Chapter 8, everybody! Prepare for purple prose…self-centered yutz….
Angiembabe, thanks for the review! Yes, she is…and no, she isn't—we shall soon find out why….You've got it—we'll be finding out who the second Yami is in this chapter, though. :) And all right! Hopefully I'll continue to please. :)
Fromtheashtrees, thanks for the review! Yes—"Don't go breaking my heart~" I haven't seen the anime series for Deltora Quest yet, but I want to—it's on the list. I haven't read the Rondo series either (so now that's on the list too) but I have read Rowan of Rin (funnily enough, I discovered the series after I found the fifth book at the library at my first college—I nearly fell down from the double-take I had: "This place stocks Rodda!?"). I wish Rodda would make another book for that series—I feel like more stories could come from that world. Huh…so you could, but you could stay home instead of on campus—for the love of all that is sanitary, stay home! I for one can't handle rooming with other people—I think the people in charge of rooming make sure to put at least one nut in each room (actually, I think I might have been the quota nut...).
References:
Yu-Gi-Oh! © 1996 Kazuki Takahashi
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Wait, that's it?
Yami glanced up during his bow to assess the crowd. They looked ready and willing for his assessment. And those that weren't? Well, they were about to have their minds changed and blown.
"Showtime," he muttered under his breath.
And with that, he launched into his demonstration.
It was perfect. Every minute, every moment, every second. He felt the magic flow from him, conducted like smoke as his fingers moved about as to music. No one murmured like they did in other demonstrations. They were quiet, enraptured.
Yami was reaching the moment where he needed his assistant's help. Fortunately, this also doubled as another example of his magic. He snatched his top hat off and flung it high above everyone's heads.
When it reached the apex of its toss, it morphed beautifully into an owl-sized bird, hawkish in appearance, with ear tufts and sharp yellow eyes and feathers that glistened like a starry night.
"Horus!" Yami called, addressing the former hat. "Fetch my next trick, will you?"
Horus—as much a ham as his creator—flipped so he was soaring through the air facing Yami. Upside down.
"Right-o, boss!" Horus called, in the kind of voice one expected from a hawk-like bird. He instantly righted himself and swooped back and forth over everyone's heads, searching. The crowd tracked his movements.
Horus finally settled down in front of Yami's mother, who was currently sitting with some of her friends. "Madam," Horus said, taking a bow. He took a napkin off of the table, bowed again, and lofted into the air.
People glanced at Yami, as though they thought Horus was done.
Far from it.
Horus landed on the Administrator's table, at the far end, and began walking pigeon-toed up the table.
This was at Yami's insistence; he had wanted the Administrators to see Horus up close, see every last feather that was in place, see how realistic Horus was….A product of powerful magic.
Horus reached the other end of the table. He took the candle out of its holder in front of Administrator Unger, snuffed it out, and flew back to Yami. Administrator Unger looked after Horus, impressed despite himself.
Horus hovered in front of Yami, giving him first the napkin—which Yami snapped open—and then the candle. Yami thanked Horus, then indicated he could go. Horus flew back to the Administrator's table—another of Yami's machinations—and alighted towards the center. He began pecking at some of the meats on the platters as Yami began his next trick.
Firstly, he lit the candle—a basic parlor trick, but it was a good build-up to what he was planning. Magic, like anything else, needed a good flow, and starting with something simple made it easier to build up to something better—and harder.
Because one of the more challenging tricks was getting fire to do what you wanted.
He built the flame up until it had almost consumed the candle—not a true Animate Flame, as that art had been lost long ago, but pretty darned close. He dropped his hand as the rest of the candle went, leaving the fire suspended in the air—then he snapped the napkin through it.
Instantly, the napkin was engulfed with the fire. Yami spun around, to the gasps of the audience (good), and then flung the flaming fabric into the air.
And then he was applying his magic again, and the flaming napkin had transformed itself into a fiery phoenix, which swooped and swung and dazzled according to his whim. It flew from table to table and light to light, sucking up the little tongues of flame until the phoenix was the only source of light in the Hall. He sent it up to perform more tricks in the vaulted ceiling, then allowed it to burn itself out, dissipating in a fireworks burst. When it did, he sent every last little spark to every last candle, lighting the Hall once again to a chorus of oohs and ahhs.
He gestured to Horus, who lit into the air once more, did a few backflips and corkscrews for good measure, then hovered right over Yami's head, where he expertly shifted back to Yami's top hat with the feathers in the hatband. He dropped perfectly on Yami's head.
Yami gave it a full count of three, to give them a moment to admire everything, then gave one last flourish, sending a galaxy of colorful sparks to dance over everyone's heads. They winked out as they drifted down, to everyone's delight.
Yami doffed Horus, bowing repeatedly to the standing ovation he was receiving. He didn't even bother to disguise his grin.
Yes sir, life was good.
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Teana stumbled down the steps, not wanting to be anywhere near the Hall.
The magician who had asked her out…Yami Skellington….He was the Head Mage, the magician that all other magicians admired for his strength and magic….
Stupid—she should have known. She wondered how many other women had been introduced to his fellow magicians over the years. Many, judging by how that one owl-faced girl—Kineil—had pulled him aside. She should never have come.
Well that settles that, she thought. I'll never see him again.
She ran down to the river, not wanting to go home just yet. She stared out at the rushing water, glinting in the moonlight. That was the good thing about the river, she felt—stand and listen long enough, and it had a surprisingly calming effect.
Teana absently put one hand to her collarbones, where the necklace was still hanging. She unfastened it and prepared to throw it out in the river.
But she stopped. Something told her that—at the very least—the necklace would be worth something. And didn't she need the extra money?
She pocketed the necklace and turned on her heel, heading back for town and her home.