Kel met back up with Caaron outside the butcher’s shop. The old man was carrying two large hunks of meat wrapped in paper and his face was beaming. If there was one thing he loved more than knowledge and making Kel work, it was meat. "And how is William this fine day?"

"He is well, my wise friend." Kel was glad it was a laughing day. The warm weather seemed to bring more of those than not. He took one of the parcels from Caaron and helped him load it into the wagon. When he turned around, though, his smile faded.

A short man in a red velvet cape was marching toward them, Derry lumbering after him like an overly large shadow. The man wore a silk shirt and a cravat wrapped hastily around his neck. His face was very red, both from anger and likely from the gradually increasing heat of the day. He stopped with a snap of his feet that would have suggested military experience if he hadn't been so scrawny. "Wise man Caaron," the man sniffed haughtily.

“Gerald.” Caaron regarded the small man coldly. Only a few folks in the village called the mayor by his first name and it seemed to Kel that those people never used a friendly tone when doing so.

Mayor Hardstahd straightened the cravat and cleared his throat. “I heard that your ward threatened my son with magic.”

Kel, forgetting himself, immediately shouted, “Your son was bullying a little girl!”

“Oh, he told me about Ryla." The mayor gave them a sly look. "She pesters him constantly. I think she has a crush on him.”

“Hardly.” Kel glared at Derry.

The mayor sneered, tilting his head to look down his nose at Kel. He honestly had to, as they were about the same height. “It is understandable that you’re jealous of my son. Not everyone can be as fine a specimen of manhood as Derry.”

Kel stifled a laugh. He heard a wheezing sound beside him - Caaron had apparently had the same reaction. Derry glowered angrily over his father’s shoulder, though the mayor himself hadn’t seemed to notice either party's reaction. “If you ever raise a finger against Derry again, I’ll convene the council for judgement. I assume I don’t need to tell you what that means.”

Kel could feel Caaron bristle beside him. They both understood. It meant that the Mayor would ask the council to begin Kel's servitude early. Considering that the council was made up mostly of Hardstahd’s friends, members of the wealthier families in town, it was a certainty he would get his way.

“Tell him to stop pushing around little kids and I won’t have to.” Kel was shaking with fury. Kel put a hand on his shoulder, whether to silence him or comfort him he wasn't sure.

The mayor ignored him completely, turning on his heel to walk back to the town center and the gaudy fountain. “Come, Derry. I tire of these....commoners.” The hulking boy gave Kel a withering look and lumbered away behind his father.

“I’ll be a slave of Isaac before I let that happen,” Caaron spat. He unhitched the horses from the post in front of the butcher's and grunted, climbing up into the wagon. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

Kel silently climbed in. He was still angry, but at least he had support. Despite his rough edges, Kel was glad that Caaron was his guardian; the old man had stuck his neck out plenty of times for him. “Do you think he’ll actually do that?” He asked.

“It’s goblin-shite. For now, he just wants to scare you. Still, I think if you pushed hard enough, he’d do it. Hardstahd’s a man who doesn’t want to look foolish. If you aren’t under his thumb, it makes him look bad.”

“So I have to just let Derry do whatever he wants?”

“No, you just have to be more subtle with how you deal with him. More clever.” The old man tapped his temple with a finger.

“But he’s going to try to provoke me now. Even Derry can understand how this works.” Kel wouldn’t have been surprised if the encounter from the other day had actually been set up by Hardstahd senior. “You have to let me use the black book, Caaron. They’re going to find an excuse to take me soon, I just know it. I have to get stronger and learn something more powerful soon!”

Chaaron was silent for a moment. “You are starting to become quite the young politician, Kelvin. You’re right - they’re going to try and provoke you. If they knew that we were planning on getting you into the Academy, they’d push harder, sooner.” Kel felt his heart sink. He had tipped his hand the other day. His only hope was that Derry either assumed he was making it up or underestimated Kel enough to believe he wouldn’t ever learn any better spells. He didn’t have the heart to tell Caaron just yet.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now the black book is too advanced for you, boy." The old man sighed and whipped the reigns. The horses whinnied and the wagon began the leisurely journey back up the road towards home. “Anyway, I have something to lighten the mood. Take a look behind you.” Kel turned around. Caaron had kept busy around town while he had been visiting with Odd William. In the back of the wagon lay two parcels from the butchers, a basket full of bread. A pair of green bottles from the local vintner clinked every so often when the wagon hit a bump in the road. Finally, sandwiched between the packets of meat and the bread basket, was a small brown book.

Kel turned back to Caaron “Is that...!?”

The wise man nodded. “It’s from Kyleria. She already had it handy before I even knocked on her door.” He cracked a smile which turned suddenly into an “O” of surprise when Kel lunged over the seat and into the back of the wagon. “You can read when we get back home, for Hal’s sakes!!!” The smile still lingered as the old man drove them over the dirt road to the homestead.

As they passed into the distance, Derry’s lumbering figure emerged from where he had been hiding, improbably, behind the fountain as they rambled by. “A black book, huh?” He rubbed his bristled chin as he turned to walk back to his own home and the four-course meal that awaited him.

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It was three hours past witching and Kel was about midway through the small brown book that Kyleria had lent him. He squinted in the dim candlelight and shifted on his makeshift bed.This spell was a cantrip, sure, but it wasn’t as easy as the others. This must have been one of her husband’s books. He mouthed some of the words, bending his fingers and imagining the energies required for it to work. Just a dry run - not the real thing. If he did this spell for real, it would spray acid from his fingertips and he really didn’t want to melt his loft.

He hadn’t forgotten about the black book, of course, but the confrontation with Mayor Hardstahd today had made him acutely aware of the knife’s edge upon which he now walked. For now, at least, he would have to do things Caaron’s way. “The black book is too advanced for you, boy,” he muttered to himself, recalling the last words they had exchanged on the matter.

Pop. Kel jumped, nearly knocking over his lantern. He stifled a scream.

“Hullo.” The “boy” from the night before stood there in all of its creepy glory, its large eyes sweeping dispassionately over the room.

“What are you doing here? How did you get here?” The brown handbook was forgotten, falling with a thump somewhere on the floor of the loft.

“You called.” It cocked its head. Kel couldn't tell if it was smiling, growling, or just couldn't close its mouth.

"No I didn’t. I was just sitting here-” He was interrupted by the sound of glass shattering somewhere outside. “What was that!?” he hissed. In the distance, he heard a yelp of pain.

“Dunno.”

Kel cursed and slid down the ladder, leaving the thing to its own devices. As he rushed across the yard, he thought he heard heavy breathing moving away from the house. For a moment he considered following but he was more concerned with making sure Caaron was okay. He found the old man standing in the study, staring at the broken window. A thin puddle of blood dripped down the jagged shards, pooling on the floor below.

"Are you hurt!?" Kel couldn't see anything, with the old man facing away from him. Was that blood Caaron's?

The wise man turned around and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "No...that’s from whoever broke in. Must’ve cut himself on the glass. In better shape than he could be: I'm not sure how he got past my wards."

Kel's mind was reeling. "Why would someone break in? Do you think it was the Grey Peregrine?"

Caaron shook his head. "I don’t think so, but I know what they took." Kel followed his gaze up to the bookcase, to a spot where the outline of a large book remained in the dust.

The Black Book was gone.