The spring passes, as all springs before it have passed. The days grow longer and the sun shines warmer. On a bright afternoon, the Fool is sitting in the grass outside the castle gate, watching the flowers while his balls slumber contentedly beside him.

Then a traveler in a long robe approaches. And instead of passing by as usual, he comes straight toward the Fool. »Hi! I’m looking for the Honorable Little King and a bed for the night. Can you help me?«

The Fool is taken aback by this demeanor. He nods, jingling, and stands up to show the stranger the way to the hall, where the king usually stays in the afternoons. The stranger points with his long fingers into the grass: »Don’t forget those, I’m sure you’ll need them.« The Fool nods eagerly, jingling.

As soon as they have crossed the courtyard and reached the hall, the stranger strides toward the king as if it were a matter of course, and the Fool hears a reverent whisper among those present. One word from the murmur reaches his ear: Wizard.

When the sun disappears behind the castle battlements that evening, the Fool does not go to bed. He remains in the hall, keeping perfectly still. His blue eyes watch the stranger’s every move. Finally, the man rises and reaches for his bundle. The Fool also stands up and follows him as quietly as he can toward the guest quarters.

He catches up with the stranger by the stables, who turns around knowingly at the soft jingle and regards the Fool with a friendly gaze. »I had a feeling we’d see each other again,« he says.
»Why?«
The stranger briefly rolls his eyes to the heavens: »I’m a Magician. I just know these things.«
»Oh,« says the Fool, »I thought you were a Wizard.«
»Magician, Wizard, Sorcerer, Trickster…« the Magician replies, »what we call ourselves doesn’t matter. What matters is what we do and who we are.«
»And what is it that you do?« asks the Fool with a little jingle.

»Well, what do you think? Save the world. Keep the show on the road. Make the world better. More beautiful.« He spreads his arms as if he had said something completely obvious.

The Fool tilts his head: »Can you solve problems and complete masterpieces?« he asks, with an unaccustomed skepticism in his voice.

»Of course, I just said so.« The Magician’s smile widens. »Do you want to be able to do that, too?« The Fool nods, jingling so excitedly that the horses in their stalls begin to neigh. »Yes! Yes, exactly. I want to be able to do that, too. What do I have to do?«

The Magician places a hand between his shoulder blades and gently pushes him onward. »Come with me to my chamber. One does not discuss such things between the door and the hinge.«
»Hinging?«
»Just follow me.«

In the chamber, the Magician silently begins to unpack his bundle. The Fool follows him with his eyes, while his hands, in his pockets, nervously trace the seams of his balls, the edges of small stones, and the curves of the last chestnuts. He watches as the Magician spreads strange things out on the small table in the room. Items, shapes, figures the Fool has never seen before. When the Magician is finally satisfied, he gestures to a chair. While the Fool takes a seat on the soft fur, the Magician busies himself with cups and carafes. Then he places a cup with a dark liquid in front of the Fool on the little table, ignites the wick of a jet-black candle with a snap of his fingers, and sits down with a second cup on a small wooden stool as if it were a throne.

»Drink. It doesn’t taste very good, but it helps.« The Fool obeys and takes a sip of the bitter draught. Yuck.
»So, you want to become a Wizard,« the Magician repeats. The Fool now nods so timidly that the little bells remain silent. »Yes, uh, I think so. I want to solve something and complete something, or something. And I think I want to find someone. And if Wizards can do that, then I definitely want to be a Wizard, right?«

»I can’t tell you what you want. I am a Magician, not a clairvoyant. There are differences. We Magicians and Wizards make things come true. We create the world. We make things possible. We guard the magic and the wisdom of our kingdoms. But we rarely know what’s going on in someone else’s head or what the weather will be like tomorrow, don’t have any illusions about that. I only sense that something connects you and me.«

»But that’s good. What you said. I want that. I don’t care what the weather will be tomorrow.«
»Okay. You can have that.«
»Really?«
»Yes. You can have anything.« The Magician shrugs and looks the Fool directly in the eyes. »You can have anything you want. But everything has a price that must be paid.«
»I have no gold.«

»Ah, gold.« The Magician scratches some dirt from the tabletop with his hands and holds it in his open palm over the candle flame. The crumbs begin to melt in the Magician’s palm, and the air above it thickens. Although he looks closely, the Fool cannot see what is happening – but suddenly, the Magician holds a gold coin between his fingers.

»Magic cannot be paid for with gold. Otherwise, every king would be a magician. Here, take this.« He tosses the gold coin to the Fool across the table. The Fool catches it with practiced hands, and a scream gets stuck in his throat as the glowing hot metal touches his palms. Liquid gathers in his blue eyes, his lips tremble.

»Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to do that. But you see? Everything has a price. Anyone can play with fire if they are willing to get burned. Put that away. And drink. I’ll explain to you how to become a Wizard. You’ve already mastered the first lesson, now there are only twenty and one left.«
»What?«
»Twenty and one. Lessons. You have mastered the first lesson. Well done. Test passed. You are officially a Wizard’s apprentice. Congratulations. Now you have twenty more lessons to master and the final test to pass. And then you will be a Wizard. Then you will be able to do everything you want to do. But the path will not be easy. Drink.«
The Fool obeys and brings the cup to his mouth again. Are the walls spinning, or is he just imagining it?

»So. On your path from Fool to Wizard, you will pass through various stages, and with each further stage, you will learn something new; on your journey, you will have to meet many strange figures and master many dangers, and with every step of your path, you will transform yourself until you…« The Magician’s sing-song voice echoes in the Fool’s head, but soon he no longer hears the words.

When a sunbeam tickles the Fool’s cheek, he starts. He must have fallen asleep in his chair. The room is empty; the Magician is gone. On the small wooden table lies a piece of stiff paper on which strange signs are depicted. Something stirs within the Fool.

A memory? An insight? A voice?

Set out!

The Fool takes the piece of paper from the table and puts it in his pocket. He rises and sets out.