Magician's Gift: Read online

  Magician’s Gift

  A Spellsmith & Carver Story

  H. L. Burke

  Copyright © 2019 H. L. Burke

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design by

  Rachael Ritchey of RR Publishing

  For information about H. L. Burke’s latest novels, to sign up for the author’s monthly newsletter, or to contact the writer, go to

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  This short story takes place ten years after the events of the Spellsmith & Carver Gaslamp Fantasy series. It can be read independently of the series, though it may be enhanced with familiarity with the characters and world.

  If you enjoy this story, you might wish to check out the series itself.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Magician's Gift

  The End | If you enjoyed this story, you may wish to check out the series as a whole.

  ABOUT H. L. Burke

  Also by H. L. Burke

  Jericho rubbed sandpaper over a rough section of the board, stopped, brushed away the sawdust, and ran his thumb over the area. He grinned.

  Smooth as silk.

  He inhaled the sweet scent of the cherry wood before taking a step back to admire his work.

  He’d spent the last week carefully planning the cabinet before he even made the first saw cut. A lot of measuring, cutting, sanding, and re-sanding later, it was ready to piece together like an oversized puzzle. He wiped his palms on his heavy workman’s trousers. After nearly a decade serving as the town magician, it was good to work with his hands again. He’d almost forgotten the satisfaction that could be derived from making something with the sweat of his brow and simple tools. Of course, he had used a little magic to speed the process, automating a saw to cut on its own and using magical energy to do large sections of sanding.

  He picked up his sketches and held them over one of the boards. While not much of an artist, Jericho had managed to trace outlines of foxes from one of his daughter Lila’s illustrated books. He planned to carve a border of frolicking foxes across the doors of the cabinet as well as along the top. His wife, Rill, would like that.

  The workshop door jiggled. “What the ... Jericho, are you in there?” Auric, Jericho’s partner in the magic shop and Rill’s brother, called out.

  “Yep.” Jericho traced the edge of the board. Another pass with the sandpaper couldn’t hurt.

  For a moment, it was silent.

  “The door’s locked,” Auric said.

  “I know. I locked it.” Jericho smirked.

  Auric groaned. There was a whiff of lavender, and the door popped open. Auric stuffed the case with the wax tablet he used to transcribe his spell formulas into his breast pocket and glared at Jericho. Then his gaze flitted to the table filled with tools and wood, and confusion crossed his face.

  “Did I somehow get lost and end up in your uncle’s carpentry shop instead of Spellsmith Manor?”

  “It’s our day off. I’ll have it put away before we have to use the shop again.” Jericho shrugged. “Shut the door, will you?” Though Rill had taken their three children to town that morning and wasn’t expected back until after tea time, Jericho didn’t want to risk her coming home early and ruining his surprise. It was hard enough to steal private moments living in a household with his brother-in-law, Auric’s wife and son, Jericho’s own precocious young ones, and Rill’s pet bronze fox familiar, Jaspyr.

  Auric came closer, squinting at the boards as if they were snakes that might leap out and bite him. “Are you making quires? Does your uncle not want to supply them to us anymore?” Quires were the medium upon which spells could be written with an enchanted stylus. Different spells called for different quires, but the most common materials for them were wood, paper, and stone. Auric preferred the malleability of wax.

  Jericho rolled his eyes and hefted up the nearest board. “Does this look like a quire to you?”

  Auric tilted his head to one side. “Sort of. I mean, it’s wood.”

  “It’s not even the right sort—” Jericho bit his tongue. He might as well be talking to the board itself. Auric didn’t know cherry from cedar or pine from poplar. “I’m making Rill a sewing cabinet.”

  Auric blinked. “What for?”

  “To hold her embroidery hoops, floss, you know, all that.” Jericho consulted the plans. If he started now, would he have enough time to put it all together before Rill got back? “She’s kept all her supplies in a plain old basket for as long as I’ve known her, and it’s starting to look worn. With our anniversary coming up next Tuesday, I thought this would be a nice gift.”

  “Ah, the big number ten.” Auric’s face brightened, only for him to immediately frown. “You’re giving her a cabinet? Is it a magical cabinet? Like are you going to enhance it with spells?”

  Jericho snorted. “What does a cabinet need with spells?”

  Auric shrugged. “It’s just ... well, you’re a magician, and, well, Rill having put up with you for ten years seems like it should merit more than a bit of furniture.”

  “Not everything needs to be magical, Auric.” Jericho inserted the board into a vise and spun the handle to lock it into place. The corners were the difficult part. If they didn’t line up just right, the whole thing would be crooked.

  “Yes, but ...” Auric clamped his mouth shut.

  Thank God.

  Jericho focused on his carpentry. Auric stood by, silently watching, occasionally scratching at his beard or shifting from foot to foot.

  Jericho’s shoulders tensed. Groaning, he put down his measuring tape and faced Auric, arms crossed. Pulling himself up to his full height, nearly a foot taller than Auric’s slender, 5 foot 7 frame, he loomed impressively over his brother-in-law. “Out with it. Whatever it is.”

  “It’s just I know you’re a great guy, Jericho. You’ve made my sister happy. You’re a hard worker, a good father, and a great friend, but when it comes to romantic gestures—” Auric swallowed. “You’re kind of boring.”

  Jericho’s eyebrows shot towards his hairline. “Really? And you’re an expert at romance all of the sudden?”

  Auric smiled. “Lotta isn’t one for big romantic gestures and sentimentality, but even so, I think I do all right. Also, Rill isn’t like Lotta. Rill is sentimental. I know you mean well, but maybe, just this once, you could push yourself out of your comfort zone and do something flashy and ... well, magical.”

  Jericho tapped his fingers against the wood. “Literally or figuratively magical?”

  “Preferably both. I mean, you’re a skilled magician, and so am I. Between the two of us we should be able to come up with something—”

  “No!” Jericho held up his hand. “I’m not having you work on my anniversary present for Rill. I don’t want it exploding in her face. I like her face and want to keep it as is.”

  Auric winced. “I haven’t had anything explode in years ...”

  “One year, three months, and fourteen days, but she’s my wife, and I’m not taking any chances.”

  “It won’t be a lot of magic. Just a little magic to spice up your gift,” Auric persisted.

  Jericho laughed. “Because that’s always gone so well when you’ve done it.”

  “Yeah, it has.” Auric scowled.

  Jericho started counting down on his fingers. “Four years ago, Christmas, you made Annie a self-cleaning frying pan, enchanted to start cleaning every time it got dirty—but the spell couldn’t tell the difference between food she placed in the pan to cook and the crusty bits she actually wanted to clean, and it kept scraping the breakfast out of itself and into the fire.”

  Aur
ic’s face reddened. “That was just one—”

  “Three years ago, Ric and Lila’s birthday, you got your innocent, six-year-old nephew a notepad that could take dictation.”

  “Oh, come on!” Auric frowned. “That was a great present.”

  “Have you seen him using it?” Jericho pointed out.

  “Well, it’s been three—”

  “No, you haven’t, because the blasted thing transcribed everything within earshot, and he left it in my and Rill’s bedroom. Luckily, I found it before he retrieved it and read our pillow talk. That would’ve scarred him for life.”

  Auric winced. “I get that you’re married and all, but could you refrain from mentioning ‘pillow talk’ in regard to my sister—”

  “Two years ago, Christmas, you made Rill a cuckoo clock that shot out illusions of birds every time it chimed. The first time it did so around Jaspyr, he went crazy, leaped up trying to catch one, and broke half the china—”

  “I get it, I get it!” Auric’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

  Jericho turned his back towards his brother-in-law. Satisfied that the pieces were lined up just right, he reached into his vest pocket for a paper quire and his stylus. He scratched out a series of quick magical symbols, ending with a closing symbol to activate. Magical energy consumed the quire, reducing it to ash in his grasp. Golden light raced from his hands to the cabinet, holding the boards in place with glowing cords. That would keep everything in place while he hammered in the first nails.

  “I thought you didn’t want to use magic?” Auric pointed out.

  “No. I never said that.” Jericho selected a nail and a hammer. He pounded the nail into place. “It makes sense to make the work go a little faster. I just don’t see a need to fancy up the finished product with it.” He took another nail. “A cabinet is a good present all on its own. It’s not flashy, but it’s useful, sturdy, and practical.”

  “Are you describing the cabinet or yourself?” Auric snorted, leaning against the work table. He reached for the paper with the traced foxes. “What are these for?”

  “I’m going to carve them into the wood as a decorative element,” Jericho explained.

  “Ah, she’ll like that. Using magic?” Auric set the drawings back down.

  Jericho paused. “I was going to do it by hand.” And if he were honest, he wasn’t particularly sure about that aspect of the project. The basic hammer-and-nail work of carpentry he knew well enough. The more artful parts of the job, however, the carving and the finishing work, had never been his forte even before he’d left the carpentry shop to focus on magic. He’d been struggling with whether or not to even attempt it, or if he should call in some help from his uncle. “Can it be done with magic?”

  “Oh, sure.” Auric drew the case containing his wax tablet from his pocket and flipped it open. “What I’d do is use a heat spell or a friction spell—whichever you think would take to the wood better—but also some restricting symbols so it only burns or carves where the paper is marked and leaves the rest untouched. Something like—” Auric scratched out a formula, leaving the closing symbol off so the spell remained inactive.

  Jericho whistled. “I never would’ve thought of that, but you’re right. That would work perfectly and save me a lot of time.” A smile crept across his face. For all his recklessness, Auric was probably the most brilliant magician Jericho had ever met. “I knew I kept you around for something.”

  “Also because the shop is technically on the Spellsmith family estate, not in the Carver name.” Auric sniffed. “You forget that you don’t own the place.”

  “I own half the place, or at least my wife does. I have the paperwork to prove it.” With a chuckle, Jericho copied down the symbols with a pencil. Since a pencil didn’t convey magic the way an enchanted stylus would, he was able to write the full formula without it activating. Auric’s spell would save him a lot of time. “Thanks. You want to stay and help?” He motioned towards the boards. “Do you good to develop some callouses.”

  “Nah, can’t.” Auric stretched. “I actually just came up here to let you know Hedward and I are going out for a bit. With Lotta gone into the city for the week, I thought it was a good opportunity to get some father-son bonding in, so we’re going fishing.”

  Jericho blinked. “Fishing? As in with fishing poles? In a body of water? With worms and mud? Aren’t you worried you’ll stain your carefully tailored suits?”

  Auric grimaced. “It’s your fault. You took Ric a few weeks ago, and I haven’t heard the end of it. If I get pulled under by a massive catfish and drown, it’s on your head.”

  “I’ll weep for your loss and take my vengeance upon the catfish with great relish.” Jericho snickered.

  With one last roll of his eyes, Auric left, closing the workshop door behind him.

  Jericho continued to work on the cabinet, only pausing briefly about midday to grab a bite to eat. The family cook, Annie, eyed his sawdust-covered condition with obvious confusion but didn’t ask. Jericho was grateful for that. Living in a crowded household, so few things were just for him and Rill. While Auric’s intrusion had cost him complete secrecy, he still hoped to keep this particular gift from being discussed widely before he presented it to her. Hopefully Auric would keep his mouth shut for once.

  Finally, there it stood: a completed cabinet. He stepped back to admire it. He still wanted to carve the foxes into the wood and do a coat of lacquer to protect the finish, but he could already imagine it in Rill’s sitting room. A warmth spread through him. Auric didn’t know what he was talking about. Rill would love this. Jericho had made her something sturdy, practical, and ...

  Doubt gripped him.

  Sturdy, practical, useful.

  He cringed. Auric was right. Those were Jericho words. They weren’t Rill words.

  He considered his wife’s sparkling blue eyes, her vivacious presence, her gentle but still enlivening affection ... ten years of marriage, and the thought of her still lit a fire in his heart.

  Is this really enough?

  He ran his fingers across the top of the cabinet, searching for flaws. He didn’t find any, but still, it wasn’t enough.

  But nothing could really be enough. Not for a woman who has stood by me like she has. Gifts can’t repay that sort of love and loyalty—but is that an excuse not to even try?

  He shook his head. This was nonsense. He was trying. He’d chosen a gift that took the full range of his skills—well, mostly. While he’d used magic, it had been to do things that could’ve just as easily been done with his own hands. He hadn’t pushed the magic to its full potential.

  But what did a cabinet need with magic?

  Wincing inwardly because he’d allowed Auric to get into his brain, he pushed the cabinet into a far corner of the workshop and covered it with a sheet, just in case Rill popped into the room. Rill liked surprises and wouldn’t go poking around less than a week before their anniversary for fear of accidentally ruining one. That didn’t mean he could risk leaving it out in the open, though.

  He brushed off his vest. If he didn’t get rid of all remnants of sawdust before she got home, she’d put things together. Rill was smart like that.

  Smart, sweet, sensual—everything a man could want.

  He left the workshop and wandered into the family wing of the house. With everyone out for the day, it was eerily quiet, leaving him at the mercy of his own thoughts.

  I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to try a little harder. If I can’t think of anything extra flashy, I’d still have the cabinet as a backup plan.

  He entered their bedroom. A basin of room temperature water remained from his morning shave. Sloughing off his sawdust-covered garments, he washed his face and hands and ran a comb through his dark hair to dislodge any evidence of his woodworking. Satisfied, he re-dressed in a nearly identical outfit, the same he’d worn almost every day since he came of age: sturdy brown workman’s trousers, a white shirt, and a brown vest with pockets for his stylus, a pocket knife
, and a few spare paper quires. He glanced at the wall clock—the offending cuckoo that Auric had apologetically disenchanted.

  Only three-thirty. If Rill intended to stay in town for tea with her sewing circle, she probably wouldn’t be back for another two hours. Maybe he could get ahead on the week’s orders for the magic shop, or get some reading in—or a nap, a nap would be nice.

  Not in any hurry to decide, he crossed to their bed and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. A sweet, floral scent rose from the coverlet beneath him: lilacs. He smiled. Every magician developed a magical signature inherent to their spells, manifesting in a fragrance. Rill, perhaps due to her family’s mixed-fey heritage, had always carried an especially strong trace of magic. While Jericho’s signature of cedar-wood scent could only be detected when he was actually using magic, hers permeated any room she entered and often lingered behind her. He adored it.

  Closing his eyes, he focused on the scent. Memories flitted through his head like butterflies in a garden: stolen moments teaching Rill magic behind her father’s back before he’d dared to approach her for courtship; their first kiss, unexpected but so welcome; her at the altar on their wedding day, breathtaking; her that night, in his bed—even more breathtaking.

  Ten years had given him an album full of memories to page through. Working side by side with magic. Raising three children. Walks in the garden. Times of hardship, grief, and even danger—they’d shared so much.

  And in return she gets a cabinet.

  Maybe Auric was right. Even if Rill would be perfectly satisfied with a cabinet, wouldn’t it be better to give her something that lit up her eyes and heart and said how much he valued her as a partner and soulmate?

  But what?

  If sturdy, useful, and practical were Jericho words, what were Rill words?

  Lovely. Gentle. Entrancing ... Lilac.

  The perfume tickling his nose curled into his brain and planted a seed.

  Of course.

  Flowers were undeniably romantic.

  This late in the summer, the garden lilacs were no longer in bloom, but that didn’t matter. If it were as easy as walking into their own garden and clipping off a few branches of fragrant purple flowers, it would hardly be a gift worthy of Rill. No, he needed something that no one else in the world could give her. He closed his eyes. What could magic do that involved flowers?