Prologue
♠♦♣♥♣♦♠
One Year and Two Months Ago
The golden
afternoon sunlight streamed through the trees and onto the table, and the tea
inspector’s steady voice rose and fell as he told his tale. Everything was as
peaceful and pleasant as could be—for Emmaline, at least. She could not say the
same for Bostwick, whom she had last seen sulking around the halls of the
palace, looking despondently into his empty top hat. She’d been tempted to
invite him to lunch with them, but thought that Mr. Charles’s lessons about
some of the more obscure aspects of the tea trade might not be the best way to
cheer someone up.
“…and that’s
where Dragon Well tea gets its name,” Mr. Charles was saying. “But I wonder if
you’ve ever heard of the Drink of the Immortals?”
“Is that
supposed to be some kind of elixir of life?” Emmaline asked.
“It’s actually
just a particularly earthy variety of pu-erh. Never touch the stuff myself.
Anyway, the interesting part is not the tea, but the creature it’s named for:
immortal beasts.”
“What are
they?”
“Mmm, it’s hard
to say,” he said unctuously. He often used this tone of voice when negotiating
with a client. “Are they goblins, or something else? No one knows. Long ago,
humans and goblins alike told stories of strange beings, shape-shifters who
never died and who, in no one’s memory, were ever born. Some said they were
doppelgangers who imitated mortal beings and took their places, influencing the
powers and politics of countries across the globe.”
“Why would they
do that?” Emmaline asked, wide eyed.
Mr. Charles shrugged.
“I guess if you live forever, you need a hobby. Anyway, humans stopped
believing in such things long ago, but goblins still tell the tale of these
mysterious people who may still walk the earth.”
He took another
sip of tea, then began to spread cream on one of the scones.
“So…?” Emmaline
asked, wondering where he was going with all this. She enjoyed Mr. Charles’s
stories, but there were times when his point was opaque.
“That’s all,
really. I’m no expert on such things. I just thought it was an interesting
story. But I’m sure a thirteen-year-old doesn’t want to hear about some long
dead creatures.”
“If they’re
immortal, how can they be long dead?”
“Just checking
to see if you were paying attention. You were, of course, but something else is
on your mind. You were staring very seriously into your teacup a moment ago.”
“I was just
thinking about Bostwick.”
“Ah, yes, the
new court magician.”
“He seems so
gloomy all the time, and he’s always thinking about that one spell.”
“Well, some
people like brooding over things they’ll never be able to do,” the tea
inspector said, pouring his fourth cup of tea.
“It doesn’t
seem like he likes doing it at all. I
just wish there was some way we could take his mind off it, but I’m not really
sure what he’s interested in. I haven’t been able to talk to him very much,
so—”
“It looks like
this might be your chance,” Mr. Charles said, waving at someone behind her. She
turned to see a brown-haired boy in a tailcoat coming towards them. He looked
vaguely annoyed at life in general, far too world-weary for his sixteen years.
“Hello, von
Dogsbody,” Mr. Charles said, though Emmaline knew Bostwick hated being referred
to by his last name. “You seem peachy today. What’s up?”
“You’re late
for some meeting about Earl Grey.”
Mr. Charles
looked confused for a moment, as if he was desperately trying to remember who
Earl Grey was. Then he snapped his fingers, rose, and clapped Bostwick on his
shoulder.
“That’s right.
I forgot all about it. Thanks for the tip, Dogsbody.”
“Why can’t you just call me Bostwick?” he
asked in exasperation.
“‘Dogsbody’ is
so much easier to remember. Anyway, since you’re already out here, why don’t
you stay and tell the princess about the history of magic? You’ll find she’s
quite bright,” he added when Bostwick cast a skeptical glance her way.
“Besides, it’s your job to entertain the royal family.”
“With spells, not history,” Bostwick mumbled,
taking Mr. Charles’s seat as the tea inspector whisked away through the garden.
“I like
history,” Emmaline said, pushing the plate of scones over to him. He took one
and began munching on it. This seemed to mollify him, so she continued. “I
already know about how the invasion of goblins from Ataxia is what forced the
human nations to join forces. It actually benefited humanity in the long run,
because now everyone in the Empire has access to things like chocolate and
lemons. We never would have been able to get those in Camellia originally, and
we can trade our tea to other countries without worrying about bandits or tariffs
or—”
She stopped,
noticing that Bostwick’s look of irritation had returned. As she suspected, Mr.
Charles’s brand of history—one that focused on
trade—was a very acquired taste, and not one the magician seemed to enjoy.
“Um, anyway,
Mr. Charles said that even when they formed the Empire, humans were still no
match for goblins, so that’s why Melieh had to find a way for humans to do
magic.”
“Sounds like
you already know a lot about this,” Bostwick said, with the air of a mechanic
who had been called out to fix a perfectly functioning machine.
“But what I
don’t understand is how Melieh learned to do spells in the first place.”
“Technically,
he always could. Magicians are born with the potential to perform magic, but
without training, it’s too unpredictable and dangerous. That’s probably why
goblins like it so much—though I hear they can control their magic without even
trying… Anyway, Melieh was just the first human who learned how to do specific
spells and tricks.”
“But how?”
“I don’t know…
practice? Look, goblins liked casting spells on humans, humans learned to cast
their own spells, and goblins were so offended by that fact that they left the
Empire for good. That’s pretty much all you need to know about magic, as far as
history is concerned.”
Emmaline was
not entirely satisfied with this paltry explanation, most of which she knew
already, but was glad that Bostwick seemed to be in slightly better spirits… at
least until he tried to pour himself a cup of tea; Mr. Charles had emptied the
pot earlier.
“Um, we can
re-steep it,” Emmaline said, pulling the teapot over to the samovar. “While we
wait, do you want to see the tea fields?”
“No, thanks.”
He stared at his empty cup like it had rendered him a personal insult, and
Emmaline decided that she had had enough of his gloominess for one afternoon.
“You know,
Bostwick, things could be worse,” she said, standing and brushing some scone
crumbs off her dress. “You could have to deal with an army of marauding
goblins.”
“…uh-huh.”
“Or an immortal
beast.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.”
She strolled
away from the tea table and followed a stone path past red and orange rose
bushes until it sloped down to a low stone wall that looked out over the
Principality of Camellia. The hills across from her were green with row upon
row of well kept tea bushes. Emmaline breathed in, smelling flowers blended
with the scent of fresh-cut foliage.
I wish Bostwick would focus on this sort of thing, she thought, but I guess I
can at least have one cup of tea with him, even if he won’t cheer up.
She spun around
to return to the table, and felt something strange underfoot. Looking down, she
saw that she was standing on what resembled a rat tail, though it was at least
three feet long and continued into the bushes. She stepped off and followed it
through the garden where it twisted around trees and flowerbeds until it
finally connected to the backside of a short, furry creature with huge ears. At
first Emmaline thought it was some sort of possum, until it turned to her and
revealed a squashed, flat face with a malevolent expression. Though she had
never seen one before, she knew immediately that it must be a goblin.
“Oh, um, is
this your tail?” she said.
“Yeah,” said
the goblin. “And you just stepped on it.”
Before Emmaline
could apologize, the goblin snapped his stubby fingers, grinned at her, and ran
toward the edge of the garden with his tail trailing behind him. Not wanting to
lose sight of the first goblin she had ever seen, Emmaline started after him
but tripped on the hem of her skirt—despite the fact that a moment ago it had
been just below her knees. It felt like her entire dress was trying to swallow
her, and soon her collar covered her face so that she couldn’t see a thing.
What was more, the fabric had become so heavy that she had difficulty fighting
her way out.
“Bostwick!” she
called, hoping that he hadn’t left the garden.
My first encounter with a goblin,
she thought, finally managing to get her head out of one of the sleeves, and he turns my dress enormous. No wonder
the Empire expelled them.
“Emmaline?”
Bostwick said, coming down the path. “Did you ca—ahh!”
He cringed away
from her as she looked up at him—very far up. He towered over her, then knelt
down, appearing huge.
“Oh no!” she
said. “Bostwick, don’t tell me that thing shrank me. It shrank me, didn’t it?”
“Um, not
exactly,” he said.
“What happened
then? Why is everything so, so…”
Aw, heck! Of course you wanna see the table of contents, or at least the chapter titles. Here ya go:
ReplyDeletePrologue (One Year and Two Months Ago)
Chapter 1: The Butler Did It
Chapter 2: A Confusing Crash Course in the History and Economics of Styx
Chapter 3: A Bomb Scare?
Chapter 4: Rare and Priceless Counterfeits
Chapter 5: Garden Variety Wyrms
Chapter 6: Incantations, Explanations, Complications, and Charms
Chapter 7: Concerning Clarence
Chapter 8: The Forest of Infinite Horrors
Chapter 9: Tarts, Trifles, and Tricks
Chapter 10: The Mad Bomber at Last
Chapter 11: Thanks for the Memory
Chapter 12: Sebastian’s Transformation
Chapter 13: Free to Go
This sold me on the book, when I was a tad skeptical at first glance. I quite enjoyed it. I think you did a good job on Miscast Spells, and look forward to the next one.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much! I'm glad you like it (to tell the truth, I'm always super happy to hear that people liked the prologue, because it's the part I wrote last and am the most nervous about).
DeleteIf you don't mind my asking, where did you first hear about my book? If you do mind my asking, then never mind. ^^
I do like it. I think it does a marvelous job of selling Bostwick's character in particular. I felt the prologue gave me everything I needed to know about him, and then he never confused me after that.
DeleteI found your book because this webpage is linked to on the sidebar of http://friendofsophia.blogspot.com/, a blog that I stumbled upon some time ago and read with pleasure.
Ah! I see. I forgot Sophia's Favorite linked to my blog (he's my brother, by the way. I guess now I owe him for sending a reader my way :D)
DeleteI had guessed so, but was not certain.
DeleteMay I ask, as someone who aspires to write, what the word-count is for Miscast Spells? I like the length of it.
Miscast Spells is about 56,400 words (give or take for front and end matter, chapter titles, etc.), so it's almost but not quite short enough to be a novella.
DeleteThank you, that is helpful. It is a good length for the style of writing used. A charming book.
DeleteMy wife likes the prologue as well, though she has not yet read more than a few pages beyond it. I think you have no need to be nervous about it.