The Man Who Was Magic Read Online Free PDF Page A

the Town Hall read, “T OWN C LERK . K NOCK B EFORE E NTERING .” With Jane holding tightly to his hand, for she was still quite frightened, Adam complied.
    A high, piping voice from within cried, “Come in, come in!” and as they did so, Adam saw sitting behind a desk an enormously fat man with what looked like a wig plastered across his skull and extraordinarily white teeth that gleamed almost blindingly from a round, red and rather disagreeable face. He was clad like most of the other inhabitants in white tie and tails, but was so stout he looked as though he might explode from the garments any moment. On the desk was a small, metal plaque which read, “F USSMER THE F ABULOUS . T OWN C LERK .”
    Jane immediately nipped off and sat down at the side of the room and so, as the Clerk looked up, his first glimpse was of Adam standing there before him in his worn and dusty clothes.
    “Back entrance for tradesmen,” he piped. It was strange that so huge a man should produce only so thin a voice, but there it was. Then, after a second glance he squeaked even more vehemently, “We don’t give anything to tramps, so you’d better move on.” And finally, as he peered over the desk, he concluded, “And no dogs allowed, either!”
    “But I’m neither a tradesman, nor a tramp, sir,” said Adam politely. “I’m a magician and this is my talking dog, Mopsy. I would like to enter the trials for admission to the Guild of Master Magicians.”
    “What’s eating you, fatty?” asked Mopsy. “Did you get out of bed on the wrong foot this morning?”
    “Mopsy, no! You must be polite.”
    “Well then, why isn’t he?” asked Mopsy.
    There was an answer to this question, though neither Adam nor Mopsy knew it at the time. This was that while the majority of magicians dwelling in Mageia were the best of chaps, kind, friendly and ever eager and delighted to help a young fellow get along in their profession, Fussmer did not happen to be one of them. He thought it amusing to use his authority as Town Clerk to frighten and upset candidates or beginners and make them nervous. Besides which, he was of a jealous disposition and hoped that most of them would fail. And one of his least admirable traits was that being a bully, he was also something of a coward and bootlicker and was always to be found on the winning side.
    “Hmph!” he said, “you’ve just made it then. I was about to close up. I suppose you’re one of those ventriloquist fellows who throw their voices about and pretend it’s someone else speaking.”
    And with this he made a motion with his right hand in the vicinity of the desk. A pen appeared within his fingers, vanished, appeared again—except this time there were two, then three, then none and once more one. Adam stared fascinated. Fussmer gestured similarly with his left hand and seemingly plucked out of the air a long questionnaire, “Form C 3,” for candidates to the Guild trials.
    “Not bad, eh?” said Fussmer. “If you can work like that, you might have a chance.”
    “Show off!” said Mopsy.
    “Quiet!” said Adam.
    “What’s that?” Fussmer queried.
    “My dog said you were brilliant,” replied Adam.
    Fussmer said, “That’s my reputation. Now then,” and he posed the pen above the paper with a satisfied smirk, for he was certain that under the rules there would be at least a half a dozen stumbling blocks he could throw in the way of this latecomer to whom, for no reason at all, he had taken a dislike. “Name?”
    “Adam.”
    “Last name?”
    “I haven’t any.”
    “What’s that? Ridiculous! What was your parents’ name?”
    “I can’t say,” Adam replied. “I never knew them.”
    The Clerk sniffed, “That’s a likely story. Very well, then, where do you come from?”
    “From Glimour, on the other side of the Mountains of Straen.”
    “Never heard of it! How do you spell it?” Then, suddenly, Fussmer glanced up sharply. “Ha! That’s a lie. Nobody’s ever come from