Then it happened.
Well… almost.
The stick, or - as Mercor insisted – the magic wand, fizzed a bit at the end like a damp bonfire-night sparkler and the frog glared back at me.
Mercor studied the frog for a moment. ‘Not exactly a princess, is it?’ He looked over his eyeglasses at me, raising a portion of his facial forestry, which on someone less hirsute would be in the vicinity of an eyebrow.
‘Magic is bollocks.’ I glared at the stick… wand… in my hand. I waved it around a bit, like a bonfire night sparkler.
Mercor ducked, surprisingly fast for someone of his age… whatever that age was. ‘Careful!’ He raised himself up from behind the workbench. ‘That thing is still charged.’
‘Rubbish, there’s no such thing as magic, I threw the stick down on the workbench. There was a dazzling flash. One of the nearby curtains caught fire.
‘Shit.’ I said.
‘See?’ Mercor folded his arms, his hands disappearing into the sleeves of his gown. I thought about mentioning wizard’s sleeves, but he didn’t look like he’d appreciate the joke right now.
‘Magic does exist.’ He spoke as he picked up a bucket of water and doused the flaming curtain. Black smoke rose from the curtain as it dripped wetly on the floor.
He turned back to me, gesturing for me to pick up my sti… wand.
‘Now, the frog.’ He pointed.
‘Er…?’
‘What now?’
‘Shouldn’t frogs turn into princes, not princesses?’ I shrugged. ‘Y’know… traditionally?’
Mercor looked at me. ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise you were… that way inclined…. I’ll get you a male frog.’
‘No… no…. I want… like the female.’ I waved the stick at him. There was another blinding flash. ‘I’m more than happy with a female fro… Mercor…? Mercor?’
Where the wizard once stood, there was now a frog sitting on the empty heap of wizard robes next to the fallen wizard’s hat.
‘Oh, shit.’ I said.
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