LITMIR.BIZ

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silent companion, Alicia, was always close by. That’s if the Mentor didn’t have her with him. He was often away on business. I had no idea what kind of business he was involved in, and I wasn’t really very interested. I thought he was just a farmer. Little naive me!

      Well, anyhow, when the Mentor was not home, I had to take care of Alicia. With Alicia everything was simple; I just had to put some dog food down for her and that was it. Looking after myself was far more complicated. When I got fed-up with pasta and fried eggs, I learned to roast meat and stew cabbage. It wasn’t as easy as I thought. So much food was thrown in the bin after my experiments! But at least Alicia had fun. It seemed to me that she was giggling at my sorry attempts.

      Alicia was a beautiful dog. She had short black hair with a blue tint and huge violet eyes. I’m not certain if it was normal for dogs to have eyes like this. And what a character! She was wilful and stubborn, and constantly made fun of me. Sometimes she hid my stuff, sometimes she hid herself so that I had to look for her around the house while she was watching me quietly from a hiding place getting ready to jump out on me. In a nutshell, we were never bored when we were together.

      However, the most interesting things happened at nights when the Mentor was away. One night I was woken by the sound of a grand piano playing. Somewhere deep behind the stone walls, an unknown musician was telling his story. I’d never heard anything as beautiful. There was every emotion within that melody: longing, passion, anger. I saw living pictures in my imagination. The music enthralled and carried me away to snow-capped mountains, then made me fall into darkness and despair. Was I dreaming? Can a dream be so real? Can we wonder in a dream whether we are actually dreaming? But the Mentor had no grand piano. There was no room in his tiny farmhouse for such a thing.

      I got out of bed and walked into the living room. As far as I knew, there were only two exits from the living room. One to my room and the other into the corridor which led to the kitchen and the Mentor’s bedroom. But the melody was coming from behind a door I hadn’t noticed before. I pulled the handle and the door opened. Behind it was a long corridor with many more doors. All of them were open. The ghostly moonlight lit the way as I explored. Most of the rooms were empty, but here and there stood some old furniture. The melody was louder now, and it filled the entire space. At the end of the corridor, I saw a thin strip of light under a half-open door. The music was coming from there. I looked in. Chandeliers with burning candles were hanging on the wall. Against one wall was a grand piano. A girl was sitting at the piano with her back to me, so I could only see her long, dark hair. I wanted to open the door a little wider, but it creaked, and then I woke up. It was already morning. Alicia was sitting in the middle of the room and staring at me. Later when I checked there was no other door. Though I have heard a piano a few more times and could swear I wasn’t sleeping.

      Another mysterious thing happened on the last day of the harvest season. It was almost mid-November, and the first frost was on the ground. The weather was nasty. Cold wind chilled to the bone, and the low and dark clouds were depressing. It looked like it was about to rain, but it didn’t come. The Mentor and I worked together side by side until late on a crop that was particularly important to him. The Mentor said that wine from these grapes is sweet like a mortal sin and couldn’t be compared to anything else. I later learnt that sin was something he understood.

      By the end of the day, I was completely exhausted. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, only to be woken a short time later by voices and laughter. The sounds came from the living room. I wondered why the Mentor had guests at this hour, and why he didn’t tell me about it. I rolled over in bed, but couldn’t sleep. The voices were too loud and so was the music. In the end, I got dressed and looked out into the living room. It was dark and empty, and it now felt like the whole crowd was in my room. It was very unsettling. I put my ear to the bedroom wall and listened. The voices spoke in English, and I didn’t understand half of it. Something about the harvest, wine and mortals, but I wasn’t sure. I went back to my room and tried to listen from there. The voices were coming from inside the wall.

      All of a sudden, right in front of my nose, a face appeared. It came out of the wall! It was the face of a middle-aged European man. He looked quite material and tangible, and certainly not like a ghost, although I wasn’t really sure how a ghost should look. The man winked at me and said, “Boo!” In fear, I recoiled and fell to the floor. He laughed and disappeared.

      The fun lasted until dawn, and I didn’t sleep at all. I didn’t doubt my sanity, and I knew what was going on was not a dream or fantasy. Everything was real, but I didn’t understand how.

      At 6 am when dawn broke, I got up, had breakfast and went outside. It was a little bit windy, but overall, the weather was good. I looked into the stables, but the horses were gone. Had the Mentor taken them? Next I walked through the vineyards, but everything was fine. By noon, I was back home and went to sleep on the living room couch.

      A noise from the kitchen woke me. It was already dark, but some light was coming from the kitchen. I rubbed my eyes, got up from the couch and walked in. The Mentor was setting plates at the empty table. He looked tired, but happy. Alicia was curled up under the table and wagged her tail slightly when she saw me. I leaned over and patted her on the head. Five seconds later, when I looked back up, the table was already laid, and the Mentor was sitting in his chair holding a glass of red wine. Now, when I think about it, it seems strange, but at that point I was not at all surprised. I just picked up my glass and sat down in front of the Mentor.

      “To the harvest,” he toasted.

      “To the harvest,” I echoed.

      For a while, we ate in silence. I was tormented by a question that I didn’t dare to ask.

      “I think it’s time I told you something,” the Mentor said, finally breaking the silence.

      He leaned back, and at first, I didn’t understand what was happening. Our surroundings had grown. Now we sat at a long oak table in a spacious dining room. Its stone walls were decorated with old, faded tapestries. The fire was burning in a huge fireplace, driving away the darkness. In front of the fireplace, on the bearskin, Alicia was lying, her position unchanged. I looked around, fascinated. I knew it! I knew all along that a real adventure was somewhere close by! The Mentor was watching my reaction with interest.

      “Is this real?” I finally asked.

      “Yes, Walter, the house you’ve lived in for almost four months was a simple illusion.”

      “Illusion?”

      “Which you created yourself. I’ve only shown you the direction, and your imagination drew up the missing details. If you want, I’ll teach you how to create illusions and control the minds of people.”

      Of course, I wanted this! Who would refuse to learn magic?

      “There is only one condition, Walter,” he said. “There is no way back. You cannot go back to your old life and to those you knew. Are you ready for that?”

      “I have nothing to lose” I shrugged. “Of course, I agree.”

      I was nervous and excited, but it was a pleasant excitement. I was enthralled by my mentor, a real magician, within this fantastical setting of a medieval castle. I had a feeling that I was part of a fairytale, or some kind of elaborate joke. I was expecting an anchorman from a popular reality show to pop out from behind the fireplace with the film crew hiding somewhere behind the curtains, but nothing like that happened.

      The Mentor filled our glasses with wine and motioned me to stand up. I obeyed. He came up and put the glasses in front of me. Like a wizard, he pulled a long needle out of his sleeve and pricked his finger. A few drops of blood dripped into the wine. Then he held out his hand to me, and I knew that he wanted me to do the same. As if mesmerised, I watched as a drop of my blood dissolved in wine. He took my glass and handed it to me.

      I took a few sips and felt something strange. My heart grew cold and was beating slower and slower. The chill spread over my body. I was freezing on the inside. I couldn’t breathe, and greedily gasped for air. The glass fell out of my hands and broke into small pieces. Wine spilled over the stone floor. My body faltered as I tried to stay on my feet, but I couldn’t and fell to my knees. I didn’t feel a thing, but my mind had

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