Remy Ray entered the Yuma train station at precisely 9:26 am on New Year’s Day. By 9:28, the station was frozen solid. Luckily, for Remy, no one had seen the freeze tincture fall from his sleeve and shatter on the ground before spreading across the floors, up the walls, and over the ceiling until the entire building was an ice cube.
He thought about letting the fire skink out of his coat pocket to melt it, but he remembered the words of his father before he embarked on time holiday:
“No altering the course of history—even if that means someone gets hurt.”
Plus, he remembered the time his uncle Rogier used a fire skink while vacationing in Medieval London. The Central Wizarding Bureau was up his ass for weeks about that one.
So Remy quickly walked out of the station and into the town’s saloon amongst the townsfolks.
Dagnabbits and What in the worlds?
“Quite a racket outside,” the saloon-tender said to him.
“Yes, I believe someone froze the train station.”
She looked at him through slanted eyes.
“Erm, anyway, can I have some hot tea perhaps?”
“Tea? You mean that oriental stuff? No tea here, honey. We got whiskey, beer, mezcal, and applejack.” She turned around and looked into the kitchen. “There’s also a fresh pot of coffee I just made for the girls if that’s your sort of thing.”
Remy agreed that was indeed his sort of thing. His father always told him that a wizard should never drink around regular folk because, ”It makes a wizard heedless. One slip of your staff,” he told him, “and next thing you know you turned the barkeep into a porcupine.”
Remy didn’t ask if his father knew that from experience.
The coffee arrived and Remy took a sip. It was thick and bitter. He smiled halfheartedly and pulled out his coin purse.
“It’s on the house, sweetie,” she said with a wink. “Maybe you can use the energy it gives you to buy a dance with one of the girls, that only costs a silver coin.”
A few minutes later, Remy’s coffee was going cold on the counter as he whirled Abigail about. He asked for a kiss on the cheek (and she agreed for only 50 cents more) and then headed out the door into the bright desert sun.
A flock of people had congregated outside the train station. Remy quickly walked by.
Back home, Remy was about to begin his final year at wizarding school and his father had finally given him permission to go on time vacation alone. Remy was surprised that his school’s headmaster, Merlin, had encouraged it.
“It will be good for the boy,” Merlin had said, “let him get a little culture. See how others live.”
Remy had chosen the Wild West because he read a book about cowboys as a kid. His brother told him he should visit somewhere tropical or maybe somewhere cosmopolitan. And as the desert sun beat on his back, he thought that maybe Tahiti would’ve been a better choice. “No matter,” he said to no one in particular. “I’m off to buy a burro.”
Remy didn’t need to haggle with the burro trader—at his school, conjuring silver coins is something you learn in beginner’s alchemy after all—but he tried it as part of the cultural experience. Plus, it was fun. He even got the animal trader to throw in a sombrero with the deal. Which is how Remy found himself riding a burro through the desert, his face perched in the shade of a large, round hat.
Soon the sun took its toll and he began to grow thirsty. He reached into his inner coat pocket and only then realized he had forgotten his infinite water bottle at home.
“Drats,” he said. “How can I get some water without magic?”
Technically, the Central Wizarding Bureau banned all use of magic while on time vacation, except for the use of the time travel spell, of course, and only then at the designated time and place of your departure or if your life was at risk. Remy had logged his itinerary for 4 days, and if he did go back home claiming an emergency, his father would never let him return.
“I told you to double-check your bags,” he could almost hear his father say.
Remy got off his burro, took his magic handkerchief from his coat pocket, and held it over the sand. “Shhmabab-pi-plenka-ply,” he muttered over the Earth, and the sand coalesced into a magic canteen. “There we go,” he said, unscrewing the top. And just as he was about to take a sip—
BAM.
A flash of lightning hit the ground next to him, making him jump back and lose his sombrero in the process. Standing there on the smoking ground was an old man dressed in robes and a pointy hat.
“What are you doing!? You know magic is banned during time vacation?”
“Erm, well you see…”
The old man snatched the canteen out of his hands. “You forgot your infinite water bottle; you deal with the consequences.” And with a pop, he was gone.
“Dam CWB,” Remy muttered.
The old man appeared next to him in a flash. “Watch your tongue,” he said, hit him on the head with his staff, and vanished once again.
Remy picked up his sombrero and got back on his burro. He tried to find his way back to town, but in the desert glare, everything looked the same. The sun continued to rise overhead, getting hotter and hotter. Soon Remy’s mouth was so dry his tongue felt like gauze. At one point, Remy thought he saw the town in the distance. But when he got closer, he realized it was just a small sand dune with the bones of some creature lying on top.
For the next few hours, Remy went in and out of consciousness. The rhythm of the burro lulled him to sleep, only to jerk awake when he began to fall out of the saddle. His only thought was of water. He pictured his infinite water bottle sitting in his enchanted cupboard at home. He thought back to 8th grade when he learned to charm a water bottle to connect to the cool springs of Glasgow, some of the cleanest and purest water on Earth. He remembered when he was a kid, and his father would take him to the mountains and he would swim in the cool, clear streams.
He almost caved in. Took out his magic handkerchief and sent himself home. Surely that would be allowed by the rules. But he couldn’t face his father. He couldn’t face the failure. The last thing he remembered before drifting off to a deep sleep was looking up at the sky and wondering who had forsaken him.
He dreamt his burro was licking his face. He dreamt he was being carried by someone singing songs. He dreamt he was back at the streams he frequented as a kid. He swam deeper and deeper into a dark blue pool until he emerged in a cave on the other side. There was a waterfall. He swam over to it, the water washing over his face.
He awoke dripping wet. He looked up and a young woman was holding an empty—but dripping—bucket. He quickly realized he was in a cave,
“Don’t worry,” the young woman said, “you’re safe now. And your burro is too. I found you in the desert talking to yourself about mountains and waterfalls. Here, drink this.”
She held out a large clay vessel filled with water. He took it and gulped its contents greedily.
“Careful, careful,” she said, “if you drink too much you’ll be sick.”
He began drinking more slowly. The cool water was a refuge for his parched throat and he began to feel his energy return. “Thank you,” he said, returning the now empty vessel to her. “Erm, also, who are you? And where are we? And why did you save me?”
She laughed. “You can call me Anna. My people have lived in this desert for a long time. This cave is where we take refuge. And why did I help you? That’s a silly question, you needed help and I was able to give it.”
Remy stood up, his head rushing slightly. He looked around. There were carvings drawn into the rock of people and animals.
“My ancestors made these carvings. I’ve been coming here looking at them since I was a child. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
Remy nodded his head.
“Where are you from?” She asked.
Remy tried to tell her he wasn’t from too far, just passing through.
She looked at him with her big, brown eyes. “Don’t lie to me, no one who lives around here would go through the desert without water. Besides, you’re different.”
Remy thought about all the rules banning him from telling the truth. But he couldn’t bring himself to lie again. “Dam the CWB,” he said. She giggled. “The truth is, Anna, I’m a wizard.”
She tilted her head and tried to hide a half smile. “If you’re a wizard, where’s your magic staff?” She asked, almost seeming to poke fun at him.
“Staffs are an old man’s game. This is what I use,” he pulled the handkerchief from his coat pocket. “A magic handkerchief. Naturally my father didn’t like it, but to hell with him and to hell with the CWB.”
Anna giggled again.
Remy was surprised the CWB agent from earlier hadn’t apparated in the cave and given him a bonk on the noggin. The cave must have some sort of magical protection. Or else, maybe they just can’t hear this far underground.
“So you believe me, then?” Remy asked.
“Of course I believe you. My people also practice magic, you can see it on the cave all around you. Those are pictures of our magicians talking to the animal spirits.”
“Here, I have something for you,” Remy began digging through his coat pockets. He pulled out a small candy gummy. “Try it, it’s delicious and fun.”
Anna took it, popped it in her mouth, and chewed for only a few moments before swallowing. Her eyes closed and she smiled. A few minutes later she opened her eyes. “I saw so much beauty. Animals, rivers, more greenery than I’ve ever seen. A perfect rainbow. I could feel the light mist on my arms. Where is this place?”
“It’s not a place. It all happened in your head. That was a Fantasy Gummy. It shows you a place your subconscious wants to go. It’s a fun trick, but sadly only lasts a few moments.”
She giggled. “Here, I have something for you too.” Anna motioned for Remy to lie down on the cushions. She found a clay pipe in the corner of the cave and filled it with some sort of plant. She lit it and passed it to Remy. “Here, take a few puffs, then put your head on the cushion.”
The smoke was tasty, but harsh in Remy’s lungs. He exhaled and the white cloud began to grow iridescent. He took a few more and grew very relaxed. The world started blurring and everything looked like it was outlined in a neon rainbow.
“Now close your eyes.”
Almost before Anna was done saying the words, Remy was out.
He saw himself in a tunnel. He had the sense he was going back in time. But this felt different from the instant zap of the time travel spell. This felt like flying.
Soon he emerged in a field of space, clouds of nebulas stretched on forever. The nebulas swirled and coalesced into forms, stars, constellations, planets. He saw the Earth far away and somehow willed his astral body to fly to it.
As he got closer, he began to be sucked in and fell to the ground with a plumph. He was in a desert at night, the dark sky twinkling with countless stars.
“About time, I’ve been expecting you.”
He turned around. It was his burro, only he was slightly translucent. Like a ghost.
“No, a spirit.”
“But how can you read my—”
“The rules are different in here. You’re in the dreamland now. Hop on, I got a few things to show you.”
Remy hopped on his burro, his sombrero suddenly appearing on his head. The burro ran fast, much faster than he could in the real world. He ran so fast Remy began to feel sick. The vomit rose and rose in his gut and he clenched his stomach. When the burro stopped, Remy jumped off and a thick green sludge came out of his mouth.
“Yeah, that happens in here. You’ll get used to it. Besides, you don’t want to miss this.” The burro pointed his hoof behind Remy, who turned around. “This is the first time a wizard ever intentionally killed another wizard. You’ll know the story.”
Remy had, in fact, heard the story of Rogbonius, the first wizard to commit wizardcide.
“Then we have to stop him,” Remy said, pulling out his handkerchief and thinking of the Thousand Year War between the Rogbonians and the Sherwhits.
“You can’t interfere. That’s the rules here. You’re just here to learn. Besides, that type of magic won’t work in here,” the burro said, motioning his head towards the handkerchief.
Remy said a magic phrase, but the handkerchief remained limp in his hand. He looked up and saw Rogbonius raise his gnarled staff and a storm of lightning rained down on Old Man Sherwhit.
Remy averted his eyes a moment too late.
“It’s horrible isn’t it? Come on, I got more to show you.”
The burro walked between Remy’s legs and hoisted him up and began running as if Remy didn’t weigh anything.
“You don’t weigh anything, not here,” the burro said.
Remy was once again annoyed at having his thoughts read, only to realize the burro would also be able to read his annoyance.
“Yeah, you’re starting to get it.”
Remy no longer felt like he’d vomit, but the cramp in his stomach didn’t go away. “Where are you taking me now?”
“You’ll see.”
The burro ran fast towards a building, Remy shielding his face as they collided with the wall. But nothing happened, they just passed right through. They were in a courtroom with 7 wizard judges wearing large white wigs.
“From here on out, we set forth this decree, which grants Goblins voting rights at 1/3 of that of a wizard.”
“The Goblin Voting Act. This caused untold suffering. I read about this in school.”
The burro only nodded his head. “Hold on, we’re almost done.”
They again bolted away, passing through the brick walls, through forests, over mountains, until skidding to a stop in an open meadow. The sun was setting, turning the grass golden-tipped. A young wizard was walking down a path, a witch was sitting in the field watching the sunset.
“Is it? It can’t be?”
“It is. It’s the day you’re parent’s met.”
The wizard began to yelp and shout, holding his foot. The witch, not knowing he was there, was startled, but ran to his aid.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s those dam stinging frogs, one bit me on the foot.”
The witch pulled out a small wand and, tapping his foot, made the pain go away.
“I’m a nurse,” she said. “We deal with stinging frog wounds all the time.”
Once again the burro was off, climbing up, up, and up an impossibly high mountain until they nearly touched the stars. He stopped, and Remy got off. His knees wobbled slightly.
But why? Why sho—”
“Because this all led to you, Remy. Do you not see the connections?”
“What? No, of course I don’t. Rogbius, the Goblin Voting Act, my dad getting stung by a frog?”
The burro sighed. “I forgot how your type are. Here, let me show you.” The burrow seemed to stretch out and enter Remy’s mind through the space between his eyeballs. All was black for a moment, but then Remy began to see.
He saw the series of events. How the death of Old Man Sherwhitt and the 1,000 Years War led to his ancestors selling weaponry and getting rich. How that led them to move. How hundreds of years later their ancestors used their wealth to fight for goblins’ rights. How that led to assassinations and the family moving out to the countryside. How that led to his father being in the field at just the right moment to get stung by a frog. The burro snapped back out of Remy’s head.
Remy fell to his knees, a few tears falling from his eyes. “So if it wasn’t for the killings, for the injustices… I wouldn’t…”
“Yes, you wouldn’t be here. Those are the rules here. And in your land. You’re not separate from anything. Even the worst things. Every murder, every genocide, every act of villainy—you’re a part of too.”
Remy felt a warm tingle grow from his chest. It grew warmer, and then bright, and before Remy could mutter a thank you, it passed through all of existence, brighter than even the stars.
Remy was back in the cave. A fire was burning next to him.
“You’re back,” Anna said.
“That place,” Remy said. “It was–”
“Magical?”
Remy looked at her, wondering if she too could read his mind. She only winked and giggled.
For the next few days, Remy spent his days smoking tobacco in the cave and entering the dream world—and his nights lying under the stars outside with Anna.
Every day he’d meet a new spirit guide who would show him some secret corner of the universe. A few times he tried to use his handkerchief, only to be told, “That type of magic doesn’t work in here.”
When it was time to go, he said goodbye to Anna and thanked her. He even gave her an enchanted flower that could turn into any species just by wishing it were so. He walked outside to his donkey, who gave him a knowing smirk.
Before he took off, Anna ran outside holding something. “Here, I almost forgot, take this.” It was a small clay vessel.
Remy took off the lid and drank some of the liquid. It was cool, clear water. He tipped his sombrero to her and rode off.
“Keep the sun on your left, you’ll be to the town in no time.”
Remy arrived into town and brought the burro back to the animal trader. When the trader said he didn’t want to buy it back, Remy told him it was free. He was keeping the sombrero, though.
He walked into the train station and noticed it smelled damp. A twinge of regret hit him, but he looked outside and saw his burro winking.
“Well, here goes nothing,” he said, pulling out his handkerchief. He disappeared without a trace, and no one but the burro noticed.