The Knocking of the Guild

Flash fiction featuring a talking frog who says he’s a frog. Sounds… familiar?

“I’m afraid you can’t talk with my master,” the frog croaked peeking out through a small window in the blackened wooden door.

Krastein let out a sigh.

“I told you,” he said to his companions, serious men dressed in serious black, standing waiting a few steps behind Krastein. “I told you the wizard’s busy.”

“Yes,” the frog said, its bulging red eyes glistening in the shadow of the door. “He’s busy.”

“No,” one of the serious men said.

“Should we come back in an hour?” Krastein said with another sigh, his shoulders dropping. “We have urgent business with him, with your master. I mean, these gentlemen have. I don’t. I’m just their guide. You know me.”

“Yes,” the frog said. “I know you. Don’t come back.”

“I see, he’s very busy, as I’ve expected,” Krastein said, leaning a little forward. “Should we come back around dinnertime then? I’m sure your master will eat something later on, won’t he? He needs to eat… right?”

“No,” the frog said. “I told you, Krastein. Don’t come back.”

“Tomorrow, maybe?”

“No. Don’t come back. Ever.”

With that, the frog closed the door viewer.

One of the serious men stepped forward, and knocked hard on the door, thrice. Then he paused, and knocked again, three times.

“What?” the frog hooted through the door.

“Do you not recognize the Knocking of the Guild?” the serious man asked. “Are you not a proper familiar?”

“Are you with the Guild?” croaked the frog after a little while. “With the Wizard’s Guild, you mean?”

“What else!” snapped the serious man. “I’ve used the proper knocking, appropriate to the day and hour and its ruling constellation. You should know that! You are suspicious! Open this door at once!”

Krastein tried to edge away from the door, the man, and the frog. The serious man caught his arm though, and didn’t let him go, so he stopped.

“I didn’t know they were also wizards,” he murmured, under his breath. “I swear. I’m sorry.”

“You can’t talk with my master,” the frog said, cracking open the door viewer and peeking out cautiously. “I don’t care who you are.”

“You will go and fetch him right away,” the serious wizard from the Guild said. “Or else.”

“Or else what?” the frog croaked. “You’ll barge in, turn me into a prince, and resurrect him?”

The serious wizard gasped, and so did Krastein and the other serious men.

“Are you a prince?” Krastein asked. “Turned into a frog, like in the tales?”

“No, I’m not,” the frog said. “I’m a frog.”

“And your master is dead,” the serious wizard said, raising his left eyebrow a little. “Why didn’t you say so right away? Why play games?”

“I’m a frog,” the frog croaked. ”What did you really expect?”

“You just look like a frog, but you’re a spirit, a familiar. And you should’ve disappeared when your master died. So you’re lying, and he’s alive. He’s just trying to escape us, because he knew we’d be coming. He missed paying his wizardly dues, and he’s not returned the books either. Let us in now at once, and end this farce!”

The frog sighed, and let them in.

They found the wizard’s dead body in his laboratory. He’d been dead for at least two days. The fumes and the magic of the laboratory preserved him well, he looked like he passed away just a few minutes ago, but the serious wizards knew their business and recognized the subtler signs.

They searched the laboratory, found some, but not all of the books they were looking for, and they also found some, but not all of the gold they were owed.

They collected it all, and paid Krastein.

“You’ll disappear shortly,” their leader said instead of goodbye to the frog. “Your having remained here is just a side effect of your master’s body having been preserved well by the laboratory. But the rot will set in, shortly. And then you’ll collapse, as will his body and the whole house. In a day or two, at most.”

“I see,” the frog nodded. It turned to Krastein. “You’ll be of course gone by then, Krastein. Gone home, that is. To your wife and kids.”

The serious wizards from the Guild turned and walked away into the golden afternoon. One of them nodded to Krastein.

Krastein and the frog watched them fade into the dusty distance.

“I’m sorry you’ll disappear,” Krastein said. “I hope it won’t hurt.”

“It won’t,” the frog said. “Because it’s not going to happen. But I’ll need you to keep bringing food and milk and the usual things, Krastein. Only I’ll need less than before, now that I’ll be living here alone. Unless you want to move in and replace my sadly departed familiar. He poisoned himself having believed a potion of mine to be wine. I did warn him earlier, though, but he was drunk.”

The frog glanced back over its shoulder, towards the laboratory.

“I’d pay you well. I have a lot of gold they haven’t found. And you’d get food too,” it said. “I expect you’d be going home in the evenings, to your wife and kids, so I offer no lodging.”

“Wait,” Krastein gasped. “You mean you’ve been the wizard all along? And that dead man…”

“My familiar, yes,” the frog said. “Though he was an ordinary human, just like you are. Not a spirit. I’m just referring to him as my familiar out of professional courtesy. After all, he did everything that a familiar would. Except drinking what he shouldn’t have.”

“He was not a wizard but a man,” Krastein said, eyes wide. “He and you just fooled everyone, so that people, wizards like these don’t bother you. You’re the wizard. And you’re not a familiar spirit but a…”

“A simple frog, by birth,” the frog said. “Magic is like this sometimes. Well, it’s like this quite often, especially when you’ve been using very, very rare books of the Art. That nobody else will ever try and take back. Heh.”

Krastein took a look around, and swallowed.

“How much would you pay?” he asked, looking down at the frog. “My family needs the money, with all the trouble brewing in the country, you know…”

“I’ll pay enough,” the frog said. “It’s a deal then. From now on, call me Master. But only when we’re alone.”