Watched Sorcerer's Apprentice on July 19th. Loved it. Spent four days writing something epic and and incredible. Didn't like it. Erased it. Sat down to try again. Wrote this in two hours. There is something seriously wrong with me.

Because, you know, they went from fire balls and plasma bolts straight to Defeating All-Powerful Evil Sorceresses, so clearly they skipped a few things, like Magical Creatures for Dummies.

Disclaimer: me no own.

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It would have been nice to be able to say he'd noticed something wrong the second he walked in. Balthazar certainly would have; probably even sooner, since he seemed to exist mostly to spite his apprentice. But no, Dave- Prime Merlinian, defeater of Morgana- remained cheerful oblivious for over half an hour. He probably would have paid and left and never even noticed it if it hadn't been all but shoved down his throat.

The used bookstore reminded him a good deal of Arcana Cabana- bad memories, even if he now knew it wasn't just a hallucination. The room was cluttered and lofty, the shelves reaching up to twice his height, and weird stuff was scattered everywhere. On the front counter had been a sign warning people not to pet the cat, which Dave found tucked into a little cubby hole behind a row of books. There was one other person in the store, a tall white-haired woman who worked there.

He was working off a list, tracking down and pulling out the books systematically, checking his paper every few minutes. Balthazar's handwriting was atrocious- the letters leaned drastically to the right and the tails of letters like g and l tended to overlap the words above and below them. Dave was tilting the paper in one direction and his head in the other, trying to make sense of the mess, when the woman came over to check on him.

"Do you need any help, young man?" she asked in a scratchy voice that indicated a lifelong pack-a-day habit. Dave glanced up, caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye, and screamed.

Books and papers went flying as the boy launched himself backward; as he had been kneeling to see the bottom row, the maneuver was not exactly successful. He crab-walked the rest of the way until his back hit the bookcase behind him.

"Excuse me!" the woman barked, snatching at a book and shaking it at him. "If you're going to treat these books with so little respect you may very well leave now!"

"You- I-" Dave stared at her, eyes wide. He'd seen a flash of grey-gold scales and a toothy snout, but none of that was present now. All he saw now was an irritated old lady, hands on her hips and eyebrows high. "I saw-"

Her eyes fixed on his ring-wearing right hand, with which he had been gesturing wildly, and her entire demeanor changed.

"Oh! A sorcerer!" She smiled brightly, and then she melted.

Dave pushed himself back harder against the bookcase, watching in mute horror as the woman became something suspiciously reptilian. Long, thin body with six- no, eight- legs, the first two pairs of which ended with dexterous hands with an opposable thumb. Heavy skull balanced on a short neck, wedge-shaped snout. It was about six feet tall and had a long tapering tail and oh dear god he'd found another dragon, Balthazar was going to murder him.

"Merlinian or Morganian?" it chirped in the old lady's voice, busying itself with picking up and stacking his books with all four hands.

"Uh," was Dave's brilliant reply. Since it obviously wasn't preparing to eat him, he had relaxed enough to see a few odd things about it- like its flat teeth, and the pink nail polish on its claws, and that it had a pair of eyeglasses balanced on its nose and a pastel blue scarf tucked around its neck. It swung its head around when he didn't answer, blinking at him with cat-like eyes.

"It's not a difficult question," it said. Dave dug his heels into the ground- damn Balthazar and his old man shoes, sneakers got much better traction- and pushed back even harder. Sooner or later the wall would have to swallow him, right?

"Uh," he repeated, because the creature was clearly so overwhelmed by his articulateness. Then he said it again. His mind had completely jumped its tracks and he simply couldn't think of anything else to say.

The dragon-thing sighed and dropped his books in his lap. "You're not too good at this, are you?"

"Hey!" Well, look at that. His vocabulary had just doubled.

"Or are you an apprentice?" it continued. It tilted its head and regarded him. "A bit old for that, aren't you?"

"That's not- there was an issue with an urn," Dave said heatedly.

It occurred to him in the minute-and-a-half of silence that followed that it probably would have been best to leave out the urn part.

Finally, the creature tilted its head the other way and spoke again. "You must be Balthazar's boy, then."

"Now, how did you get that?" he asked, shoving the books out of his lap and standing. The creature in turn slumped down a little so they were eye-to-eye.

"Because only Balthazar Blake could have an issue with an urn."

Dave started to protest, instinctively sticking up for his master-slash-friend, then stopped. Truth be told, he'd known Balthazar for barely a month, and it had been extremely quiet. He had no idea what sort of weirdness Balthazar was normally involved in that was being toned down now for his sake.

"Is there some incident in specific you're referring to?" he asked cautiously, probing. Balthazar was particularly close-mouthed on the subject of his past, and due to his unaging nature Dave had yet to find anyone who'd known the man for any substantial length of time. Veronica had plenty of stories from their shared childhood but Balthazar tended to hover like a vulture whenever they were together, which made it somewhat difficult to gossip like schoolgirls.

"Oh, there are plenty," came the breezy reply. "But I'll not be sharing any. If you're looking for dirt on your master, you'd best go digging elsewhere." It picked up the papers Dave had thrown, shuffling through them until it found the list. "He sent you here for these, then?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry, his writing is..."

"Sorcerers," the creature muttered, waving a hand as if to dismiss the whole lot of them. "At least this means you're Merlinian. I'm not much in the mood to deal with a Morganian today."

"You let Morganians come in here?" Dave asked, dumbfounded. "I mean, they don't really seem like the type to pay for what they want."

"They're not." It grinned at him, hard and dark, and he saw that evolution had spared it some defenses: its canines were still very sharp. "But the smart ones can learn."

Yeah, that was only vaguely terrifying.

"By the way, I never introduced myself," the creature said, wandering towards the back of the store. "You may call me Tessha."

"Dave," he offered immediately, out of habit. "Uh, Tessha, I'm sorry, but... what exactly are you?"

It- she, he supposed- looked round at him sharply. After a moment she nodded once. "I suppose I should have seen this one coming. Balthazar certainly prefers to learn through experience."

"You could say that," Dave agreed darkly. Sometimes he genuinely thought Balthazar was out to kill him.

"I," Tessha announced grandly as she started to crawl up the side of a bookcase, "am a book wyrm."

"A bookworm? Seriously?"

One eye peered around the bookcase, narrowed in irritation. "Wyrm, not worm. There is quite a difference."

"Right. Sorry." He watched as she reached the upper level and started combing through those books. "So. How long have you had this place?"

"Oh, a few years," she answered distractedly. "I've been a shopkeeper or owner all my life, though."

"All your life being how long?" Dave asked, already knowing the number would dwarf his own twenty years.

"Three hundred years, give or take a decade. I'm old for a wyrm but I happen to know a very good dermatologist."

…okay. Dermatologist. Whatever works.

"How long have you known Balthazar?"

Tessha paused, gazing at the books. When she started talking, she never once looked at him. "I met him when I was just a hatchling, barely old enough to be considered an intelligent being. He was, however, a very hard man to actually know, always coming and going, always searching. And he was being actively hunted by the Morganians, as a bear is hunted by wolves- in small numbers they feared him, but a pack of them would have had little trouble bringing him down. He is adaptable, though, and very clever. Of the three apprentices, he was best suited for Merlin's quest."

She hauled out three books and skimmed her way back to the ground, then scuttled- there was no better word to describe her way of moving- over to him and pointed one pink claw in his face. "There'll be no word of this, understand? He doesn't care much for being gossiped about."

Dave nodded, thinking that Balthazar wouldn't have sent him here alone if he cared that much. Tessha studied him a moment longer before nodding herself and heading over to the counter.

"That's all the ones in my store," she said and she unfolded one of those ridiculous eco-friendly cloth tote bags. "No need to worry about price, your master knows the deal."

Playing a hunch, Dave asked innocently, "Something to do with a dermatologist?"

"You laugh," Tessha shot back, gently stacking the books in the bag, "but skin care is a very serious issue with wyrms."

The door chime sounded, an indescribably obnoxious buzz that Dave had hated at first but now understood the necessity of. He glanced over his shoulder and when he looked back Tessha was human once more.

Except not. Now that he knew what he was looking for, he could see where the human image didn't quite line up with the wyrm underneath, causing blurred edges and smudged colors. It was an interesting effect that he wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't known better.

"I'm sorry about the whole, uh, screaming thing," he muttered. Tessha gave a very wyrm-like tilt of her head in reply.

"That's quite all right. Had I known," she tapped a finger on his ring, which he had retrieved from Horvath's cane for sentimentality's sake, "I would have approached you differently. Tell the old one I said hello."

"Old one. Right. Thanks." He ducked his head and smiled at her, earning a smile in return. Then he ducked past the intruder and headed out, hoping Balthazar was in the lab where Dave had left him so he could get the chewing out he so royally deserved.

#

"You set me up!"

Balthazar didn't even look up from the morning paper. After a long moment he set down his coffee cup- tea was reserved specifically for lessons- and folded one corner over so he could see his agitated apprentice.

"Hello, Dave. How was your day?"

"You sent me there on purpose," Dave snapped. Normally he would be a bit more respectful in handling the prickly old sorcerer, but on his way home he'd worked himself into a fine lather over the whole thing and didn't want to lose his head of steam.

Balthazar picked up his coffee cup, took a sip, set it back down, and started to fold the paper. Along the original fold, of course. The man normally leaves pages scattered everywhere but now he decides to be neat and organized. When that was done, he swung his feet off the table and sat up properly, fingertips pressed together in front of him, gaze on the ground to Dave's left. Finally, a small epoch later, he looked up at Dave.

"Yes, I did."

Well, that was unexpected. "Why?"

"I wanted you to meet Tessha."

"And you couldn't have just told me? Or at least gone with?" Dave asked in despair. He hated it when Balthazar did this, when he turned everything inside out so Dave's understandable anger sounded immature and uncalled for.

"How'd it go?" Balthazar leaned forward, elbows on his knees and fingers interlaced. The very picture of patience.

"It... went fine," Dave ground out, jerking his chin up. Balthazar merely watched him. "I mean, she did startle me, a little, but I wasn't expecting..." Was the man even blinking? How did he do that? "I, uh, might have... screamed. Like a little girl." His voice got quieter with every word, but Balthazar evidently heard him just fine. Very slowly, the sorcerer smiled. "I thought she was going to eat me, Balthazar," Dave added sharply.

"She wouldn't have hurt you," Balthazar said evenly, gesturing towards the books. "As long as you don't try to steal from her, Tessha's harmless. I wouldn't have sent you there alone otherwise."

Dave thumped the bag onto the table and Balthazar immediately started picking books out. One had his list, folded in half and tucked in the pages. He plucked it out and pressed it flat, then suddenly smiled. Dave peered around him to see a message on the bottom of the page, obviously not Balthazar's for its legibility.

Get a laptop or learn how to write, you dinosaur, and be nice to that boy. He doesn't deserve your crap.

Well, clearly Tessha had understated how well she knew Balthazar, if she dared to write him something like that and he only found it amusing. Then again, three hundred years was a long time, and Dave could only imagine how grateful the ageless Balthazar would have been to know someone who would still be around in a century or two.

"She said you know the deal," Dave said, and the sorcerer nodded once. After a moment, he asked warily, "Are there going to be any other non-human surprises any time soon?"

"No," Balthazar answered distantly, then shook himself. "Well, yes, but I'll be with you."

"Huh." Dave considered the scenario as a whole, a plan slowly forming. "So, do all sorcerers pay her in favors, or is it just you?"

"She can get money from anyone. Having a sorcerer in her debt is worth far more."

"Really."

A touch belatedly, Balthazar's warning bells started going off. He glanced at his apprentice. "No, Dave, she's not going to start telling you horror stories about me just because you take her out to dinner once or twice."

"Oh, yeah, I know," the boy agreed, nodding and moving back, hands tucked behind him. "Uh, I gotta go, I have a class-" Which had the added benefit of being true, so the sorcerer wouldn't call him on it.

Balthazar dismissed him with a nod and a wave and returned to sorting through the books. Dave darted upstairs, tripping halfway up in his haste, and didn't stop looking over his shoulder until he was safe in a bathroom on campus. Then, finally, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number.

"Hey, Veronica, it's Dave," he said when she picked up. "I was just wondering. Do you happen to know what book wyrms eat?"

"Why?" Veronica asked warily, on guard.

"Oh, no reason, just hoping to owe a friend a favor or two."

#

By the time Balthazar realized the serious error in judgment he had made, he was already far too late to save himself.