Hank's voice echoed across the little square, but many of the villagers were unconvinced.
A man in an old leather jacket said, "Perhaps it was just a coincidence."
"It wasn't a coincidence, Duke!" Hank said loudly.
"All I did was ask for that damned blizzard to stop. Mr. Don Quixote snapped his fingers, and it really stopped."
"That was absolutely no coincidence!"
The villagers whispered among themselves, discussing it.
Most of them wore smiles, clearly not believing him.
Just then, the Magician stepped forward and smiled at the man who had voiced his doubts.
"If you don't believe it, you can ask for whatever weather you want, and I'll try to oblige."
The man called Duke scoffed. "If you can make it rain right now, I'll believe you."
Everyone in the square laughed, especially the village's original residents.
Having lived here for years, they knew it never rained in this season.
The first rain would not come for at least another two months.
"Certainly."
"But are you sure you want that?"
"If it rains now, most of the people here might catch a cold," the Magician kindly reminded him.
Duke laughed heartily. "You needn't worry about that. A cold won't kill anyone."
"Of course, if you want to use that as an excuse to back out, I don't mind."
Behind the Magician, his female assistant muttered, "Idiot. A cold can kill you too, if that's what you want."
The Magician glanced at her, then smiled. "Very well. Let's have a spring shower."
He placed a hand over his chest and bowed to the audience.
Then he raised his other arm toward the sky.
He snapped his fingers.
Snap.
Everyone in the little square fell silent.
They all looked up at the sky.
The sun still shone brightly. The snow clouds