“Good morning!” Dad said as though he were singing a tune. My book was hard under my pillow. I wanted to throw it at him.

  Sometimes, getting to Sleeping Locus was like wishing for a happy dream on a sleepless night. It had been a fortnight since the last time I’d been there. A fortnight since the last time I saw my Mom. A fortnight since the last time I flew.

  “What are you so happy about?” I grumbled. “Don’t you miss her?”

  “Of course I do. But that’s no reason to ruin a day. It’s your birthday!”

  We had our usual stale breakfast, got cleaned up, and made our way through the smog to the temple. I found myself falling asleep at my desk a short time later. It was my birthday, but I didn’t care. I had heard stories about other pups who got cake with candles for their birthdays. But we had nothing. There would be no cake. There would be no feast. There would be no gifts. It was just another day in the Loyal Trench.

  The coin purse I lifted from Wulfy was still heavy in my pocket. I could have a birthday if I wanted one. I started to think up excuses for how I came about the purse. Um, I found it. Yeah, that’s it, I found it in the hallway? No, that wouldn’t do. I couldn’t tell him I found it in the temple, or he’d have me turn it in to lost and found. Maybe I could say to him I found it in the trench? But no. What would I have been doing in the trench by myself? There was nothing for it. The gold was as useless as pocket lint.

  Later that day, the classroom door slid open, and the headmaster stuck his head in.

  “I beg your pardon, master,” he said. “Can I borrow Burgeon?”

  “What is it this time?” I said.

  “This time, you’re going to see the wizard,” the headmaster said.

  My classmates gasped. My master placed her hand on her chest.

  “You’re in big trouble this time,” the pup sitting in front of me said.

  My throat went dry, and my hands started to shake. I stuck my quill into the inkwell on my desk and closed my book shut.

  “Come along,” the headmaster said. “You won’t need any of your things.”

  I got up and walked out with the headmaster, my ears low and my tail between my legs. The wizard was the highest-ranking magician in the temple. Long periods passed without us ever seeing him, and many canids began to suspect that he wasn’t real. His disciples always said he was off on a mission somewhere. I don’t know what I did to ignite the wizard’s anger, but I would be on my best behavior in his company. Dad would eat me for dinner if I didn’t. So I followed the headmaster down the hall to the balcony.

  “How far is the walk to the wizard’s office?” I said.

  “Walk?” the headmaster said, pointing way up at the spire. “No, I’m too old to walk all those steps, and you’re too young.”

  Something nipped at my hand from behind. My feathers furled when I saw a critter leering at me–a birdling of a kind with a sharp yellow beak and talons. It was even taller than the headmaster. Its large green eyes narrowed when it saw me. Panic squeezed my chest.

  “The wizard sent us his mount to ride to the top,” the headmaster said.

  The headmaster threw himself into the saddle, gripped the reins, and offered me his hand.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “I don’t think he bites.”

  I had no choice but to go with him. I grabbed his hand, and he lifted me into the saddle with one yank. The birdling leapt onto the stone railing, then dropped over the side, falling toward the blurry rows of pews below. Terror. This was not like flying with Mom. The wind stole my breath. I held onto the saddle horn as tight as I could. The birdling opened his wings just before we crashed and lifted into the air.

  My head bobbed from the force of the birdling flapping his wings. He flew in circles around the sanctuary walls, corkscrewing higher and higher toward the temple’s spire. The higher we went, the colder it got. My face went numb from the wind on my cheeks. Then my hands and feet went numb. The leather saddle was slick under me, and I started slipping sideways. All I could see below were distant rows of white pews, blurry from the tears in my eyes. The headmaster caught me and pulled me back up before I fell off.

  “Why does the wizard want to see me?” I said. “What did I do?”

  “It’s what you didn’t do,” the headmaster said.

  I couldn’t believe word of my misbehaviors had reached his ear. Maybe he’d melt me into a puddle of goop. Maybe he’d turn me into a mud-hopper. Maybe he was a masked reptilian who wanted to eat me.

  The light of a distant torch revealed a balcony. The birdling landed on the stone platform. The headmaster slid out of the saddle, helped me off, and set me down. There were tall, ornate, wooden double doors. Next to the doors was the edge of the stairway descending to the sanctuary floor. The headmaster was right. We never would have made that climb.

  “Come,” the headmaster said. “We’re late.”

  The headmaster pushed the door open, and we went into a foyer. He bent down and combed my fur over my head with his hand, then brushed some dust off my shoulder.

  “Now,” said the headmaster, straightening his robes. “Be on your best behavior, Burgeon. The wizard won’t appreciate any nonsense, and I’d like to make a good first impression.”

  “What? You’ve never met him either?”

  We went in. The abode was nothing like I’d expected. None of the torches were lit, and everything was dusty. There were stacks of books and parchment on every surface. Every wall was lined with shelves that were packed with books. I felt like I’d wandered into an abandoned library. Everything in there was old, but the smell wasn’t bad. It was more like the warm smell of a friend.

  “Thank you for showing him up, headmaster,” a voice said in the corner. “I’ll take it from here.”

  I saw him slouched over a thick volume of a book. The oldest magician. He was dressed the same as the others, but his white mask had tiny engravings on its face. A long, white beard with braids and green beads hung from underneath the mask. He had the same green and white robes but faded and frayed at the arms, and there were patches here and there. The wizard labored to his feet and walked over to me. Light began to fill the space as the candles on the walls and tabletops came to life, and a fire crackled in the hearth.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “You want me to leave?” the headmaster said. “I thought I might stay. Perhaps there’s something I could learn?”

  “There’s nothing you need to learn here,” the wizard said. “I wouldn’t want to take up your time. I know you’re very busy.”

  “There’s no trouble at all,” the headmaster said.

  “I’ll summon you when I’m ready.”

  I would have preferred it if the headmaster stayed, but it didn’t matter. Nobody could stop the wizard from putting a spell on me if he wanted.

  “You’re sure there’s nothing I can do before I leave?” the headmaster said, peeking his head in again.

  “Oh, close the door behind you,” the wizard said. “It’s awfully chilly out there.”

  The headmaster closed the door and left us alone. The wizard removed his mask and the beard that was attached to the bottom, chuckled, and then winked at me. He knelt and took my hand in his, and smiled at me kindly. His hands were warm.

  “It is such a pleasure to finally meet you, Burgeon.”

  I couldn’t believe my nose, or my eyes. The wizard had tan fur, round ears, and buck teeth. Standing more than twice my height, he must have been the largest of his kind who ever lived.

  “You’re a park rodent?” I said.

  “Yes,” the wizard laughed. “Just think if all these canids realized. I’d be chased right out of the realm.”

  I scratched my ear.

  “Would you like to sit with me?” the wizard said, gesturing toward the cushions in front of the fire.

  I wanted a clear path for the door in case he tried to turn me into a rodent or something. He set his beard mask on a desk and sat on one of the cushions.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “You’re not in any trouble.”

  I was being stupid. A wizard would not have needed me to sit if he wanted to cast a spell on me.

  “I understand you have many questions,” he said, taking a pipe out of his robe and sticking it in his mouth. “That’s good. I may be able to answer some of them.”

  The wizard gestured to the cushion next to him. I walked over cautiously and sat down. The fire was beginning to warm the room.

  “Can I offer you something?” he said, striking a match and lighting his pipe. “Tea, or perhaps some peanut soup. Lovely on a cold day–or a hot day.”

  “No, thank you.”

  The wizard drew a wand from his belt and pointed it at the fire. The logs inside turned as though an invisible hand was stirring them.

  “How are you?” the wizard said.

  “Fine, I guess.”

  The wizard glanced at me sideways.

  “Are you sure? Something seems to have changed recently. It’s been some weeks since the last time you were sent to the headmaster’s office.”

  “I should be getting in trouble?”

  “Well. Perhaps not.”

  I felt that I could trust him, and there was no shame in being honest.

  “I don’t like it here,” I said.

  “Where?”

  “Loyal Trench.”

  “There is a great deal of suffering here. That’s why this temple was built over a thousand years ago. How’s your father?”

  “Fine.”

  “He works so hard. He loves you very much and misses your mother terribly.”

  My ears perked.

  “You know my Mom?”

  “We’ve never formally met,” he said.

  “How do you do that?” I said, pointing at the fire. “Can you teach me?”

  “You ask a lot of questions,” the wizard said. “That’s good. But to perform miracles, you must ask useful questions.”

  “My Dad says there’s no such thing as magic.”

  “He’s right. What most people see as magic is the imagination brought to life. But miracles are very real, I assure you.”

  “What’s that for then?” I said, pointing at his wand.

  “Just an instrument–a bridge,” he said, offering me the wand.

  I couldn’t believe he trusted me that much just to hand it over. I reached out, and he placed it in my eager hands. It was warm, made of polished mahogany, but heavy as marble. I pointed the wand at the fire. I waved it and concentrated, trying to do what I had just seen the wizard do. I flicked it, and swished it, but nothing happened. I tried again, concentrating as hard as possible until my face shriveled and quivered. The wizard laughed.

  “Can this take me to another realm?” I said.

  “Only a ship can take you to other realms–or a master wayfarer or voyager.”

  I stopped concentrating, realizing I was making a fool of myself, and returned the wand to the wizard.

  “Why did you come to the Loyal Trench?” I said.

  “Canids like yourself need leadership. They need guidance. They need structure and routine. I am a teacher. This is my vocation. The wand is my instrument. Tools like this have been used to build armadas and destroy planets. I chose to use it to help canids.”

  “I don’t like doing the same things over and over again.”

  “You’re only half canid. That makes you half of something else, but that’s not to say a routine and a little structure would do you no good.”

  A moment passed.

  “What do you think of the temple?” he said.

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Why not?” he said.

  I thought seriously about all the reasons I hated the temple. It was boring. People were mean to me. I didn’t have any friends. It was uncomfortable. The books they made us read didn’t make sense. I didn’t like my master. It was boring. I didn’t like my master.

  “Most things for which we are unaccustomed are unpleasant, but growth almost always comes with discomfort,” the wizard said. “There are many far more unpleasant realms in the Infinite Beyonds, you know.”

  “I’d rather go see those realms.”

  “I’m sure you would.”

  “Why do I have to come to the temple every day?”

  “Temples are sanctuaries,” the wizard said, his tone turning serious. “That’s their intended purpose, anyway. They also serve as the capitols of information. It is our responsibility to learn so that we might be better creatures and be better examples for those with whom we share experiences. In that way, we fight suffering wherever we go, even when we travel to other realms.”

  “Why have none of the masters ever told me that,” I said, scratching my ear.

  “A master can teach classes, but sometimes you’re better off learning things on your own.”

  The wizard puffed his pipe.

  “Have you heard The Legend of Kazak the Mighty?” he said.

  “I’ve heard lots of Kazak stories.”

  “He did tremendous deeds but became the victim of his own desires. Desire can destroy one if one never learns to manage it. The masters do not teach that story to pups your age. They try to protect you from the harsh realities of the Infinite Beyonds because they love you. Masters are clever, but they burn in the fires of desire too, like our favorite hero Kazak, and they don’t know everything.”

  “I can’t take any more school,” I said, my face pursing from the sourness of my words.

  “Of course you can,” he said sternly. “You’re naturally inquisitive. That makes you a good learner, but you need to manage your desires if you wish to perform miracles.”

  “How can I perform miracles? I can’t even get my stupid wings to work.”

  “Your wings will grow stronger with practice.”

  I became sad. There was a lump in my throat, and tears began to blur my vision. Mom was supposed to teach me how to fly.

  “I miss my Mom,” I cried.

  When I looked up, I saw a tear in his eye, too.

  “I know,” he said. “You must learn to let go.”

  * * *

  The headmaster walked into a surprise. The chamber was alight, cracking and booming with fireworks and a symphony of music. We were dancing and dancing and laughing and laughing.

  Urmm!, coughed the wizard when he noticed the headmaster standing at the door. All the miracles in the room were snuffed out like a candle.

  “Very well, then,” the wizard said, straightening his robes and standing up straight. “Very well indeed. You may take him back now, headmaster.”

  I walked over and took the headmaster’s hand. He was giggling.

  “Burgeon,” the wizard said. “Could you please give Wulphy back his coin purse?”

  A smile spread across my face.

  “Okay,” I said.

  I wanted to look at him one more time before we left, but when I turned around, he was gone.

  “Happy birthday,” I heard him say as the heavy wooden doors closed behind me.

  I realized something as we flew back down to the day school. I was attached to Mom. The wizard was right. Sleeping Locus was too hard to reach. If I was going to find her, I needed a ship.

  Pups crowded around me when I went back into the classroom.

  “Did you see the wizard?”

  “What was he like?”

  “Did he do magic?”

  “Did he turn you into a mud hopper?”

  “Everyone, take your seats,” the master said.

  The attention felt good. They wanted to know everything, but I didn’t tell them much. I didn’t need to put the experience into words, especially for the entertainment of puppies who didn’t care about me. Some didn’t believe I’d seen the wizard at all, and I was okay with that.

  Dad and me grabbed a ride at the end of the day. He didn’t ask me about the wizard, but I knew he knew about the meeting.

  “I’ve got a surprise for you,” Dad said as the carriage rumbled to a stop.

  “You do? What is it?”

  We stepped through the boiler room, up the garbage chute, and down the dark hallway. Dad scratched at our door, and it screeched open. Then I saw the reason Dad had been so happy all day. Our tails wagged.

  “Mom?” I said.

  ***

  If given the opportunity, what question would you ask a space wizard? Let us know in the comments!