The Word of Zed (Part 4)

​The Astronomer
(c) 2008 Melissa Gay

The Word of Zed
​Part 4

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Zed rummaged his mind for some way to solve his dilemma. The truth was he had no time to get a genuine Scribe to take his place. If he could find someone else, just for a day, then maybe it would be all right.
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​He couldn't think of anyone. HE had no friends, didn't know any other Scribes and none of brothers or sisters knew how to write. Late at night, he finally gave up and crawled into his bed, heartbroken. In the morning, he'd send a note to Paris to tell her he wouldn't be at lunch. He dreaded writing those words.

He drifted into sleep, his dreams of utter disappointment.

Swizzz!

He rolled over.

Swizzz!

He peeled open an eyelid, then another.

Swizzz!

Leaning out of the niche, he saw the scroll on the floor. It was one about the Scarlet Dragon. Someone was reading the scroll. He didn't care. He pulled the covers over his head and tried to go back to sleep.

Swizzz!

“This must stop!” he snarled, launching himself out of the niche and onto the floor.

He padded over, rolled up the scroll despite its protests and toted it to its niche. It struggled in his hands. Then he stopped. Something hadn't looked right. He unrolled the parchment and stared at it. The dragon's nose wasn't blue. There were flowers at his feet. He held something very strange in his hand.

Zed crouched on the floor and studied the scroll. Someone had changed it, but how? The Magi wouldn't do such a thing and dragonets weren't smart enough. Someone had given the Scarlet Dragon a strange metal weapon. There was only way that could happen.

Someone from the Outside was changing things. How could that happen? Zed didn't know, but it had something to do with picture magic.

A plan blossomed in his head. “Why can't I do that?”

When the Magi had needed a new Scribe, he'd put an advertisement in the Scrivener's Ink, the weekly newspaper. That's how Zed had gotten the job.

“Words have Power, but pictures have magic.”

​He tapped his chin and then shrugged. What harm could it do?

He shelved the Dragon scroll and collected his writing materials. After some thought, he began an advertisement for a replacement Scribe. He took particular care in the description—the Scribe would need to be able to read and write, able to handle a quill with care and knew the proper amount of flies to feed the stopper toad.

He toted the picture scroll of him in the telescope room and duplicated it, removing his image and putting in its place a “Scribe Wanted” notation on the scroll. Once he'd finished his work, he wrapped the old and new scrolls together and stuck them in an empty niche. They shivered and then settled in.

“Well, that's that,” he said, climbing up to his niche and rearranging his bedclothes. If the High Lord of all Imps looked favorably upon him, a replacement would arrive.

* * * * *

The interior of the kid-sized Explorer Tent was dim and shielded much of the noise from the bookstore. Aiden liked it and always went inside when his mom had to work late. It was big enough he could stretch out his feet and lean back against the wall. Unless some little kid threw a fuss about him being in here, he was left alone. His mom knew where he was so she wouldn't worry; and he got to read. He could dream about all sorts of things and no one like Miss Larsen would say that he was wasting time.

Clicking on his penlight, he turned to the page with the Scarlet Dragon. It looked happy. There was grass and flowers around him and a bee flying around, little buckets of pollen hanging from its sides.

“The all-er-gees,” Aiden said to himself. “He got rid of them.” Turning back to the front of the book, Aiden looked at the Magi and the telescope. Something was missing—the green imp.

That was wrong. He tried to read the print on the scroll. He flipped the book over and held the penlight just above the writing.

SCRIBE WANTED

Aiden didn't know what the word meant, but he thought maybe that was what the imp was. Maybe he could go there for a while. His mom would wake him up when it was time to go home. It'd be fun. There was a big fat toad to play with and those two dragons flying around. Even the wizard guy looked cool. Maybe he'd let him look through the… big tube.

On a whim, Aiden tapped the ink pot and then the toad sitting next to it. Nothing happened. The next time he touched the ink pot it moved.

“Reeeeeppp!” the toad said, hopping over and looking up expectedly.

“Ah, there you are,” a voice said. “I wondered when you would appear.”

​Aiden stared upward at the tall figure of the wizard. “Ah…” he said.

“What is your name?” the Magi asked. He didn't seem scary at all.

“I'm Aiden.”

“Good morning, Aiden. Just pick up the quill and it'll do the rest.”

​The Magi turned back to his telescope, smiling.

Well, he was here until he woke up, so Aiden picked up the quill, not quite knowing what to do. It ruffled its feathers in anticipation. He dropped it and then picked it up again.

​Then it started to write. He didn't know the words, but they were much neater than when he wrote his name for Miss Larsen. When the quill needed more ink, it pulled against his hand. He dipped it in the pot and went back to the scroll.

“This is fun!” he said and let the quill do all the work.
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Part Five

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​(c) 2008 Jana Oliver
All Rights Reserved
(and yes, that means you AI)