RS01. The Reluctant Sorcerer by Simon Hawke Read Free Book Online Page A

“Brigands and migratory bushes. What sort of place is this? Where am I, exactly, Mick?” “S’trewth, and this London of yours must be terribly far off. Well, to be exact now, you’re in Mick O’Fallon’s smithy, next to Mick O’Fallon’s cottage at the edge of the Redwood Forest, by the Gulfstream Waters.” “That sounds vaguely familiar, for some reason,” Brewster said, frowning, “though I can’t for the life of me remember why.” Without realizing it, he hummed half a bar of “This Land Is Your Land.” He shook his head and shrugged. “Can’t place it. We are still in England, though, right?” “Ing Land?” Mick said, frowning. “Faith, Doc, ‘tis not Ing Land. S’trewth, and I’ve never heard of this Ing Land. You are in the Kingdom of Frank.” “The Kingdom of Frank!’ said Brewster.
    “Aye, the Kingdom of Frank. It used to be the Kingdom of Corwin, y’see, only Frank the Usurper had him murdered and then usurped the throne, bein’ as that’s what usurpers do. He issued a decree that had the name changed to the Kingdom of Frank. ‘Twas a long time ago, and all the kings since then have been named Frank, y’see, because ‘tis easier than changin’ the name of the kingdom every time a new heir to the throne comes along.” Brewster looked as if he wasn’t sure if Mick was pulling his leg or not. “Are you pulling my leg?” he asked. “Well, now why would I want to do a thing like that?” asked Mick, puzzled.
    “We are in the Kingdom of Frank!’ “Aye, the Kingdom of Frank, in the Land of Dam.” “ ‘Dam’?” said Brewster, looking totally confused. “You mean to tell me you’ve never heard of Dam?” said Mick with surprise. “Faith, and y’must have come a fair long way, then. Aye, I suppose you must have, for I have never heard of Ing Land, neither.” “Where is Dam?” Brewster asked.
    “Why, on the edge of the Gulfstream Waters, of course,” Mick said. “Tis named for Dam the Navigator, who first discovered it, y’see.” “Dam the Navigator?” Brewster said, staring at Mick blankly.
    “Aye. He discovered it by mistake. He was lost, y’see.” Brewster closed his eyes. “This isn’t really happening,” he said. “I’m just having a dream. None of this is real. I’m going to wake up any minute now and Pamela will be lying right beside me, wearing her green face mask.” “You sleep with a wench that wears a mask?” said Mick. “S’trewth, and if she was that ugly, why did you take up with her? Or is it that she came with a grand dowry?” “Nope,” said Brewster, shaking his head. “Nope, this isn’t happening.” He glanced toward the comer. “Come here, bush.” The bush rustled slightly. “Come on, I won’t hurt you,” Brewster cajoled. “Come over here.” Hesitantly, the bush rustled over toward him. Brewster reached out and stuck his hand into its thorny branches.
    “OW!” The bush rapidly retreated to its comer, where it huddled, quaking.
    “Well, now what did you want to go and do a thing like that for?” Mick asked, frowning at him.
    Brewster stared at the scratches on his hand. They weren’t very deep, because the bush was small and its thorns weren’t very long, but it had hurt just the same. He watched as thin lines of blood welled up in the cuts.
    “I’m not dreaming,” he said in a dazed tone, “unless I’m dreaming this, too.” He tried to recall if he’d ever dreamed of feeling pain.
    Mick came over and stood before him, staring at him with concern. “Sure, and it’s no dream you’re havin’. Doc,” he said. “I can see you’re troubled, what with your magic chariot bein’ broke and all, but in time, you can build yourself another. In the meantime, ‘tis not as if you’re all alone, y’know. You’ve got Mick O’Fallon to stand by you.” Brewster sighed. “You don’t understand, Mick,” he said morosely. “It’s not that easy. You’ve been very kind, and I appreciate your hospitality, but