A terrible silence fell over the room as the door opened and the two figures entered. The talking resumed when the people in the pub recognized the farmer. However, it stopped again when this strange young man came into view. Their eyes fell upon the large heavy chest he was carrying with no trouble whatsoever?
"This is Dermo, the son of an old friend," declared the Wizard, "and he's been staying with my wife and me for a few days."
At first, the people just stared, but talking soon resumed, though the locals continued to watch as the two headed for the bar.
Peter saw that the lanterns that ran along the length of the walls were all lit. Along with the smaller ones hanging from the dark-looking, smoke-ridden ceiling, they emanated a dull light over the heads of the people there. The boy also saw stalls at both sides of the room. The booths were fitted with small rectangular tables. In addition, there were also small square and rectangular tables out on the floor, with the people sitting on little cushioned stools.
"Do you want your usual beer?" asked the bartender when he saw the farmer approach the bar.
"You better make it two double malts, Euol," said the farmer. "And I think you better have the same."
"Thanks."
"Oh trust me you're really going to need it."
"And why's that, old friend?"
Jert stepped aside, and his friend saw the boy standing with the chest in his arms.
"Omigods!" he said.
"Yeah, that's what I said," said the farmer.
"By Lanasic's wings! Jert, he looks just like King Dragdani!"
"Yeah, I kind of noticed that too."
"Dragdani? He was the King before my dad is that right?" asked Peter.
"Yes, he was, and he was also the one that stopped the - wait it would be safer to talk in the back; we'll have more privacy," said the bartender. He lifted up a section of the bar, and Peter and Jert went on through to the back. A boy came up behind them carrying a tray full of dirty dishes to the kitchen
"BRATEN! BRATEN!"
"Dad, I'm here," said the boy.
"Ah, there you are Braten. You remember my old friend Jert."
"Yeah, dad. He's in here all the time."
"That's right; well this is Dra -"
"Dermo," Jert put in. "for now anyway.
"Yes, Dermo," said the bar owner. "Take care of them and get them whatever they what okay."
"Yes, dad," said the boy.
"Good boy."
"But mum says I've got to clean all of these dishes."
"Well, tell her that I said that you can leave them," said Euol.
"Are you kidding? She'll kill me! I think you'd better say to her," said his son.
"I'll tell you what," said the father, "take my wand use a spell to clean them. You do remember how to -"
"Of course I know how to do magic. You taught me, remember? I hope someday you'll get me my own wand. You know my sixteenth birthday is coming round soon."
"You know I can't. Not yet. Your mother would eat me alive."
"Yeah, I know," said the boy with a disappointed sigh.
"Don't worry. I'll talk to her about it. And remember, just a small spell," said Euol as he gave the boy his wand. "Now hurry in case your mum comes."
The boy ran off to the kitchen, leaving the others standing in the hall. A minute later, he was back and looking quite happy with himself.
"Well?" said his father.
"All done," said Braten. He handed the wand back to his father, who put it into what looked like a money purse tied to his belt.
Peter noticed the wand was longer than the purse, and yet it went all the way in with no trouble whatsoever. The young King was about to ask about it, though he didn't get the chance and soon forgot all about it.
"Good, now sit and keep our friends company," said Euol, "while I help your mother." Then the tavern owner was gone.
Braten sat down opposite the farmer and the young Draga-Wizard-Elf.
"So what do your parents do?" Braten asked Peter. "If you don't mind me asking?" he said politely.
"My mum's a writer. My biological dad was killed at the battle of Kealhal, and my step dad is deputy Grand Wizard of the city Cayer-Huld," replied Peter steadily.
"Seriously," said the other boy, as though anyone would be foolish enough to lie about something like that in a village of men.
"Yeah, it's true. And just so you know, my name is Drago,"
"What was your dad's name? I mean your real dad."
There was a short pause.
"Jastark."
"But that was the name of the King," said the boy, his eyebrows rising.
"That's right," said Jert, "and this is King Drago, son of Jastark."
The boy's mouth fell open.
"You're the Wiz-Wit King?" he asked Peter.
"I just told you he was, didn't I?" said the farmer
"My dad served your dad. He told me everything that he could," said Braten. "I've always wanted to see the Wiz-Wit cities. My dad told me about them and taught me a lot of spells, but I've always wanted to see the city with my own eyes and maybe even go to the Wizard school," said the boy eagerly.
"Maybe your mum and dad will let you go," said Peter.
"Dad would, but my mum? I doubt it."
They continued to talk about the Wizards and Witches, which, of course, was Braten's favorite subject.
Peter was also happy to talk about them, for although he knew Wizards and Witches existed, until that day he had no idea there were so many. He only knew those few who were introduced to him now and then. The young King liked that he would learn a bit more about them.
Jert did the most of the talking, for he was the only one of the three that had actually been in the cities.