Disclaimer: I own nothing from "Sorcerer's Apprentice", be in the "Fantasia" short, the live-action movie, or the novelization. I don't even own the idea behind this one hundred word set. You can blame it on the Balthy 100 (check out the discussion board, "Sorcerer's Lair" to learn more).


One Hundred Ways to View the World

Part I: Arcana Cabana

It was his last resort. He was old. Tired. And quite frankly sick of traveling the world. It had finally occurred to him that he would never be able to actually hunt down the Prime Merlinian. He had assumed that was the answer, and had been in such a rush to find the boy, whoever he was, so he could release Veronica, that he never had realized the obvious.

He was hunting through millions of people for one. And each time he moved, the people in the last place he'd been in changed, requiring him to return and search them again. It was a neverending cycle. One that he couldn't possibly break. If he'd kept that up, he'd never make it out of England, let alone Europe. Still... that was his only plan for centuries.

How had it taken a man known for his sharp intelligence so long to realize what he had to do?

When he had been a boy, Merlin had not sought him out. There had been a pull. The magic within had been drawn to the power of the much older sorcerer. Merlin had never looked for apprentices. They had just come to him. Or he was drawn to them, by some random "coincidence". Why would the Prime Merlinian be any different? Why should Balthazar waste another hundred lifetimes searching for someone who should, by all rights, be drawn to the ring?

And so Balthazar had chosen a land in which to rest. Europe was too painful. Asia, to foreign. Africa, too hot. But America was diverse. Perhaps not the most likely place to find an all-powerful sorcerer, but it would do. After all, the first time he'd scoured the place, he'd managed to capture a rather powerful witch. Obviously there was some magic in this new world.

He chose Manhattan to be close to Ellis Island where people entered the country. He hadn't realized that in the many years that had passed since his last visit here in the 1920s, so much had changed. The island was no longer the only way in. He could have chosen anywhere, then. He stuck with New York. He was sick of traveling. This would work.

When he had chosen his place to live, he'd made sure it had room for a shop. He needed money, and, unlike Morganians, he refused to use his powers to pay for things. He'd have a real job. He'd had some for short spans of time in the past. A professor once in England. A peddler in South America. Recently he'd been teaching English to students in China. He could make himself credentials when needed. He hated faking things, but if he wanted to earn a relatively honest living with a real job, there were some things he had to have. A college education to teach history, since living it was not something he could reasonably put on an application. A passport to move between countries easily. Apparently in America, he now needed a social security number. As long as they were minor things to fabricate, he could accept that.

But those old jobs had all been intended to expose him to as many people as possible. Now it was a different plan. Keep out of the way. Earn enough money to live, so he didn't have to use the money that he'd been saving in various bank accounts to build a life with Veronica. He would wait for the boy to come to him.

The shop he'd chosen was an old, narrow building on a small, moderately populated street. He'd filled it with trinkets he'd picked up in his travels. Whenever he'd run low, he'd take a short trip somewhere to pick up a few more things. There were people who owed him favors. Relics he'd found years ago. Gifts he didn't want to keep. There were plenty of unusual things in the world that he could sell at a reasonably high price to people who were, themselves, so eccentric that they would consider him of all people relatively normal. He made enough money to pay for the place and to survive.

He'd begun renting the place back in 1960. After forty years living in the same spot, modifying his physical appearance to look older until his "nephew" took over and he could look his own age again, he'd almost given up hope. His plan wasn't working. The Arcana Cabana was becoming an excuse not to hunt anymore. He knew he'd have to leave soon before he simply gave up. Before he gave in to the fact that he was very old and very tired. And that he should have been dead and forgotten a very long time ago.

So, when the year 2000 rolled around, he had begun packing up shop, not even bothering to keep the place up anymore as he waited out the end of the lease. He was in his last month renting the place before he moved on when the impossible happened. He heard the door creak open and watched a young boy enter his shop. Nothing remarkable there. Just an irritating child who was going to break everything. He didn't really care. He wasn't trying very hard to sell things anymore, anyway. Best to just let the kid poke at things and hope he left quickly.

He'd given up testing a few months back when he'd begun making preparations to leave. So, he ignored this boy now. Until the kid almost knocked over an urn. The only bloody thing in the entire store that could actually hurt someone. Damn coincidence.

Balthazar moved quickly, catching the thing just before it toppled. Saving the boy ten years of suffering without the kid ever knowing. Scolding the boy with the urn's story. Hoping to scare him away, so he could get back to his own business.

Internally cursing the damn coincidence that the day he'd begun packing his things was the day this kid had to come in and mess around.

Coincidence. He should have known at that moment. Balthazar had never believed in coincidence. Those things called "coincidence" were generally fate in disguise. In fact, he was banking on the fact that the Prime Merlinian would show up "coincidentally" when the ring drew him.

Coincidence. Like this child entering his store because a note flew in a mail slot.

Coincidence. Like the boy toppling the only thing that Balthazar would bother coming out to save.

Coincidence...

He turned, looking the boy over again. Nothing remarkable about him. Nothing impressive like the other boys he had tested. Nothing special. Not on the outside at least.

He stared at the child for a moment, thinking back. Just as there had been nothing special about the peasant boy who had been drawn to Merlin all those years ago. When they'd met by coincidence when the old man's horse had gone lame at their farm.

Nothing was ever a coincidence.

Was it possible...?

He smiled for the first time in so long, and finally said gently to the child he'd tried to scare away only moments before, "Come with me. I have something I'd like to show you..."


Author's Note: Part one of my entry for the Balthy 100 challenge. I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading. Reviews would be amazingly motivating!

Dewa mata.

Sirius