Peter approaches Jesus with a complaint. Although their group are popular speakers and draw big crowds, Jesus won’t let them charge anything. Now it’s tax time and somehow, they owe. Jesus tells him to go down to the sea, throw out his net and take the first fish that he catches. Jesus is insistent on this point: the first fish. Peter catches his first fish. There in its mouth is a coin that will pay the taxes for him and for Jesus.

That’s the New Testament. Here’s the Tanakh: There’s something Jonah has to do. It doesn’t matter what, the point is he must do it, can’t put it off, can’t do something else instead. And he really, really doesn’t want to. So he doesn’t. Now he’s on the run, he’s all at sea, he’s a man overboard. He falls into the mouth of a fish. It takes him down into deep waters. But because of the fish Jonah doesn’t drown. Reflecting on this it comes to him, there in the fish, to agree with what must happen. Whatever that is. And when he steps out of the fish’s mouth, it’s onto dry land.

From the chapter called “The Cave,” in the Koran. Moses is traveling in unfamiliar country. He meets someone going the same way and asks if they can travel together. The companion agrees on the condition that Moses not ask him any questions. As they cross a river Moses’ lunch, a dried salted fish, falls into the water, comes back to life and darts away.

In midrash, and the Book of Enoch, and some translations of Job, mention is made of a fish so vast that it requires the entire ocean as its cover, that was at first a terrible monster, enemy of the world,  later on a playmate pleasant and docile, and will at the end of time be drawn out with a hook and served as one course of a banquet for everyone there.

In the Romance of Alexander, in the Babylonian Talmud, in Pliny the Elder’s Natural History and the legend of Saint Brendan, in Iceland and Greenland, in Chile and Persia and Arabia is the description of sailors making landfall, on a country of fruit trees, fresh water, everything anyone could want. Always the same: the sailors light a fire to cook their meal and the enormous fish, whose back they have mistaken for dry land, submerges.

I learned to fish with my Uncle Johnnie on the waters of Massachusetts Bay. He taught me that the bay was full of fish that no one could see unless you caught one and showed it to them yourself. The first fish I caught was a small black bass. Uncle Johnnie demonstrated how to remove the hook, at the same time letting me see that the fish had a silver Walking Lady Liberty dollar in its mouth, which he said was very lucky. As he handed me the silver dollar he laughed and told me, “No one’s gonna believe this, Peter. But we’ll know it’s true.”

I fidget with my clothing as I make my way to the guardhouse. I’m not comfortable dressing so cumbersomely, but I’m told that’s what’s expected for such a meeting. When I enter the guardhouse, I’m met by a guard with a friendly smile who is sorting papers.

“Hello,” he greets me, “do you need help with something?”

I freeze for a moment. I’m not prepared for him to ask that way, and my brain scrambles to rearrange my words without losing any important information or picking up anything extraneous. “Um… I’m Timothy of Thistlewood… I-I have a meeting about a job in the castle…?”

“Hmm… ah yes,” the guard scans some papers before picking one out, “here you are. You can take a seat while we send a runner to fetch a clerk from the castle.

I sit awkwardly for a time, as the guard at the desk busies about organizing things, but I quickly reach my limit for doing nothing. I fidget with my satchel a bit before I give in and retrieve my notebook to review some formulae. I lose sense of time as I’m engrossed in my reading until…

“Timothy?”

I start at the voice addressing me and scramble to put my notebook back in my bag, stand up, and shake the clerk’s hand all at once as quickly as possible. “Yes, that’s me… sorry…”

“You’re alright. If you’ll come with me into the other room, we can begin the interview.”

He leads me to an empty office, and we sit across a desk from each other. “So how are you feeling today?”

“(I feel like I’m going to bleed out my ears, vomit, and pass out, in that specific order, but this isn’t a question I’m meant to answer honestly,) I’m fine… um… yourself?”

“I’m good, thank you. So you want to be the court wizard?”

“That’s right,” silence hangs between us, I desperately search my brain for anything else I could be expected to say in response to the question, but I come up with nothing.

Eventually, the clerk moves on, “alright, well your letter of introduction didn’t mention your master’s name…”

Silence again, I feel like I missed something, “I’m sorry, was that a question…?”

The clerk looks up from his notes, “let me rephrase, who did you apprentice under?”

“Ohhh,” relief washes over me with the understanding, “no one.”

“No one?”

Relief vanishes and inverts, “that’s right…” another expectant pause, “I-I’m self-taught (is that what you wanted me to say)?”

“Alright then,” the clerk writes some more notes, “so why should we appoint you court wizard?”

“Umm… Because I can do it (what else am I supposed to say)?”

The clerk stands up and we shake hands again, “Well, it was nice to meet you Timothy. A runner will come and get you if we choose to move forward with your appointment.”

 As I return home, I replay the interview in my mind trying to find ways I could have improved, but in the end, I can only sigh heavily and admit I don’t know what I don’t know. Eventually, I make it back to my family’s farm and head to the house to change out of my nice clothes before doing my chores. Inside my mother is waiting.

“How did it go?”

“I don’t know… they said they’ll send for me if they want to move forward.”

She must read my mood from my posture, “Well, for what it’s worth, you’re really good with the animals.”

 I hate working with the animals. They’re loud, smelly, and the work is dirty, but the work was easy to learn. I mask my disgust as I pour the slop in the pig trough, then I take a moment to watch the animals’ behavior for signs of trouble. I frown as I see the animals all seem both withdrawn and agitated. Everything from horses to chickens were circling their pens with their heads down, stopping occasionally with their ears darting around. I look to the nearby treeline and replay some recent nights chores in my mind. I hadn’t made special note of the noise from the woods, but I’m sure it was quieter today, as though the small game were all in hiding.

“What are you doing!?” I flinch at the demanding voice of my father as he’s coming back from the fields.

“I think there’s a predator prowling the area,” I reply, withering under his stare, “so I’m moving all the animals to the barn for safety…”

“You can’t do that,” he sighs in exasperation, “there’s only stalls for the horses, everything else stays outside.”

“(I’ve already planned around that) Okay…”

I move the pigs back to the pen, then kneel in front of the gate with my knife and carve some runes into the wood which roughly translate to “Welcome, friend. Evil begone.” It’s a simple threshold charm I’ve cast on the house and the barn, but I’m not sure if it will be effective on a fence, or if a pack of wolves looking for something to eat really count as “evil” but it’s all I have the time and equipment to do tonight.

In the morning I go to check on the animals, and sure enough, one of the pigs had been killed and dragged into the center of the pen. I lean on the fence and give a heavy sigh, could I have done something differently? I replay the previous night in my mind, though I know I’m just stalling until I have to clean up the mess.

“I sense regret,” the voice is unfamiliar. I look around me, but my eyes are drawn to the dead pig and everything else slowly becomes… indistinct. It’s as though we’re the only things that matter in the world.

“Who are you?” I force my fear down and project implacable calm through my words.

“A Name is a powerful thing. If you want mine, it will cost you.”

So it’s some kind of faerie creature, I’ll need to be extra careful with my words so I don’t accidentally agree to anything, “forgive me for misspeaking, I didn’t mean to ask for your True Name, but I need to call you something…”

“I have been many things to many people… for you, I think, I should be Peace.”

“Very well, and why have you come to me?”

“Why, to help you, of course. You’re having a hard time of it, aren’t you? Held back because you can’t make connections.”

“(I can’t deny that) So what do you propose? Are you going to devise a wizarding test for employers so I can prove I know what I know?”

“I’m afraid such societal change is beyond me, but I can give you peace. I’m sure on some level you realize it’s your mind that keeps you separate from your peers. Your inability to act without understanding leads to obsession, perfectionism, and frustration. If you agree, I can take away your fixations, your need to understand, and just a touch of your ability to remember. All to normalize the way your mind works.”

I have to think about that. Agreeing to this would completely change how I experience the world. What would that even look like? Would I be able to find the satisfaction others seem to hold?

“No, thank you. I can’t deny it’s a hard life, but if I didn’t fixate, I wouldn’t have had the drive to learn half the things I know now. I don’t want to find satisfaction in thankless work, drink, and noise.”

“A pity,” Peace sighs, “having your capacity to learn would have made me incredibly powerful. Very well, our business is concluded.”

“Not quite. There’s still the matter of the livestock you killed to arrange this meeting…”

There’s a sheepish silence from Peace for a moment. “Forgive me, I hadn’t thought of that. What is your price?”

“Well… do you know anyone who would hire a self-taught wizard on your recommendation?”