"One adult and one child for the ten o'clock showing for The Road To El Dorado," Balthazar said haltingly.
He wasn't used to ordering tickets for movies, and it showed. The woman who was selling tickets gave him a sympathetic glance. Balthazar could only assume that she figured his wife normally handled this. The assumption made him sad and frustrated at the same time. He'd have to learn how to do these sorts of things, and fast.
"That'll be ten dollars," she said.
Digging into his pocket he fished out a crinkled bill. Next to him Dave shifted from one foot to another, obviously excited.
"Here you go," she said, taking the tickets out of the machine, "And that's theater three on the left."
"Thanks," mumbled Balthazar, ushering Dave inside.
Beside him Dave smiled as he looked around. The theater half an hour away from the Arcana Cabana was bigger than Ashridge's town hall. He had probably never been in a place that big. Balthazar steered him towards the snack area where he allowed Dave to order popcorn, sodas, and M&M's. Of course Balthazar ended up carrying everything, but he didn't say anything. Dave had earned it.
Laden with fat, sugar, grease, and salt they entered the theater. A few children and their parents were already there, talking amongst themselves. Dave of course insisted on being in the very front row. When they had sat down Balthazar crinkled his nose at how close the screen was. In the past few decades when he had wanted to go to a movie he had tried to sit near the back. The screen now felt uncomfortably close.
Sighing he passed Dave the popcorn and one of the sodas. Even though the movie hadn't started Dave began eating the first greasy pieces. He offered some to Balthazar, but he declined. He hadn't the heart to tell Dave what went into movie theater popcorn and instead settled on telling Dave that he wasn't hungry.
Balthazar gave Dave a side glance when the trailers started. Although he would never say it, the fact that Balthazar had taken Dave to a movie scared him out of his mind. The reason for this wasn't that he had paid for overpriced tickets and snacks. It wasn't even that he was seeing a children's film in a confined space with bratty kids whose parents would spend most of the movie trying to shut them up.
No, it was the fact that it brought him to a startling realization; Dave was a human. By this point Balthazar was fully aware that he wasn't some sort of automaton. Dave required more than just being let out of his room to study from time to time. That was why Balthazar had gotten food and a TV. After that he had just let the fact that Dave was a child slip his mind as he tried to train him.
No, Dave was a human being, shown to him on the day that he made his first plasma bolt. Balthazar had had inklings that Dave might need emotional support on that day. He had trouble with self-confidence and believing in himself. However, when the boy showed him how frustrated and lost he was over the spell Balthazar had just barely managed to hold himself together.
His actions had shown Balthazar that no, Dave couldn't be treated like he was just there to learn spells. Dave was growing up and in need of support and encouragement. Balthazar had somehow managed to very calmly give him directions on what to do next. What he had wanted to do was have a full-blown panic attack.
The reasons for this were simple. Soon after Dave had been established as his apprentice Balthazar had done some background digging. Gereg had been kind enough to give him Dave's file, which included information all the way back to his great-great-grandparents. As far as Balthazar could find none of them had been sorcerers.
With that information he had gone to a family-tree research websites. They were in their infancy that year, but he could tell that they were going to be very popular soon. He had entered the information that he had about Dave and, for his troubles, was given a further three generations back. One of them had been an immigrant from England about fifteen years before the American Revolution named Jacob Stutler.
After that he had had to do his own research. Merlinians had records and resources not readily available to the public, and Balthazar had been quick to make use of them. Finally he had found that Jacob Stutler could be traced back to Godfrey the Marshall. Godfrey had had a fortune and political office but no real house affiliations. So he had married the daughter of an old but poor house. Her name had been, as Balthazar had expected, Ruth.
When he had found that out he had become immediately uneasy. He had tried to rationalize it. So Dave was related to Veronica. Dave's family history was interesting, but technically unimportant. It really didn't make any difference in the grand scheme of things, just made Balthazar's search a touch ironic. He had soon buried the information in his mind and tried to brush away the connotations.
The connotations stayed though. He had noticed, rather uncomfortably, that Dave was bookish. Dave was intelligent for his age, thoughtful, and quiet. In other words he was somewhat like Balthazar had been at his age. Sure he was cockier than Balthazar had been, more into drawing, and less athletic, but there was still a resemblance.
For weeks Balthazar had tried to push away the thought that Dave was the son he could've had with Veronica. Everything was there in plain sight, the behaviors and the looks. It was an angry, bitter thought. At the same time it was also strangely wistful. If Veronica had escaped imprisonment they would definitely have been married and could've had children.
Angrily he had pushed those thoughts away. Thinking like that wasn't going to get him anywhere. He was on a mission to save the world, not play the what-if game. What was past was past and what was done was done. Using emotional logic and possibilities was unlikely to help either himself or Dave.
Perhaps that had been why he had objectified the Prime Merlinian, tried to think of him only in terms of the boy who was going to grow up to save the world. He had started to see him primarily as a tool to reach his goals. Seeing him that way had simplified his life. It was hard to get emotional about a tool.
The fact that he had wanted to go out to a movie, be entertained and have a hobby in other words, banished those illusions. Dave was a child, not some tool to be used to save the world. He looked at him again out of the corner of his eye. As he watched him he got the feeling that he was in for a bumpy couple of years.
