Magician Interrupted Read Free Page A

fire.”
    “Ah.” Paris touched his burning face
realizing that the farmer hadn’t needed to read his thoughts but
was adept at reading silly townies.
    The farmer cocked his head. “Does I know
ya?”
    “No, don’t think so. I’m from the coastal
villages.”
    “Ah,” said the farmer and scratched his
beard. Something fell out, landed on the ground and crawled away.
“Off on an adventa then? I eard the coastal towns are a bit
provincial.”
    Paris couldn’t help staring at the rather
provincial farmer but felt too polite to point this out. He nodded
wondering if he’d blown his cover. He hadn’t actually been to the
coastal towns because he hadn’t been allowed to leave the village.
Considered a prize possession he was only allowed to travel with
Gareth and O’rah when on a job, usually surrounded by guards. Not
to protect them, but to make sure they returned.
    Enforced loyalty is what Paris called it.
    The farmer was digging around in his old
tattered bag.
    Paris realized he’d been speaking too posh
to. “Yeah, me ma and da had six kids and I was kicked out.” Paris
thought that sounded like a good story and the farmer didn’t seem
to notice the change in speech.
    The farmer’s face suddenly turned
sympathetic. “Ya poor kid. I heard dem stories ya know. But who
woulds believe em? And ere ya are.” The farmer broke off some bread
and leaned over the camp fire. “Ya looks a bit scrawny.”
    Paris tried to appear grateful rather than
annoyed.
    They were made to stay in the village but
never starved. He had an efficient metabolism, that’s all. He
accepted the bread thinking the farmer actually looked like he
needed it more than him.
    “Ize surprised that ya da kicked ya out. Ya
did a grand job on the wheel.”
    They both looked at the wagon with the wheel
reattached. Paris had cast a little spell never being very good
with his hands. He wasn’t even sure how to put a wheel back on so
made a sticking and turning spell on it hoping it would hold until
he was gone.
    “Ya should see me younger brothers.”
    The farmer started laughing and Paris noted
the blackened and missing teeth. Poor old codger. “Ara ya headin
home?” he asked.
    “Been to Ispa and me misses is awaiting. Nag,
nag, nag.”
    Paris understood that language.
    “I waz glad dem wheel fells off.”
    Paris looked behind. “I coulds make it fall
off agin?”
    The farmer slapped his leg and laughed. “Ya a
funny lad.” With a poke towards the fire the farmer nodded and
smiled. “Times to eat.”
    By this time Paris’s stomach rumbled rather
loudly and the farmer glanced down at his stomach.
    “Never been hungry afor?”
    “Why da ya sa dat?” Paris was struggling to
understand his own words and thought he was overdoing the farmer’s
version of speech.
    The farmer frowned at him. “What?”
    “Why do ya say that?”
    “Ah, cause while ya scrawny ya wouldn’t be
making such a racket.”
    Again, his face flamed.
    But the farmer didn’t bother to wait for an
answer and tore the rabbit roughly. A bit of rabbit and juice
splattered Paris on the face. He lifted his hand to wipe himself
and found a lump of cooked flesh slapped on it instead. The farmer
was so busy ripping into the muscle with his teeth, what teeth he
had left, he didn’t notice Paris dumping the hot meat onto a rock
and trying to circumspectly wipe his eye and nose. As the farmer
ate, opened mouthed, and with rabbit juice dripping down his beard
Paris decided it was time to leave.
    But as Paris shuffled the farmer stopped
eating. When he turned back there was a piece of flesh on his beard
and an un-chewed mass in his open mouth. “No good?”
    Paris quickly turned away, picked up his meat
and bit into his rabbit hoping the gurgling from his stomach would
turn back to rumbling. The rabbit was rather tasty after he spat
out a little rock. “Sorry, just a bit unsettled.”
    The farmer started gnawing again and Paris
tried to ignore the wet gnashing noises and lip