Simon asks Princess Tiffany to dance with him. But should she accept?
“Lord Folling lives in there?” Tandrel asked, whistling. He blocked his eyes from the sun.
“I think he’s a duke, not a lord,” David said, crouched on the green hill outside Balaron.
“Doesn’t matter,” Simon said. “That’s a lot of open ground to cover.”
“Shouldn’t be hard for you, dressed in green. You’re more of an elf than I am,” Tandrel said.
“Shut up,” Simon said with a smile. As much as he didn’t like pulling this off in daytime, they’d heard that magical wards came on during the night, which would alert the owners to their presence. So they began their exodus. Luckily, they found no guard in sight.
“For once my short stature comes in handy,” David crowed from under his green blanket he used to cover himself as he ran. The other two had one as well, but ran crouching. Their knees didn’t feel very sympathetic to David at the moment.
It took about ten minutes, stopping frequently to avoid detection, for them to get to the side wall, made from smooth stones. David’s cheeks looked less red than the other two. “Ceno is going to wish he’d come along.”
“You just wanted to hear him complain,” Tandrel said. David grinned.
Looking around carefully, they found a window near ground level. Without asking, Simon stepped up on David’s shoulders and looked inside. David only grunted. The view inside didn’t look very interesting, the same as most noble estates. Some paintings hung on the walls, with a canvas on an easel facing away from him in the middle of the room. The room looked like a studio. One of the Follings liked to paint.
“Looks like it’s safe to enter,” he said, lying. Some magical alarm would probably sound, but he didn’t care. Get in, get proof, get out, don’t die. He tested the window and found it open, if a little grating. Slowly, as silently as he could, he pushed it open until he could crawl in. It felt darker inside than when looking in from the outside. Tandrel pushed David in, who fell down with a grunt. Tandrel climbed in after.
“Ok, time to find some evidence of magic.”
“You little thieves, you’ll regret even touching me.”
“Actually, since you wanted to kill us, I really doubt that. I rather like living,” Tandrel said. Simon scanned the magic pass for a moment, and tore it up. The man who had been hunting them sat tied up in a small abandoned tavern. They had little light, despite the midday sun outside. The Majestic glared at them.
“I could burn you up right now, you know.”
Simon laughed. “Stop bluffing. You would have done it already. I doubt you even know elemental magic. Yours is probably all spiritual and useless.”
“It let me find you.”
“Much good that did,” Tandrel said. “What’s so special about this gem? Why would the Follings hire a Heretic to get it back?”
The man looked back and forth between them, then sighed. “You might be able to get a nice price on the market with that, but its real value is in its magic use.”
“So you want it for yourself? Are you working behind the Follings’ back?”
“No! I mean…yes?” The man drooped his head.
Simon and Tandrel looked at each other. “Nobles using magic? Interesting…”
“How’s he following us?” Tandrel whispered, hiding in the alley. “There’s no way he could identify us in that crowd.”
Simon looked at the necklace. A dark green gem reflected a darker version of his face, surrounded by other smaller gems. “So the Follings sent a tracker after us.”
“Simon, trackers are fond of wildlife, not cities. A hundred people line the streets; there’s no way he could know where we went.”
“Yet you say he’s following us.” Simon pointed out. Tandrel didn’t say anything, just looked for a way to get out of the alley. Meanwhile, a man with a groomed mustache and beard pushed through the crowd to get to them. Simon stared at Tandrel, who reluctantly answered.
“Yeah, I know, there’s obviously some explanation for this behavior of his. Magic.”
Simon rolled his eyes. “He can track us using magic? Shouldn’t he be chanting in the streets, and wouldn’t everyone know what he’s doing?”
“Simon. Please. Don’t be an idiot,” Tandrel said impatiently. “Heretics can use magic without anyone knowing what’s going on. No chanting or waving hands.”
“But there are some people who could detect him.”
“Yeah, the judges, maybe, but why should we care?”
“I’ll bet the Follings didn’t give him a pass.” Simon grinned.
“Of course they gave him…oh, I see.” Tandrel grinned as well, watching the man shove his way closer. “Maybe you’re not such an idiot after all.”
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
What do you get when you cross Harry Potter with Narnia? On the surface, The Magicians seems to be the answer. An awkward kid goes to a school for magic, and then finds a magical land of talking animals and saves it…kind of. But the spirit of the book is quite different than that of Harry Potter and Narnia. Aside from the copious amounts of alcohol, this book deals with more mature themes, like finding a meaning for yourself and navigating a real relationship. In fact, the main theme, which hits you quite bluntly over and over, especially in the second half, is that if you don’t learn how to be happy with yourself, nothing, not even magic or finding out that your childhood fantasies are true will make you that way. This isn’t really escapism like most fantasies, but quite the opposite: it tries to make you face reality. Or at least Grossman’s version of reality, which is quite depressing. Still, it sucks you in, makes you want to finish it even though you know it won’t end happily ever after. The characters are deeply flawed and can be jerks, especially Quentin, the main character, and much of the setting only exists to serve as a contrast to Hogwarts and Narnia. Do I dare read the next books? That would be rather masochistic, but the writing was well done, full of great metaphors. As long as you know what you’re getting into, this can be a good, although not so much fun, read.