Way of The Wand

Arron looked up from behind his desk as his mother cat-walked into his personal library. His shoulders were puffed, still brooding over the embarrassment he received from Jira.

“Still nursing your bruised ego, I see,” Leonaria teased, waving a letter in her hand. “It’s your fault. You should have known better than to mess with that girl.”

“Mum what do you want?”

Leonaria dropped the letter in her hand on the desk in front of Arron. “The postman just delivered this.”

“From whom?”

“See for yourself.”

Arron took the letter in his hands, opened it and perused the contents. “It’s from Tomi and Timi,” he said, getting up in surprise. “It says here that their Mum has decided to pull them from Jira’s school. Mother do you know what this means?”

Leonaria shrugged. “It means I was right. Without Tomi, the last match will go to Airad by default and witches are going to be mocked even more.”

“No Mum, no,” Arron argued. “This is an opportunity. If I can convince Tomi’s parents to let me train her, I could help her win…without Jira!”

Leonaria scoffed. “You think her parents will just release her into your care like that?”

“For the right price, they will.”

Arron tucked the letter away in his pocket. “Jira allowed her personal feelings about me to hurt our partnership, risking Tomi’s victory. But if I can do this, then it means I didn’t even need her in the first place.”

“Where are you going?” Leonaria asked her son as he reached for the door.

“Tomi once mentioned her parents have a shop at the Witches Market. I’m going to go find them.”

His mother let out a drawn-out breath. “Do as you wish Arron, just, make sure you proceed with caution.”

But Arron had thrown caution to the wind. He called for one of his coachmen to drive him to the Witches’ Market immediately.

It took Arron a while, but he eventually succeeded in locating the Afolabi shop. Lucky for him, he met Tomi’s father, Yomi Afolabi, leaving on his way to deliver some brooms.

“May I have a word?” Arron said, cutting off Yomi Afolabi before he could leave.

Yomi stared Arron up and down, his jaw dropping when the recognition kicked in.

“Wura,” Yomi called, “I think there was something in that food we just ate, because I’m definitely seeing things now.”

Wura appeared the next second, stepping back on seeing Arron Tartian at their shop’s entrance.

“I think I agree with you Yomi,” Wura said.

“No, no, please,” Arron laughed, “I assure you, this is no hallucination. This is as real as it gets.”

He bowed in greeting to Tomi’s parents, a common curtesy in Edoh shown to older people.

“Didn’t Tomi tell you she was training with me?”

Wura turned to her husband and let him answer the question.

“She did mention it,” Yomi answered, “but still, we didn’t think we’d get to meet you personally.”

Arron chuckled. “Well if it makes you feel better, I didn’t come here for nothing. I understand you’ve decided to withdraw your children from Jira’s school, and banned Tomi from completing in the final task.”

Wura’s face settled on an expression that was hard to read. “How did you find out about that so quickly?”

“As they say, the only thing that travels faster than a cold, is a piece of news.”

Wura reached for her husband and wrapped an arm around his waist. “We just aren’t comfortable with Tomi doing something that dangerous.”

“I understand,” Arron said, looking down at his feet. “But if I could persuade you to change your mind. Mr and Mrs Afolabi, I am ready to do anything, anything at all, anything it takes, to convince you to let me train your daughter and get her ready for the final task.”

He walked through the entrance of the shop and paced down and forth the narrow space between the arrangement of wooden platforms that held the broomsticks to be sold.

“Mr and Mrs Afolabi,” Arron gestured to the small cache of goods they had to sell, “if you let me train Tomi, I would get you a shop in the King’s Market, the biggest shop. And forget about selling brooms, you’d sell anything you want. Hell, I’d give you so much money, you’d never have to sell anything again.”

“True,” Yomi Afolabi answered with a weighty voice, “but we’d have sold our most cherished treasure.”

“Our daughter,” Wura Afolabi finished for her husband, just in case Arron hadn’t figured it out.

“The answer is no Mr Tartian,” Yomi said, “my wife and I find it insulting that you would try to bribe us into allowing you train Tomi. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Their answer stunned Arron. He’d assumed this would be easy, that he would just walk in and offer them a price they couldn’t refuse.

His face drew taut. How could they say no to him? Did they understand what he was offering? A life that they’d never dreamed of having. That was what they were passing on.

“You’re wasting a golden opportunity here, throwing away the chance to give your children the life they deserve, and all because of what?”

Yomi Afolabi stepped forward, squaring off with Arron. “You’ve overstayed your welcome. Get going.”

Arron opened his mouth to speak but decided the wiser thing to do was swallow the rest of his words.

His chest heaving, he turned around and exited the shop. They didn’t deserve him. They didn’t deserve his help. And later, they would regret the decision they made today.