Seija, Tuhi and Wolf

The magic shop - Seija - was exactly where Heimric had said it would be, directly opposite the guild. Its sign bore the image of a scantily clad girl with fairy wings, smiling mischievously, which felt deeply at odds with the seriousness Joash associated with magic.

Foebe pushed the door open.

Inside was a cramped, cluttered space that looked like a strange fusion of a village library and an art shop. Books filled every shelf, every corner - stacks of them piled wherever space allowed. Rows of writing implements lined one wall, jars of specialized paper leaned precariously against each other, and assorted ingredients sat in containers Joash couldn’t begin to identify.

Was that glitter? Magic dust? Something worse?

He had no idea.

At the back of the shop sat a narrow counter, and behind it - beneath a comically oversized wizard hat - was an elderly man, surprisingly a tangata. Everything about him screamed magic. A long, flowing beard. A staff worn smooth by decades of use. Piercing eyes that snapped sharp and alert as soon as they entered, sweeping over them in a heartbeat before dulling again.

Foebe approached with an easy smile.

“Excuse me. Are you the owner of this shop?”

The man nodded once.

“Aye.”

Her smile didn’t waver.

“Would you be willing to teach my husband a little about tuhi magic? Or at least give him some advice?”

The man’s gaze slid to Joash, sharper now. He scanned him slowly, deliberately, then narrowed his eyes.

“You have the time?”

Joash stiffened.

Foebe shook her head gently.

“We’ll only be here until the rains. But an introduction would mean a lot.”

The man sighed, then jerked his head toward the back of the shop.

“Righto. This way.”

Joash blinked.

“You’ll… give me lessons?”

The man shrugged.

“Yeah.”

Joash stared at him, stunned.

“But… but what if-”

The man’s voice dropped into a growl.

“If you had bad intentions, you’d have evaporated the moment you walked through the door. Now leave your wife behind and come learn some magic.”

Foebe blinked, momentarily offended - then smiled. This was exactly why they’d come. She released Joash’s hand, giving him a small wave and mouthing, go on.

He hesitated.

So she jabbed him lightly in the hip.

That did it.

He scurried after the old man, disappearing into the back of the shop. Foebe watched him go, giggling softly - and then the feeling hit her.

A sharp pang, sudden and unwelcome.

She hadn’t been apart from Joash since the day he’d been summoned.

Tears threatened, but she forced them back. He wasn’t leaving. They were just doing different things for the day. And maybe the next day. And maybe the next-

She shivered.

No. Stop.

She inhaled slowly, exhaled, grounding herself.

What had she said she’d do?

Right. The guild.

Just across the street. They weren’t far apart. She took another steadying breath and stepped outside.

More than anything, she hoped he wouldn’t get too absorbed. She wanted to do things together while they still had time in Karawa. If it came down to it, she could always drag him to the beach at night, cold or not.

Though then he wouldn’t get to see her bikini properly…

She pushed the thought away as she entered the guild, greeted once more by the familiar atmosphere - and smell - of adventurers.

Foebe sighed.

Time to make herself useful.

The old man grunted as he swept a stack of parchments off a workbench in the small workshop behind the shop.

“The name’s Galdur,” he said. “But you’ll address me as sir.”

Joash nodded quickly.

Galdur dragged a chair out with his foot.

“Sit.”

Joash sat.

Galdur slapped a stack of fresh parchments onto the bench, then dropped what looked suspiciously like a pencil beside them. He jabbed a finger at the parchment.

“Alright. What do you want to do with tuhi magic?”

Joash froze.

He… hadn’t really thought about it.

“Uhh-”

“Too slow. Right. We’re starting simple.”

Galdur pulled a book out of thin air as casually as if it had been tucked under his arm the whole time. He flipped through it briskly, then slammed it open in front of Joash.

“Weather prediction.”

Joash blinked.

“I thought you needed a special symbol for weather-”

“That’s right,” Galdur cut in. “And it’s also the simplest to do. Which makes it perfect for you.”

He jabbed a finger at the page.

“Here’s the symbol. Copy it.”

Joash leaned forward.

The symbol was a hybrid of a cloud and a clock - the body of the cloud filled with densely packed text, leaving a precise circular gap in the center for the clock face. The text wasn’t words so much as structure. Code, almost. A database of weather conditions, probabilities, modifiers. Optional coordinates. Place names. A target time adjustable within a three-day range.

But everything had to be perfect.

Spacing. Alignment. Stroke order.

Even so… it didn’t seem impossible.

“Can I start now?” Joash asked.

Galdur snorted.

“Confident, are we? Fine. I won’t stop you. Have at it.”

Joash picked up the pencil, testing its weight. He’d written almost exclusively digitally back on Earth, but his hand remembered notebooks - hundreds of thousands of words scratched out over the years.

He inhaled, steadied himself, and began to write as neatly as he could.

He hadn’t even finished the first word when Galdur grunted.

“Heh. Maybe you’re better than I thought.”

Joash stopped, blinking.

“What?”

Galdur pointed at the six letters already on the parchment.

“That’s one of the reasons tuhi takes so long to learn. Most people can’t write worth a damn. You’ve just saved yourself… what, ten years?”

Joash beamed.

“Thank you, sir.”

Galdur grunted.

“Keep going. The symbol won’t be kind to you.”

Joash nodded, heart thumping with new confidence.

“Okay!”

Galdur’s eyes narrowed.

“That’s ‘okay, sir’.”

“Okay, sir!”

Galdur huffed, but Joash was unstoppable now.

Nothing could shake him.

Nothing at all.

…Except for the fact that the symbol burst into flames the moment he added the final stroke.