The Den, Continent of Noriie, Even Gale.

☆

FOOD WAS to be enjoyed. And after dying once, and nearly dying a second time, and having an empty, angry stomach, any kind of food was a luxury to be savored.

Stew most of all.

Pillowy chunks of potato and turnip and red root burst across his tongue as they'd been cooked to the brink. But for Sebbi, quickly disintegrating vegetables were a blessing as it allowed him to gorge himself on the good stuff.

By which, he meant the flaky, white pieces of fish, of which his bowls had been filled with plenty. The Den's proprietor had proclaimed their stew finest in the land, with a whole fish secured in each bowl.

While Sebbi might argue his first claim, and cite Mirea home to the best stew, the part about a whole fish in each bowl seemed true. The cream broth had been plenty thick and loaded with fish, and hints of woodsy herbs playfully danced across his tongue.

Granted he could have been served mud and enjoyed it after traveling in the desert and subsisting on sand and determination alone, but this was a far better feasting experience.

Or it would have been, had it not been for his dour companion seated across the table, jamming his fork into the wood.

Uusa glowered when he finally noticed Sebbi watching him.

"You're fat," the boy said flatly, throwing his fork down. Dancer was curled in his lap, cleaning the cream off his whiskers after being given an entire bowl to himself.

"You'd eat like me if you'd been stranded in a desert," Sebbi managed between inhales of stew.

"No, I wouldn't." Uusa squirmed in his seat, and huffed.

Dancer raised his head, giving an irritated meow. His tail stiffly swatted Uusa's thigh. As this was a particularly effecting tactic to secure one's owner's attention used by most cats, though mastered by only a few (Lucy), Uusa's gaze dropped to the cat, his fingers mindlessly scratching between the cat's ears. A victorious purr floated up Dancer's throat.

"I'd remember my manners," the boy continued.

Sebbi placed his spoon down, picked up the bowl and brought it to his mouth. "And where in that manner manual you follow does it say to poke a dead man with a stick?" Over the rim of his bowl, he shot the boy a smirk. "I didn't much care fore being poked."

Uusa puffed out his cheeks and turned away. "I thought you were dead." In the dimming grey light floating in from the outside heat lamps, Uusa's scales glowed a soft red. The hairs around his horn nubs lifted slightly like the hackles of some agitated predator. "Dead men don't feel pokes."

"Dead men don't eat stew either, but--" Sebbi slammed his bowl onto the table, an emptied fifth next to his other emptied four. "--here we are." Leaned back in his seat, his stomach gave a soft gurgle of appreciation. "You know, I knew someone like you."

Uusa's eyes flicked to his face, clearly interested, but clearly trying to feign disinterest. Much like Abby had done when her teachers struck an interesting chord of discussion, but because it was school, she had felt compelled to maintain appearances.

A wan smile settled onto his lips. He could see her. Sneak aboard a ship headed north, dock in some sea port and find his way back to her. Crawl, if need be. And yet, here he was stuffing his face, lingering.

Sebbi shook away his thoughts and continued. "Always on me about table manners and etiquette."

"Clearly," Uusa snorted and pursed his lips, "Your instructor failed."

Sebbi's smile faltered, his hands curling into fists. "I failed him," he said curtly.

Behind them, the inn's doors burst open. A humid gust flowed through the room, ushering a pile of black sand onto the floor. Bantu stumbled in, his face red and sweaty.

The older man rushed toward them, grinning from ear to ear, waving something their way. "Well boy," he said, slapping three scraps of paper onto the table, his voice triumphant. "I got em!"

Uusa's eyes widened as, with lightning speed, he swept up the papers and quickly started reading. "You are cord-cord- cordallie-"

"Cordially," Bantu said, pushing a few strands of sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes.

"--invited to tonight's performance, where The Wizard is destined to amaze with real feats of magick!" Uusa sprang to his feet, Dancer falling from his lap. The cat landed upright on the ground, the inn's dusty floorboards bowing a bit under the unexpected additional weight. Sebbi wondered, if much like he had been, the inn sustained itself on sand and determination. Seemed likely.

"That's right, boy. The three of us, tonight, under the tent, witnesses to magick." Bantu gleefully slapped his thighs.

Sebbi cocked his head. "Three?" He took up his spoon, dragging it around his empty bowl.

"Why of course!" Bantu's wide hand fell on his shoulder. "Can't have you stayin' cloistered up in yer room, now can we?"

"But you've already done--"

"Nothin' that another man wouldn't do." Bantu straightened, his grin widening. "Now of course, ye don't have to. If ye would rather retire fer the night, we'd understand."

Uusa, finally managing to tear his eyes away from the tickets, snapped his head up and glowered. "Does he have to come with us?"

Sebbi wondered the same thing. Did he have to go? Bantu had already done too much - rescuing him from the desert, giving him a ride, buying him room and board for the night, putting good stew in his belly. And all for what? Sebbi couldn't possibly pay the man back, but he'd helped him anyway.

And now he'd gotten him a ticket for some magick show.

"Well?" asked Bantu. "Show starts at sun down. And I imagine the entire town's goin' be crammed in 'em risers tonight."

Nevermind that Sebbi was tired too. He may have slept half the day away, but he could surely use more.  The ache was still present in his bones and his muscles, his sides and back bruised from where Uusa had so callously poked him. His head felt full of thoughts he hadn't quite gotten sorted but...

When he did get back to Abby, which he would, how disappointed would she be if he told her turned down an opportunity like this? His refusal would disappoint her and he'd promised himself never to disappoint her again.

"Okay," he said.

Uusa fell back in his chair and tossed his arms up, all the while scowling his displeasure.

"Great," Bantu leaned over and ruffled Uusa's hair. The boy slouched further in his chair, grumbling something about going bald. "Let's get a move on then."

Uusa got to his feet, his frustration easily forgotten in the face of his excitement. He moved next to his father, his body half-hidden by Bantu's muscular legs.

"By the way," Sebbi stood next, wincing as pain shot through his muscles, "who's the wizard?"

At this, Uusa rolled his eyes.

"What?"

He shook his head, and clucked his tongue. "It's the wizard."

"And the wizard is?"

"Come on, Dancer," Uusa commanded, whirling away from Sebbi. "Let's go." The cat gave a meow of agreement, trotting over to Uusa's feet. Together, they headed for the doors.

Bantu's gruff chuckles floated into Sebbi's ears. "Uusa's a big fan, probably chuffed ye don't know of the wizard by reputation alone."

Sebbi furrowed his eyebrows. "You mean being known as 'the wizard' counts as having a reputation?"

"In these parts." Bantu nodded, his pace slowed to match each of Sebbi's staggered steps. "All ye need, I suppose, when ye possess real magick." He leaned in, like his next words were secrets he didn't want others overhearing. "None of them potions, or bindings or cheap enchantments. It's real. He calls out to the Mother Drygon and She responds."

Sebbi nodded along, each word reminding him of Abby as a child. Her  with shelves full of magickal books and who longed to craft potions to use on Poppy and Crum and the trees in her mother's grove.

Who wore blue ribbons every third day in the rainy months to commemorate the birth of the greatest wizard to have ever lived. Who played with stick wands and commandeered the kitchen to play potioneer. Abby, who always snuck off to Mandarren Square to peruse its magick stalls, and learn more of the world overlooked in her schoolbooks.

"You like magick, Sebbi?" Bantu's voice cut Sebbi's reminiscing short, but it had left his chest warm, and heart full of cherished memories.

He shook his head. "No, but I know someone who does."

Outside the inn, just like Bantu predicted, the streets were crowded, droves of people all headed toward the center of town. A large tent had been erected, giant panels of alternating blue and gold sticking out among the mud huts and stone spires.

They merged with the crowd, some of whom wore dark blue robes and conical hats. Others had gold stars painted across their cheeks and clutched thick books in their hands like they were the world's last and greatest treasures.

"Who is this wizard, anyway?"

Bantu seemed pleased, watching the people move around him. A few were scaled like he and Uusa, horns of various sizes sitting upon their heads. They gave off faint auras - from deep golds to rusted reds and lush greens.

"The Wizard Kellog, of course."

Sebbi chuckled. The blue tent, the blue costumes; they weren't just any old blue. They were a specific shade of blue.

Cornflower, if he'd remembered correctly.

And suddenly his chuckles grew and multiplied and he was laughing, there in the center of the road, his steps made lighter, because he realized then he'd made the right choice going with Bantu and Uusa to see the magick show.

Because if Abby ever found out he'd turned down an opportunity to see The Wizard Kellog in person, she'd disown him, family or not.

*

"Uusa! Don't go wanderin'."

The boy glanced back, and frowned. "I ain't goin' far." He pointed at his heels. "Besides, Dancer will protect me."

Bantu shook his head. "When that cat's not sleepin', or sun bathin', it's clamorin' for attention. Danged predator hasn't preyed on anythin', save for the shredded meat Uusa feeds it."

"Sounds like someone I know."

Bantu shot Sebbi a quizzical look but before Sebbi could clarify, Uusa was signaling with his hands. "I'm goin' to get some juice, pa!"

He pointed to a stall on his right, lit by floating green flames. A stout woman in black robes was tending to her customers, serving bright purple liquids in crystal cups. Some smoked, others bubbled. A few belched clouds of red-sand into the air.

Bantu nodded. "Don't be long."

Uusa gave them an annoyed nod and wave before disappearing into the crowd.

"You wanting fer anythin'?"

Sebbi stood on his toes and craned his neck. There were dozens of stalls offering all kinds of goods. There were spit-roasted meats, and shaved ice enchanted to withstand the evening heat. A cart, at the center of a group of children, offered swirled candy sticks.

On the way in, after passing two stone mountain cats spewing colored fire -- first green, then purple, and lastly blue -- they'd passed stalls with homemade sea glass charms, and selections of potioneering wares from the larger emporiums. A hat shop offered all things pointed with variations in feather, texture, color and choice of animal skull, while a book dealer proudly boasted of the latest Kellog best-seller: The Wizard Kellog's Secrets to Surviving the Dark and Ostentatious Fellowes Named Dirk.

Sebbi got the impression that some, if not all of the book was written from personal experience.

Closer to the tent's entrance were the Kellog approved, Kellog-licensed wares. Things like stuffed miniature Wizard Kellogs with eyes made of sea glass, skin of darkened mughound hide, hair and beards woven from corded nightsilk; signed postcards and glossy 8 by 11s; beaded bracelets with little stars for charms.

Off to the side stood a glass case carrying the yet-to-be-released Wizard Kellog Pro Series 5, complete with improved burners, an extra wide bottomed beaker for optimal brewing, and a set of anti-rust tin mixing rods. A potioneering set, the sign read, brewed for the budding practitioner in all walks of life. Now available for pre-order.

A line snaked all the way back to the toilets.

"Well? See anything you like?"

Sebbi didn't want anything per se, aside from a few charred meat skewers from the grill vendor, but he did think Abby might want some thing. His gaze caught on a barrel of Wizard Kellog Pennants. Cornflower blue flags speckled with tiny gold stars trembled in the humidity-laden breeze.

With a few stitches, a little effort and the right amount of imagination, he could fashion the felt into something resembling a ribbon. That'd make her smile.

Turning, he found Bantu flashing him a toothy, all-knowing grin. He dipped his hand into his coin purse, metal slabs rattling against one another. "You need any--"

Sebbi raised his hand, shook his head. "No, please, I'm good."

He had a ruby stashed away in his trousers, a small one the size of a dew drop. In Aelurus it wasn't worth anything, but here, it might be enough  to purchase a pennant, or so he hoped. "I'll be right back," he said, turning around and heading into the night in search of the back of the line.

It wrapped around the tent twice, and then meandered through the sea of stalls. He thought he found what was its end on the outskirts of town, next to a row of smaller, single occupant tents, but he'd been wrong when a man twice his side accused him of cutting.

"That's my spot!" the man growled.

Sebbi stared at him. He had dark braids that traveled well past his shoulders and a thick jet-black beard. Blue robes barely fell below his knees and a tiny pointed hat sat askew on his head. The Wizard Kellog fandom was certainly varied.

"Back of the line!" the man yelled again.

Sebbi put up his hands in apology and backed away. "That's what I was trying to--" His foot snagged on a rock and he fell, straight into one of the tents. If the world had wanted him back alive, it certainly wasn't behaving like it.

"Autographs were three hours ago, I'm afraid," came a voice.

Sebbi got to his feet, grumbling when he saw the rips in his trousers, and the blood blooming along his palms. "Sorry," he started, his next words swallowed before he could squeeze them out.

A man stood in front of a mirrored vanity, smoothing out the lapels of his cornflower blue suit. Bright eyes twinkled from within dark skin. His black hair was slicked to his scalp, his beard combed and greased, each curl fixed in place. With a smile, the man straightened his tie, the pattern on it one of gold stars.

"The Wizard!" Sebbi yelped.

Kellog kept on smiling, even as Sebbi registered the awkward way he'd addressed the man.

The Wizard, really?

He chided himself inwardly. "Sorry," he continued, taking a step back the way he came. " I was looking to get in line for--"

The Wizard Kellog shot to his feet, clapping ringed hands in front of himself. Glee filled his voice. "Let me guess." His gaze trekked over Sebbi. "A gift for a loved one," he mused, eyes half-closed. "Yes. She's a big fan. Has all of my books so..." His eyes snapped open. "A doll! You were getting her one of my dolls."

Sebbi shook his head. "A pennant, actually."

The Wizard continued to grin, his wrong guess never souring his disposition. "A fine choice," he conceded.

"Was going to cut it up," Sebbi admitted.

Intrigue flashed in The Wizard's eyes. "That so?" His thick, black eyebrows lifted over his eyes.

"To make a ribbon," he continued. "She likes ribbons."

"Hair ribbons, hmm?" Kellog stroked his beard, grease making his fingers shiny. "Yes, good idea. There's an untapped market there." He nodded. "Indeed. Ought to look into that." In a movement as swift as the ocean's current, he was in front of Sebbi, offering his pocket square. Sebbi stared. "Here," The Wizard said, "this ought to make a better ribbon."

"But I--" Sebbi's gaze darted around. "I barged in on you and--"

"--fell in the dirt." Sebbi stiffened. "You're not terribly hurt, and it was an accident; no harm done. Now here," he waved the fabric in front of Sebbi's eyes, "it's decent silk, will cut straight enough, minimal fraying. And look," he grabbed the square, unfolded it and held it up to the lantern light. "Enchanted the gold stars to twinkle when they catch the light."

And twinkle it did. Like Axion's stars, like the stars in Mirea and in Aelurus, the stars that Sebbi was always looking at and wondering if Abby was looking at them too.

"Gives my outfits more of an otherworldly presence."

Sebbi tsked. "I think performing real feats of magick is enough to give you that." The Wizard Kellog shrugged and Sebbi took the square, placing it in his pocket. "Thanks."

Kellog grinned, his fingers twisting a sun-shaped gemstone tacked into his cuff. "You're not from around here."

Sebbi gaped.

"No accent," he pointed out. 

"Right." Sebbi nodded. "I'm from the north."

The Wizard's eyes grew dark. "A journey's taken you a long way from home, and now another's come to take you back."

Sebbi shifted uncomfortably, the fullness of his belly turned suddenly heavy like he'd swallowed his weight in stones.

The Wizard's gaze floated down to his feet. "Nice boots. Good quality leather. Thick sole. Perfect for long and short journeys alike."

Sebbi hadn't realized the mighty Wizard Kellog was a fan of shoes, but maybe that one detail had been left out of all his book bios.

"So where does it end?"

"Hmm?" Sebbi returned his gaze to the wizard.

He was fiddling with his other cuff, a dark, crescent-shaped stone dimpling the fabric. "Where does your journey end?"

"Where ever she is." The words raced from Sebbi's mouth without thinking. And when he did give them thought, he immediately blushed. At least when he was a cat, he had fur to hide his embarrassment. Stupid, wiry human arm hairs simply did not suffice. 

The Wizard Kellog's lips curled into a smile.

"Th-that is, in Mirea," corrected Sebbi.

Kellog clapped his back. "Me too! Headed back after tonight's show. Needed in Triad, for our king who desperately seeks my aide, and for my students who wish to ransack me of all my secrets." A guttural laugh pushed through his teeth. "Want to sail back with me?"

He jumped, taken aback. "What? No! No. I don't have--" He smoothed down his pockets. Aside from the Wizard's pocket square and one pathetically-shaped ruby he had not a cent to his name. "I've got nothing."

"Free of charge." The Wizard's smile widened.

"I couldn't--" He gritted his teeth.

Abby's face flashed in his mind. What expression would she wear when he appeared, and she realized he wasn't dead, even after he'd gone and died in her arms? And what of his brother? How would he look, when Sebbi returned after all the pain he'd caused? Lucy had never been without words, and Sebbi was sure he'd have a few choice ones he'd want to yell into Sebbi's face. 

Their anger and sadness he could handle. But what Sebbi feared most was their disappointment. And they would be disappointed. That if he could return from the dead, why not Abby's father and mother? Why not the mother he and Lucy had only known fleetingly in their dreams when they'd conjured a face similar to their own?

Why him, of all people?

"Oh, but you could."

"But I--" His eyes darted between Kellog and the tent flap. He wanted to flee but so much of his life he'd spent running. Chasing after beetles and snakes to make himself feel better. Running away from Abby because he didn't like how comfortable it was when he got near.

"The steps back don't get easier."

Kellog's words made Sebbi's ears prick. He jerked his head up, meeting the man's gaze.

"It's hard going back, knowing things have changed, knowing you have changed, but that's what you want, to return? To take those steps, yes?"

There was no point in hesitating. Sebbi wanted to see Abby and Lucy more than anything in the world. Even if they weren't happy to see him. "Yes."

"Good." His eyes sparkled like sea glass. "We set sail tomorrow at dawn. Have a little ship called The Celes. Can't miss it. Big purple sails. A bit gaudy for my taste." He playfully slapped his forehead. "Oh, she also happens to fly."

Sebbi's mouth slackened, his jaw ready to snap off and fall to the floor. "Ships fly?!" 

Kellog waved a hand at him, as if waving away Sebbi's disbelief. If only it could be so easy. "Lots of things fly." 

"Yeah, but not ships, traditionally."

Wrapping an arm over his shoulders, The Wizard pulled him close. "Save that kind of bewilderment for feats deserving of such wide-eyes and open mouths."

Was news of a flying ship not worthy of wonder?

As though he could read Sebbi's mind, the Wizard Kellog raised his hand for a demonstration. His eyes narrowed, his attention aimed at his fingers. The air around them grew heated, thick, like they'd been swaddled in wool on a sweltering summer's day.

Slowly, water filled up his palm until The Wizard held a tiny lake against his chest. With a satisfied smile, he wiggled his forefinger, commanding the water to rise and arc, until a giant wave was crashing against his wrist, mere centimeters from soaking his cuff.  He released Sebbi, gave a wink and bow, and the water disappeared.

"Magick can't die, Sebastian Tells." Sebbi flinched as Kellog's gaze settled on his face, studying him. "It's like love. It may grow and change shape, and dwindle in the bad times, but its what sustains us, and its what keeps us alive. Its what brings us back from the brink, even when we think we don't deserve it."

"H-ho-how--"

A hand darted out of the dark, ripping the tent flap back. A thin, bald man sauntered in, slender fingers twirling the edges of a slight mustache.

"Mandon." The wizard flashed him a smile and gave a little bow.

The man did not smile and stood rather rigidly next to the tent's central support beam. "They need you on stage, sir. To make sure your marks are properly lit for the evening."

Kellog gave a wistful sigh, plucking a wide-brimmed cap off the vanity. "Ah, never a dim moment when one's bathed in spotlight, eh, Mandon?"

Mandon gave a cursory glance Sebbi's way before returning it to The Wizard. "I'm afraid not, Sir." He moved aside, holding the flap open. The night air had finally begun to cool.

"Well then," Kellog turned to face Sebbi, "if you'll excuse me."

Sebbi wasn't listening, his mind full of what had already been said. Sebastian Tells. The Wizard had called him by a name he had never dared call himself. And the spiel about love and magick and their similarities? And that each were imbued with enough power to bring him back? How absurd. No amount of love could bring back the dead.

Because if that were true, Abby would have her parents. And he'd have his mother. 

"Oh," The Wizard called. "And Sebbi?"

Sebbi slowly blinked, the Wizard's face obscured by the brim of the hat he now wore. "You ought to get back to your seat, enjoy the show." Sebbi nodded. "And remember tomorrow, before dawn. The Celes."

"The ship that flies," Sebbi muttered.

The Wizard Kellog pointed at him, enthusiastically. "The very one." He turned, Mandon all but lost in the other man's shadow. "She'll be thrilled to see you."

Sebbi shook his head, black hair buffeting his face. "Who will?"

"Abby," said Kellog.

And then he left.