Chapter 1: The Sorcerer at the Top of the Tower
ALL alone, a girl smiled to herself as she closed her eyes.
She sat in a small room at the very top of a tower. The room was about the size of a child’s bedroom, and its stone walls gave the air a certain chill. The only pieces of furniture were a rickety bed and a single, weathered chair. No one ever visited, and she was allowed no more than one meal a day. If she asked for books, she was permitted a few, but they were always picture books or children’s stories.
The girl had been locked in that room for over ten years.
“…Oh, time’s up soon.” An absentminded whisper spilled from her lips. She opened her eyes to dim light, then frowned a little. “I’ll stop here for today, then check back in tomorrow.”
On soles pitch-black with dirt, she padded barefoot to the window. It was tiny, and barely let any sunlight through.
I wish I could have listened a little longer. I guess they moved too far away.
She lightly anchored her hands on the window frame, then stretched up on her tiptoes to try to look outside. There were bars across the outer rim, so she couldn’t lean out. She thought the additional barrier rather pointless since it was impossible to accidentally fall through such a narrow window.
She closed her eyes and listened carefully, but all that reached her ears was the faint whooshing of the wind.
“I thought so. I can’t hear anything, although…,” she trailed off. The sky was clear, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of flowers to her nose. The sweet smell reminded her that it was now spring. “Today’s another lovely day. I’m sure tomorrow will be, too.”
The days she received bread with what was normally just soup were good ones. Days she could hear birds singing were great ones. Today, when she sensed the arrival of spring, was an absolutely wonderful day. On top of that, she had been able to overhear a very entertaining conversation.
“I wonder if tomorrow I’ll be able to learn what happened in the end… I do hope so.”
The girl’s favorite pastime was to listen to the people in town talk. Nobody ever came close to the tower, so birdsong was usually all she could hear from nearby. However, when she focused and put her mind to it, she could also pick up faraway voices. She didn’t know how it worked. None of the books she read described anyone with a similar ability, either, so she suspected that this talent had something to do with why she had been confined to the tower in the first place.
“I suppose it’s magic,” she mused.
Sorcerers were labeled criminals in this country. Every few decades, a single sorcerer was born, but because society believed that those with magical powers made contracts with demons before their birth, every new sorcerer was imprisoned. The girl had been brought to the tower at a young age after it became clear she had magic. They had explained to her that an arcane barrier surrounding the tower prevented her from using her powers, but she had never known how to wield them in the first place. It seemed strange to be called a sorcerer when she knew nothing about her own magic.
If it really is magic, then…
“It might not be such a bad thing after all…” she said to herself.
The townspeople’s conversations varied from day-to-day, and they were great fun to listen to. She heard children playing, elderly couples reminiscing about their youth, and small talk between shopkeepers and their customers. Once in a while, a fight or two broke out, but they were often resolved by the following afternoon.
She listened for a few hours each day. If she tried to listen for longer, a heavy fatigue overwhelmed her and made it impossible to concentrate, which could have been an effect of the barrier. Nevertheless, those few secret hours made her happy. That sense of connection to other people was what had given her the strength to live alone for so long.
Happiness. She thought of it as a melting, candy-like sweetness. She had never actually eaten candy, but that was the taste she imagined when she read about it in books.
Personally, I reckon magic’s a lot like candy.
It gave her that same sensation of lingering sugariness. After listening to the townspeople’s chatter, a pleasant warmth settled in her chest, and stayed with her the whole day, lasting until she went to bed at night.
“…Achoo!”
She sneezed, and a shiver ran through her. Goosebumps were forming on her arms from standing in front of the drafty window for too long. As dusk drew nearer, the air grew colder, and the thin dress the girl wore did little to keep her warm.
She decided that it was a good time to curl up under her blanket. But just as she moved toward the bed, she heard a voice from behind her.
“Hey!” it called out, in a low tone. She whipped around to face the window again.
A brown bird with a long tail was perched on the windowsill. Considering its size, there was no way it could have squeezed through the bars. How had it gotten inside? While the girl kept her eyes trained on the bird, she heard the voice again. This time, it sounded considerably grumpier.
“I’m talking to you! Yes, you. Can’t you hear me?” the voice said.
“Huh…? Me?” she replied, bewildered.
“Yup. I gotta say, you’re pretty slow, aren’t you?”
“Um… Sir Bird, are you the one talking?”
Her question was laced with doubt, but the bird was the only other living creature present, and the voice was coming from its direction. In answer, the bird opened its hooked beak, and flapped its large wings. A gust of wind blew through the room and swept the girl’s hair behind her shoulders.
“It’s me all right,” the bird declared.
She wondered if it was normal for birds to talk. But, despite her misgivings, she was mostly just happy to speak with someone for the first time in what felt like forever.
“Did you come here to talk to me, Sir Bird?” she asked politely.
“Not exactly. I’m here to pick you up.”
“Pick me up…? But, why? Where would you take me?”
“I work for a man called Master Charlie. He requires your abilities,” the bird explained.
Master Charlie…? Throughout all the hours she put into her secret hobby she had never heard anyone mention the name.
“By ‘abilities,’ do you mean…?” She hesitated, and the bird made a noise that sounded like a chuckle.
“Magic. Don’t tell me you never knew you had it.”
“That must mean I really am a sorcerer…” she said with a sense of wonder.
Actually hearing her gift called “magic” shifted something deep within her chest. Having grown up in a country where people said “criminal” instead of “sorcerer,” she felt as if this was the first time she had ever clearly seen herself.
“So, whaddya think? Are you coming with me, or would you rather stay locked up in this old tower for the rest of your life?” he asked.
The girl found his invitation incredibly tempting. If she went with him, she wouldn’t be alone anymore. Conversation would stop being something she merely listened to, and become something she could participate in.
“But…if I go with you, it’d cause trouble for people.” She cast her eyes downward as she spoke, shaking her head sadly.
“How so?”
“Someone once told me that staying locked up in here is the only thing I’m good for,” she answered.