Chapter 2
It was long past midnight by the time Fakir arrived home. He sat his folding chair against the wall by the door and put his quill and notebook on his small desk. He rubbed the back of his neck, wishing away the migraine that was creeping upon him. Fakir sat down roughly on the straight-backed chair that sat before his desk. He was almost asleep when he heard the familiar beating of a tiny drum.
"Where you been, zura?" Uzura came waddling around the corner, watching Fakir with big doe eyes.
"I've been writing, Uzura." Fakir glanced to the notebook sitting in front of him. Uzura banged her little drum as she walked towards him.
"Nothing but circles, zura. Are you sure you been writing?" Fakir took the drum from the little girl.
"Well, I've been trying to. As you can see, it hasn't come out very well." Fakir stood up to fetch a bowl of cold soup. He sat back down; Uzura already sat on the small desk. He set the soup in his lap.
"Where's Duck, zura," the girl asked, jumping from the desk. She grabbed her little drum and began to bang it. "Is she hiding? DUCKY! DUCKY DUCK DUCKY! Come out from your hidey-hole!"
Fakir pushed the bowl away, suddenly unable to spoon another mouthful. "Uzura, I'm afraid Duck had to go home. She missed her family, but she wanted you to know that she loves you and that she won't forget you." Fakir knelt in front of the wide-eyed child.
"What's love, zura?" She began to beat her drum again. "What's love? What's love? What's LOVE?"
Fakir rubbed both hands across his face. "Uzura it's late, why don't we go to bed?" He stood up and offered her his hand.
"Bed sounds nice." She beat her drum a little softer. "Love. Bed. Love. Bed!" Fakir led the small girl to her room, tucked her in and said goodnight. Then he proceeded to his own room and changed from his day clothes. He slumped onto the bed. Oh Duck, how I wish you were here lying beside me…was his last thought before falling deeply into sleep.
It was pitch dark in Fakir's dream, only Drosselmeyer stood out in his vibrantly colored robes. Laughter rang around him, thought the old man's mouth was not open.
Fakir rolled his eyes. "What do you want now, old man, visiting me in my dreams?"
"Well, this isn't a dream, my boy. It is a telepathic meeting conducted by myself. I am here to see if you have changed your mind." Once again the man was floating, his clockwork eyes were glinting, yet no light shone in Fakir's mind.
"I haven't changed my mind, but just on the off chance I do…what exactly would you be asking of me?" Fakir crossed his arms across his chest, assuming a defiant position.
"Well, my boy, that's something I cannot tell you unless you agree to it first." The old man appeared to his left. Fakir turned towards him, never breaking eye contact.
"Do you think me an idiot? You know I'm not going to fall for your tricks, not after what happened to Duck." Fakir sensed Drosselmeyer's growing amusement.
"And what exactly, my boy, happened to young Duck?"
"You," Fakir shouted indignantly. "You happened. You turned her into a girl, she developed feelings for people and then they were ripped from under her. You turned her life upside down twice and ruined my life as well."
"Ah, so you are catching on!" Drosselmeyer smiled gleefully.
"Catching on to what?" Fakir's growing unease was starting to boil.
"My game. I cannot wait until you figure it out!" Drosselmeyer's body bobbed as if he were jumping with joy.
"I'm not going to figure it out because I do not want to be sucked into one of your riddles," Fakir shouted at the man, whose smile grew wider at the outburst.
"Then you do not know me very well, my boy. Until the next time we meet…tell our little ducky Old Drosselmeyer says hello."
"I certainly shall not!" Fakir tried to shout at the wizard, but instead shouted up to the ceiling in his room. "Damn, wizard."
"You okay, zura?" Uzura was sitting on Fakir's knees, her small drum wedged between her thighs. Her saucer-like eyes looked upon him in wonder. Fakir smiled. Despite his encounter with the old man in his dream, Fakir loved how fascinating Uzura found everything he said or did.
"I'm fine, Uzura. Just a bad dream, I promise," Fakir got up from his bed and stretched his arms. He walked to his wardrobe and grabbed his day clothes, which he put on in his small bathroom. He returned to his room to find Uzura still sitting on his bed, tapping her drum. "Come on Uzura, let's go make some breakfast."
"Yay, breakfast!" Uzura beat her drum rapidly as they walked to the kitchen. Uzura sat upon Fakir's desk as he made eggs and toast, wrapping up some bread to feed to Duck later that morning. They sat down and ate breakfast together, Uzura chatting away the entire meal.
When breakfast was over and the kitchen was clean, Fakir donned his cloak and picked up his quill, notebook, and folding chair and told Uzura he would be home late that night. He walked fast to Duck's pond, rarely stopping to catch his breath. Fakir never noticed the very-animated-turned-silent girl that was following him closely behind.