The Sorcerer’s Apprentice

“Ah, so you’re awake at last.” Durosimi O’Stoat fondly imagined that the ghastly rictus currently adorning his face would be regarded by his visitor as being a warm and avuncular smile.

Tenzin, the young monk who had been recently deposited upon the island of Hopeless, Maine gazed up in terror.   “Who are you? he whimpered, or at least he would have done, had he realised that he was not in Tibet. What he actually said was,  “ ཁྱེད་སུ་ཡིན”

Despite having recently spent several weeks in a monastery, high in the Himalayan Mountains, Durosimi had not managed to pick up a single word of the language. “Come on lad, less of that,” he said, the awful smile fading. “You’re in America now, so speak English.”

“America?” said Tenzin, his fear subsiding as he recognised the sorcerer. “How did I get there?”

“That’s what I was about to ask you,” said Durosimi. “What can you remember?”

 Tenzin screwed up his face, trying to recall exactly what had happened. “Very little,” he admitted.  “There was something to do with Dawasandup…” then added, “but I can’t remember what.”

This was disappointing, but at least, hearing the name of Dawasandup (the powerful anchorite who was reputed to be able to  fly, have dominion over demons and kill from a distance) was reassuring. Durosimi would have felt somewhat less assured had Tenzin remembered that Dawasandup had plotted to sacrifice him to the tiger-demon, Tagsan.

“Not to worry, it’s early days yet. I am sure that your memory will return soon,” said Durosimi.

Durosimi desperately wanted to return to Tibet and – blissfully unaware of Dawasandup’s murderous plans – learn all that he could from the anchorite. Believing that Tenzin had found a way to travel unaided through Mr Squash’s mysterious portal, he was prepared to wait until the young monk’s memory had returned. In the meantime, it seemed sensible to keep Tenzin safely away from the influence of other people on the island, especially Philomena Bucket, who might be inclined to give his guest a less than favourable assessment of Durosimi’s. character.

“The island is not a particularly safe place for an unwary stranger like yourself,” Durosimi told Tenzin. “I think it best that you remain here until you have recovered completely. In fact, you could help me, if you wanted. You could become my apprentice.”

“Thank you,” said Tenzin, gratefully, placing his hands in  prayer position in front of his chest, and bowing his head slightly. “I would like that.”

“Splendid!” exclaimed Durosimi.

*

“He’s up to something,” said Doc Willoughby. 

It was rare for the Doc to confide in anyone else on the island, but Reggie Upton seemed less likely to gossip than most.

“In what way?” asked Reggie.

They were sitting in the snuggery of The Squid and Teapot, sharing a few glasses of the Gannicox Distillery’s best spirits.

“Durosimi is being elusive… even more so than usual,” said the Doc. “I have called upon him three times in the past week and he has made sure that I didn’t get through the front door. He’s hiding something, I’m sure.”

“Everyone thinks that he’s a changed character since going to Tibet,” said Reggie. “Less abrasive,”

“I wouldn’t say that,” said Doc. “He’ll only let you see as much of what is going on as he wants you to see.”

“I always thought that you two were friends,” said Reggie, surprised as Doc’s candour.

“No, not friends,” admitted the Doc. “I keep him on-side, and he finds me useful occasionally. Durosimi doesn’t have friends.”  

“Well, whatever it is that he is keeping hidden,” said Reggie, “I’m sure that all will be revealed – for good or ill – before very long.”

Two weeks had passed since Tenzin’s arrival on the island. During that time he had made sure that Durosimi’s home was spick and span from top to bottom. He was beginning to wonder when his apprenticeship was going to start. He was not so much the sorcerer’s apprentice as the sorcerer’s domestic help. Every day Durosimi would ask him if his memory had returned, and every day he had to shake his head and say “no, sorry.”

Then one morning everything came flooding back. His escape from Dawasandup; the flight into the mountains; his meeting with one of the Spirits of the Glaciers, and the way in which he was brought to Hopeless. This was exciting. He could not wait to tell Durosimi. 

As he told his tale, Tenzin failed to notice the sorcerer’s face growing darker and darker. 

When he had finished he was conscious of a long and ominous silence.

Then Durosimi spoke. “So you got here, not by your own efforts, but the same as the rest of us. Dragged through by some blasted Yeti.”

Tenzin nodded, not sure where this conversation was going.

“And I have wasted precious weeks waiting for some grand revelation that was never going to arrive.”

“But I couldn’t remember…” stammered Tenzin.

“That’s no good to me, and come to that, neither are you,” growled Durosimi. “You need to go before I do something that you will regret.”  

“Go? But where,” said Tenzin, helplessly.

“Go where every misfit on this god-forsaken place goes,” said Durosimi. “To The Squid and Teapot – now clear off.”

Tenzin had no idea where, or indeed what, The Squid and Teapot might be. He wandered through the fog for hours until he bumped into a bemused Septimus Washwell. Sensing a moment of glory, Septimus was happy to escort the exotic stranger  to the inn, where he led him through the impressive oak doors and into the oasis of light and cheer that was the bar of The Squid and Teapot.

To Septimus’ dismay the room fell to silence. Everyone stared suspiciously at the young man with the shaven head and sandalled feet. His burgundy robes were splattered with mud.

“Look who I found wandering about,” said Septimus. 

“Good Lord!” exclaimed Reggie Upton. “He’s a monk of some description. You had better leave this to me.”

He strode up to the newcomer and did what any Englishman would do in like circumstances.

“DO YOU SPEAK ANY ENGLISH?” he shouted. His words came out slowly and deliberately. 

To everyone’s surprise the monk quietly replied,

“Yes, perfectly, thank you. I am Tenzin,” and he gave a small bow.

Reggie smiled uncomfortably, a little embarrassed by the way he had addressed Tenzin, but things now began to make sense.

If this chap wasn’t the reason that Doc Willoughby had been excluded from Durosimi’s company, then he would eat his hat.

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