Excerpt: Wizard's Luck

The door flew open with a bang, bounced off the wall and hit the wizard in the shoulder, making a squelching sound. In the street behind him the rain that had soaked his clothing continued pouring down, throwing in a desultory rumble of thunder here and there.
It was oddly reflective of the look on the wizard’s face. Or perhaps it was not so odd. A wizard, it was said, when feeling something very strongly could actually effect the elements around him, causing earthquakes, tidal waves, or yes, thunderstorms. Strangely, wizards were never accused of causing nice, sunny days.
The wizard eyed the door then hit it again, which made it bounce off the wall again. The hinges of the cheap door of the cheap room weren’t up to this sort of abuse and gave up with a tired squeal.
“I’m home.” He announced in a sort of snarl.
I heard. Bad day?
The wizard grunted, releasing the catch on his cloak. It sagged to the floor where it promptly soaked the threadbare carpet.
I figured as much as soon as the heavens opened up outside. Want to talk about it?
“No.”
You sure?
“Yes.” The wizard stomped toward his chair.
You’re gonna soak that.
“Don’t care.”
You will when the landlady shows up. There’s already going to be trouble about the door. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?
“Yes!” He bellowed. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to think about it. I want to have a drink, but I can’t do that either!” He grabbed his purse off his belt and waved it around accusingly before throwing it on top of his cloak. It floated down in an empty way. “And I don’t want to talk about how I go to the next town and spent all my money on a promised ring to come back and find out she’s gone and run off with the butcher.”
Ooh…
The wizard’s eyebrows went up. “Was that a moan? Do we need to have that talk again about moaning?”
It was a sound of understanding. The voice sounded hurt.
“Just so long as we’re clear. I won’t have that ghost stuff going on in my cheap apartment.”
The ghost sniffed dismissively.
The wizard stalked around the room, dragging a battered rucksack out of the closet and proceeding to empty the drawers of his chest into it.
We’re leaving?
The wizard grunted.
Do I want to know why? The ghost asked warily. Please don’t tell me you summoned a dragon and set fire to the chandler’s shop.
The wizard paused without looking up then continued his packing.
You didn’t!
“No. I didn’t.” The wizard pulled off his cap for a moment and ran his fingers through his curly blond hair, just now dry enough to start springing back up into its usual tangle. It wasn’t a very wizardly hat. Perhaps it had been at one time, but age and wear had turned its proud point into more of a wilting sag. “You should know one can’t just snap his fingers and summon a dragon. It’s idiotic.”
The ghost waited, seeming to hover invisibly in the air around his head.
The wizard mumbled something else.
Sorry, I didn’t catch that, Wizard.
“I said there may have been a small… explosion.”
How small is small?
“Leave it alone, Bonny Kate.” He snarled.