for an armchair.
A fancy bedroom with a four-poster bed yielded more chairs, a table, and a brass inkwell shaped like a raven. The next door he tried led to a kid’s room with a crib and a life-size stuffed seal on wooden rockers. It was dusty and dim, and Nick closed the door without going in. There was nothing there he could use anyway.
Finally he turned a corner and found himself in a hall with gray stone walls. There was one door at the far end, made of heavy oak banded with iron, with an arched top.
It had to be the door to Smallbone’s tower.
Blood racing, Nick went up to it and slowly reached one finger toward the latch. A spark leaped out and gave him the kind of electric shock you get after shuffling your feet across a carpet in winter, accompanied by a smell like overheated metal.
Nick shook his stinging hand and kicked the door, hard. A bolt of miniature lightning caught him on the leg, sharp as a needle.
So the tower was guarded. He wasn’t surprised. He was, however, hungry.
He retraced his steps to the kitchen, made himself a ham sandwich, and went back to work.
Gradually, the bookshop began to look more welcoming. There were chintz curtains on the windows, chairs in the aisles for reading, a table on the rug, and three milk-glass lamps casting a warm glow over the rows of books. The air smelled pleasantly of lavender soap and lamp oil. Tom, who had been watching the process with interest, curled up on a comfy chair, and Hell Cat humped herself into a furry loaf on the end of the counter.
Then Nick heard a rattling back in the bookshelves.
The nape of his neck began to prickle.
He picked up a lamp and followed the sound to the section labeled CHILDREN — USEFUL, and listened. Whatever was making the noise was definitely behind the books on that shelf — there. He raised the lamp, illuminating the nearest titles:
Goats Are Fun!, How to Sew an Apron, E-Z Spelz for Little Wizardz
.
E-Z Spelz for Little Wizardz
?
Nick reached for the book. The spine felt warm and buzzed under his fingers slightly, like a tiny motor. He pulled it down.
The cover was bright blue, with a neon-yellow wand and a sparkly red star under the title. A little-kid book, but a magic little-kid book. He opened it.
CHAPTER ONE: So You Want to Be a Wizard .
Warning!! A young magic worker should never try a spell without an experienced witch or wizard present to explain things and prevent accidents .
Nick had himself a good laugh over that.
Don’t laugh. Magic is dangerous stuff, you know. There’s still time to change your mind .
“I won’t,” he said, then felt like a ding-a-ling for talking to a book. But wasn’t the book talking to him? He read on.
Magic isn’t anything very special. Almost anybody can learn to do magic, just like almost anybody can learn to throw a ball. But to be really good, you need something extra. It’s the same with magic. If you want to be a witch or a wizard, the first thing you need is TALENT .
Reading this book proves you have more magical talent than most. Congratulations .
HOWEVER. Being a wizard takes more than talent .
You have to really WANT to be a wizard. You can’t think maybe you’d rather be an engineer or a superstar. You have to believe a cat can be a king and pigs can fly, and a million other things most people think are impossible. You have to know those things can happen, then make them so. You need WILL .
Nick grinned to himself. Uncle Gabe always called him pigheaded, and even his mom used to say he was willful, so he guessed he was all set there.
Once you know it’s possible to turn straw into gold, you have to believe that YOU can do it. You can’t think maybe, probably you can — if you don’t screw it up, if you’re in the mood. You have to know that straw’s going to turn to pure, solid gold every time you tell it to. Truly great wizards know that magic is real because they make it real. They have CONFIDENCE .
There were lots of things Nick knew he
A fancy bedroom with a four-poster bed yielded more chairs, a table, and a brass inkwell shaped like a raven. The next door he tried led to a kid’s room with a crib and a life-size stuffed seal on wooden rockers. It was dusty and dim, and Nick closed the door without going in. There was nothing there he could use anyway.
Finally he turned a corner and found himself in a hall with gray stone walls. There was one door at the far end, made of heavy oak banded with iron, with an arched top.
It had to be the door to Smallbone’s tower.
Blood racing, Nick went up to it and slowly reached one finger toward the latch. A spark leaped out and gave him the kind of electric shock you get after shuffling your feet across a carpet in winter, accompanied by a smell like overheated metal.
Nick shook his stinging hand and kicked the door, hard. A bolt of miniature lightning caught him on the leg, sharp as a needle.
So the tower was guarded. He wasn’t surprised. He was, however, hungry.
He retraced his steps to the kitchen, made himself a ham sandwich, and went back to work.
Gradually, the bookshop began to look more welcoming. There were chintz curtains on the windows, chairs in the aisles for reading, a table on the rug, and three milk-glass lamps casting a warm glow over the rows of books. The air smelled pleasantly of lavender soap and lamp oil. Tom, who had been watching the process with interest, curled up on a comfy chair, and Hell Cat humped herself into a furry loaf on the end of the counter.
Then Nick heard a rattling back in the bookshelves.
The nape of his neck began to prickle.
He picked up a lamp and followed the sound to the section labeled CHILDREN — USEFUL, and listened. Whatever was making the noise was definitely behind the books on that shelf — there. He raised the lamp, illuminating the nearest titles:
Goats Are Fun!, How to Sew an Apron, E-Z Spelz for Little Wizardz
.
E-Z Spelz for Little Wizardz
?
Nick reached for the book. The spine felt warm and buzzed under his fingers slightly, like a tiny motor. He pulled it down.
The cover was bright blue, with a neon-yellow wand and a sparkly red star under the title. A little-kid book, but a magic little-kid book. He opened it.
CHAPTER ONE: So You Want to Be a Wizard .
Warning!! A young magic worker should never try a spell without an experienced witch or wizard present to explain things and prevent accidents .
Nick had himself a good laugh over that.
Don’t laugh. Magic is dangerous stuff, you know. There’s still time to change your mind .
“I won’t,” he said, then felt like a ding-a-ling for talking to a book. But wasn’t the book talking to him? He read on.
Magic isn’t anything very special. Almost anybody can learn to do magic, just like almost anybody can learn to throw a ball. But to be really good, you need something extra. It’s the same with magic. If you want to be a witch or a wizard, the first thing you need is TALENT .
Reading this book proves you have more magical talent than most. Congratulations .
HOWEVER. Being a wizard takes more than talent .
You have to really WANT to be a wizard. You can’t think maybe you’d rather be an engineer or a superstar. You have to believe a cat can be a king and pigs can fly, and a million other things most people think are impossible. You have to know those things can happen, then make them so. You need WILL .
Nick grinned to himself. Uncle Gabe always called him pigheaded, and even his mom used to say he was willful, so he guessed he was all set there.
Once you know it’s possible to turn straw into gold, you have to believe that YOU can do it. You can’t think maybe, probably you can — if you don’t screw it up, if you’re in the mood. You have to know that straw’s going to turn to pure, solid gold every time you tell it to. Truly great wizards know that magic is real because they make it real. They have CONFIDENCE .
There were lots of things Nick knew he
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