The Magician's Apprentice
By J.R. Godwin
Disclaimer: "Labyrinth" belongs to Jim Henson & Co. I'm not making any money off of this. This is a continuation of the story started in "Fledgling", which you may wish to read first. But I think this story can stand on its own, if you're new.
There is no better way to know us
Than as two wolves, come separately to a wood.
-Ted Hughes, A Modest Proposal
GORDIE: Do you think I'm weird?
CHRIS: Definitely.
GORDIE: No man, seriously. Am I weird?
CHRIS: Yeah, but so what? Everybody's weird.
-Stand by Me (1986)
1.
Sarah never went looking for trouble, but it always seemed to be looking for her ... and it very often succeeded.
So of course it had to be the week she was house sitting for Muriel when a knock came at the door. Sarah was baking cookies because she needed a break from work, and she was sending fat sparks of light running along the kitchen tiles to amuse Nix (who behaved like a cat even if he wasn't a real one).
The knock at the door made Boudicca, a very normal dog, howl from the backyard. Nix looked up from grooming his stinky fur and said, "You should get that."
Sarah made a face. "Who visits without calling first?" Nobody did that in Brooklyn except for the meter guy and Jehovah's Witnesses.
Someone knocked again. It sounded strange to Sarah's ears, but she couldn't place why.
Then the doorbell rang.
Sarah sighed and dusted flour from her hands. "I guess I have to get it."
Muriel's home was enormous by city standards, a narrow blue house that was bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. After three years as Muriel's apprentice, Sarah still hadn't explored all the rooms, which liked to move around whenever she wasn't paying attention.
Only the tiny bedroom on the second floor remained the same. It was Sarah's, a place to stay whenever work with Muriel ran late and she couldn't return home. Work ran late more often than she liked.
Sarah opened the ornate front door, and sunshine flooded in. "Hello ...?"
No one there. She looked down.
Two children stood on the front porch, a boy and a girl. Siblings, judging by the way they dressed and held hands. And the girl was clearly in charge, but not by much. They were painfully young, and Sarah (who'd just celebrated her 30th birthday) was struck by the frightening realization that she had to work hard to remember what it was like to be so little. She'd forgotten so much already.
Now she knew why the knocks sounded strange: they'd been made by a small fist. Sarah saw the girl had pushed a deck chair against the door to ring the buzzer when the knocks failed.
On reflex, Sarah bent a little at the knee, tried to make herself look friendlier and easier to see for someone so small.
The little girl drew herself up as big as she could (which wasn't much) and said, "Hola. ¿Es esta la casa de la bruja?"
Sarah blinked and switched gears without too much grinding. "Uh, sí. ¿Hablas inglés?"
"Yes. When will she be home, please?"
"The witch is on vacation right now," Sarah said, which was easier than explaining Muriel was off hunting something demonic in Iowa and still refused to bring Sarah on such jobs.
The child's face fell. "Really? We need her help."
A little piece of fire flickered at the base of Sarah's spine. It was, perhaps, the feeling every Champion of the Labyrinth got when they sensed an adventure (or would have gotten, if Sarah hadn't been the only one to ever defeat the Goblin King). That feeling meant someone needed rescue.
Sarah tried to ignore it, but instead she blurted, "Are you in trouble?"
The girl nodded. "The monster in my closet ate Mrs. Nowakowski."
They stared at each other for a long beat.
"I think you should come in," Sarah said at last.
"Oh, we're not allowed to go into strangers' houses," the girl said. "Not without Papi."
Sarah paused. "Alright." She sat down right in the open doorway and crossed her legs. "What's your name?"
"I'm María. This is Danny."
Danny couldn't have been more than 18 months. He reminded Sarah of Toby when she ran the Labyrinth, except for the dark curls and wandering brown eyes. But everything else was the same: the chubby cheeks, the unsteady legs, the adoring way he looked to his big sister for support. He seemed very young and innocent, and Sarah felt old again.
"How old are you?" she asked.
"I'm four years and three months," María said politely.
"We should really call your parents or the police," Sarah said, because even she knew adults got in trouble when they involved themselves with other people's kids. Or maybe that was city life making her hard.
María shook her head and explained that Papi drove a bus and fixed cars, so he was busy. He got sad sometimes because Mami went to heaven when Danny was born, and Papi was scared of the police, so María couldn't call them. Mrs. Nowakowski was a nice lady who babysat them when Papi went to work and Abuela went home to el Distrito. Except Mrs. Nowakowski got eaten by the monster in the closet, so María walked out the back door with her brother to the bruja's house, because everyone said a good witch lived here and could help you with scary things, so could Sarah help or not?
She started to reply, "I can't ..."
But then Nix the dirty little traitor popped his head out from behind her back and said, "Why not? You know magic well enough by now, don't you?"
The children shrieked with laughter, and María cried, "The cat talks!"
Sarah wanted to kick him. "He's not a cat."
"Nonsense," said the familiar, obviously reading denial on her face. "You just need a helping hand, is all, and you could handle this easily. Too bad Muriel loads you down with work and never gives you enough time to finish any of it."
Which was absolutely true, and Sarah snapped, "I wish I had help ... !"
The words spilled from her mouth ahead of her brain. Shit.
A gloved hand touched her elbow, and Jareth was at her side as if he'd been there all along. His hair was pulled back from his face, and he wore a fine jacket that looked tailored by Gucci rather than goblins, and he smiled. It was the sort of smile that overcrowded the face and made him look forever hungry and very young, or perhaps that was Sarah growing older. Jareth was a colleague now, hardly the boogie man she'd feared as a child.
"You rang?" Jareth asked innocently, but Sarah wasn't fooled. He and Nix wore identical grins, twin predators who'd just caught a mouse: Jareth for obvious reasons, Nix for successfully sowing chaos. Nix didn't care who he hurt as long as someone suffered, the little sadist.
"Don't look so pleased," Sarah grumped.
"We just had coffee last week. If you need help, you should have asked me." Jareth looked down at her through very long lashes and winked.
The game suddenly lost its flavor, and a spike of fear replaced the annoyance. "If I made a wish, does that mean ...?"
Jareth dropped all pretense like a hot rock. "No," he said earnestly, and Sarah believed him. "You still have my gift, don't you?"
Yes, she did. A lock of his hair, bound tight in a braid. Jareth had given it to her three years ago as leverage. Proof of their truce, a knife to cut his throat if she chose. Hair clippings, body parts, a name ... there were so many pieces of a person that could be used against them.
Sarah suddenly realized how much of the Goblin King she possessed: his hair, his name, even some of his past. She knew him better than most mortals. She could hurt him so easily, so easily, if she wanted.
Strangely, he didn't seem concerned about it. Sarah licked her lips and nodded.
"So here we are." Jareth shrugged, but his eyes were hard and searching, and she couldn't look at him.
The children stared up at them both, fascinated and confused. Perhaps they'd witnessed Jareth materialize out of the air behind Sarah. Danny was too young to question such things, but María looked suspicious and asked, "Who are you?"
Jareth dropped down into a crouch, the actor ever ready for a bit of spotlight. "Soy el rey de los gnomos. Te conozco desde que eras muy joven. ¿Quieres ver?" A crystal ball winked into existence between his hands, and the children gasped.
Sarah nudged his shoulder with her knee. "Not helping."
Jareth sucked his teeth, and the crystal vanished behind his fingers. "Such a pity. I hear you children have a monster problem. Well, you've found just the right person to help you. I think I qualify as a reference, Sarah, don't you?" And he looked up at her with the aggrieved air of a man (or monster) who'd personally witnessed her destruction of his Labyrinth (and his ego).
"You're enjoying this," she accused him.
"I am," he admitted. "But I'm not heartless. Of course I'll help you."
Nix laughed. She locked him in the cat carrier and left him yowling in the kitchen, just for spite.
Author's notes: We're back!