A Proper Wizard Read Online Free

in Danivelle.”
    â€œIt’s against the law here, too,” Conn said. “Sort of. Have a muffin.” He took a piece of bacon and held it up. “D’you want bacon, Pip?” he asked.
    The dragon looked up from its plate, egg yolk dripping from its snout. It gave its scaled tail a twitch.
    Conn added the bacon to its plate. Then he climbed onto a stool. “Your master wrote in his letter that you’re having magical troubles in Danivelle. What’s been happening, exactly?”
    Verent hesitated. To answer was to admit that this extremely strange boy might actually be able to help him, and Danivelle. Maybe he should stay silent. But he’d come all this way . . .
    While he thought, he ate a muffin—a particularly delicious muffin—and then dusted the crumbs from his fingers. When he’d washed it down with a long drink of tea, he started describing what had been happening in Danivelle for the past few months. The odd gaps in the city’s magic—random werelights going dark, a street corner where all magic-powered vehicles rolled to a stop, certain rooms in certain houses where no magic could be found. “As if, in these small areas, the magic has disappeared,” Verent concluded. “Then, after a while, it returns again, and disappears somewhere else.”
    Conn was listening intently. He set down a half-eaten muffin. “How big are the dead spots, d’you think?” he asked.
    Verent shrugged. “Oddly, they are all about the same size. A few feet across, perhaps.”
    â€œIn random places around the city?”
    â€œAs I said,” Verent said. It was highly unlikely that this boy wizard would be able to help.
    â€œI think I know what the problem is,” Conn said. “You know how the magic of any city was once a dragon, right?”
    â€œYes, I have read the disquisition on the draconic nature of magic,” Verent answered. The one this boy claimed to have written.
    â€œWell, dragons are living creatures like any others, and they can have the usual sorts of problems that living creatures have.”
    â€œWhat is your point?” Verent asked, growing impatient.
    Conn grinned. “You have fleas.”
    Verent frowned. The very idea! He took a bath every single day! “I do not!”
    â€œNot you,” Conn said. “The magic of your city.”
    On the table, the baby dragon eyed Verent and then, deliberately, lifted a hind leg to scratch its ear. Verent’s own ear suddenly felt itchy, and he forced himself not to scratch it. “Fleas?” he asked.
    â€œWell, not fleas, exactly,” Conn said. “It’s a kind of magical thing like a flea that sucks small amounts of magic out of the magical being of your city.”
    Verent leaned forward, his breakfast forgotten. “Like a kind of parasite, you mean?”
    â€œRight,” Conn said, with a nod.
    Verent shook his head. “It sounds serious. Could these parasites drain all the magic from Danivelle?”
    â€œNot any more than a couple of fleas could drain all the blood from a dog. They’re just a nuisance. We should be able to figure out something to help.”
    â€œWe’ll do experiments with pyrotechnics?” Verent asked, feeling a surprising jolt of excitement. His master would scold him for such interest, but he couldn’t help it.
    Conn grinned at him, his eyes sparkling. “Yes, pyrotechnics. But,” he said, looking around his workroom, “not in here.”
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    After Conn had handed him an armful of supplies to carry, Verent followed him down the stairs and out to the courtyard that lay before Heartsease. The cobblestones were slick with rain and dotted here and there with muddy puddles. It smelled of murky river and of baking biscuits from Benet’s kitchen.
    â€œThat’s the Sunrise over there,” Conn said, pointing with his chin, as his arms were full of bottles and a sack. The