He’s going to fall off. Just in time he thinks: Make me somersault to the ground!

Once again he spins in the air. And he’s standing on the sidewalk.

The rubberneckers crowd around him. A policeman is approaching.

Kaytek runs for it.

Panting for breath, he only stops three streets away.

He straightens his clothes and wipes the blood off his grazed hands with a handkerchief.

He stands up straight, takes a deep breath, and, feeling wild and rebellious, he quietly but distinctly says: I command that no spell should work for me for a month.

He takes out his pocket mirror and scowls at himself.

And hisses at himself: “You dope!”

* See Translator’s Afterword.

Chapter Six

Life is finer without spells – The month is over – Kaytek gets lost in the forest – A storm –
Fever and delirium – In the hospital

Kaytek is walking along, whistling merrily.

He hasn’t felt so relaxed for ages.

“I’ve rid myself of trouble for a whole month, and meanwhile I’ll do some thinking and make sure I don’t do anything stupid again.”

Because the magic has to be done differently somehow.

He runs into the apartment and kisses his mom. Not just once, but over and over.

“That’s enough, Antek. What’s with all the loving?”

He skips over to Grandma.

“Dance with me, Grandma.”

“What’s gotten into your head this time?”

“Nothing. I feel like having something to eat.”

“If you want to eat, then don’t start dancing, but speak up. Here, eat, bon appétit! Did you take the medicine the doctor prescribed?”

“I don’t want to. Why should I? It’s a waste of time.”

“Don’t whine, Antek. After all, you can see it helps – you’ve cheered up and your appetite has come back.”

So he eats up. There isn’t much homework, so he runs out into the yard.

“We thought you were all proud these days,” say the boys.

“No way.”

“So why haven’t you been coming out here?”

“There were holes in my shoes.”

And at once he thinks: “From now on I’m going to tell the truth more.”

Their games are a total success. He doesn’t spoil them once.

That evening he chats at tea time. Then he plays checkers with his dad.

Late that night they go to bed.

Out of habit he reaches under his pillow. The little bag isn’t there, but something pricks his finger.

“Maybe it’s a spindle?” he thinks, as he sucks the blood from his finger, remembering the fairy tale about the Sleeping Princess.

But he didn’t fall asleep for a hundred years, just for the usual number of hours. He woke up feeling refreshed. He couldn’t find any marks on his finger.

On the way to school he decides to check if he has even a little bit of magic power.

Make that smart guy’s buttons come off and his pants fall down, he thinks.

At once a button comes off and rolls across the cobblestones.

Make the policeman’s cap fly off, he thinks.

The cap bounces on the policeman’s head, but it doesn’t fall off.

“My power is still there and will be back in a month.”

That evening he added up on a piece of paper how many of his magic spells had worked – at home, at school, and in the street. He also made separate lists of the major and minor ones. He rejected the dubious spells.

“It’s not even worth counting those. Maybe I just imagined them?”

Because he’d forgotten which ones came earlier and which later. He couldn’t remember exactly what had happened.

“Maybe a wizard has the right to do nine spells a month, or maybe seven, or is it thirteen?”

“Maybe magic spells only work on Mondays and Fridays.”

It was a pity he hadn’t noted them down with secret signs, so no one could understand even if they found the piece of paper.

It says in the fairy tales that wizards have students. Sure it must be easier like that.

But Kaytek will manage by himself.

Anyone who wants things to be easy is a dope.

Things that are hard are interesting!

“Rome wasn’t built in a day, as the saying goes.”

Even to be a carpenter or an engineer you have to study for a long time, and the art of magic is harder than anything else.

He’d had plenty of success, even though he was young and inexperienced, even though he was on his own, with no one to guide him.

Yes. All on his own!

Because whom could he ask for advice?

Could he let a pal in on the secret?

His pal would be sure to blab. He’d tell Kaytek to do something, and if it didn’t work, he’d laugh at him and say he was lying. Or start to pester him, saying: “Show me. Teach me how . . .”

Maybe tell the teacher?

But she wouldn’t believe him; she’d say there’s no such thing as magic spells. She doesn’t know she sniffed a magic rose.

Tell them at home?

Not them either. Either they wouldn’t believe him, or they’d forbid him, or start dictating what was allowed. Anyway, how could they help him if they don’t know any magic themselves?

No.

He mustn’t betray the secret.

He has time. A whole month. He’ll check each spell separately and learn a lesson from it for the future.

Kaytek had a dream.

He dreamed he was sitting in a deep armchair, covered in oilcloth.