Christmas Day upon the Alps dawned frigid and clear. The sun glittered on the frozen lake, the iced over alpines, and the snowbound peaks of the surrounding, brooding mountains. But in the distance, church bells announced the morning, echoing off of the sleeping giants surrounding the valley where the hotel rested on a low hill. And on the roof, settled comfortably upon a high-backed chair of rich brocade, Elizabeth Harris took up her third scone with an eager hand.
“Slow down,” Barnaby poured himself another cup of tea. “There’s still lunch to come. Don’t fill up too much.” He turned and smiled across the table. “So, are we really in the past?”
“You would know it as the year eighteen hundred and seventy,” rumbled the towering man sitting in the chair opposite. Clad in flowing silken blue pants with soft pointed slippers, the figure appeared grossly underdressed for the weather. Nevertheless, though his breath puffed out in thick clouds of vapor, he did not shiver. “We have arrived too late to meet Charles Dickens but in time to have the final tea service at the Hotel Grand Silbertal.” His olive-colored cheeks rounded in a wide smile as Eliza caught his bright green eyes and giggled and looked away shyly. “Someone seems content with her situation, however.”
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome, Barnaby.” The smile gave way to a grim look. “I fear you will need moments of happiness such as this to sustain you for what is to come. Mince is not a kind or benevolent being, and you will discover this to your detriment. But even more,” folding his hands, the man leaned forward and dropped his voice lower, “You will find that even Mr. Mince is nothing compared to many of his customers and peers.” Tilting his head toward the scene before them as skaters took to the frozen lake below, he continued, “There is inestimable wonder to be found in the countless realms and worlds to which Mr. Mince and his shop travel.” A long thumb flinched out and traced rough scars on thick wrists and the bright green eyes tightened. “So it is you will discover worlds of cruelty, greed, and malice to match them.”
Slurping down half of his tea, Barnaby swallowed and coughed. “You’re not as cheerful out of the ring as you were in it, are you?”
The sober expression melted away into a rich chuckle. Spreading his hands, the genie shrugged. “I am free to do as I wish. I wish to follow you around and be amused as your common sense and good sense and ignorance is introduced on the Machiavellian miasma of the multiverse.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Barnaby watched his daughter as she leaned on the bars of the railing and oohed at the skaters below. The figure-eighting shapes produced long tapers and soon lights of emerald and ruby glimmered and crossed and twinkled, weaving in and out of one another in a beautiful waltz. An unseen violin tinnyed sweetly, mingling with the shouts and whoops of the crowd. “And the trident? How did my tie pin do that?”
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Barnaby, than are dreamt of in my philosophy.”
“You don’t know?” Barnaby turned to stare at the genie. “I thought you knew everything.”
“I have access to a greater store of knowledge than you and your mortal mind could ever hope to possess,” the genie frowned, crossing his thick arms across his chest.
“Right, uh, sorry.” Sliding to the edge of his seat, Barnaby set his teacup back into its saucer. It was best, he decided, not to offend their ride home. “Who would know, then?”
“I know many who know more than I. You will have opportunity to meet them if your life continues its present course.” Picking up the teapot, the genie offered it to Barnaby. He set it down as Barnaby shook his head. “Now is not the time to think of such things. Merely act as you have done and life will continue to be interesting to me.”
“One thing, though,” said Barnaby after a moment. He smiled as Eliza skipped back to the table and picked up her teacup to take back to the railing. Leaning toward the genie, Barnaby whispered. “I want to make sure that Mr. Mince doesn’t get her. Is there a way to do that?”
“His efforts first and foremost were to ensnare her,” a sober shadow took the genie’s face as he tilted his head toward Eliza. “To find you in the trap revealed his hand. Or his paw, rather. I do believe he will continue to pursue your daughter.”
Dryness took Barnaby’s throat and he scrabbled for the teacup again. The genie filled it without speaking. The hot liquid burned going down and Barnaby choked, struggling to keep his discomfort silent. “What the hell can I do, then?” he demanded.
“Drink slower.”
“What? No, seriously.” Barnaby shook his head
“In my judgment, you are uniquely and far better suited to counter Mr. Mince’s plans for your daughter than you would had you never made the wish.” The genie handed him a cloth napkin.
Wiping the tea from his chin, Barnaby sighed. “If only I had never entered the shop.”
“That speculation is of a different realm. Do not seek to change what has become. Change what has yet to be.” Standing, the genie pointed toward the door leading to the stairs. “When you are ready to go home, pass through. You will be returned to Midgard.”
“You’re not staying?”
“Certainly!” The genie clapped his hands. A pair of skates popped into his grasp and he hefted them. “I am going skating and you may wish to leave before I do. It is up to you.” Rising, he bowed to Barnaby. Eliza scuttled back to join them and he rested a giant hand upon her small head. “Merry Christmas, young lady. Enjoy your time with your father. He is a good man.”
Something about the phrase “good man” coming from a canny, powerful being brought a strange dissonance of comfort and unease to Barnaby’s mind. He and Eliza gasped at the sight of the genie leaping over the side of the balcony to float gently through the air and down to the lake. Holding Eliza close, Barnaby set his jaw. At his throat, the tie pin, now stuck into the lapel of his shop uniform vest, chilled the skin of his neck. Come what may, he thought, whatever luck I have, I hope it’s enough.
<—Chapter Four: A Wish Granted
A/N: Many thanks for reading my story! There are more adventures forthcoming as this is only the start of Barnaby’s foray into the world of Some Things Magic. For as long as the rare and the precious and the True exist, envy, yearning, and love for them will lead to many tales.
Photo by Sehii Dominov on Unsplash
Elk Writer 