3
A Strange Encounter
Rose woke with a start. Bolting upright from her bed, her eyes quickly grew accustomed to the darkened room as she glanced about, searching for evidence of the Tooth Fairy.
“That was strange… Either I dreamed the whole thing or that Fairy lied to me,” grumbled Rose. Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized the nightstand for the tooth she had set out.
“Pancecilia Feldspar does not lie!”
An agitated voice growled at her, rumbling from beneath the bed.
“What was that?” gasped Rose, now wide-awake. Dangling over the edge of her bed, the Princess cautiously lifted the dust ruffle to peer beneath it. For a moment, her eyes adjusted to the complete and utter darkness consuming this small area of the bedchamber. She saw nothing. Only silence and a suffocating blackness greeted her eyes.
“See something interesting down there?”
Rose shrieked in surprise, somersaulting off the bed to land flat on her back onto the floor. She stared up to see a strange man lying across her bed where she, just seconds before, lay. Even in the darkness, his blue-gray eyes sparkled with mischief as they stared down at her startled face. These eyes were framed by a wild tangle of grizzled hair and a long silvery moustache cascading down to become one with his beard.
“That is an odd way to greet me,” he snorted in disapproval.
“Who are you?” yelped Rose. In a frightened panic, she did not even wait for an answer. She quickly dove beneath her bed to get away from this intruder.
“Who am I? What a silly question!”
Rose unleashed a bloodcurdling shriek yet again as this man suddenly appeared next to her beneath the bed.
In absolute fright, the Princess scrambled away, dashing to the door to escape. Yanking it open, she screamed as this odd-looking man appeared before her, standing in the corridor to impede her way.
“Will you stop it with that bloody screaming!” He admonished her just as she rudely slammed the door in his disgruntled face.
Turning to dive under her quilt, this man abruptly reappeared in her room. He cupped his hand over her mouth just as she was about to unleash another shriek.
“For pity’s sake, shut your royal gob and stop with that incessant screaming!” he demanded, pressing a finger to his lips for silence. “It is damned annoying.”
It was a strange encounter the Princess was ill prepared for. Rose backed away, snatching up the urn of water sitting on her dresser, she threatened him, “Be gone or I will hurt you!”
“Many try, all failed,” dismissed the stranger, nonchalantly flicking the dust from his dark robe that was adorned with a plethora of eye-catching, embroidered appliqués of glowing moons and stars.
“Not me!” declared Rose, daring him to take a step closer.
Just as she hoisted the urn to hurl it at him, the man abruptly vanished, only to reappear behind her. Seizing the pitcher from her hands, he scolded her, “No need to get your knickers royally twisted, young lady! Now calm down!”
“If you do not leave, I shall scream at the top of my lungs!” warned Rose, as her hands blindly groped about the top of the dresser for another potential weapon to throw at him. “The knights guarding the keep will come running!”
“What is wrong with you?” grumbled the stranger, as he shook his head in dismay. “You have been screaming. Do you see anyone coming to your aid? Anyone at all: knight, soldier or servant, coming to answer your call?”
“What have you done to them?” asked Rose, palming a hefty crystal decanter of her favourite, rose-scented perfume. “I demand to know!”
“I made it so they will not hear you. After all, you are not the first human to scream bloody murder upon seeing me.”
“How did you do that?” Rose dared to ask as she clutched the decanter in her trembling hands, raising it in a threatening gesture. “Did you kill them?”
“What do you take me for? A murderous thug on a killing spree?”
“Are you?” questioned Rose. The decanter was poised in her hand, ready to launch at him as she cautiously backed away.
“My, you are rather big on high drama! Of course I am not a mass murderer. And I am only here because you were the one to summon me.”
“I did not ask for you!” retorted the Princess, grimacing in disgust as she eyed him with certain contempt. “I asked for the Dream Merchant, not some strange, wizened old man with a scruffy beard down to his knees, dressed in a gaudy robe that glows in the dark.”
“Good gracious, you are rather thick in the head for a Princess! And I will have you know, this is not gaudy. This robe is quite tasteful, perhaps a little extravagant, but I think it is quite fetching on me. It is very appropriate, especially if one is the aforementioned Dream Merchant.”
“You are him?” gasped Rose, reluctantly lowering the perfume bottle she had planned to lob at him.
With a polite bow, the old man formally introduced himself, “Silas Agincor, Master Wizard - third level, a.k.a. the Dream Merchant, at your service, my lady!”
With a snap of his fingers, the candle on the nightstand was instantly ignited with a bright amber flame. Its steady light peeled back the gloom so she could better see him in all his glory.
“You are not at all how I imagined,” grumbled Rose, heaving a disenchanted sigh as she took a tentative step closer to inspect this Wizard by candlelight.
“Well, I am sorry to disappoint you, but this is your own doing,” responded Silas, his old hands smoothing out his unkempt beard. Feeling slighted by her words, he turned his short, bulbous nose up at the Princess. “You were rather vague when you summoned me in your dream – vacillating back and forth with how you pictured me.”
“I was?”
“Most definitely! And the hour grows late; time was wasting away. I took it upon myself to arrive as I normally appear to those with limited imaginations.”
“Are you telling me that you appear as I had dreamed you?”
“Pretty much.”
“That is impossible! I would never dream up such hideous clothing on anyone. It is a crime of fashion!” disputed Rose, shaking her head in disgust.
“Oh, this is my doing! I quite like my usual attire,” explained Silas. He was unrepentant as he lovingly adjusted his eye-catching apparel. “I chose to overrule your desire of dressing me in that opulent, crushed velvet robe that screamed of snobbery. I also did away with the conventional, pointy hat you mortals seem to associate with us Wizardly types.”
“You do not wear a hat?” questioned Rose.
“Not now,” explained Silas, pointing to his balding head. “Look at what an eon of bad hat-hair has done to me. Besides, it is my personal taste in clothing that allows me stand out from other Wizards, if you get my meaning?”
“Well, had I known that I could conjure you up however I please, I would have dreamed up something much better than this!” exclaimed Rose, pursing her lips in disapproval. “And it is not so much that ghastly robe I find distasteful, the entire package is somewhat wanting.”
“If you find me so abhorrent, it is not too late,” informed Silas. A trace of a mischievous smile appeared beneath the lush growth of silvery whiskers.
“Now you are the thick one. How can I dream when I am wide awake?”
“My dear girl, there are those in the world who can dream with their eyes wide open,” stated the Wizard, raising the tip of his glowing index finger to her forehead. “Obviously, you are not one of them. Try this.”
As his fingertip touched lightly against her forehead, a strange tingling sensation expanded from this point of contact. Like a pebble tossed onto the mirror-like surface of a tranquil pond, it rippled, expanding outward to migrate through her body. It was the same prickly feeling when one’s foot falls asleep, but this time, it felt as though her head was abuzz with this numbing sensation.
“Now, close your eyes and relax completely. Deep in your mind’s eye, conjure up an image of exactly how you would imagine me to look.”
/> “And I can truly imagine you any way I want?” queried Rose, as one of her eyes popped open as she searched the Wizard’s face for the truth.
“Yes! I can appear more eye-pleasing if that is your wish, or however you want me to be; taller, shorter, fatter, younger and so on. Just be sure you have a clear image in your mind.”
“You can make it so? However I imagine?”
“It sounds rather dubious, but yes. I will warn you though, do not get silly with this magic,” cautioned Silas. “Calling me up is serious business, after all.”
“I must try this!” exclaimed Rose, squeezing her eyes shut.
“Take a deep breath, clear your mind and create a picture in your head of exactly how you would like to see me,” instructed the Wizard. “The more vivid the image, the more real it shall become.”
Rose did exactly as Silas requested, clearing her mind as she exhaled a slow, deep breath. Pushing away the occasional random thought that wandered into her mind, she conjured up a new and improved image for the Wizard. As her eyes snapped open, she leapt back, squealing in surprise and horror.
The Wizard stood before her, the head of a goat with a long, scruffy beard protruded from a human body still draped in the gaudy robe she so disliked.
“Baa-ad girl!” he bleated. “I warned you not to get silly.”
“Ewww! I hate goats!” exclaimed Rose, staring in repulsion.
“Then why did you not think of something more pleasant?” scolded the goat-headed Wizard.
“I did not think it would actually work.”
“Well, try again,” urged Silas, fighting the urge to chow down on the linen sheets. “Before I take to eating everything in sight.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, another image popped into her head, but before it could take full form, Rose opened her eyes. She gasped, stumbling back as she stared at Silas in this new form.
“This is truly disturbing!” gasped Rose, leaping onto the bed to get away from the Wizard. Instead of the goat head on a human body, this time, he had a human head on the body of a basset hound.
“What is the meaning of this!” growled Silas, frantically spinning about like a dog chasing its tail as he tried to inspect his flea-bitten, canine body. The claws tipping his stumpy legs clattered loudly against the floor as he spun in a patchwork blur of black, tan and white fur as he tried not to trip over his beard.
“You said to think of something more pleasant,” argued Rose. “I like dogs, but not like this! You are like a man and an animal – a manimal!”
“Just calm down!” snapped Silas, his new tail wagging enthusiastically. “Try it again, but please, this time restore my dignity and make the change an actual improvement, not some aberration of nature. Think of how you would truly like me to appear. Think carefully, think clearly and stop with this nonsense – no more conjuring up thoughts of animals.”
Rose closed her eyes, drew in a deep, cleansing breath and as she exhaled, her mind was cleared. As she conjured up a fresh image, her lips curled into a mischievous smile.
Before Silas could stop her, he was transformed once again. To his pleasant surprise, he was no longer a quadruped with a wagging tail. Instead, he was standing on his own two feet and still donning his eye-catching ensemble.
“This is better,” praised the Wizard, preferring his original form.
Rose said nothing in response, she merely stood before him, giggling quite loudly.
“What?” snapped Silas, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he glanced at her.
His hands instinctively smoothed out his beard to make himself look more presentable, but half way down its length, his hands came to an abrupt halt. They were met by what he first thought was a line of knots tangled in his beard.
Peering down, a neat row of dainty, pink, satin bows met his eyes; each perfectly spaced and tied to decorate his freshly groomed beard.
“What have you done now?” gasped Silas, spinning about to look at his reflection in the mirror positioned over the dresser. His jaw dropped in shock, stunned by what he saw. The Princess had gone overboard in her efforts to conjure up a neater looking, well-groomed Wizard.
“This is most unbecoming! I look like a fancy show horse being readied for dressage!” admonished Silas, yanking at the bows adorning what hair he had left. They encircled his head like an odd-looking, pink crown.
Rose ceased her fit of giggles only when the Wizard threatened to leave, “I have had enough of this foolishness! If you refuse to treat me with the respect and dignity I am deserving of, then neither are you deserving of my gift!”
“Wait!” pleaded the Princess, biting her lower lip to stop laughing. “I could not help myself. I promise, it will not happen again! Give me another chance!”
Silas scowled in disapproval. The long, wiry hairs of his grizzled brows knitted together in an angry frown, but this harshness was somehow lost to her by the decorative bows adorning his beard and thinning head of hair.
“You are utterly lacking in self-control and discipline,” scolded the Wizard. “I hardly think you are worthy of another chance.”
“I swear on my father’s good name, I will do better,” vowed Rose; hand over heart as she made this solemn promise.
“No more shenanigans?” questioned the flustered Wizard.
“I promise!”
“Very well, then. This is your last opportunity, but if I do not see a concerted effort on your part, I will take my leave immediately.”
“I promise to conjure up a more dignified image for you. Something even you will be pleased with.”
“I will be the judge of that. Now, start again,” ordered Silas. “Close your eyes, inhale deeply and as you exhale, clear your mind of all thoughts. Concentrate only on how you truly want to see me.”
This time, Rose did exactly as she was instructed. She focused on this new image to create a concise picture in her mind’s eyes.
“That is more like it,” decided the Princess. She opened her eyes to check out her latest creation.
Gone were the garish robe, the long, silvery beard, the wrinkled, liver-spotted skin and the prominent, bulbous nose. Instead, Silas now appeared before her as a handsome, young man dressed in princely finery. He had stunning sapphire eyes, wonderfully chiselled features, and a flowing mane of golden hair even she would envy. However, he now stood no taller than her largest doll.
“I must say! I look quite dapper, but now I am no bigger than a garden gnome,” Silas squeaked in a small voice that perfectly matched his diminutive stature as his hands caressed the youthful, wrinkle-free skin on his face.
“It is much better, but not anywhere near the height I had hoped for,” decided Rose, shutting her eyes once more.
When she opened them again, the Wizard now stood six-feet tall and he was irresistibly handsome.
Rose clapped her hands with glee as she skipped over to the Wizard. “Oh, this is so much better! I like this!”
And then he spoke: “Well, I am duly flattered!”
The same stern, gruff voice came out of that perfect mouth to effectively shatter this grand illusion.
The Princess released a dreary sigh of disappointment as she gazed at this seemingly improved version of the Dream Merchant. “I take it, you are still you?”
“Of course I am! Otherwise, I would not be able to make your dreams come true. Instead, I would be just another dashing gadabout that you’d undoubtedly expect to charm you off your feet.”
As visually pleasing as this transformation was, Rose could not get over that grating, know-it-all voice, now synonymous with the Wizard. She shuddered, disgusted by the thought of cozying up to this mysterious being disguised as a charming prince.
“Can I turn you back into a dog?”
“Not if you want your dreams to come true,” cautioned Silas, issuing a stern warning to the Princess. “You turn me into a mutt and depending on how strong your imagination is, I shall probably spend the entire time begging for food, chasing my tail or heaven
-forbid, licking my you-know-what as dogs often do.”
“Will you stop it with that talk!” snapped Rose, as she tried to erase this disturbing image from her mind. “You are giving me a bad case of the willies!”
“We must get down to business, for there are others in need of my services, after all,” suggested the now-handsome Wizard with the old man’s voice.
“Just give me a moment,” ordered Rose.
She closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath and as she exhaled, she gave her body a quick shake, right down to her manicured fingertips. Her eyes popped open once more as she announced, “We may now proceed. My mind is clear.”
“Oh, goodie!” responded Silas, in feigned enthusiasm as he sat down on the fine wool area rug by her bed. “Then proceed, we shall.”
“Hold on,” said Rose. She fetched the goose down pillow from the bed, placing it on the rug. Feeling more at ease with this eye-pleasing version of the Dream Merchant to deal with, she made herself comfortable, her royal bottom now suitably cushioned. “Now I am ready.”
“Are you positive?”
“Absolutely,” confirmed the Princess, her eyes shining bright with eager anticipation of what was to come. “Now, how does all this work? Can I truly get any and all of my dreams fulfilled?”
“To put it simply, if you dream it, you can make it so,” confirmed Silas, sweeping the golden locks from his dazzling sapphire eyes as he took a moment to enjoy his new, youthful form. “Even the strange and the fantastical can happen if that is your wish. For example, if you dream of making this rug fly, whisking you off to wherever you please, it can be done.”
“Now that is downright silly,” scoffed Rose, with a giggle. “Who in their right mind would ever wish to ride on a flying carpet?”
“Fine! The point being, it was just an example of what can be achieved no matter how extravagant or wild your dreams are.”
“Point taken, now get to the important stuff,” ordered the Princess. Her hand gesturing for him to hurry up as the clock in the watchtower sounded to announce the first stroke of midnight. “How do I make my dreams come true?”
“Typically, when you summon me in your dreams to grant your wish, I appear just as I did on this eve.”
“Hold on here! This leads me to believe I am only getting one. I thought I was entitled to all the wishes I could ever dream of,” protested Rose, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“That you are, but I am a very busy Wizard, I cannot be at your constant beck and call for each and every little wish.”
“I have been duped!” gasped Rose. “I am a princess, therefore, I am entitled to more than just one stinking wish!”
“It is only a stinking wish if that is how you dream it up. And besides, the wise need only a single wish, one dream to come true to be truly happy, but I sense you shall be more demanding than most.”
“Are you saying I am not wise because I have many I wish to be fulfilled?” queried Rose. “Or is this your way of cheating me of what is rightfully mine?”
“You can have as many as you please, Princess, but a time will come when an embarrassment of riches shall become just plain, simple embarrassment.”
“Are you wealthy?” questioned the Princess.
“By no means in the monetary sense, but I do have an abundance of loyal and loving friends and I want for naught. Overall, I get by quite nicely.”
“Now that is rather pathetic! Getting by implies just that. You are poor,” snorted Rose, rolling her eyes as she responded in an incredulous tone. “And that explains much about your sentiments!”
“What about them?” questioned Silas.
“It is like the way homely people have great personalities to compensate for their ugliness,” explained the Princess, her words matter-of-fact. “In your case, you use these so-called loyal friends to make up for your impoverished state. It is meant to make you feel better despite living in destitute squalor.”
“What are you speaking of, girl?”
“Listen up! If you really knew what you were speaking of, you would know great wealth can buy you all the friends you’d ever want, not to mention those in the higher echelons of society, plus so much more,” explained Rose. “You would know there is absolutely nothing embarrassing about being rich.”
“Well, it is apparent to me that you only know of excess. The meaning of moderation is quite foreign to you, so for your own good, I must enforce specific restrictions in dispensing these wishes,” decided Silas.
“Like what? Are you going back on your promise that I can have all the wishes I can dream up?”
“I am a man of my word,” swore Silas. “You can have whatever you dream up, however, they will be doled out accordingly. In your case, no more than three wishes per day.”
“Three per day? Do you mean three during the hours of daylight?” asked Rose, wishing for clarification. “And then three more in the evening?”
“I mean three in a twenty-four hour period. And I am wise to your ways, young lady! No manipulation of taking one of these wishes and wishing for three more in its place. Such violation of the enforced rules shall effectively nullify our deal and you shall be allotted only one wish per day.”
“Still, three is a bit stingy, don’t you think?” responded Rose, her lower lip protruding in a pout.
“Not if there is a great deal of thought and consideration in the making of these wishes,” corrected Silas. “One can be as good as one dozen if you know what you are doing.”
“Well, I think you should give it more thought and consider giving me more than three wishes.”
“Are you sure you are a princess? For I swear, your humorous comments are more fitting of a court jester.”
“Ha, ha!” scoffed Rose, in mock laughter. “There is a court jester, but sadly, he is not that funny.”
“And why is that?”
“How would I know? Tag is none of my concern.”
“Perhaps he should be,” responded Silas.
Rose unleashed a dreary sigh as she sulked, “I thought we were going to discuss the business of making my dreams come true?”
“Fair enough,” conceded Silas, his hands fishing about the pockets of his new, fancy trousers. “Let us get down to business. First, you shall be in need of this.”
He presented to the Princess a perfectly round, highly polished, marble-sized stone of the clearest quartz crystal.
“What is this?” asked Rose, staring at the flawless orb nestled in the palm of his hand.
“This is a dreamstone,” revealed Silas, holding it before her eyes.
“And exactly what does this quaint, little rock do?” questioned Rose, eyeing the crystal with a degree of suspicion. In her mind, it looked quite ordinary. There was nothing about it that appeared magical.
“As I said before, because I cannot be at your constant beck and call for each and every little wish percolating in that fecund imagination of yours, I have vested this special crystal with magical powers. It will allow this stone to make your dreams become reality.”
“Oh! I am liking this!” squealed Rose, giddy with excitement.
“There is a warning that comes with this magic crystal,” cautioned Silas.
“What is it?”
“You must always keep it safe on your person, for if it should fall into the wrong hands, the consequences can be dire,” warned the Dream Merchant, his voice became foreboding and grave.
“How dire?” Rose stared at the lovely, but innocuous-looking stone that had the power to potentially do so much for her.
“Dire as in ‘we’re all gonna die’ dire!” exclaimed the Wizard. He pretended to tear out his hair in a fretful bout of anxiety as though the world was about to come to a cataclysmic end.
“That bad?” questioned Rose, her hand recoiling at this unexpected news.
“Maybe not,” responded Silas, with a shrug of his shoulders. “That shall depend on whose hands it falls into.”
“Well then, my first wish, and
you will be pleased to know it is a wise one, is that you make it so I do not lose this dreamstone,” decided Rose.
“Not bad,” praised Silas, giving her a prudent nod as he worked his magic. “Will this do?”
Opening his hand once more, this time the crystal orb was suspended on a delicate, filigree bead cap. It dangled from a matching chain that glistened like the highest quality silver. “You can wear it as a necklace, plus, it will always be close to you and within your sight.”
“This will simply not do,” dismissed Rose. Shaking her head in disapproval, it was as if it was a tawdry piece of jewellery unworthy of her consideration; a cheap bauble that had fallen out of fashion and she’d never be caught dead wearing.
“And just why not?” asked Silas.
“It is not gold. Everyone knows I wear only the highest quality gold.”
“But this is platinum, more rare than the yellow gold you are accustomed to.”
“I know, but the average person will mistake it for lowly silver. I cannot allow the people to think I am dressing below my means,” explained Rose, turning her nose up at the silvery necklace.
“Very well,” groaned the Dream Merchant, his hand rolling into a tight fist as he reworked his magic. “Gold, it is.”
As he unclenched his fist, he presented to Rose the magic crystal dangling from a fine strand of gold. It shone in the candlelight for her to admire in all its understated glory.
“I suppose this will have to do,” decided Rose, slipping the gold necklace over her head. “Considering I only wear the finest diamonds and other precious gems, and not cheap pieces of quartz crystal, I suppose I can get used to it, considering its potential value.”
“Its true value will be entirely dependent upon the bearer,” stated Silas.
“And how long do I have it?”
“It is yours for however long you feel it is necessary. Once you no longer have a need for the dreamstone, you must return it to me. You cannot simply give it to another, nor can you pawn, trade or sell it. It must come back to me or else – ”
“I know, I have heard it before,” interjected Rose, with a dreary sigh. “I will be cursed.”
“No, but that is a bloody good idea if it keeps you on the straight and narrow,” responded Silas, giving her a thoughtful nod. “I was going to say that if you foolishly give it to another, not knowing what his intentions are, you can bring about the doom of innocent people. Great harm can come to others; their fate altered because of your negligence.”
“Doom… great harm… altered fate,” repeated Rose, nodding as though she was acknowledging the Wizard’s every word when, in all honesty, she really didn’t care as long it was not her fate that was going to be doomed or altered in a negative way. “I understand. Now, the hour grows late. We do not have all night. How does this magic crystal work?”
“First of all, you should know the dreams you conjure up in your head while you are fast asleep often reveal your deepest desires. However, the best ones are created when you dream while you are awake,” explained Silas.
“So I can just wish for what I want,” determined the Princess, staring intently at the dreamstone.
“Oh, no, it is not as simple as that! Dreaming while asleep is easy, but as I said, to dream while you are wide-awake is a whole other matter. It is a skill that must be mastered and requires great focus.”
“How do I do this once you leave?”
“A master storyteller can have entire tales unfold in their mind, each character as real as you or I, every action and reaction played out in exquisite detail as they commit these stories to parchment. So, too, can you dream in this manner.”
“It sounds difficult,” decided Rose.
“True, but it is a skill that can be mastered. It is like daydreaming, but this time, you must put thought and intention into your imaginings. They must be crystal clear in your mind’s eye, and not only must you see it, you must believe it to be real. It must be tangible on all levels for it to become reality.”
“And if I am not able to devote this kind of concentration to this wakeful dreaming, then what?” Never one to dedicate herself to any of her studies, in her heart, Rose sensed she would lack the discipline to master this skill, too.
“If you do not concentrate, your thoughts will be scattered, and so will the magic required to make it real,” cautioned Silas. “You shall end up wasting wishes correcting the ones that fall short of your expectations.”
“I do suppose that dreaming while asleep can produce rather random results, for there are times when my dreams can be quite odd, but considering the amount of effort to dream otherwise, maybe that is not such a bad thing.”
“If you are lazy and unconcerned about the quality of the end results, then it really does not matter,” agreed Silas. “However, if you have focus and direction, a single, well-thought-out dream can be far more satisfying than a multitude of insignificant, random ones.”
“But it seems so much easier to dream while asleep,” whined Rose. She balked at the idea of being made to work, even if it was not manual labour she was confronted with. “Are these dreams not as easy to fulfill as the wakeful ones?”
“Yes, they are, but, it is only because they are conjured up by your true self,” responded Silas, debating whether this girl even had a conscience and functioning moral compass to steer her through the obstacles of life.
“Well, my true self cautions me against exerting more effort than I must when there is a faster, easier way of achieving results,” decided Rose.
“As I said, these nocturnal wanderings in your mind’s eye can reveal some of your deepest desires, but so too, can they expose some of your darkest secrets,” cautioned the Dream Merchant.
“Not that I have any dark secrets to be worried about, but how do I prevent the undesirable dreams from coming true?” questioned Rose.
“That is easy, Princess. Only the dreams conjured up while you sleep, the ones you are the most deserving of, tend to come to fruition,” revealed Silas, flashing Rose a dashing smile with the perfect set of pearly white teeth she had imagined him with. “If there are no dark secrets as you claim; no reason for concern.”
“Brilliant!” squealed the Princess. Pleased with this knowledge, her hands clapped together in delight, for in her mind, she was most deserving of only her grandest wishes, not those pesky dreams that sometimes played out in her mind after a particularly trying day of ordering the staff about. “But suppose I simply change my mind and decide I do not like the dream that had come true?”
“To undo a wish will require you to use another to correct it, if indeed you have another left during the twenty-four hour cycle. That is why I urge you to use utmost discretion to employ this magic.”
“I suppose that will do. As long as it can be undone if I am not pleased with the results, that is all that matters.”
“Now, ask me what the catch is,” urged Silas, giving the Princess a shrewd wink.
“Is there a catch?”
“Always! Nothing is for free, my dear girl. After all, I am the Dream Merchant, not the Dream Giver-Awayer,” grunted Silas, his eyes rolling in frustration. “I do not know about you, but in my world, the word merchant implies commerce and trade.”
“So, there is a price to be paid if I want the magic imbued in this crystal,” determined Rose.
“Everything has a price,” cautioned the purveyor of dreams.
“What is this price? Whatever it is, I will pay it.”
“You are still young, possessing nothing you yourself had earned to truly appreciate its worth. I desire something money cannot buy, but is priceless to you, nonetheless.”
“And what would that be?”
“The love of your parents,” answered Silas.
It was always his goal to set the price so high, it became a very real deterrent to those who were indiscriminate or careless about what they wish for. As was usually the case, the average person with any scruples would rescind the offer,
thinking better of striking up a deal with this Wizard.
“Say again?” Rose gasped in surprise.
“I know the price is steep, but it must be equal to, if not greater, than the value of the dreamstone and all the powers it is imbued with. Let me just say, it is a way of putting your priorities in order. Of course, if you feel it is not a fair trade, then we will conclude negotiations and I shall be on my way.”
For a lingering moment, Rose pondered his offer in silence.
Silas Agincor was sure he had effectively squelched her desire now that the price seemed exorbitant.
“Well, I suppose I shall take my leave now,” announced the Wizard. He reached to reclaim the crystal hanging about Rose’s neck, only to have the Princess abruptly step away to avoid his grasp.
“Hold on!” snapped the Princess. “I am still considering your offer.”
“What is there to consider?” grunted Silas. “Your parent’s love for the magic crystal… the price is far too great!”
“You said that, not me,” retorted Rose, mulling over this trade.
He was momentarily stunned to discover this mortal was willing to give up what other lonely and neglected children would die for.
“In fact, I would say you are the one who is about to be short-changed in this deal,” decided Rose.
“Good gracious! That is a terrible thing to say about your mother and father,” chastised Silas.
“Think what you want. I know my parents do not truly love me. That is why they are so mean to me.”
“Do they beat, starve or verbally abuse you? Do they treat you like an orphaned child subjected to a gruelling life as a slave in a work house?”
“They might as well,” grumbled the Princess, completely disenchanted with her royal life. “If they truly loved me, they would stop nagging at me to mind my manners and to ‘behave as a Princess should’. They would allow me to do as I please, when I please. I would not be made to endure long hours of study to, as they put it, ‘broaden my horizons and to challenge me intellectually’ nor would they subject me to incompetent staff that fail to treat me with the respect I am deserving of.”
“And I suppose there is more,” said the Wizard, rolling his eyes in dismay as the Princess drew a deep breath.
“Oh, I have only just begun,” spouted Rose, as she continued on her little tirade to justify her stance. “I am bound by stifling rules and strict orders just to please my mother and father. They try to control what I say and how I say it! They tell me when I should go to bed, even when I am not tired. They even choose when and what I eat, ignoring my wishes of changing my diet to suit me.”
“You wish to become a vegetarian?” questioned Silas, as he struggled to better understand this mortal’s dilemma.
“Are you mad? I wish to become a dessertarian!”
“A what?” asked Silas. “I have never heard of such a thing.”
“For the uneducated, it means I would like to subsist on a diet consisting of only desserts. I’d take my sticky toffee puddings and treacle-smothered cakes over a healthy serving of meat and vegetables, any day.”
“My goodness, a daughter of privilege so hard done by -- made to suffer nonetheless!” declared Silas, his tone mocking as he pretended to blot away a non-existent tear of sympathy. “Did it ever occur to you the King and Queen do what they must because they love you?”
“If this is love, I can do without it!” sniffed Rose, her words tainted with bitterness. “It would be so much better if they just ignored me – pretended I did not exist. I would be free to do whatever I please, come and go as I desire, and get away with bloody murder if that was what I wanted.”
“Is this your wish? For the ones who love you to treat you like you no longer exist?” questioned Silas. “Think carefully, Princess, for the ramifications of such of wish can have grave consequences.”
“It would be a bloody good start,” decided Rose. “But I suppose I am being a bit rash. It does sound rather extreme when you really think about it.”
“Indeed, it is,” agreed the Wizard, relieved to see the Princess was finally beginning to understand the importance of wishing, and wishing well.
“Maybe if my mother and father, and those in their service who constantly hover around me, just ignored the things I say and do, it would be a better wish. I would be able to do whatever I please.”
Silas’ hand slapped his forehead in frustration, groaning in disbelief upon hearing this revision.
“Well? Can this wish be granted?” asked Rose.
“I suppose as I am restricting you to three wishes per day, a lesser trade of being ignored will suffice than to forfeit their love entirely. The question is, are you willing to pay the price?”
“Absolutely! However, love is not tangible like money or jewels,” countered the Princess. “It is not as if it can be stuffed into a purse and traded away in exchange for something that is real.”
“Though you cannot see the wind, it is still very real. On a hot summer day, you can feel its cooling breeze on your face or be witness to its devastating powers if it chose to unleash its wrath in a terrible storm.”
“I will give you that, but it does not explain how you intend to exchange this so-called love or in my case, going by ignored so I may do as I please, for this wondrous dreamstone,” argued Rose, her fingers fondling the crystal she now coveted.
“I am a Wizard! I have my ways,” responded Silas, giving the Princess a sly smile. “But are you sure of this? Is the price truly worth it?”
“Believe me, if they loved me, they would allow me to do what I please. The only way that will ever happen is if they ignore me. I would be free to do whatever I want – to make my own decisions and act on my own free will.”
“Just know that their concern and love comes from the heart. Without it, there is no compassion,” warned the Wizard. “This is what separates man from beast. Are you still willing to barter it away so easily?”
“To get whatever I desire? It is more than a fair trade,” decided Rose, her head nodding judiciously.
“As you sound so confident, here is advice you must heed as you willingly engage in this transaction,” offered Silas.
“What is that?”
“Just because your dreams come true, it does not guarantee happiness. Sometimes, it is a wish squandered. In fact, the best you can do is to wish good things for others, for when you do, good things will come back to you many fold. But for that to happen, it must be a selfless wish, a random act of kindness if you will, made freely from the heart without the intention you shall gain something in return.”
“To make a wish for another is to squander a wish,” corrected Rose.
“You say that now, but there will come a day when you will truly understand what I speak of,” cautioned Silas. “You might even discover that wishes made for you by others can bring you tremendous contentment – true happiness. It can even mean your salvation.”
For a moment, Rose silently mulled over his words of warning, and then she began to giggle, “I think not! I am the only one who can dream up the best wishes for me. The only things other people wish for me is that I behave like an obedient, well-mannered princess, treat the lowly commoners with greater respect, take to my studies with greater zeal and so on and so forth. And that is just my mother’s wishes!”
“Queen Beatrice is respected for her wisdom and compassion,” responded Silas. “You would be wise to heed her words.”
“Whose side are you on?” grumbled the Princess, stomping her feet in frustration as she glared at the Dream Merchant. “This is supposed to be about me and my wish!”
“Yes, yes! So you have no reservations in receiving the dreamstone at the said price?” queried Silas, making certain she was clear on this deal.
“None, whatsoever,” confirmed Rose, her hand wrapping around the crystal pendant to make sure he did not renege on his offer.
“Then our negotiations have come to a conclusion. The stone is yours for
however long you wish to keep it,” announced Silas, bowing in acknowledgement of this deal.
“That is it?” asked Rose, her eyes nervously darting about, searching for a spectacular show of the Dream Merchant’s powers. “No thunder and lightning? No great earthquake to herald this event?”
“Not all magic requires a grand display to unleash its powers. I prefer a more subtle approach,” explained Silas, with a shrug of his now broad, manly shoulders. He playfully tossed his luxuriant mane of golden hair he’ll be made to relinquish once this deal was complete and he vanished from this bedchamber to appear in another mortal’s dream.
“So, it is done?” questioned Rose. She felt oddly the same for one who had been granted such a wondrous gift.
“Indeed, it is,” confirmed Silas.
“And you were serious when you said I am only allotted three wishes per day?” questioned Rose.
“For your own good, yes! And as it is just after the midnight hour, the twenty-four hour cycle has already commenced. You have until the stroke of midnight to use this allotted quota, if it pleases you.”
“And suppose I use only two and still have one left? Can I bank it? Carry it forward to the next cycle?” asked Rose, hopefully.
“Must you push it?” groaned Silas, shaking his head in frustration as he waved three fingers before her face to make it absolutely clear. “Three per day means just that! It will not be my fault if you chose not to use your quota on whatever given day.”
“But suppose I lose count and I accidentally wish for more than three,” asked the Princess, still searching for a loophole that would allow her to exceed this daily quota.
“Then you, my dear Princess, are an idiot in need of a wish to better your basic mathematical skills. For now, consider yourself duly warned.”
“So be it,” said Rose, nodding in agreement. “Consider me warned.”
“Then, I shall wish you well and I pray you learn to temper your wants and your needs, and more importantly, you come to know the difference or this whole experience can all go to hell in a hand-basket for you, if you are not careful.”
“Well that sounds rather dark and foreboding,” responded Rose, uncertain if this Wizard was speaking in jest.
“It was meant to be.”
“Oh… I suppose if it should, even though it won’t, I really should know how to return this dreamstone to you.”
“That is easy to do,” responded Silas, giving her a knowing smile. “If you ever wish to summon me for this purpose, you must, and I cannot emphasize it enough, you must say: Oh, great Wizard, the Merchant of Dreams, please answer this wish to put an end to my schemes.”
“That is it? I must recite this dreadful rhyme?” mocked Rose.
“So revoke my artistic license! I will be the first to admit I have no career as a great poet, but at least it is easy to remember. That was the whole point of it,” explained Silas, his cheeks blushing with embarrassment as this mortal ridiculed him. “Just be sure you say it exactly as I did. Now, shall I repeat it for your benefit?”
“That will not be necessary,” assured Rose, shooing the princely-looking Wizard away from her bedchamber. “Take your leave. Do so now!”
“Just be careful what you wish for, Princess,” cautioned Silas, as he faded away like a wisp of smoke.
“I have already heard that warning before! Now, go!” grumbled Rose, her hands reaching out to fan away this swirling vapour as it vanished into the night. “I have some serious dreaming to do.”
End of this sample
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