Weary

By Robert P. Hansen

Dujab’s day begins like most days do: with a hot bath. He expects it to continue with breakfast, a few clients seeking his spells or knowledge, and a bit of research. But this isn’t a normal day. His bath is interrupted by a mysterious visitor who makes a simple request that sets in motions events that may lead to both of their deaths. But Dujab is not the average wizard: He has skills and knowledge and resources that most don’t. The question is: will they be enough?
Weary is a prequel novella for my Angus the Mage series. It would fit in well between The Lake of Scales and The Viper’s Fangs. It occurs a few centuries earlier and involves two of the characters that appear in that series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert P. Hansen
• Release date: Jul 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215539347

Robert P. Hansen

Robert P. Hansen has taught community college courses since 2004 and is currently teaching introductory courses in philosophy and ethics. Prior to that, he was a student for ten years, earning degrees in psychology (AA, BA), philosophy (BA, MA-T), sociology (MA), and English (MA). Writing has been a hobby of his since he graduated high school, going through several phases that were influenced by what he was doing at the time.In the late 1980s and early 1990s, he played Dungeons and Dragons, read fantasy novels, and wrote fantasy short stories. He was also influenced by country music, particularly ballads, and wrote a number of short fantasy ballads that were later incorporated into the long poem "A Bard Out of Time."In the mid-1990s, college and work did not leave him much time for writing, and he mainly wrote poetry. It was during this period that he learned how to write sonnets and became obsessed with them. Since he was focused on developing the craft of poetry, it was a recurring theme in many of the poems from this period ("Of Muse and Pen"); however, as a student of psychology, psychological disorders were also of interest to him, and he wrote several sonnets about them ("Potluck: What's Left Over"). He also began to submit his poems for publication, and several appeared in various small press publications between 1994 and 1997.Most of the poems appearing in "Love & Annoyance" (both the love poems and the speculative poems) were written while he was a student (1994-2004), and relate to his romantic misadventures and his discovery of philosophy, the proverbial love of his life.The poems in "A Field of Snow and Other Flights of Fancy" do not fit into a specific period; they are humorous poems reflecting momentary insights or playful jests, which can happen at any time. However, most were written before 1999.In 1999, his interest shifted to writing science fiction short stories. Most of these stories were a response to a simple question: Why would aliens visit Earth? The majority of these stories appeared in magazines published by Fading Shadows, Inc. He later returned to this question in 2013 to finish his collection, "Worms and Other Alien Encounters."In 2003, he discovered the poetry of Ai as part of a project for a poetry workshop. Ai is known for her persona poems written from the perspective of serial killers, murderers, abusers, and other nasty characters. Her work inspired him, and he entered a dark period, writing several macabre persona poems similar to Ai's and compiling his thesis, "Morbidity: Prose and Poetry", which focused on death, dying, and killing. ("Last Rites ... And Wrongs" is an expansion of that thesis.)While a graduate student at the University of Northern Iowa, he twice won the Roberta S. Tamres Sci-Fi Award for his short stories "Exodus" (2003) and "Cliche: A Pulp Adventure Story" (2004).He did very little writing from 2004 to 2010; he was too busy developing or refining the courses he was teaching. From 2010 to 2013, he focused mainly on organizing, revising, and submitting the work he had already completed, which resulted in several poems and short stories being published. He wrote sporadically until the spring of 2013, when he finished the initial draft of his first full-length novel "The Snodgrass Incident," which expanded upon and integrated three short stories he had written in the fall of 2012.In the fall of 2013, he prepared several collections (poems and stories) for publication on Amazon and made a final revision of "The Snodgrass Incident." These were posted early in 2014, and he redirected his attention to other projects, including revising a short fantasy novel and a collection of suspense-oriented fantasy/horror/science fiction stories.

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Weary

By Robert P. Hansen

Copyright 2023 by Robert P. Hansen

Smashwords Edition

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Acknowledgments

Cover Art: Linda Foegen of American Book Design. Cover Image © chiew / Adobe Stock. stock.adobe.com.

Dedication

For my nieces and nephews.

Table of Contents

Weary

1

2

3

4

5

6

Epilogue

Connect With Me

Additional Titles

Weary

1

What is it, Hamari? Dujab asked without opening his eyes.

A visitor, Hamari answered. It is important.

Dujab sighed and sunk a little lower into the hot water, savoring the warmth seeping into his old, wrinkled skin. They all say it’s important, he grumbled. It rarely is.

This time may be different, Hamari said. The visitor wears the garb of an adept.

An adept? Dujab repeated, half-opening his eyes. Which order?

I cannot say, Hamari answered. There is no insignia.

An unadorned adept? Dujab mused, sitting up straighter. That is unusual.

Indeed, Hamari agreed. They generally flaunt their affiliation. She paused a moment, then added, There is a package.

Dujab turned to study Hamari. She had been with him for half a century, and she still looked as lovely as the day they had met. Her normally free flowing white hair was tied back, and she was wearing her favorite pine green tunic over her dimpled torso. Tight-fitting dark brown trousers covered her dainty, muscular thighs. A thick-bladed, bone-hilted dagger hung from the braided brown sash tied loosely about her thin waist. Her tiny feet were bare, as was her preference, and her stoic expression was as carefully modulated as the rest of her appearance. But he knew her too well to miss the slight tightness in her angular cheeks, the little ripple of a wrinkle above her brow, and the way her violet eyes avoided meeting his.

Describe the package, he said, reaching for the little silver ewer and dipping it into the pail of steaming water.

Hamari waited until Dujab had poured the water over his head before saying, I only glimpsed a part of it. It was concealed under the adept’s garb. She paused while Dujab poured more water over his head. "It is wrapped in undyed homespun wool and tied with a cord braided from dried intestine. It was secured well and made no sound when the adept moved. It is roughly the size and shape of Olphat’s Grimoire."

Dujab paused with the ewer submerged in the pail. A tome?

Perhaps.

And? Dujab prompted as he lifted the ewer and waited. What does this visitor want from me?

I cannot say, Hamari answered. The adept only said it was important for you to see it.

"To see it? Dujab repeated. Not to read it or buy it or translate it?"

That was the word the adept used.

Very well, Dujab said setting the ewer down. "I will see this package in the dining chamber."

Hamari nodded, turned, and left.

Dujab gestured for Ding, and the burly youth came over to the bath to help him stand up, then steadied him as Dujab rinsed himself off with the last of the hot water. Then, with the help of Ding, Dujab climbed out of the bath and dried himself off. Ding selected one of the robes and handed it to him, and Dujab slipped it over his feeble old body. He adjusted it until it was comfortably draped about him and then reached for the staff Ding held out to him.

Thank you, Ding, he said. That will be all for now.

Ding nodded and began tidying up the bath.

Dujab leaned lightly on his staff for balance and walked leisurely out of his bathing chamber, through his bedchamber, and into the dining chamber. A covered meal awaited him at the near end of the large table, and his visitor was seated near the far end of it. Hamari hovered a few feet behind the visitor, her hand gently resting on the hilt of her blade. When Hamari saw him, she moved silently toward the head of the table without taking her eyes off the visitor.

His visitor looked up and softly said, Dujab.

Yes, Dujab answered. There was something familiar about the voice, but he couldn’t quite place it. And you are?

His visitor hadn’t answered by the time he reached the table, so he demanded, Well?

Hamari held out the chair for him, and he sat down. Normally, Elan did that when he brought him his meal, and then he stayed to tend to his needs while he ate. He hesitated long enough to catch Hamari’s eye, which was dilated more than usual, and followed her example by bringing the magic into focus.

You may call me Kendrata, his visitor finally said, the voice deliberately weak and gravelly.

Kendrata, Dujab repeated, focusing his full attention on his visitor for the first time. He half-expected to see the adept bathed in the magical energy of a spell, but the magic about his visitor was as it should be, and the magic within the adept appeared to be untainted by outside influence. The concealed package did not appear to be of magical origin, either, or he would have seen a concentrated pool of tangled knots surrounding it. He let the magic recede into the background where it would be ready for use on short notice without being a distraction.

That is not your name, of course, Dujab said as the non-magical world came back into focus. His visitor wore the nondescript garb of a recent convert: plain, homespun gray wool draped over the shoulders and held in place by a sash of braided grass wrapped around the waist. There should have been a bronze clasp securing the cloth at the neck, one with an insignia indicating the adept’s order, but there wasn’t. Instead, it was secured with another strip of braided grass. His visitor was still young, perhaps forty, but that was far too old for a recent convert. His visitor’s hair was unusually short for an adept of that age, and the face powder didn’t quite hide the two-day growth