William Calhoun and the Black Feather. Book I
Chapter 4 Magic Post Office

Early in the morning, William was still in bed, fast asleep. The first rays of sun still hadn’t shown, when there was a loud sound of ‘crumpled paper’. William jumped up, but calmed down right away after hearing a familiar voice.

“Master Calhoun, Good Sunrise!”

“Nymus!” William rubbed his eyes. “Listen, could you appear without so much noise next time? Hi!”

“The mailmage from the Nymus kin did not want to scare his Wizard!” Nymus sounded hurt.

“Alright, alright! No offence! What time is it?”

“Exactly 06:17! Mailmages are never late!” Nymus’s cheerful voice wasn’t very loud, but somehow it filled the whole room.

“Do mailmages sleep at all?” William asked.

“Mailmages?! Sleep?! Never!”

“Really?”

“I am telling you the truth! It is one of the most truthful truths that can ever exist in the sphere of truths, Master Calhoun! Besides, we cannot be late for the Magic Post Office! They are open for public until nine a.m. Then the Post Office Meeting begins! We need to hurry!”

“Fine! Give me two minutes!”

William jumped out of the bed, washed his face quickly, pulled on his jeans and a clean shirt, and took his backpack.

“I’m ready! Shall we go?” William said, then he realized that he had no idea how they were going to get to the Magic Post Office. “And how are we getting there?”

“We are peregrining! Take my hand!”

Squeezing his backpack tight with one hand, William grabbed Nymus with the other. He felt familiar dizziness, but not as bad as the first time. Besides, Nymus’s hand gave him the feeling of protection. Everything was over in a few moments.

They were standing in the middle of a large hall covered with piles of letters! William couldn’t even make out what the floor was made of and what colour it was. Letters hid almost everything in here. They were everywhere! The floor, the windows, the walls – everything was covered with letters! Besides, the letters were alive! They were either flying from one end of the hall to the other or they moved at a very high pace back and forth.

William saw an endless number of mailmages rushing in all directions, as they were trying to find and to pick up the letter they needed. They used their large hands to sort piles of letters on the floor, on the tables, and on the windows of the giant hall.

“We are in the Correspondence Hall!” Nymus explained, sensing William’s confusion. “Several million letters arrive here every day, waiting to be sent!”

“Nymus, wouldn’t it be more convenient to store all the letters in a special place so that it is easy to find the required one?”

“A special place?” Nymus repeated. “The building of the Magic Post Office is that special place – it was created for that!”

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“The Magic Post Office, Master Calhoun, is the only one in the world. And it is located in London. Letters come here from everywhere. We are the heart of the world correspondence. That is why serving at the Magic Post Office is such a great honour for any mailmage.”

William looked at all that crazy fuss. He was surprised with the passion and diligence the mailmages fussed around with, from door to door, carrying the correspondence, sorting it, giving over to each other, and putting it down.

“Tell me, Nymus, can anyone become a mailmage?”

“Green Monogram, of course not! Mailmages are a special species born for one reason – to achieve the honour of serving the Post Office one day. We have our own schools and training. You, wizards, are taught magical arts, we are taught to know each corner of the world and to be able to get there at any cost. It is one of the many reasons why wizards cannot do without us. We honour our traditions and pass them from generation to generation. Our motto is: ‘From Kin to Kin, Kin for the good of Kin!’.”

“I understand,” said William, “that I don’t understand any of that!”

William noticed that mailmages were different from each other in appearance. Their only similarity, apart from the blue mailmage uniform, were giant hands. The young man looked at Nymus. He was practically glowing with happiness and his expressions made it clear that this was his home. Fourteen years spent away from the Magic Post Office were gone and he was happy to be at home again.

Suddenly William saw that a mailmage, having found the letter he needed, placed it right inside his palm. Then another and another.

“That’s why you have such big hands! You put letters in there!” William said.

“Yes!” Nymus nodded. “Our hands are our everything! Without them we would not have been who we are! They are a defining feature of any Mailmage. We use our hands to store and transport correspondence to the addressees!” He stretched out his hand and showed William a compartment on his palm for storing letters.

William had seen something similar on kangaroos at the zoo. He didn’t pay attention to this during their first meeting with Nymus and he was quite impressed now.

“And why can’t you use ordinary bags for delivering post, Nymus?”

“Ordinary bags? Demits use those, not mailmages. Being a mailmage is a very dangerous job, Master Calhoun. Bags are a very unsafe place for keeping letters.”

“Why is it dangerous?”

“Over several dozen mailmages go missing from the Magic Post Office in a year, because they are hunted down by enemy intelligence.”

“Wizards have an intelligence service, too?”

“Of course! Like everywhere else.”

“Why do they want to steal other wizards’ letters?”

“To read them! Wizarding world is just like the demit one in this, Master Calhoun! Each wizard kin has mailmages. The higher is the status of a wizard in the community, the more dangerous it is for his mailmage to move around. There will always be those who will want to know more about his master’s business and plans. Especially if he has enemies. That is why many high-ranking wizards unregister their mailmages to keep their correspondence safe and mailmages work undercover.”

“Does Fafner have a mailmage?” William asked suddenly.

“Of course he does! But everyone has been trying to find out who he is for centuries. Only Fafner and the Postmaster know that!”

“You haven’t told me why you keep letters in your palms. Is it safer?”

“That is right! When someone or something puts the life of a mailmage in danger, the inner pocket on the palm instinctively shuts tight and then not even the most ancient and powerful magic can help the evildoer get the letter. It is very old mailmagic! Even though we are not a warlike people, no wizard can make us open the correspondence we are delivering with their magic!”

“So mailmages aren’t wizards?”

“Wizards?! We are a separate species that has existed for as long as wizards and demits themselves! We do not submit to the general laws, but the Post Office Code. Beyond the Magic Post Office, we obey nobody but our masters. We are created to help the wizard kin which we give the oath to serve loyally with each new generation.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve hurt your feelings, Nymus. I had no idea!”

“Master Calhoun should not apologize to his mailmage! We have the only type of magic – mailmagic. It serves the only goal – to deliver letters to their addressees. We have no need in other abilities. Mailmages have existed since the appearance of writing. Back then, if you believe Mailmage History, messages were passed orally and mailmages wrote letters themselves, leaving them on the walls of addresses.”

“Do mailmages have their own history?”

“But of course! Mailmages have all kinds of their own things – Post Office hospitals, Post Office rights, a special pass to all corners of the world. We even have a special article in the Wizard Constitution, which says that any wizard, except for his Master, who dares to threaten personal immunity of a mailmage will be stripped of the feather from two to five years. Depending on which mailmage rights violation the wizards commits. You see, mailmages are a kind of ambassadors. Not only from one country to another, but also from one wizard to another. And all ambassadors, as it is well known, have personal immunity.”

“Can mailmages themselves betray their wizards?”

“They can. But it is a severe violation of the Post Office Code, as well as the Celestine Oath, which we give during the Mailmage Initiation Ceremony. If a mailmage breaks the oath, he will be separated from the Central Magic Post Office once and till the last line! After which he will be stripped of his right to take part in exchanging any kind of correspondence in any way and his further Mail Activity will be persecuted and punished by Law.”

“Why is it so important to have a mailmage? Can’t we just use mobile phones or the internet? There are so many ways of exchanging information instantly and, more importantly, safely.”

“Master Calhoun has yet so much to learn about the wizarding word. He still does not know that wizards and other representatives of the International Federation of Wizards do not use digital and electronic devices.”

“What? Why not?!”

“Magic Feathers have ancient magic in them that has bad influence on digital and electronic devices when it is near them, they stop working because of the interferences the feather causes.”

“No way! Here’s one advantage demits have compared to wizards,” William noted. “Wizards can use the latest digital achievements.”

“On the contrary!” Nymus objected. “Wizards do have similar achievements! Only in more convenient ways. But Master Calhoun will have time to learn about all that.”

The amount of new information made William fall silent for a while, then he looked around and asked:

“Why are we standing, not moving ahead?”

“Because we havenot been summoned yet and we are waiting for a messenger from the Postmaster to see us there.”

The moment Nymus finished his sentence, someone very heavy nearly knocked William off his feet.

The boy looked down and saw a grey-haired old man, short and with a crooked nose.

“Young Wizard, could you move away for a bit and allow me to keep searching for letters?” the old man said grumpily.

“I’m sorry, sir! I haven’t noti…”

“Vulpik!” Nymus cried out. “I can’t believe my letters!” He knelt down and hugged the grey-haired old man he’d just called Vulpik. “Why you, Tattered Parcel, still growling at everyone in the morning, as I can see!”

“Nymus!” the old man with the crooked nose recognized him. “Celestine’s Monogram! May I Lose My Letters! Which winds have brought your envelopes here? Are you with us again?”

“Yes! With a wizard again!” Nymus told him.

Then the eyes of mailmage Vulpik stared at William’s shoes meaningfully and then slowly went up until they reached his face.

“A Calhoun?” he said with distrust, turning back to Nymus.

“Yes!” Nymus nodded with a satisfied smile. “To be exact, the last of the Calhouns.”

Vulpik got up suddenly, almost pressing himself to William, and started examining him. He seemed to have forgotten all about the letters he’d been looking for.

After giving William an intent look from head to toe, he said slowly:

“So here you are…”

“This’ll be enough! Go back to your letters, you Tattered Parcel!” Nymus shooed him off. “I’ll pay you a visit after lunch if I’m free. So get ready, set a table. Let’s Seal some Envelopes!”

“I’m so glad to see you again, Nymus! Celestine’s Monogram! Years away haven’t changed you a bit!”

And Vulpik disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared.

“Nymus,” William dared to break the silence, “who’s Celestine?”

“Marcus Celestine is the founder of the Magic Post Office and the whole system of mailmages that has been working all over the world for many centuries. When we take the oath to our master, we do it by placing our hand on the Post Office Code signed by Marcus Celestine.”

“Wow…” William drawled, “you have your own world in here, as I can see!”

In a few minutes, a young black-haired curly mailmage in glasses approached them and addressed Nymus:

“Nymus House Representative?”

“Yes! I came to get my Mailmage license back!”

“The Postmaster is absent today. His deputy is ready to see you! Follow me!”

And the young secretary headed towards one of the numerous doors. It lead to a narrow corridor with a marble floor. The corridor was rather dark and gloomy and was a great contrast to the bright hall they’d just left. There were numerous offices along the corridor, on both sides. Each door had a sign shaped like an upturned open envelope with the name of the department on it and the second sign sticking out, shaped like a piece of paper. That one stated issues and tasks each Magic Post Office Department handled. William noticed that one of the envelope signs on the door said ‘Magic Post Office Archive’, and the piece of paper added ‘Authorized personnel only’.

Finally, the young secretary stopped by the door, the envelope sign on which said: ‘Postmaster Deputy, Thomas Hill’. The bottom part of the sign, instead of the customary piece of paper, was decorated with a large Post Office emblem – a yellow envelope with a green MPO monogram and a white magic feather inside, which symbolized how inseparable the kins of wizards and mailmages were. Below there was the motto of the Magic Post Office, already familiar to William from Nymus, in large red letters: ‘From Kin to Kin, Kin for the good of Kin’.

The curly mailmage told them to wait and entered the room, then came out a minute later to say:

“The Postmaster Deputy is expecting you!”

With that, he disappeared in the dark corridor.

Nymus entered the door, William following him closely. The office of the deputy of the Magic Post Office Master turned out to be surprisingly bright and spacious. William looked around. The first thing that he noticed was a statue, the height of a fourteen-year-old boy, depicting a big-handed figure in a uniform, running somewhere. On the inside of his palm there was an envelope corner. Behind this figure, there was a second one – in robes, with a long feather in his hand. There was a sign in golden letters on the bottom part of this statue: ‘Kin for Kin, from Kin to Kin!’

“Please, sit down,” said an old mailmage wearing red robes. His face was adorned with a long beard. “I am Thomas Hill, deputy to the Magic Post Office Master.”

The massive table before the Postmaster deputy had a few dozen papers, with the same number of red feathers over them writing something fast and without a break. These feathers were different from William’s. They were smaller and, as William guessed, used only for writing. There were two massive armchairs with soft seats next to this massive table.

That was where Nymus and he sat down. The low armchair made it hard for William to make out the face of Thomas Hill. Besides, the fluttering of feathers over the table made it even more difficult. But William made an attempt to focus his eyes on Mr. Hill’s face.

The deputy of the Magic Post Office Master addressed Nymus:

“Your letter says that you desire to get reinstated as a mailmage.”

“Yes, that is correct!” Nymus replied with a slight tremble in his voice.

“Your letter also says that you have somehow managed to find an offspring of the kin your kin has served loyally for many centuries,” Thomas Hill continued.

“Yes, that is true!” Nymus’s voice sounded more confident with every question.

“Your letter also mentions that fourteen years ago the abovementioned wizard kin YOUR kin used to serve was killed in a mass murder and that since then the Calhouns were considered a dead kin.”

“Yes, that is correct!”

“And you state that this young man,” he pointed at William, “you have arrived with is that representative of the Calhoun kin?”

Nymus glanced at William and replied:

“Yes, Your Mailness!”

William could barely keep himself from laughing when Nymus address the Postmaster’s deputy this way.

“Please, young man,” he turned to William, “allow me to look at your magic feather.”

William looked over at Nymus and he gave him a nod. William took the box with the magic feather from his backpack. This puzzled Thomas Hills.

“May I ask you,” he addressed William, “what are you doing?”

“Er… I’m taking my magic feather out, sir,” he replied politely.

“From a box in your backpack?”

“Yes,” William said unsurely and looked over at Nymus again.

“You see, Your Mailness, Master Calhoun grew up without knowing that he…”

“What?” Thomas Hill asked dryly.

“That he is a wizard.”

“By the Post Office, how is that possible?” Thomas Hill look surprised.

“You see…” Nymus started.

“I was brought up by demits, and I’ve been living with them all this time,” William came to help.

“A Calhoun among demits?” the Postmaster deputy exclaimed. “We are really witnessing a historical moment, gentlemen,” he said with sarcasm that remained unclear to William. Then, seeing that William was still holding the box, added with a smile: “Don’t be shy, young man, take your feather out!”

William set the box down on the table and opened it. The magic feather sensed freedom again and stretched out its hairs, then slowly moved them from side to side.

Thomas Hills didn’t look so smug anymore. The next moment his smile was gone completely. He was looking at the magic feather and its size, which was large even by magic feather standards, with great attention and with a bit of distrust. Then he told William:

“Try picking it up, young man…” he said in such a tone that suggested that until now he was quite sure that he was being tricked with this newly-found offspring of the Calhoun kin.

William took his magic feather without any problems and gave Thomas Hill a questioning look. Seeing the feather in William’s hand made him speechless. The pause was so long that William couldn’t help glancing at Nymus again. But the mailmage didn’t need to intervene this time. The deputy of the Magic Post Office Master came back to his senses and started talking again:

“May I take a look at the name on the magic feather?”

William held the feather out for him, but the Postmaster deputy waved his enormous hands:

“No, no, please! Just hold your feather closer to me, it’ll be enough!”

Even though this request seemed strange to William, he wasn’t surprised much with anything now. Holding his magic feather with both hands, he brought it closer to Thomas Hill’s face. He slightly leaned forward, then leaned back in his large armchair.

“Mister Calhoun,” he addressed William much more politely than a minute ago, “have you used it a lot all these years?”

“No, not once,” William confessed.

“That’s why the feather is without a handle…” he bent over the feather again and examined it quickly, “I advise you to get a handle for the magic feather, Mister Calhoun. If you are going to study magic arts, you will definitely need a handle!”

“Yes, sir, I will!”

“Could you…” he gestured for William to put the feather away, “say the Probatos spell to make sure all the formalities are followed, Mister Calhoun?”

It was time to give Nymus a questioning look again. He hurried to assist:

“It’s easy, Master Calhoun!” he explained. “Take your magic feather and say loud and clear ‘Pobatio’!

“Probatio!” William said and the spacious office of the Postmaster deputy Thomas Hill was lit with a bright green beam coming from the magic feather.

This lasted for about twenty seconds and everyone was silent. When the beam had disappeared, Thomas Hill stood up, walked around his table and headed to one of the cabinets his office was full of. Nymus and William watched him with no idea what was going on. Hill returned to his table with a piece of paper in his hand. He sat back into his armchair, took a feather from the table drawer and directed it at the paper, releasing the feather after a bit of thinking. For a few seconds, the feather hovered over the paper, then started writing something energetically.

Thomas Hill opened his eyes.

“This is, of course, none of my business, Mister Calhoun, but…” he hesitated before asking the question: “tell me, what are your plans for the future?”

William thought that this was a rather odd question, considering the reason they came here for, but it was asked and he had to answer it.

“Well, I’m going to study at the Preparatory Course to enter Temp…” he broke off, “one of the MUnis.”

“Already aiming at Templedoor!” Thomas Hill smiled and continued without paying attention to William’s embarrassment: “Yes, it’s the right place for you, Mister Calhoun. Besides, you won’t be the first Calhoun in there!” Suddenly he leaned back in his armchair and connected the tips of his fingers right beneath his nose. “I wonder if Fafner already knows about you…”

“No, sir,” William replied, “why would he?”

“Quite a number of reasons, Mister Calhoun! Believe me! Well, this isn’t my business!”

With that, he leaned forward and took the filled up piece of paper the feather had just stopped writing on and handed it to Nymus. The paper turned out to be a signed document reinstating Nymus as the mailmage of the Calhoun kin. Besides that, the document was a license that gave him the right to receive and transfer correspondence.

Nymus scanned the document and glowed with happiness.

“Right! Time to part, gentlemen! Don’t forget to get your uniform, Nymus.”

“Yes, Your Mailness!”

“Good bye!” William said as he headed to the door. He wanted to put his magic feather back into the box, when there was a voice from behind.

“Oh, don’t you even think of keeping your magic feather in the box again, Mister Calhoun, it’s disrespectful towards the creature! It is alive, you know!” his tone wasn’t strict, but quite insistent.

“Alright, sir,” with that William put his feather into the pocket of his jeans.

Nymus and he left the office of the Postmaster deputy Thomas Hill.

“See, I told you it would be okay!” William said when they were walking along the corridor. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Yes, I should not have worried, Master Calhoun! I need to visit the Equipment Department now. Wait here for me, I shall be right back.”

“Sure, Nymus, go on!”

And William sat on a bench to wait for Nymus. He came out five minutes later wearing a new outfit. He had the pale blue uniform of mailmages, not unlike the one postal workers wore. Nymus’s shoulders were adorned with red feathers, almost like epaulettes, carrying words ‘Calhoun’ embroidered in gold.

“Would you look at my mailmage!” William made a show of dusting off his feathered shoulders. “You look great, Nymus!”

“Thank you, Master Calhoun!” Nymus’s face glowed with happiness.

“Where to now?” William asked him.

“To register your magic feather!”

He took William’s hand and said the next destination clearly:

“Feather Nest!”

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