“Now don’t sulk,” Aahz admonished. “You know how to levitate reasonably large objects, you can fly after a fashion, and you’ve got the disguise spell down pat. You’re doing pretty well for a rank novice, but don’t kid yourself into believing you’re anywhere near full magician’s status.”
He was right, of course, but I was loath to admit it.
“If I’m such a bumbling incompetent,” I said stiffly, “why are we on our way to establish me as a court magician?”
Aahz bared his teeth at me in irritation.
“You aren’t listening, kid,” he snarled. “Holding the job once you’ve got it will be a breeze. You can handle that now. The tricky part will be getting you hired. Fortunately, with a few minor modifications and a little coaching, I think we can get you ready for polite society.”
“Modifications such as what?” I asked, curious despite myself.
Aahz made a big show of surveying me from head to foot.
“For a start,” he said, “there’s the way you dress.”
“What’s wrong with the way I dress?” I countered defensively.
“Nothing at all,” he replied innocently. “That is, if you want people to see you as a bumpkin peasant with dung on his boots. Of course, if you want to be a court magician, well, that’s another story. No respectable magician would be caught dead in an outfit like that.”
“But I am a respectable magician!” I argued.
“Really? Respected by who?”
He had me there, so I lapsed into silence.
“That’s specifically the reason I had the foresight to bring along a few items from the inn,” Aahz continued, indicating Buttercup’s burdens with a grand sweep of his hand.