Wizard of Jatte by Rowan Erlking (librera reader txt) 📕

glancing at Yuld. “There is no need to mention that incident. A punishment has already been chosen for both boys involved.”

“Both?” the shoemaker looked startled. “But it was the carpenter’s son that put humiliating words on my son’s face!”

The carpenter glanced at Theissen, raising his eyebrows. He seized a hold of Tolbetan who ducked down with a cringe. No one had said a word about it at their home to him. With a glance at his wife, though, he could see that she had been informed yet had already taken sides in the matter. She was glaring at the shoemaker’s wife, and the shoemaker’s wife was glaring daggers back.

“As I understand it, the boy was returning the insult.”

“Come, come.  This has nothing to do with this particular trial. That issue will be settled afterward. Right now I want to hear from the Weavers if the Shoemakers are done with their tale,” another elder interrupted, leaning over the high table with a look at Lonse that was heavy with disapproval.

“Tale?” the shoemaker murmured, about to protest, but the bailiff already guided him back to his station with his staff.

“Weavers, what is your take on the subject?” the elder asked.

Weaverswife stepped forward and shrugged. “We were unaware of the incident, your grace. I was out on errands, so I neither heard screaming nor saw the fight. However we do have our dog to show you, if you please.”

The elder nodded and gestured her to come forward.

She held onto Hunter’s collar, turning his head for the elderly men to see. “Look here. All the blood is concentrated on this one side, as if it had been broken here. Now the wound is gone, but our daughter claims that Theissen Carpenterson healed Hunter when he saved her from that boy.”

The shoemaker huffed, and his wife gave a snippety little snort. They silenced when the bailiff cracked his staff onto the railing, also glaring at him.

“Yes, silence. Or your witness will be discounted,” an elder said.

The couple pulled back and clutched each other, their complexions gone white.

“Continue,” the elder said to Weaverswife.

The woman let Hunter’s collar go. The dog almost immediately ran to Theissen, panting at his side with a begging look. The boy glanced down then petted him gently though with a sorry weak look to his eyes as if he would be ready to cry.

“As you can see, the dog likes him. The thing is, Hunter never took to anyone outside of the family before today, as any visitor can attest to,” Weaverswife said. “Including this boy.”

Many in the village nodded to that. The dog barked, though had yet to bite anyone until that day. The Carpenters had also stayed away from the animal, allowing their cousins to manage it for them.

“I believe that is proof that Theissen Carpenterson had healed him, saving his life.”

The weaver’s wife stepped back.

“Your rebuttal?” the elders turned to the shoemakers.

The mother looked speechless. So did the father.

Lonse spoke up. “I once saw Theissen call a frog to his hands. He can control animals with his magic.”

“I cannot!” Theissen cast a glare at him. The bailiff took a step forward to silence him.

“You did to.” Lonse shouted back. “I saw you do it at the river before you nearly drowned Migdrin!”

Another gasp passed through the hall.

Theissen narrowed his eyes at Lonse. “I didn’t drown him! I just knocked him of Kinnerlin. Your brother was trying to drown him!”

Kinnerlin nodded, raising a hand. “That’s the truth.”

“Silence!” The bailiff cracked his staff on the ground with a shattering echo in the hall.

Everyone obeyed.

The bailiff looked to the village elders. “It seems this present altercation is part of a larger falling out between the families. Perhaps a harsher judgement on the families is in order?”

“No!” Theissen stepped forward. “No. I’ll take all the blame. Don’t involve them. We never told our father about it.”

The carpenter had a sad expression, frowning more piteously on his young son. Indeed, Theissen already looked older than his eight years, bearing burdens a child ought not to have. Unfortunately, he could not interfere with the law on his son’s behalf no matter how much he wanted to.

“You do not deserve all the blame. State your case, and be clear, concise and honest.” That village elder stared down at Theissen, not frowning, but there was no smile in his eyes. He usually smiled when he saw Theissen in the village. This coldness was frightening.

Closing his eyes, Theissen drew in a breath then started his testimony. “I was going to my aunt’s to pick up some jam. When I got closer to the house I heard screaming. It sounded like Milrina. I also heard the dog barking, but then he sounded hurt. I hurried into the woods, hearing shouting. I knew it was Lonse. I know what he sounds like.”

Lonse was about to say something, but the bailiff covered his mouth then slapped the boy’s forehead as a reminder to be quiet.

“When I got into the trees I saw my cousin on the ground with Lonse holding her down. The dog was lying on the ground in blood, not moving, though I could hear him whimpering. I went in to stop them. Lonse said some bad things, and we got into a fight. He tried to choke me so I choked him back. That was when I closed his throat so he could not breathe.”

The elders were silent.

“I was so mad. I wanted to shut him up.” Then he looked up at their faces. “But honestly, I didn’t want to kill him. My dad came. He told me I was killing him so I stopped it. I opened his throat, and he is fine now. Isn’t that enough?”

“Brawling,” Yuld murmured off at the side.

The elders turned a grim eye on him. Of course he knew the law. It wasn’t attempted murder. Both boys were guilty of brawling, though Lonse seemed to be guilty of much worse.

“Your defense?” one of the elders turned to Lonse.

Lonse cast a glare at Theissen. He took a step forward. “I was just playing with Milrina when her dog bit me. Then that kid came in and tried to kill me. I didn’t do anything.”

Theissen made a disgusted face and petted Hunter more, leaning away from Lonse as if promising to protect the dog.

“You have no proof I did anything to that dog,” Lonse said, sticking his tongue out at Theissen.

“Children….” muttered one village elder.

The bailiff cracked his staff against the ground again as he shook his head darkly at both boys.

“Are there any other pleas?” one of the elders asked.

Another elder nudged that one and shook his head. “No. There is one question that must be answered. Did or did not the dog get wounded? This is an arguing point for the case.”

The shoemakers nodded, leaning in as if to make their case once again.

“May I speak?” the carpenter said with a respectful bow.

One of the village elders smiled kindly with a nod.

The carpenter took a step forward. “The true question is whether my son can or cannot heal a dying dog. I believe he can.”

The crowd murmured louder. The bailiff banged his stick, but no one shushed for several seconds, and it took the bailiff to shout for silence again to get any.

Waiting to speak, the carpenter reached out towards his son. “Theissen, show them your hands.”

Theissen did, extending his palms so that they could see his scars. They were hardly damaged, but he had not used magic to heal them.

His father said, “My son Dalance was also cut, as we all know, and yet is he not on his journey as a carpenter? Bailiff, did you or did you not cut my eldest son’s hands very deep?”

An unusual smile spread across the bailiff’s face. He nodded. “That I did, as according to law.”

“And can you not say that my eldest should have not been able to continue his trade after such a cut?” the carpenter continued.

A wider smile and a franker nod came from the man. “He definitely should not have been able to continue the trade.”

“And when did you notice that he had full use of his hands, regardless of the cut you gave him?” the carpenter asked.

There was a slight blush on the bailiff’s cheeks. “The very second I took him from his cell the day after. The boy was trying to hide that they were healed. However, he was smiling too much for a boy who should have been contemplating the loss of his future.”

“They broke the law!” someone shouted.

“Technically, no,” Yuld replied with a shake of his head. He had turned to the magician who was looking put out. “The law only stated that their hands had to be cut. It says nothing against healing them.”

The bailiff banged his staff again, more irked that he was being interrupted than by anything else. “Silence you two! There is no law against healing one self. Be that as it may, it is proof that some punishments must be modified according to whom is punished.”

The carpenter frowned.

However, the bailiff turned and smiled at him. “I can attest that your eldest son must have had his hands healed either through a miracle or through magic.”

“Thank you,” an elder said. He then gestured to Theissen. “Come here boy. I want you to do something for me to prove you can heal wounds.”

Theissen found it hard to walk up the steps to the elders, but he obeyed, crossing the hall on his shaking feet. Face to face with the wizened old man, he stared at his dark probing eyes. The man extended his hand. There was a small cut, barely healed.

“Heal this for me so that it is gone.”

Nodding, Theissen reached out, cradling the old man’s hand in his. No one saw anything dynamic happen. No light. No amazing gust of wind. Only that the cut sealed itself up, the redness gone. Theissen removed his hand then stepped back.

“It is healed.”

The elder lifted up his hand and smiled at it.

“What about me?” An elder extended his arm, which had always been crooked from a poorly set break when he was a child. “Can you fix an old wound?”

Theissen snuck one look at his father who nodded to him to go on, and then he touched the arm. It looked like he pulled on it at first, and the elderly man groaned. However, when Theissen let go, the man’s arm was perfectly straight and functioning like normal.

“He just might put me out of the job,” the doctor murmured aloud from somewhere in the crowd.

The magician continued to glare, nodding to himself.

A sudden clearing of a deep throat brought them back to task. Everyone looked at the bailiff, ducking their heads sheepishly, including the elders that had forgotten they were judging a serious trial.

“Your graces? Have you come to a decision?”

The village elders frowned then waved for Theissen to go back to take his place in the box for the accused. The boy did so, his feet dropping down each step as if they were heavy as solid rock. He reached the floor, practically scuffing his feet back to his place. He didn’t want to turn around. He already knew the punishment for the crime of attempted murder. It was death.

“Having heard and seen all the evidence, we, the elders will voice our opinions on the matter,” the eldest of them said, taking a slow breath as he looked down at the two boys. “It is clear this is not a case of attempted murder. However, as the bailiff pointed out, brawling seems to be their true offense.”

Theissen looked up. Brawling was not as terrible as murder. At least people who were caught brawling got to live. Unfortunately, the law dictated that those that brawled had their hands chopped off.

“However,” said one of the elders, shaking his head at the eldest, “These are young boys, just barely above their childhood ceremony. The full punishment cannot apply to them.”

“One hand is required by law,” one elder