... an impatient Mage

Doka the Mage

... the Palace of the Mages was waking to welcome the new day. The morning duties were unfolding as a housekeeper entered the vacant hall and placed a fresh bouquet of lilacs on the small table by the grandfather clock. Within seconds she had switched the wilted flowers with new ones, dusted the table, and straightened the doily. “Beautiful” she whispered and continued on her merry way. As the house-servant rounded the corner, the tower-like clock began to chime.

“Listen to that... Its six o’clock. What’s taking them so long?” Mage Doka was pacing between the arched doorway and the floor to ceiling windows. As a six foot, seventy year old man, his exuberance showed no resolve. Most mages were impeccable in health and vitality and Doka was no exception. The slender man had long white hair and a matching beard. As he paced, he’d wave his cane like a conductor’s baton while his cape floundered in his wake. He was usually a calm man with a soft voice but the morning’s plight had placed him into frenzy’s delight. Stress had turned his voice from calm to stern. He stopped and glared at the wizard who was leaning on his staff, “Zem... you said they would know... they should have been waiting for us.”