A Word in the Breeze

Smoke and Flame (Imagine Dragons III)

"You did WHAT?"

Zeff winced at the tone.

The potionmaster, Mendrion, had a piercing look and a thunderclap of a voice. He wore a midnight blue wizard's robe and his goatee was sharper than shards of ice.

"I . . .dropped the potion," he squeaked.

Master Mendrion seemed to grow in size, towering over him.

"That potion was the Draught of the Dragon – I personally brewed it for seven months just to get the consistency right! Do you think this is some kind of JOKE!?"

"N-no sir!"

"Then WHAT do you have to say for yourself?"

"Please, sir – I was attacked by normals! And I – I dropped it in shock! . . . But I'm sure one of them was affected by the potion, he must have transformed!"

The pointionmaster narrowed his eyes.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes! Absolutely!"

Another look, and it made Zeff's insides quiver self consciously.

"Then you will find that dragon, and you will bring it to me for inspection by tomorrow morning. If it is satisfactory – that is, if it is five times the size of a human and obeys your every command – then you will get the grade. If not, you fail. And you may remain a newspaper boy, forever."

These last words stung.

"But–"

"No buts, Razzer! You are a disappointment as a wizard, and after the acid rain you provoked the last time you lost control, I will not be surprised if you fail to find the creature entirely!"

Zeff opened and closed his mouth. He was clumsy, it was true. But he was powerful, too, wasn't he? How could Master Mendrion just expel him like that?

As if in answer to his thoughts the potionmaster added, "And make sure to send your 'Effects of Poisons' report to Esmeralda, she'll forward it to me. Now, out of my sight."

Razzer shifted out of the dungeon gloomily.

Esmeralda! She hated him, of course she did, he was in good contact with normals! She had a horrible temper, and she'd killed thousands of normals simply out of spite, with her trusty pocket knife – but he was more in control of himself. He rather liked normals, if only as some people liked dogs or cats. He especially would love to have a normal as a slave. . . Or a pet, possibly?

Zeff always got higher marks in Normal Human Relations than she did, because he was a newspaper boy after all. But ever since her neighbour Mendrion became the Master, she had become an undisputed favourite, and a new elite witch – with a bracelet and everything! No doubt they had recently a private word about him. . .

He groaned. There was no justice!

He'd have to find the darned dragon, first of all. He walked out onto the garden, gazing at the spot where he'd completed the potion. Now, how would he do that?. . .

~

"It looks like you were hit with a memory wipe charm," the girl said, blocking out the sun as she observed him.

"Well, I must have been," said Roscoe irritably, sprawled beneath a tree. "I can't even remember what happened to my brother, do I? Oh, don't smirk, he really is my brother!"

"Sure," she said, looking away to roll her eyes. "Maybe he was. But not anymore."

He watched as she put together a few leaves and began to set them on fire with a brush from her fingertips. Then from somewhere she procured a bowl full of an orange liquid and began heating it.