The Sorcerer of Wands: Azabar's Icicle Part 2 by Jem I Kelley

Author:Jem I Kelley [Kelley, Jem I]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Fantasy Books for Middle Graders Inc
Published: 2015-08-01T04:00:00+00:00

Aden and Bliss arrived at the market. The place looked a mess. Stalls were damaged and rubbish was strewn everywhere. Weever and Munter were stomping around, grabbing litter and pushing it into sacks. Munter saw the friends and glared at them as he passed.

“What’s got his goat?” whispered Bliss.

Aden shrugged. “Perhaps the Wall’s been saying something about us again?”

On the corner of the first row of stalls, at Joshua’s Bagel stand, stood Mack Porter. The older boy fixed planks across a hole in the wooden panels of the stall. Aden heard hammering across the market and guessed Mack wasn’t alone in his repair work.

Aden wondered where Hacknor was. He waited until Weever and Munter trudged near again. “What’s happened?”

The two friends stopped and lowered their sacks to the ground. Aden thought Munter’s lip might crack with the amount of sneer laden on it.

“Your foreign friend’s skeletons have done all this. That’s what’s happened.”

Aden blinked in surprise. Marti Bart’s skeletons! “Nothing went wrong last week when he tested them.”

Munter crossed his arms over his chest and pushed his face close to Aden’s. “So he says.”

Aden was confused; he looked to Weever for an explanation.

“Ten stalls have been smashed by the rat-scarer skeleton. As for the rubbish collector skeleton, it doesn’t look like it’s done anything.” Weaver indicated all the rubbish that clung to the nooks of the market.

Munter punched a finger at Aden’s chest. “ Weird, that’s what it is, using monsters like that to do work. My dad thinks the Novogoradian should be tried for witchcraft and burned at the stake.”

“You’re dad a an expert on witchcraft, is he?” said Aden feeling a flash of anger, and the need to defend Marti, “I reckon the most he knows about potions is the jars of ale he downs each night in the Fox and Hound, and the most he knows about curses is the swearing we hear when he’s staggering past Bliss’s house at midnight.”

Aden realised he’d gone too far. Munter’s eyes creased with fury and he began to roll his sleeves.

“I think it’s strange, the things what’ve happened in Haverland since you came back from prison. The murder, the drug dealing and the skeletons. You’re probably in on all of ‘em with that Northerner. Yet I haven’t lifted a finger against you. But when you have a pop at my old man, that’s the final straw.”

Munter stood a little taller than Aden; but, weighed much more. Aden had always pictured the boy as something of a bull, with his squat frame and wide neck. As this bull finished rolling up its sleeves, Aden felt a tinge of panic. “Hey, I was just kidding, Munter, let it go will you?”

“If you don’t put up your arms, I’m going to get a clear crack at your head, wimp.”

Aden rolled up his sleeves and tried to hide his nervousness. “I reckon we should all calm down a bit,” he said. He looked to where Mack Porter had been working, but the older boy was no longer there.

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