Young Math - he meets the stranger

The boy awoke the next morning early with a hankering for breakfast.  He decided his best bet was the widow innkeeper, who always made more than her guests could eat, and would happily allow him to eat his fill in return for help in serving the food and clearing the tables.  He shook the old man's shoulder to let him know his plan, but the old curmudgeon waved him away with a grimace and a snarl.  Shrugging, the boy went off in search of his first meal of the day.

All went according to plan and the boy was in high spirits when he left the inn.  He went back to the stable to see if the old man was still there, but the hayloft was empty of large bodies.  While the boy was looking around, a huge cry went up in the street and he rushed out to see what the cause was.  A crowd was gathering and angry faces were all around.  The chapman was shouting and pointing - at the old man.  He was in the center of the crowd, in the eye of the hurricane of ire, looking all about him with a face of defensive indignation.
"This beggar, this bum, this filthy hobo is nothing but a thief!" thundered the chapman. "I caught him red-handed trying to lead off my best mule!"  The old man shook his head furiously.  He was about to say something, explain himself, but somebody in the crowd cut him off.
"String him up!"
"Yes!" another voice in the crowd agreed, "String up the thief!"  The thirst for vengeance exploded in the crowd and the old man held up his hands, waving them desperately.  Then the wave of mob violence rose, crashed over him, and washed him away with it, down the street to the square.

"Well," thought the boy, "I guess he's going to miss his meeting with his friend."  All of a sudden, a burning desire sprang up in his heart.  He just had to know where that stranger meant to go and what he was going to do.  At least, he had to be told that the old man wasn't going to meet him.  With this justification, the boy trotted off down the road in the direction of the blue boulders.  With all the excitement of the old man's capture, not one person remained in the streets to see him run off and out of town.  He skipped, carefree, along the road until the blue boulders came into view.  He was mildly surprised not to see anybody anywhere around.
"The stranger must be hiding behind them," he thought, "Guarding those things he wants to take."  But when he got to the rocks and looked behind them, there was nothing.  He circled the lumps of solid sea blue curiously.  Coming back to the road, the boy stopped and looked back towards town, thinking the stranger must have found another way to travel and maybe had heard of the old man's trouble and run off, abandoning him to his fate.

"Well, well," came a voice from above him, "A little barn owl has come to see me off."  The stranger was standing on top of the rocks, smiling down at the boy.  His shiny cape was open, revealing a smart, red suit and reddish brown boots.  The man's hair was shaggy, a nondescript brown, and his grin was friendly enough, but his eyes were flat pools of blackness.
"I just wanted to tell you not to wait for your companion, sir," the boy said as gravely as he could, "The townspeople think he tried to steal a mule and he's being - tried."
"Yes, of course," mused the dapper stranger, "That oaf never could do anything right.  Always too contrary to follow the law, and too clumsy not to get caught.  Oh well, I'll just have to go on alone, I suppose."  He jumped off the boulder, landing lightly on the ground.
"How will you move your things without a mule?  Are you just going to leave them here, on top of the boulders?" the boy wondered, "You could.  Nobody likes to spend much time around these rocks, and they're too slippery for most people to climb..."  His thinking out loud trailed off as he realized he couldn't explain to himself how the stranger had gotten up on the boulders, much less brought travel supplies up with him.
"Oh, I don't have any belongings, I much prefer to travel light.  I pick new things up as I need them and leave them behind when their usefulness is at an end.  Always renew yourself, never go back or repeat.  That's what I say."
"But you told the old man-"
"Bah, I just told him that to give him a goal to work for.  Some people have such trouble coming up with their own.  I really was just giving him a hand."  The stranger was smirking a little with his gaze turned towards town.  The boy was starting to feel more and more uncomfortable.  He didn't really want to stay much time with the stranger; there was something about the man that made him uneasy.  At the same time, he didn't feel much like witnessing the fate of the old man.  Although the townspeople were goodhearted and fair-minded in general, sometimes there was a kind of demon stirred up in their bellies and they lost their heads for a few hours.  The boy had never been caught up in the madness and it always made him feel a little sick to see it arise.

"You aren't like them, you know," the stranger said, like he was sharing a great secret, "You could be so much more if you wanted to be."  In spite of his haughty tone, the stranger's face was soft, giving him some sort of aura of vulnerability.  Even his eyes had gained a liquidy shine, although that wasn't so pleasant.  It gave them the appearance of little puddles of oil in an expanse of sand.
"They are good people," answered the boy stubbornly.
"Oh yes, 'good people', those content cattle of human beings.  Never any ambitions, never any rebellion...if that's good, they can have it.  I'll be bad, I'll be pure evil.  And I'll enjoy every minute!"  As he spoke, a light began to glow brighter and brighter in those obsidian chips in his eye sockets.  A tiny needle of terror pierced the boy's heart on noticing this and he backed away instinctively.  The stranger saw the movement and seemed to get hold of himself.  He chuckled, trying to bring some friendly warmth to his voice, instead of blazing rage.  His hand snaked out to grab the boy's shoulder and hold him tightly.  He said, "Of course, I might be too ambitious for my own good.  I wouldn't recommend emulating me to anyone, especially a young man with so much potential.  Only the talentless must rely on their force of will."  The boy was unsure, unconvinced.  The hand did not pull him closer to the stranger, but neither would he be able to escape its grasp to run back to town, he felt.  "Isn't there something you want, though?  Some skill you wish you had or could develop?  Come now, I promise I won't laugh."  A little flame of desire sprang up in the boy's heart, right in the space the previous terror had left.  He answered quietly, "I guess I always wanted to know about magic.  How to do tricks, which ones are real, that sort of thing."  A strangely jolly laugh rolled from the stranger's mouth and he said brightly, "You are most certainly in luck, my boy.  It just so happens that magic is my specialty.  If you agree to fly a while under my wing, I will teach you all I know and you will have every answer you seek."  A purple glow of hope grew around the boy's heart.  He felt, for the first time in his yet short life, the call of adventure.  The stranger was suddenly dashing, exciting, appealing.  A broad smile broke out on the boy's face and with a nod, he sealed his fate.  The two began to walk away from town with the stranger's cape trailing behind them and sometimes swirling in the breeze.