Or leave before you inflict even greater damage on yourself with your disrespectful behavior.”
“I apologize,” the visitor’s distrustful attack instantly turns into a defenseless plea for help in his eyes. “I’ve been brought to you by an unusual situation.”
“Be bolder,” the soothsayer insists, pressing the unsure client, who has already managed to spoil his mood slightly.
“The thing is, my mother promised to disinherit me. She said she’d rewrite the will in favor of the maid,” the man shares his problem, keeping his voice down so that no one except the soothsayer can hear about his issue. “And I need you to tell me who the inheritance will go to.”
“Such matters don’t concern me,” Ewan declares, disappointed. “You need a notary. Or another executor of your mother’s will.”
“You see,” the visitor interrupts insistently. “My mother passed away suddenly without ever voicing her last wish, and the will is kept by a person unknown to me. And I’d like to know whose name is written in such an important document.”
“Why did you help your mother pass away so suddenly without knowing the truth of the will?” the soothsayer smiles confidently, looking at the murderer whom he exposed, easily seeing the last moment of his mother’s life.
“I hope my actions remain a secret from everyone,” the man glances at the front door, pulls a thin wallet from his pocket, takes out everything he has, and places the crumpled bills on the glass counter with its multitude of magical trinkets. “The past is known to me. I came to you for the unveiling of a future secret.”
“Take this back,” Ewan returns the money to the visitor, sliding it across the squeaky-clean glass. “You’ll need it later.”
“But what about the will?” the man exclaims in a panic, trying hard to part with the money.
“The will will be found shortly after the investigation into your mother’s murder,” Ewan predicts calmly. “And, to your misfortune, everything will go to the maid.”
“Will you give me away to the police?” the man tries one last time to buy the soothsayer’s silence.
“You don’t need to worry about my silence,” the soothsayer assures him seriously. “A magical secret is much stronger and more important than a doctor’s. You’ll be exposed even without my prompting.”
“But how? I did everything perfectly. No one will suspect murder. Mother took her own life,” the man tries to see the future in the soothsayer’s eyes.
“Your neighbor has already given you away; she was visiting your mother at that moment,” the soothsayer prompts him directly, unafraid of the visitor’s anger.
“What neighbor?” the man asks in surprise. “Mother lived alone in a house in the middle of nowhere. There isn’t a single house for tens of miles around. Not a living soul, except wild animals.”
“Her neighbor from her previous place of residence,” Ewan patiently explains. “A girl named Tammy.”
“Tammy?” the man asks in astonishment. “That was my mother’s neighbor during her student years. She died without ever finishing college.”
“An unfortunate accident forced your mother to move far away from the sorrow to such a forgotten and secluded place. And the restless soul of her friend followed her and was present at the moment of your, shall we say, less-than-best decision. Tammy saw everything and subtly helped the investigation by writing your name in your mother’s hand with blood immediately after you left,” Ewan can’t suppress a slight smile of admiration for the clever girl’s spirit, who carried a sincere, warm friendship through decades. “She will also help the will find its voice.”
“You’re a charlatan! What nonsense!” the visitor protests in hysterical terror. “Who told you about Tammy? Ghosts can’t do anything in the world of the living!”
“Believe me, they command far more than they themselves think,” the soothsayer smiles lightly. “And you’d better leave before the police give you time to hide and prolong your time at large.”
“I won’t let you scare me!” the man takes a sharp, confident step towards the soothsayer and bumps into the glass counter.
“It’s time for you to go,” Theo reminds him calmly, aiming a double-barreled shotgun at the visitor’s head.
“We’ll finish this conversation,” the visitor looks into the eyes of the soothsayer and his assistant with furious anger.
“No, we won’t meet again. You’ll be executed for your mother’s murder,” the wizard doesn’t restrain his deep contempt for such a base person.
“Then I’ll come for you as a ghost and end your charlatan career forever!” the man threatens, backing toward the door.
“You’re wrong again,” Ewan smiles. “You’ve given your soul a ticket for the midnight express straight to Hell, where you’ll regret your action for an eternity in terrible torment and suffering.”
“No! I don’t believe it! I’ll come for your soul!” the visitor insists, opening the door.
“Farewell forever!” the soothsayer says confidently, extending his palm toward the street.
“Oh, God!” the man cries out hysterically, running out of the magic shop.
“Hell? Torment and suffering?” Theo asks with a smirk, looking at the soothsayer.
“Of course, a soul like that will be destroyed immediately,” the wizard laughs. “But first, let him suffer properly with thoughts of the impending punishment for that terrible deed. To kill his own mother for an inheritance,” he shakes his head in disapproval, unable to understand how anyone could decide on such a thing. “I sympathize with you,” Ewan whispers, casting his gaze over the sales floor. “And, allow me to observe, you were incredibly lucky with your friend,” he smiles, looking at the front door opening. The bell is silent, even after it closes.
“Were they here?” the stunned Theo whispers.
“They brought the murderer here,” the soothsayer explains with a smile.
“And will everything really go to the maid?” the assistant asks out of simple curiosity.
“That’s right,” Ewan confirms, nodding. “Only assistants and maids rarely turn out to be ordinary people. The will specifies the name of more than just a maid. This girl is the daughter of that same Tammy, who died protecting the baby. Susanna, the mother of the worst son, sheltered the girl far away from anyone who might discover their secret. The girl was never a maid in that house. A daughter, an assistant, and a friend to her adopted mother. Remember this for life: always respect assistants and never consider them servants,” Ewan gives a fatherly squeeze to the shoulder of Theo, who stands thoughtfully with the lowered gun in his hands.
“I will remember,” the assistant is still a little in shock from what he’s seen and heard. The young man feels warmer in his heart, knowing that the wizard’s words are sincere and that no one considers him a servant.
“So, what were you saying about dinner?” Ewan reminds him with a smile, taking the shotgun from the young man’s hands and returning it to its place.
“Dinner?” Theo repeats quietly. “Oh, right! Dinner! I was going to cook everything myself, but then I found a note. I don’t know how it got here,” the young man walks over to where the soothsayer is standing and takes a small piece of paper with a family crest from a tall stack of documents.
“Well, I never thought I’d see that crest and such familiar handwriting again,” the soothsayer looks fondly at the scrap of paper, torn around the family emblem. “We’re having dinner as guests tonight!”
“Theo,” Ewan looks with interest at his assistant, who busies himself in the back room with the usual affairs of the magic shop.
“Yes, teacher,” the young man pauses for a moment, showing attention, and continues to deal with the tasks.
“You’re acting strange,” the soothsayer examines him more closely in the semi-darkness of the back room. “Does something bother you?”
“I didn’t know you communicate with spirits,” Theo admits directly, guessing that the teacher already knows what the matter is.
“They communicate with me, rather,” the soothsayer clarifies with a smile.
“Still, I didn’t know about your ability to communicate with the spirits of the dead,” the young man insists, calmly regarding the usual excuses.
“Every gifted person has certain other hidden talents. My ability to communicate with spirits has been added to my prediction skill,” the teacher admits more seriously. “And you don’t need to remind them of death. Don’t say ‘spirits of the dead’. Just say ‘spirits’. And if you want their favor, call them ‘souls’. Then, perhaps, they’ll come to chat with you too,” he assures with a playful smile.
“I’d rather not,” Theo responds seriously, turning away for a moment.
“It’s a shame you feel that way,” the soothsayer is slightly disappointed. “If you want to master my predictive skill, you must learn everything else I can do; it will definitely come in handy. Like today. If it weren’t for the communication with good souls, everything might not have gone so peacefully.”
“Actually, the shotgun saved us today,” the busy young man reminds him with a smile.
“Agreed,” the man concedes fairly.
“And what if the souls aren’t so kind?” Theo quietly muses, pausing. “How should one act then?” he looks at his teacher with a direct question in his eyes.
“Develop your intuition, my dear student. Intuition always comes in handy. This amazing gift sometimes helps you manage without any other talents or abilities,” Ewan states expertly, helping the young man with minor tasks.
“Tell me, why didn’t you take the money from that man after all? After all, there won’t be another meeting, and he won’t need the money anymore,” the young man guesses what the answer will be but wants to hear it from his teacher.
“That’s right, you already know,” Ewan smiles. “The murderer’s money would have spoiled our reputation. It would mean he bought our silence, and, as I said earlier, a magical secret is valued much higher. And no money will make it reveal itself. My magical honor wouldn’t allow me to have any material dealings with a man who killed his mother. I understand everything; there are different situations. Some people are hurt in childhood, some their whole lives. Then again, a lack of maternal love, or sometimes an excess of it. Family relationships are difficult to build, but you can’t stoop to such baseness. To kill your own mother for money. And that money didn’t even belong to Susanna. Everything his mother owned was the property of Tammy’s family. Susanna was just a guest of the estate after the misfortune with her friend. By a fortunate turn of events, Tammy’s daughter was lucky enough to be in Susanna’s caring hands. Everything originally belonged to the girl who was left without her birth mother but found a new one.”
“Why didn’t you mention this when you talked to the killer? Were you afraid he’d want to kill this girl too?” Theo makes the obvious conclusion, still having a weak grasp of such matters.
“They won’t see each other anyway,” the soothsayer smirks. “The man was detained two and a half blocks from here. And he doesn’t need to know that he was, and will remain, a pauper from the start.”
“And why did you tell him he still had a chance to run from the police?” the young man recalls the entire conversation thoughtfully.
“Yes, he had no chance,” the soothsayer admits. “And I lied,” he smirks contentedly, looking at his surprised assistant. “I didn’t want the unpleasant man to linger in our shop. And, what’s more, we don’t need an arrest. And you know rumors spread instantly. Such associations won’t help us with potential clients.”
“What about age?” the young man voices the main question that has tormented him since the conversation about Colin.
“Do you want to know how we live for so long?” Ewan guesses with a smirk.
“I guess I’ll have to live for many years to master your skill,” Theo muses, taking new wares out into the sales floor.
“I think about as many years as I’ve lived,” the soothsayer smiles, calculating in his mind how many more years his assistant has yet to live. “Don’t worry, time flies by unnoticed while you’re learning something.”
“And how many years have flown by unnoticed for you?” the young man, with his direct questions, leads his teacher into a frank conversation, knowing that Colin’s approval has opened doors to a new world of knowledge for him, a world few have visited before.
“A couple of hundred years fewer than for Colin. And you’ll have to dedicate all your future time to studying the most important aspects of our complicated business,” Ewan generalizes the prediction, not knowing exactly how long the young man will need to achieve mastery.
“You’re still silent about the secret of your longevity,” the young man reminds him persistently.
“I am silent,” the soothsayer smirks. “Tonight at dinner, you’ll learn our secret,” Ewan examines the note with the family crest.
“And you won’t eat me there, will you?” Theo eyes his teacher suspiciously, hanging amulets and decorative wooden items on top of the cabinets surrounding the sales floor.
“Who knows,” Ewan throws up his hands with a sly smile. “When you want to comprehend age-old secrets, sometimes you have to sacrifice your life. And sometimes you fearlessly go to dinner. And come back from it, of course,” he adds, laughing, and goes behind the curtain. “Ready to take the risk tonight?” he asks from the back room.
“Ready,” Theo responds resignedly from the ladder. “And I don’t have a choice again,” he whispers even more resignedly.
“And please move that yellow pot further back on the shelf. I don’t want it to fall and break. And it would be really bad if it injured a visitor; that would reflect poorly on our reputation,” he says a little quieter, but the young man hears every word. He has trained his hearing to know when to come out to help his teacher.
“You care more about reputation than the visitors’ health?” Theo tries to catch his teacher out.
“It just so happens that the health of our visitors is the guarantee of our good reputation. So, we have to care about the visitors first and foremost.”
“If you see the future so clearly, where the pot falls and injures someone, why don’t you display the goods yourself?” Theo gently protests.
“I want you to master this art,” Ewan cleverly evades. “It’s not that hard to predict the fall of a pot with a rounded bottom when you place it on the edge of a shelf on top of a wobbly cabinet.”
“But this cabinet has never wobbled,” Theo is surprised, looking at the massive wooden structure filled with magical goods.
“Sometimes things can remain unchanged for thousands of years and then change in an instant. Or not in an instant,” he adds thoughtfully from the back room. “Look under the right base of the cabinet.”
“The floor has sagged,” the assistant voices, examining the planks. “So, according to you, everything can change over a thousand years, but people stay the same. And special people remain themselves for an entire eternity?”
“That’s exactly right,” the teacher confirms, coming into the sales floor. “Please place this bowl on that edge,” he hands the young man a cracked mortar for grinding herbs.
“But it will fall from there. And it might injure someone, and that would reflect badly on our reputation,” Theo seriously reminds the teacher of his own words.
“Quite right,” Ewan smirks. “You learn quickly. But the visitor would have been injured by that yellow pot if it fell. And this bowl might even help, as it takes its final journey. Or, in this case, flies away.”
“Falling,” Theo corrects him.
“Don’t upset the bowl. Who wants to fall in the last moment of their life? Let our bowl fly. It will be more pleasant for it that way,” he looks at the bowl, which he has used for many years, with tender care.
“Have you always treated everything and everyone so well?” Theo wonders, looking at his unusual teacher. The young man has never seen people like this in his life.
“I was taught care and respect,” Ewan admits with a smile. “And you have to learn the important talent of kindness and care for everything that surrounds you. It’s important to be friendly with your immediate environment so you can live and conduct your affairs in a comfortable atmosphere and energy balance, without harming anyone in the process.”
“But bad elements often appear in one’s environment,” Theo concludes from unpleasant experience.
“In a kind environment, bad people eventually can’t stand it and disappear,” and the soothsayer draws this conclusion from his own experience.
“Disappear?” the assistant asks suspiciously.
“Not in the way you thought,” the soothsayer laughs. “They leave your environment on their own. You don’t even need magic here.”
“And how many bad people have disappeared from your life like that?” the young man cautiously inquires.
“As you can see, all of them,” the soothsayer smiles sadly.
“And there weren’t any good ones among them at all?” Theo is surprised, trying to recall the teacher’s acquaintances.
“The good ones created their own personal environment. Every good person should have their own good life. I have such a life. And you are my environment. And the other good people in my circle haven’t disappeared anywhere. As you see, there are rare, almost unexpected, pleasant meetings with old acquaintances.”
“Are you talking about Colin?” Theo guesses, remembering the morning.
“And not only him,” Ewan smiles mysteriously. “Tonight at dinner, you’ll meet another wonderful person.”
“Who might want to eat me,” the young man whispers resignedly again.
“You’re not that tasty,” the soothsayer assures him with a smile.
“Are you seeing my future right now, and you don’t like the taste, so you won’t eat me?” Theo looks seriously at his teacher.
“That’s an excellent argument not to eat your assistant. That important point comes right after the one that says I’d lose my best assistant if I ate you. And I’ll definitely need the help. And while I still have some personal strength left, I’m going to tidy up the cellar,” Ewan disappears behind the curtain and descends into the cellar, which conceals the wizard’s thousand-year-old secrets.
“Why haven’t you come to see me for so long?” a woman’s voice calls from the darkness.
“I’m sorry, I’ve been swamped. Lots of business at the shop. The week is starting off rough,” Ewan offers a constrained excuse.
“So much business that you can’t even stop by for a couple of minutes to check on your beloved wife?” the female voice persists.
“I was in the cellar today,” the soothsayer reminds her a little more sharply, recalling Colin’s visit.
“You weren’t alone,” the woman irritably reminds him of her wish to talk privately. “If we openly discuss our affairs, things could get worse. And the difficult path will once again turn into a catastrophe for the boy. And why does your assistant come down here so often? I might accidentally say something.”
“Probably because he has things to do down here, things I assign him,” Ewan snaps sarcastically. “And don’t you dare offend the boy. I can still tolerate your nagging and attacks, but Theo could be hurt by such a harsh attitude,” he turns on the subdued light in the cellar.
“There you go with your light again!” the wife protests from the photograph in the silver frame, shielding her eyes.
“Sorry, I don’t like talking in the gloom. It makes me start to think the person I’m speaking to isn’t who I believe them to be,” the soothsayer explains vaguely.
“Who else could I be?” the image protests.
“Over my long life, I’ve seen many wizards who could masterfully mimic the voices of completely different people. Women’s and men’s. Children’s voices came easily to them. And with animal voices, they could calmly converse with real animals,” he recalls, with a mix of fascination, interesting and ominous encounters with other wizards. “And you yourself know how many different personalities I’ve met along the way.”
“Oh, I know,” the woman grumbles nervously, glancing around the frame.
“You see, you have to be careful so that I don’t end up in a photograph too.”
“So, you’re fine with your beloved wife being trapped in a frame. And you intentionally make no effort to free me.”
“Martina, please stop saying that. I am constantly searching for a way to free you from this picture. You know yourself that we practically have no chance,” the wizard assures her more calmly.
“You simply lack the desire. And there are chances, but you don’t want to use them!” the wife insists, attacking him, while glancing at the cellar steps.
“Believe me, I’m looking for every opportunity and clinging to every thread that leads to the missing wizard. And by the way, it’s not my fault that you drove him to a fit of magical rage with your attacks. I told you, Adrian is a harsh wizard with a difficult and unpredictable nature. You had to go and tell him so directly that his magic was nothing more than simple tricks,” Ewan reminds her with a reproach, hiding his genuine irritation. He carefully turns around, hearing the soft steps of his assistant in the back room above the cellar.
“Oh, please! Look who decided to be sensitive,” Martina disagrees. “He passed off carnival tricks as real magic.”
“We were showing playful trinkets for fun back then, and you wounded a respected wizard deeply by calling centuries of magic ‘tricks’,” Ewan becomes increasingly irritated. Clenching his teeth, he understands the colleague’s hurt feelings.
“Well, at least you’re keeping his son close by. Maybe he’ll show up for him and free me,” Martina smirks selfishly from the photo.
“Theo is not bait!” Ewan snaps harshly. “The boy is capable. I sense enormous potential for a wizard in him. He’s an excellent assistant. And a wonderful person. Unlike you,” he whispers, turning off the light.
“Wait,” Martina protests, surprised by her husband’s outburst of anger.
“I don’t want to talk to you in this tone anymore. And especially not discuss Theo,” he closes the old cellar door just in case. He walks past the assistant, who was standing very close and most likely heard the secret conversation.
“Welcome to our humble magic shop,” Ewan’s mood gives no hint of the irritation from his unpleasant conversation with the woman in the cellar. In the sales floor, the soothsayer is once again in excellent spirits. “And what brings you to us?”
“A humble magic shop?” the visitor asks back with a surprised smile. “This single sales floor is two, maybe three times bigger than my apartment.”
“And you’ve come to discuss real estate with us?” Ewan guesses, not hiding his smirk.
“Possibly,” the visitor replies vaguely. “I want to make a generous offer. Or, to be precise, an exchange with a decent payment on top. My apartment plus whatever sum you name. I want to acquire your shop, if that’s possible.”
“You were right to specify the condition, ‘if that’s possible’. And, unfortunately, it’s not possible at all,” Ewan confidently states the fact without losing his polite smile.
“Do you consider my offer not generous enough?” the man of about thirty asks, surprised.
“Have you already made a deal?” A young, striking girl walks into the shop. A delicate hand coils like a snake around the young man’s arm.
“Sorry, darling, we just need a little more time,” the self-assured man whispers.
“I take it that the shop caught your eye,” Ewan addresses the girl with a respectful nod and a smile.
“That’s right,” the young woman confirms with a satisfied smile, proprietarily examining the display cases and walking through the sales floor with small, confident steps.
“I think your companion may have misunderstood me. The offer is generous enough, but there is one detail that nullifies any commercial proposal.”
“What could possibly override my offer?” the young man exclaims indignantly, trying not to look into the eyes of the even more outraged girl.
“Honor,” the soothsayer explains simply and calmly.
“What does honor have to do with it?” the man insists. “In business, money is all that matters!”
“Don’t take my words as rudeness, but that kind of business is worthless. The best commercial relationships are based on honor and mutual respect. I simply cannot sell this shop, even if I strongly wanted to. I value my honor above material wealth. And I intend to keep the promise I made to an old friend, who strongly requested that I not sell the shop to anyone in the near future.”
“Well, then we’ll come back a little later when the situation changes,” the young man senses the futility of his commercial proposal and realizes that nothing will come of it.
“No! I want it now!” the brazen, self-assured girl insists.
“Darling, you heard him, our offer will be accepted soon,” the man whispers, trying to quell the uncontrollable fit of childish petulance in his companion.
“I apologize for interfering,” Ewan says cautiously. “The phrase ‘in the near future’ that I spoke a minute ago could mean thirty years. No one knows how long it will take my friend to decide on his next visit.”
“That’s outrageous! You don’t even know what you’re saying!” the young man openly protests, taking the side of his hysterical girlfriend.
“I, in fact, perfectly understand the meaning of all the words spoken by me and my friend. That is precisely why I immediately refused to sell you our wonderful shop,” Ewan skillfully hides his true emotions behind a polite smile. “There’s an excellent hat workshop across the street; you’re sure to like it. Take a walk, look around, and I’m quite certain your offer will appeal to them.”
“I’m tired of negotiating!” the girl throws off the man’s arm, transforming into a dark figure with black-and-blue skin and eyes blazing with red stars, growing taller than everyone else. “Give me your shop before you become a skeleton in the corner to decorate it,” with a sweep of her hand from a distance, she clears everything off the top shelves of the cabinets.
“I regret this, Madam Dahlia, but behaving like an uncultured magical being is not acceptable in our wonderful shop,” the wizard catches that same cracked old mortar for grinding herbs in mid-air and tosses the ground powder into the witch’s face.
“What is this filth?!” the witch clutches her face, shrinking instantly, but her former pretty appearance does not return.
“Darling, what’s wrong with you?” the young man examines his companion’s black-and-blue face in horror.
“You’re worthless!” Dahlia pushes the man away. The unstable, slender young man falls like a dead leaf beneath the counter. “You can’t even buy a simple shop! What good are you to me then!”
“Allow me to correct you slightly,” Ewan interjects with a faint smile. “Our shop is not simple at all. Otherwise, you would have bought it easily.”
“You disgusting old sorcerer!” Dahlia gathers her strength to attack and kill Ewan.
“I’m not that old. And not a sorcerer, but a wizard,” with a slight movement of his hand, he shackles the witch’s threatening movements. “If you plan to continue behaving this way, I must ask you to leave our wonderful shop immediately,” with his other hand, he opens the front door. “But if you want to purchase something, we’ll gladly assist you.”
“I don’t need your trinkets! I need your shop!” the restrained witch insists.
“Allow me to ask,” Ewan addresses her in a calm tone. “Why do you need someone else’s magical dwelling with its bright energy?”
“I don’t care for the dusty rooms of useless magic. There are certain beings whose personal interest is much stronger than your ability to defend yourself. However, you’ll find out everything soon enough,” the witch flies out of the magic shop in a shimmering blue vortex.
“I apologize, gentlemen,” the young man, with Theo’s help, gets up from under the counter. “Girls can sometimes be overly emotional,” he straightens his suit and tie with a strained smile.
“It’s nothing, young man,” Ewan assures him with a smile. “These things happen. And girls can be much worse. Especially if they’re witches.”
“I guess I still have a lot to learn about girls,” the man’s voice is quiet and slightly shocked.
“You should really try to learn about women as quickly as possible,” Ewan asks, barely restraining a laugh.
“I think I’ll need much more time than I ever thought,” the young man admits in confusion, realizing his complete ignorance in matters he considered easy entertainment and himself a master of seduction.
“Practice. While you still have time. By the way, if you’re interested, I can predict an interesting destiny and long years of life for you,” the soothsayer encourages him with a smile.
“Thank you,” the man nods with gratitude and respect. “An interesting life has already begun. And please, forgive us for such a noisy disturbance,” he takes a brand-new, large-denomination banknote from his wallet and places it on the glass counter.
“You are always welcome here, young man. Come by anytime,” Ewan dissolves the banknote on the glass with his index finger and pats his pocket contentedly with his other hand.
“Have a good day, gentlemen,” the man nods and leaves the shop.
“All the best,” the soothsayer and the assistant say their farewells.