Answer the door

Xabar wearily pulls himself off the bed and opens the door. Much to his surprise and discouragement, it isn’t his dinner. It is Blake.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” says Blake, looking over Xabar’s shoulder. “Are you alone?”

“What’s up, Blake?” asks Xabar, trying to suppress his irritation.

“I just thought we might chat for a bit — in private.”

“I’d love to, Blake, but my dinner will be here shortly, and it’s been a really long day. Perhaps tomorrow?”

“It won’t take long. I just want to visit for a brief spell. If you are feeling compliant, that is.”

Blake looked at Xabar, meaningfully. Xabar returned his look, eyebrows lowered in suspicion, before stepping aside and silently beckoning him in.

Blake looks around, approvingly, before helping himself to a seat. “Nice digs, Xabar. Although not as nice, I imagine, as those of the Chancellor’s residence at Häzadertroth’s Academy. I hear you are temporarily homeless. Is that true?”

Xabar is unsure how much he can say to his former schoolmate. He decides to play it close to the chest. “Let’s just say I’m having second thoughts about whether school is the right path for me. There are so many options out there, and I don’t want to limit myself.”

“But by my calculations, you would be graduating in a few weeks. Leaving the Academy now doesn’t seem like a thing a fellow would do — unless it wasn’t by choice.”

“What makes you think that would be the case?”

“Because I remember you, Xabar, and I know of your reputation. And because I see myself when I see you. Do you think I left the Academy because it was my idea? I got expelled, just as I suspect you did. The only reason you lasted longer than me is that my dad isn’t the chancellor, so I had no one to cover for me.”

“You were expelled? I didn’t hear anything about that. All any of us knew was that you left abruptly. We assumed it was a family emergency or something.”

“Häzadertroth’s doesn’t like to air its dirty laundry, so they keep things like that hushed up,” says Blake. “But yes, I got expelled. Do you remember Professor Lotussa?”

“The Celtic Mythology professor?”

“That’s her,” confirmed Blake.

“Yeah, I remember her. She left about the same time you did. That was announced as a family situation.”

“True...,” says Blake. “Let’s just say that she found herself ‘in a family way.’”

Xabar’s eyebrows go up. “You knocked up Lotussa?” He was impressed. The furthest Xabar ever got with a professor was a make-out session in the Chem Lab, and that, technically, was just a teacher’s assistant.

“But why would they expel you for that? She was an adult — and unmarried, if I remember correctly.”

Blake nodded. “I was expelled for using forbidden magic, which is why I recognized the effects of a Compliance Spell when I saw it in action downstairs a short time ago.”

The two men sat in silence for a few moments, regarding one another.

“And if you have, indeed, been expelled, then I know you are forbidden from using magic,” said Blake.

“OK, look, you are right. I did get kicked out, and you did see a Compliance Spell, but I cast that spell several days ago, before I was expelled. I haven’t practiced unlicensed magic, so don’t go tattling to the authorities.”

Blake smiled. “Don’t worry. I’m the last one who would turn you in. I’m here to offer you a job.”

“A job?” Xabar was growing indignant and impatient. He wished Blake would stop pussyfooting around and just get on with it. “What makes you think I need a job?”

“Because you are homeless — or will be in a matter of days. And because you have no prospects, having assumed all your life that your daddy would take care of you, and because you haven’t got a penny to your name.”

“Ha!” retorted Xabar. “Shows how much you know! I’ve got a fair amount of gold right here—“ He reaches for the bag of gold pieces, and failing to find them in his right pocket, began patting himself all over, trying to locate them.

“Looking for something?” asks Blake, in a singsong voice.

Xabar looks up and sees Blake dangling his bag of coins between them. He reaches out and snatches the bag from Blake’s hand.

“Where did you get this?” he demands, opening the bag and counting the coins.

“Don’t worry; I didn’t take any. They’re all there,” says Blake, reassuringly. “I snagged it when we first met downstairs, before I even recognized you. Remember how I stumbled and ‘accidently’ fell against you? I cleared you out of your money and this.” He tossed a small corked vial to Xabar, who caught it in midair.

“Elixir of Passion,” says Blake. “Curious thing for a homeless person to carry.”

Xabar blushes and thrusts the object into his pocket. “It’s not even mine. I mixed it up for Hager; he was depressing me with his whining about not getting any action, so I slipped some into Jennie Blazerstein’s tea right before she met Hager for a class project. They both failed the assignment, but Hager stopped whining, and Jennie couldn’t walk properly for a week.”

Shaking his head to refocus, Xabar asks, “So what’s that mean? You’re a pickpocket? Am I supposed to be impressed?”

“Not just a pickpocket, mate. I basically just do that for kicks. You never know what you’ll find in the pockets and purses of people. No, I’m much more of what you might call a ‘professional thief,’ and I think you have the qualities to be one, too.”

Before they can say anything more, there is a knock at the door, and they hear one of the girls who works for Mrs. Peterson say, “Hello... I have some dinner here, and I was told to bring it up.”

Xabar is starving, but he wants to hear what Blake has to say.