[Write the Story] Peri Potter and the Sorcerer’s Bowl

This is isn’t one of the exercises – this is a gift for a friend this SoonerCon weekend.

Peri Potter and the Sorcerer’s Bowl
By Rhonda Eudaly

“Mingus! I know what I’m missing!”

“Yes, Boss?” the henchman’s voice hesitant. As if the excitement in his employer’s tone frightened him.

Petunia whirled on him with a swirl of red skirts. “Yes, Mingus! This spell. This incantation. This…this prophesy needs…” she paused, throwing her arms wide. “A BOWL!”

“All right?” Mingus glanced around. “Which…?”

“Oh, I’m not talking about one of these. This must be a special, never been used vessel.” Petunia tapped the corner of her mouth with a well-manicured fingernail. “I have a job for you, Mingus.”

“Yes, Boss?”

“Find me the best potters in the land. I need an artisan’s help.”

“Right away, Boss.”

Petunia didn’t notice Mingus slip out the door. She had already focused back on the task at hand. The future wasn’t going to work itself out on its own. She had plans. The future was hers to shape, but only if Mingus was successful in his quest to find her a potter.

“Um, Boss?”

Petunia whirled, energy crackling around her fingers. She stopped herself before blasting her minion out of the tower. “Mingus! What have I told you about startling me?”

“That’s why I’m no closer than I am, Boss. You didn’t respond to my other methods.”

Petunia took a couple of long, deep breaths, giving Mingus a fine view of the sorceress’s impressive cleavage. “Well, then, you have my attention, what did you need, Mingus?”

“There are potters downstairs awaiting your pleasure.”

Petunia blinked. “Already?”

“You made the request sound urgent. Also, my sister dabbles in the art. She knows all the best ones. I brought most of them here.”

“Most? Not all?”

“All but one. But…there are reasons. And he wasn’t that high on the list. I’m sure one of the ones I brought will be more than sufficient.”

Mingus shrank from Petunia’s withering glare and seemed to be mentally checking his various body parts were still in their original positions and size. “Um…”

“Well, come along, Mingus, let’s go see who you’ve brought me.”

Petunia swept along the corridor to make her “Grand Entrance”. She sailed into the room with energy crackling around her, drawing every eye and silencing any
comment, complaint, or conversation.

Before she spoke a word, two of the eight potters in her library fainted, landing on the rich rug with muted thumps. The other six quaked in their boots. One by one they sank into quivering bows or to their knees—some in respect, others in abject terror.

“Oh, for goodness sake, get up. All of you. How do we figure out a future partnership if all I know of you is the tops of your trembling heads?”

Slowly the potters staggered to their feet. “Come along to the workshop. I’ll explain what needs doing.” She turned to sail out of the library and gestured behind her. “And bring your unconscious fellows with you.”

In moments the whole crew milled about Petunia’s workshop. Mingus took up a spot along the wall to keep an eye on the group. Most had the wide-eyed wonder she expected from those whom she allowed in. The others seemed frightened, but that was to be expected. People were awed by the fact she had more space on the inside than one expected.

“Come along, come along. Let me tell you what I need.” As Petunia started through her requirements, the potters began arguing.

“Oh, no. You don’t need a bowl. These spells are always done with a goblet or a stone or something.”

“No! Jewelry. And you don’t need one of us, you need a metalsmith, or your spell will go all wrong.”

Petunia’s lips compressed thinner and thinner the more these…people…continue to explain her spell to her and how it was wrong. She shot a look to Mingus, who edged back. He knew her looks and when they didn’t end well.

“ENOUGH!”

Those in the room stilled instantly with Petunia’s thunder, not that she actually raised her voice. The potters shrank before her power.

“But…but…”one of them stammered. “We were only…”

He got no further. Petunia pinned him with a glare. The potter may not have actually shrank from the weight of that particular look, but he did seem significantly smaller.

“You dare mansplain my magic to me?” Sparks danced around her long-nailed fingertips.

The potters all shuffled their feet and mumbled incoherently. Petunia rolled her eyes. Nothing bode well for any of them, but she didn’t have time to teach them a more permanent lesson. She waved her hand, and a small pop cleared the room. She nodded, satisfied with the sudden quiet.

“What…? Where did they all go?” Mingus asked.

“Not here. They were…tiresome.”

“You didn’t…?”

“Oh, they’re home, Mingus. I sent them home. They were annoying but not worth of the headaches I would’ve had from pepping them out of existence.” Petunia huffed just a little bit. “But now, you said there was one more.”

“Oh, him. Yes, the one who wouldn’t come. Said you’d have to come to him.”

Petunia tapped her chin. “Normally I would be perturbed by that, but now. Now, I’m intrigued, given the rest of the ilk. Come along, Mingus, let’s go. You know where this potter’s lair is. I need you.”

“It’s a shop, Boss, not a lair. He’s a potter, not a villain.”

“Semantics, my dear, Mingus. Semantics.” Petunia took Mingus’s head in her hands. “Now concentrate on the location. Ah…yes, there it is.”

And with the familiar “pop” of changing locations, they were somewhere else. They stood outside a hut with rounded window and doors. The carved wooden door swung outward, as did the ornate shutters, letting breeze through the sod covered walls. The arched, shingled roof gave the quaint building a rakish top much like a hat. The whole area glimmered with dappled light through the canopy of trees.

“This is rather charming,” Petunia said.

“Appearances can be deceiving.”

“What was that, Mingus?”

“Nothing, Boss.”

“Then let us see this potter of yours.” Petunia swept towards the door.

“I’m not taking credit for him,” Mingus muttered as he followed the sorceress.

They stepped through the hole shaped doorway to realize why the door and windows stood wide. A wall of heat slapped them in the face.

“You don’t know how to knock?”

Petunia took a step back. For a brief moment she couldn’t believe what she heard and had to bite back a comment. Mingus stepped forward before she completely
composed herself. “Apologies, the door was open?”

“There’s still an expectation of politeness. What business brought you here.”

“I have need of a potter.”

“Obviously, or you wouldn’t be here.”

Petunia caught sight of a quick movement. Mingus seemed to be holding his breath. He apparently thought she was about to level the whole shop. She shook her head and waved him back. “May we speak with you, sir?”

“Give me a moment. My kiln is about done.” Almost on cue a bell dinged a silvery chime followed by creaks and rattles. Petunia scanned the room to see if she could learn something about the potter. Mingus shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable apparently around so many breakable objects.

“Relax, Mingus. The man is simply doing his job. Let him do it.” She smiled at his incredulous gape. “What? He’s an artist, there’s bound to be a bit of temperament. To create well takes time, passion, and focus. I understand the process and can wait. And stop with the dead fish look, it’s not becoming.”

Mingus clamped his jaw shut. She resisted the urge to wink at him, but he was already unsettled, that would just make it worse. A bustling clatter drew her attention from her minion to the potter emerging from the back portion of the shop. He was shorter than she expected, a bit on the round side. He wore a leather apron smeared with clay over a cotton shirt and ragged bottomed, coarse woven pants. His unkempt brown hair framed a friendly, round face and cheerful brown eyes.

“What can I help you with?” He wiped his hands on the clay-smudged apron before holding it out to shake.

Petunia studied the man for a beat before gingerly taking his hand in three of her fingers to keep most of the dirt away. “I have need of a master potter.”

“You’ve come to the right place. I’m Peri, welcome to my shop. What do you need?”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Peri. I’m Petunia, and I’m in need of a bowl.”

To his credit, Peri didn’t even blink at her name. Most people quaked with fear, or blanched, or something, but not the potter. She liked that about him.
“Soup, salad, or scrying?”

“Spell casting.” Mingus heard the note of amusement in her voice.

“Potion, charm, or curse?”

Petunia paused to study the man a beat. He didn’t even blink. She liked him more and more. “What if I said it was for a prophesy with a dash of curse?”

Peri rummaged in his apron and pulled out a small, leather-bound book and a stubby pencil and opened to a page. “Are you providing the prophesy, or am I?”

That did surprise Petunia. “You can do that?”

Peri shrugged. “It costs extra but it can be done.”

“I have my own prophesy, thank you.”

“Is the prophesy imbued or ingested?”

“Overlay.”

Peri nodded thoughtfully as he made notes. “That gives us a few options. How big does this bowl need to be?”

“Between soup and mixing, say six to eight inches round?” She measured a space with her hands.

“I can do the body of the bowl in a nice Burrows clay. It’s a fire clay that takes design work well depending on how you want to incorporate your prophesy.”

“I was thinking something in metal and runic design?”

“Your choice,” he said. “Additional materials in crease the costs unless you provide the materials. It’s do-able. I’m happy to recommend materials and design
work if you give me an overview of the prophesy. However, if it’s a death prophesy…”

“Let me guess, an additional fee?” She let some amusement into her voice to keep from scaring anyone.

Peri seemed thoughtful for a moment. “No…but there is a waiver releasing me from any consequences of your curse.”

“Of course.”

“Don’t open that!” Peri shouted.

Petunia turned to see Mingus yank his hand away from a lidded container on a shelf with intricate design work. “Why?” he asked. “Is it dangerous?”

“More than you know. A djinn is in there!”

Petunia perked up at that. “You have a djinn? Trapped? Really? How?”

“It was a commission.” Peri turned back to her and his pad. “Do you have any other specifications?”

“Do you have any desire to tell me I’m doing this incorrectly or now I should do it better.”

“Pish. It’s your curse, you know what your need better than I do. I will tell you this…”

Petunia stiffened. Mingus shifted his stance in response, in case he needed to clean up the mess. “What?”

“With your requirements, I will need five days to a week to complete the work, once we finalized the details. I have a couple of orders ahead of yours to handle first. Simple things. Different magic, and to keep my professional reputation I cannot jump your order in the line.”

Petunia considered a moment. “A week then.” She fished out some coins and a charm from her pockets. “Your first payment. Use the charm to call me when the work is finished.”

Petunia and Mingus popped back to her castle to wait. She patiently worked her way through the rest of the prophesy spell. She found Mingus hovering every so often, watching to see if she was going to crack or something. She tried to reassure him, but it was his job to be protective. She also worked on a few other projects, just to keep Mingus from having to be overly protective.

“Why aren’t you more impatient?” he finally asked.

“Come now, Mingus, why should I be? Peri was upfront about his process. I appreciate his professionalism.”

Before she could explain further, the call came – day sooner than she expected. She popped them back to the shop. This time a smartly dressed blond man with spectacles stood with Peri. “Who’s this?”

“This is Moody, my partner and my attorney. I believe I mentioned the waiver.”

“You did.” Petunia was cautious.

Moody unrolled a rather lengthy piece of parchment with neatly and rather small lettering. “This releases Peri from any legal or magical repercussions from any spell, curse, or prophesy successful or not.”

“It seems rather…comprehensive.” Petunia scanned the document.

Moody shrugged. “Not our first deal of this nature.”

“It only takes one unethical sorcerer to ruin it for all of us.” She saw the incredulous expressions around her. “What? Just because I fall on the ‘evil’ end of the power spectrum doesn’t mean I don’t have standards.”

“Then when you’re ready, sign at the bottom.” Moody handed her a pen.

Petunia hesitated before signing, weighing the risks and consequences. She knew all the problems which could lurk in the document. But she needed the bowl and had the means to break most loopholes – she was pretty far down the Evil Spectrum after all. She signed.

Peri reached under the counter and pulled out a cloth- wrapped bundle and reverently placed it before Petunia. “I am very proud of this piece. It should take your prophesy easily.”

“How long will it last?”

“Barring the bowl being broken or otherwise smote,” he paused, looking confused. “Smited? Smitten? No, smote is the correct tense. Or otherwise smote, the bowl and any subsequent spell, curse, or prophesy should adhere for decades. Depending on the strength and power of the casting. I guarantee all my work to be wash safe, cook safe, bake safe, and magic safe.”

Petunia smiled as she turned the bowl in her hands. “It’s a masterpiece. You have done well, Peri Potter. Thank you.”

“Thank you, Petunia, and please come again.”

Petunia studied him for a moment. “If you’ve done the job I think you have, I will.”

Peri balked just a smidge. “I…I don’t…”

“Oh, pish, somewhere either in this bowl or the contract you had me sign is a return clause.”

“Of course, if you’re not completely satisfied with the bowl…”

Petunia’s smile sparked a wicked gleam in her eyes as she plunked down the rest of the price of the bowl. “Oh, honey, I think we both know that clause has nothing to with the bowl. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me – and I’ve met with your ‘competition’.” She used air quotes around the word. “You will get my business regardless of any charm you tried to put on me.”

Peri wilted in relief. “I told Moody it wouldn’t work on you, please don’t be angry with him.”

“Heaven’s no. I’d’ve been more surprised if you hadn’t. I’m just telling you you don’t need it. The quality is enough. I will tell my colleagues of my Peri Potter Sorcerer’s Bowl. You’ll have more work than you can handle. A good potter? So hard to find.”

She swept out of the store giggling over the new bowl. She knew he would soon have a line of less magical bowls on display. She saw the replication clause. That worked for her. Let those who after her work through a production run. They’d never find the real bowl – the original – until it was too late.

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Tags: Magic, Peri Charlifu, pottery, short story, Soonercon, Write the Story