The Magician's Sons

Chapter 22

I will not make a fool of myself this time, Norman decided, grabbing his jacket from a peg in the foyer and swinging it over his shoulders. It is mortifying to be so different from everyone else. They all look at me as if I am some pathetic, naïve infant.

He cringed in humiliation. He knew that he really was naïve, young, and ignorant. When he listened to Hugo, Blair, and the others, he felt his childishness keenly. They knew so much about the world. They had left no wine untasted, so to speak.

In his state of inexperience, Norman didn't see their folly yet. He was blind to the depth of their wickedness. Indeed, he didn't want to think that they were wicked at all. These were noble, respected men of high society. They were building a hopeful future for the nation and leading it into a revolution that would change the world forever. With admiration swelling within him, he saw their good qualities as amiable, and their darker tendencies as a luring intrigue. They had a way of presenting moral depravation as the most mature, masculine, empowering thing a person could gain. Norman wanted to like them. He wanted to stand in their lofty positions and own their wealth and status. Meanwhile, he tried to squelch the thing inside of him which cried against his compromise. That thing was his conscience, the voice of God calling him away from sin.

"Will you take an umbrella, sir?" Jemimah's sweet voice drew Norman's attention as he put on his hat and gloves in preparation for his evening at the Pearl of Britannia. He gave a shy smile.

"I don't think I will need it, thank you, Jemimah."

"Really, sir? But it's dreadful wet for a walk wivout no umbrella!" the girl marveled.

Walk? Oh goodness, I forgot! Mr. Crumley always says that we are going out for a late walk in the park. It was their way of concealing the true nature of their outings. But it was a complete, blatant lie. Oh, how Norman's heart burned with shame. There was nothing he could do about it though. At least, so he thought.

"Perhaps you are right," he laughed nervously. "I will take an umbrella. You are wise to advise it."

He looked as if he wanted to say something more, and the girl waited for him to speak. But his voice failed him before he could utter a single word of the things in his heart. I can't. It would be the height of impropriety. What would people think of us if we declared any kind of feelings for each other? That fear was worse now than it had ever been. Now, he had more than his nosey neighbors who would backbite and ridicule. He had men of high rank watching him, men who could either make or break him as they saw fit.

Norman finished situating his gloves. Jemma dropped a curtsy and left his presence, seeing that she wasn't needed anymore. A few minutes later, Norman had reentered the smoky air of the guild's meeting place, and Hugo pulled him into the younger men's lively circle.

"Have I missed anything?" Norman asked, trying to sound confident as he joined his new acquaintances.

"Only the most boring lecture you have ever heard about tariffs and the effect which modern equipment will have on certain world trade agreements," Blair replied, quietly laughing.

"Which will, no doubt, be very constructive to all of us at some point in the future," Hugo put in, adding a touch of mature dignity to the conversation. "But the future is the future, and the present is where we live now. Let us enjoy it to its fullest, shall we? You have come just in time Norman! Duncan and I have determined to play a game of whist, and we are lacking two players. You shall do nicely for the third player. And for the fourth, I elect Blair Jameson."