Kaytek the Wizard

by Janusz Korczak

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  There are laws and there are obligations.

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  There is the power of free will, and there is the power of discipline.

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  That day he doesn’t receive a meal.

  Hunger . . . hunger!

  Maybe they’re trying to break him by starving him?

  Maybe this is the harshest punishment of all?

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  Seven days and seven nights have gone by.

  Kaytek wakes up in bed in a bright room.

  There’s a table, a bowl, and a jug of water. On the wall there’s a clock and a mirror.

  Kaytek is afraid to move for fear of scaring away this welcome vision.

  Has he been forgiven? Or is this an illusion sent to deceive him?

  A small bag of candy would be a sign of forgiveness, he thinks.

  He reaches under the pillow – and something scalds his hand painfully.

  Never mind. He’s enjoying the sunlight and the warmth. There’s a fine window with transparent panes of glass, and there’s a door with a regular handle.

  But is it locked?

  Boldly he leaps out of bed. He pours some water into the bowl and washes up. Now he’s feeling strong and brave again.

  He can cope – he’s been toughened by all his adventures.

  He sees an envelope lying on the table. Instead of an address, on the envelope is written:

  Do not break the seals.

  He picks it up and takes a look: there are five red seals – a secret kept locked away by blood-red sealing wax.

  It’s a new test. A warning.

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  Here is your right, your strength, and your power.

  He opens the door.

  He walks boldly down a long, dark corridor.

  A resounding echo counts out his steps.

  There’s no guard. But he is not under any illusion – there’s no way out of here.

  He wasn’t kidnapped by a whirlwind and imprisoned just to be able to walk out of the chief wizard’s fortress.

  He goes into a high-ceilinged hall.

  There are stone columns and marble walls covered in inscriptions in strange letters. Are they the names of famous wizards, or a list of murdered victims? Are they decrees and prohibitions, with their dates?

  “I didn’t know, I didn’t understand, I went astray. It’s easy to obey when you know the rules.”

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  He has seen a similar hall before, on a school trip when they were taken to visit an armory.

  Lying and standing, leaning against the wall or hanging up, there are swords, sabers, and all sorts of firearms, both new and shiny, and old and chipped. There are breastplates, helmets, steel gauntlets and chainmail, machine guns, cannons and bombs, executioner’s axes, and instruments of torture.

  There’s a guillotine and a gallows.

  Just like in an armory.

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  From the Author

  I left out three pages here.

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  Kaytek remembers an incident from a long time ago involving a spell that hadn’t worked. It was in the days when he was just starting to try magic, and it often didn’t work.

  So that day, he was on his way home when he saw a small boy tugging at the hand of a man who was drunk.

  The child is begging: “Please come home. Daddy, Momma’s waiting for you.”

  “Go away, I keep telling you, go away,” mutters the drunk.

  There he stands in front of his small son, swaying on his feet.

  “Daddy, Momma’s waiting for you. Come home, Daddy.”

  “Home? Why home? How do you mean, home? Here you are, go buy yourself some candy.”

  The small boy doesn’t take the coin; it falls and rolls into the mud.

  Then he begs his father a third time: “Come on Dad, come back to Momma.”

  Kaytek feels sorry for the kid. He wants to help. He takes a deep breath and says:

  I command: make him go home, make him obey his son.

  No sooner has Kaytek said these words than an electric current stabs him in the heart like a needle.

  The drunk pushes the child away, shaking him off his sleeve in a brutal way, and then rolls into the nearest bar.

  In front of an iron door into the next hall there are two wolves on guard. They start growling and barking, sniffing the air and baring their teeth.

  Kaytek shows no fear – he boldly enters the treasury.

  There are shelves filled with royal crowns, scepters and maces, rings, brooches and necklaces, diamonds, pearls, rubies, and corals. There are old silver jugs, candlesticks, goblets, and sculpted vases.

  There are chests and barrels full of coins, and sacks of gold.

  Kaytek looks at it all and thinks:

  “Here is the treasure from Ali Baba’s cave, like in my childhood dreams.”

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  Suddenly he hears – what is it? Someone crying and calling? He strains his ears to listen and hears a familiar voice calling for help.

  It’s coming from up there – up at the top of an iron spiral staircase.

  Kaytek takes off and runs toward the staircase. He listens.

  Can he be dreaming?

  A shout rings out from the tower, repeated three times over:

  “Antek! Antek! Antek!”

  He runs up the stairs. He’s in no doubt – it’s Zofia’s voice.

  He tugs
the door open.

  There’s a burst of flame, and acrid smoke fills his eyes and throat. But he’s not daunted – he steps into the flames and keeps running despite the burning heat, shielding his eyes with his hand.

  “Antek . . . Antek . . .”

  He pushes another door open, leaving the fire behind him.

  Now he is standing on the edge of a cliff, with a bottomless abyss gaping below him. He leaps, hangs in mid-air, and just manages to grab hold of the opposite side. He throws his entire body forward, and clambers onto the rocks. Now he’s sure he can hear Zofia crying for help.

  He leaves the second obstacle behind him and enters a third door.

  On he goes – he’s determined to reach Zofia, even though snakes are winding around his legs, spitting poisonous venom. Swaying, they raise their flat heads in the air and lean toward his face. They’re trying to coil around him, tangle him up, and suffocate him.

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  The last door is locked with five seals. He has understood their convoluted speech.

  “Who’s there?”

  “It is I, the imprisoned fairy godmother.”

  “It is I, Antek, Kaytek the Wizard.”

  “I know. I am Zofia, your Fairy Godmother.”

  He breaks the first seal. There’s a flash of lightning. He breaks the second seal. There’s a clap of thunder. He breaks the third and fourth seals. A thunderbolt strikes just above his head. There’s a brief pause, and then with his final effort he tears off the fifth seal. At once, bright red zigzags of lightning flash and there’s another clap of thunder.

  Kaytek falls in the doorway.

  “You will not be burned.”

  “You will not be thrown from a cliff.”

  “You will not be struck by lightning.”

  Kaytek opens his eyes and sees Zofia’s tear-stained face leaning over him.

  “Are you alive?”

  “Don’t cry.”

  He struggles to his feet. Leaning on his fairy godmother’s arm he slowly descends some broad steps of gray granite.

  There’s a glass door leading into a garden.

  They sit down on a bench beneath a tree.

  “Have you been a fairy godmother for a long time, Zofia?”

  “I don’t really know. For ages I longed to be one. As I was picking berries in the forest and weaving garlands of flowers, I often used to think about what I would do if I were a fairy godmother. I longed to know if there really were dwarves, and to be good to all the children, protect the orphans against harm, help the sad and the poor. I didn’t know it would be so hard, so very hard.”

  “But how did you come to be a fairy godmother?”

  “I don’t know. When I was little, I was happy. Why do I have such good parents, I thought, why do I have such a nice bright room, and a warm coat, and books, and toys, while others go hungry and suffer misfortune? There’s so much poverty in the countryside.”

  “And in the city too.”

  “I didn’t know that. I was too small. I thought the cities were filled with nothing but royal palaces and monuments. A child confuses everything so strangely: fairy tales, dreams and real life.”

  “It was the same for me. It must be that you have to believe in the truth, but you’d rather believe in fairy tales – in fairy tales and fine dreams. And that’s called daydreaming.”

  “I did my best to be useful. There’s not much you can do when you’re little – give a slice of bread to the poor, or a sugar cube to a child. My daddy used to laugh and say: ‘You’ll give the whole house away!’ But I wasn’t very good at it; I gave my doll to a sick girl called Marysia, then I was sorry I’d done it. Momma let me give away my white dress, but afterward I cried. Once I gave away some bread and honey, then I felt hungry, but I was ashamed to ask for more. My daddy used to laugh and say: ‘Don’t give everything away!’ But what can you do if someone asks you?”

  “Well, you may be right, but if you give something to one of them a whole gang of brats will jump on you. Do you know any magic spells?”

  “No. But I could hear more and more clearly when someone was calling for help, when someone needed me. Either I ran to help myself, or . . .”

  “Or what?”

  “Or I sent the dwarves. I’d say: ‘Go and help, my little ser­vants.’ It didn’t always work.”

  “What do they look like?”

  “I don’t know – I’ve only ever seen them in pictures. But I know they’re there. They’ve often told me about you, Kaytek.”

  “What did they say?”

  “Do you remember the time when you were standing outside a bookstore? There was a boy and a girl standing next to you. They were looking at the books too, and then the boy said: ‘What a fine book.’ And the girl said: ‘Go in and ask how much it costs.’ And he said: ‘I’m too shy.’ And she said: ‘Go on.’ He said: ‘I can’t buy it anyway – we only have twenty groshys.’ Do you remember that? You caught up with them and gave them the book, and you gave a magic rose to your teacher at school . . .”

  “How do you know?”

  “The dwarves go bustling about everywhere, so they see what happens, and they tell me.”

  “I see. But my gifts weren’t the same as yours. If I give someone a gift I think – ‘That’ll make the little squirts wonder!’”

  The wizard and the fairy godmother haven’t finished their conversation when a bell rings.

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  “Be gone from here!” he says. “In one lunar month you will return for your trial. Do not forget the oath we have sworn, and your promise to come back. Now I’m changing you into dogs! Be gone!”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Changed into dogs by magic – The wretched life of a stray dog – Zofia’s return home – The teacher’s tears and complaints – The law from the year 1233

  Kaytek never thought his mysterious magic power could leave him. But it has come and gone, like a dream, like the memory of a very weird dream.

  In the past he would have regretted losing his power, for how could he go back to being a regular schoolboy and the son of a carpenter? But sometimes he wanted to be ordinary again because this restless life was wearing him out.

  Kaytek thought his unknown enemies could kill him. That made him feel sorry for his parents and for his life.

  But he hadn’t foreseen this sort of punishment, revenge, and humiliation.

  Whenever he changed his face, or suddenly disappeared leaving just a hand, a head, and a torso visible, it felt very strange. “Is this me or not?” The day he changed into a mouse and then a pigeon, there had been no time to think about it. He was in danger, so the first thing he had to do was escape, and later he could become a person again.

  It was a terrible moment when, tossed far from the wizard’s fortress, he and Zofia landed on the highway – on four feet each.

  Antek looks at himself, then at Zofia, and lets out a long howl.

  “Don’t cry, Antek,” he hears Zofia’s gentle voice.

  There’s a long silence, until Zofia says: “Isn’t it better to be a good dog than a bad, spiteful person? Isn’t it better to be a free dog than a prisoner in a tomb made of stone?”

  “No it’s not,” snaps Kaytek angrily. “Our imprisonment would have ended eventually.”

  “How can you be sure? If we’d t
ried to escape or committed some other offense, they could have thrown us in a dark dungeon forever!”

  “Sure they could. But can you imagine being a dog for the rest of your life?”

  “We mustn’t lose hope of being saved, and it might happen sooner than we expect. No one knows what tomorrow will bring. I know our enemies are strong, but justice is stronger.”

  Kaytek sits on his back paws and pricks up his ears in a doggy way. He’s listening.

  “I don’t know what real dogs feel,” Zofia continues, “but like us, dogs have happy moments and outbursts of joy as well as regret and longing. Anyway, aren’t you still a person? Remember the saying: it’s not the clothes that make the man!”

  Kaytek is amazed Zofia is talking so calmly, as if nothing major has happened.

  “Well yes, it’s easy for you, because you’re a fairy godmother, but there’s always so much rebellion, impatience, and anger in me.”

  Kaytek bites at a branch hanging from a bush. If he weren’t ashamed, he’d start barking and scratching at the ground with his claws.

  “You see, Antek, things happen in life that are stronger than us. Anger and rebellion don’t help in the slightest. It’s important to be able to cope when it’s up to us alone. The main question now is how to get home.”

  “You want to go back to your mother? But she won’t recognize you, will she?”

  “But I will recognize her and I’ll be close to her. I’ll do my best to get her to like me. I’ll guard her and try to make her happy.”

  Kaytek starts growling the moment he remembers his lookalike, who isn’t at home, taking his place with his mom and dad anymore. His parents will be getting worried. He hadn’t thought of that. Zofia is good, whereas he is bad – whether he’s a person, a prisoner, or a dog, he’s bad, bad, bad . . .

  Side by side they run fast, along the edge of the woods. How easy it is, pleasant even. They keep going, sensing that if they stop, worrying thoughts will fill their tired heads again.

  They’ve decided to go back together. They don’t yet know how hard it is for one stray dog to feed himself, let alone two. They’re soon going to find out, poor things, what torture it is to be a hungry dog.