"Can I help you?" The man looked down his nose, haughtily eyeing Hans with suspicion and disgust. Why did people always do that? They assumed that Hans had some sort of contagion or perhaps that he was mentally deficient because of his deformity, but Hans' problem could not be caught, and his mind was perfectly adequate. He tried to thrash the monster of discontent that rose up in him and shouted that it wasn't fair. Of course, it wasn't fair; what had fairness to do with it. Even still, if life were fair, then everyone would be in danger of bearing the full weight of their consequences.
The arrogant man repeated himself, and Hans hesitated. Maybe this was a bad idea; after all, he knew no one in the palace. Hans shook his head slightly. 'No,' he thought, trying to remind himself why he was here. 'I have no other choice. The master will kill me if I show my face there again, and I must do something lest I wind up begging on the street.'
Hans closed his eyes, recalling the night he returned to the master's house. When the forest had faded about him and the house he shared with Master Frederick snapped sharply into focus, Hans was met with the most severe punishment that he'd ever faced before.
Eye's blazing with rage, Master Friedrich met Hans' gaze as the vestiges of the spell faded away. "So you've returned, have you?"
Hans froze, feeling the blood rush to his head as panic flooded his entire body. What was he going to do? How could he expect to escape punishment for his theft?
"What's this? You've no excuse for yourself?" Hans remained silent, feeling like a ram caught by his horns. "Where is the book, you miserable hunchback?" Still, Hans could reply nothing, so Master Friedrich struck out with his cudgel, shrieking the question madly, thrashing him over and over until Hans lay broken and trembling in his blood on the rough wooded planks.
When the master's rage was abated, he stormed out of the hovel in pursuit of a strong drink. The master was still breathing murder and threats, but with Hans no longer able to cry out in pain, the beating had apparently lost its ability to satisfy. When Master Friedrich sated his thirst, however, Hans had no doubt that he would return to beat the location of the book out of him.
Tears flooded Hans' eyes as considered his plight. What was he going to do? Master Friedrich would return to kill him, and Hans had lost the book in the midst of the spell. 'What will death be like?' Hans wondered, momentarily giving into the deep despair that invaded the depth of his very being.
'No,' another inner voice seemed to argue back. 'You have to keeping going. You can't let the master win.' Hans fought the urge to close his eyes and struggled to lift himself from the floor.
He prayed against the pain. 'Please help me to figure a way to escape.' A sudden thought struck him, prompting him to use the magic. Hans wished with all his heart, mind, and soul to be in the forest again with the book, but it seemed that the spell was all used up. Panic flushed through him anew. What if he couldn't get out? What if someone found the book? 'Please,' Hans begged, feeling a sense of shame that his new power had given him a confidence that supplanted the Maker. Hans begged for forgiveness, praying that he'd be able to bear his consequences if that was what the Maker willed. As the world began to blur, fading in and out, Hans thought he heard someone call his name.
"Please," Hans whispered to the voice that seemed to come from his dreams.
Now Hans stood at the door of the castle, with a letter commending him to the steward for employment. His savior had been one of the master's patrons, a very influential Baron who had assured Hans that he would help him to find work in the castle. Surely it would be enough. Unlike life with Master Friedrich, he would be protected here, and he might even be able to find the master's book. Hans knew he must return it somehow. He shouldn't have taken it in the first place.
"I said, 'Can I help you?'" The servant repeated with such disdain that Hans was tempted to hang his head in shame, but he fought the urge and stared straight into the servant's face, trying desperately not to let the embarrassment rise to his face. He must find employment, and with his deformity, no one wanted to allow him to apprentice or even serve. It was this abject need that drove him to resolve and kept him from his natural desire to shrink back into the shadows and fade away like a shadow melting away from the public eye.
He adjusted his posture as well as he could and breathed deeply. "I must needs speak with your lord or whomever is charged with appointing new servants."
His voice resonated with command, and the servant's eyes flickered with surprise. Hans quenched his irritation at the confirmation of his suspicion that this man assumed that his deformity somehow affected his mind. Hans was by no means stupid, but that label had followed him since his birth.
"There goes simple Hans," they would jeer, throwing mud or rocks, and no one had ever interfered. After all, the Maker Himself must have struck the boy with his affliction for the evil that lurked in his twisted heart, twisted just like his body. Of course, what man was not inflicted with evil; it was a reality in the hearts of all men, save one, and Hans felt the anger boil up inside him at the hypocrisy. Since when did the outside perfectly mirror the inside? Beautiful people often committed great evil, but when they walked down the road, fingers did not point nor did brows draw in suspicion like they did when Hans shuffled along, minding his own business. Hans nearly growled but caught himself before he made a complete fool of himself and made the conscious effort to pull his face into a mask of indifference.
Hans produced the letter from Baron Wolfe, which the servant took with a dubious look painted on his face. "Come this way, please," he said with pained reluctance, and as Hans followed, he begged the Maker for mercy that he might rejoice in his afflictions.
Several hours later, Hans stared down at the steward's ledgers, feeling the old sense of dread he had when he was younger man learning the trade, but he swallowed his reluctance and fixed a grateful expression to his face. Maker forbid the King revoke his offer of employment due to Hans' reluctance. The King dismissed Hans and left the room, so Hans' new employment was begun.