The Wizard That Wasn't (Mechanized Wizardry) by Ben Rovik

at its beginning.  Ceres had watched a marvelous transformation from the day a terrified young girl’s hair was chopped off, to this moment, where a spiky-headed midling stood framed in the window, taking obvious pleasure in her duty.  Let naysayers like Ouste doubt Naomi’s fortitude; let them question the validity of the Ordeals themselves.  The fact was that, in this case, a Haberstorm heir had entered the process as one person, and would emerge as a different one; wiser, stronger, and more fit to rule.  If Naomi was not living proof that the Ordeals still could serve their purpose, Lady Ceres thought, nothing would be.
    “One more day, Princess,” Ceres whispered to herself.  “One more day, and you’ll have your life returned to you at last.”
     

“But when?” the peasant woman whined.  Her stringy hair was tied in tresses that flopped on either side of her narrow head like the drooping ears of an old hound.  Jilmaq couldn’t look at her face without a tight bubble of disgust rising in the back of his throat.  If it rose all the way to his mouth, he wasn’t sure if would come out as a snarl or a dry heave.  Consequently, he kept his back to her and, once again, thrust a hand towards the doorway.  And once again, she didn’t leave.  Spheres, but this woman is thick . 
    “Look here, wizarder,” she said, insulted and terrified.  “It’s two days gone since I petitioned you to help cure Our Justen’s eyes.  We scrounged you that money so he might have the chance to see her Royal Highness pass them Ordeals.  Well, now it’s the feastday eve, and you say you ain’t even cast your magic for him yet?”
    “Leave,” Jilmaq barked.
    “Ooh!  The nerve of you!  Takin’ money from a mother of a blind boy.  You’re a common thief, you are.”
    “I cannot cast a spell if the spirits are not ready.”
    “And what they been doin’ two full days?  Ain’t they ready now?  Go on, get started!”
    Jilmaq hissed over his shoulder at her, narrowing his bloodshot eyes.  “Do you think you’re the only petitioner I have?  I have many other, far more important spells to focus on before tending to your crippled whelp.  Now leave .”  He gave her his back again.
    The woman’s jaw clenched with anger.  She reached down with her weathered hands, dug up a handful of earth from his dirt floor, and threw it at the back of Jilmaq’s head.  He turned at an inopportune moment, and the clod struck him mostly on the right ear.  The wizard yelped, his head ringing and his ear burning as he dug a nail in to clean it out.  “You’re a right fraud,” the peasant spat.  “I been to two other wizards afore, and they started their spells right away.  Done before sundown the first night, they were.  Harder spells than this, too.”
    The wizard scowled, scraping his ear clean.  “As if you’d know, you ignorant—“
    “You keep lazin’ about, stealin’ money from folks like me, and we’ll run you out of here, wizard.  See if we don’t!  You cure my son this very night or I’ll have every able-bodied soul in Drabelhelm at your doorstep, club in one hand and a rock in the other.”
    She kicked the ground at him ineffectually, sending dust into the air and peppering his bare calves with bits of dirt.  He said nothing, keeping his hand outstretched with a long finger pointing the way to the exit. Finally, the peasant woman stormed out of his hut, knocking something over in his yard with a spiteful clatter once she went out of his view.
    Jilmaq lowered his arm, drained by the encounter.  The LaMontina clan may have thought it merciful to exile him from high society rather than taking his life, but an eternity of service to people like this coarse woman was worse than any torture; worse than any fiendish execution.  He wiped his face, sweat and dirt mixing on his fingertips.  One day more , he thought as he went to the door. 
    He pulled his door closed by the central ring, taking care to