by James Beamon
Rich told the guys he was tired, drained from the spell he cast on Triptoe. It was only part of the truth. He got up, made his way upstairs through a throng of people dancing, cheering and thanking him profusely.
Alone in his room, Rich looked at the bare walls like they held an answer to his problems. If not an answer, a way to escape. The dull throb of the party filtered in through the closed door. That was all.
It was tough going through this alone. He knew he couldn’t talk to the guys about it. Without having ever experienced the cost, they would just chalk it up to a bad dream or something imaginary. Rich needed to talk to someone who understood how different and terrifying the cost could be.
He remembered Majora’s last words to him. She told him she was there for him if he ever wanted to talk.
She had given him the words for a scry spell. Casting it was worth it. He already owed plenty for the spell he had woven to obliterate Triptoe so this little bit wouldn’t even register next time Richard Bates came to torture him.
He created a bowl of water and set it on the nightstand beside the bed. Then he spoke the spell she had told him. He never doubted the words; she had burned them into his memory by whispering them into his ear.
Rich looked at the bowl of water for what felt like forever. He finally began to question whether he had said the spell correctly.
“Why did you bring the bowl of water?” a soft, feminine voice asked behind him.
Rich turned and saw Majora. She was right beside him, wearing the same green nightgown she wore the night he first saw her. Her lips curved up and eyes turned down in an expression that couldn’t help but make Rich feel welcomed.
“I thought I needed it,” Rich said, looking back at the bowl. “I figured your face would appear in it or something.”
Her face scrunched up in confusion. “What made you think that?”
“I dunno,” he said with a shrug. “I thought that’s what mages do when they scry.”
Majora giggled. “A scry is a meeting of two minds,” she said, putting her two index fingers together. “We share our environment.”
Rich looked past Majora and saw the Hierophane, the same library where she had taught him magic fundamentals. The bookshelves were just as he remembered, even the empty space where Majora had taken out the Birleshik Arcana. The tea set on the table glittered in the subdued light of paper lanterns. The windows were open and the soft glow of the garden lights revealed trees that swayed in a gentle breeze.
Majora herself sat on a divan. Between her and Rich a yellow line stretched across the divan, the floors, walls and ceiling. Past that line, Rich sat on his ratty inn bed. He looked behind his back and saw his nightstand with the water bowl and the featureless wooden wall of his room a mere two feet away.
“Talk about not putting up my fair share,” Rich said as he looked up at his squat ceiling.
“You don’t need to offer any more than what you are now,” Majora said. “I’m glad you decided to scry with me,” she said with a smile. “The last time I saw you, you seemed so shaken by the cost.”
Rich scratched his head. “I still am. I tried to shut my eyes to it... you know, avoid it.”
The pity in her eyes was unmistakable. “I wish I had had more time with you, Rich,” she said. “There are a lot of things we teach beginners, years worth of instruction that I had to condense into a single day. I’m sorry you went through that.
“You’re not alone,” she said. “Even though we teach the cost is unavoidable, inevitably a young practitioner becomes full of themselves, headstrong with their own growing power.”
She looked up at the ceiling, her eyes dancing as she reminisced. “I remember when I was a young girl; I was mastering spells graded two years above my class. My teachers said they had rarely seen the like of it, but I, I had never seen so steep a cost before. I tried to close my eyes to it, despite the warnings I had learned. I thought to myself, the price for avoiding the cost couldn’t be any worse the horrible alternative of bearing it.”
She fixed Rich with another look of sympathy. “It’s a hard lesson few ever repeat.”
Her words about the steep cost for advanced spells reminded him of Sentry Triptoe.
“How’d you handle the cost—you know, for the highly advanced spells?”
“Well, I approached it with the mindset that higher learning demanded greater sacrifice. And like anything, if you’re willing to sacrifice then the mind and body can endure all sorts of strain. When I needed a break, I would go back to practicing my bending and altering, spells where the cost was little more than a few bad images. That’s what you should do. And when you’re ready, challenge yourself to loftier goals.”
“But why cast at all?” Rich asked. “You don’t pay for what you don’t use. I don’t see why anyone uses magic.”
“You don’t? Wonderful things happen because of magic. Look around you. You are sharing your world with me right now, and I with you. From what you told me, your friend Jason is alive because you healed him. What is the cost to wonders like that?”
Rich nodded. What she said made sense. He hadn’t liked his first cost one bit, but it was definitely better than trying to avoid it. And he had done great things in the short time he had wielded magic. Surely it was worth the price he silently paid. And the more he paid it the easier it would get.
“Thank you, Hierophant Majora.”
She smiled. “I asked you to call me something else, yes?”
“Yes, Rew.” Rich smiled with her. Then he looked back at the empty wood walls two feet behind him compared to the spacious finery of the Hierophane library. “I’m sorry about the world I’m sharing with you right now. This is pretty crappy.”
“Where are you anyway?”
“Some little town you’ve probably never heard of. Triptoe.”
“Oh, Blessed Onesource!” she said with a shake of her head. “I know where you are.”
“You’ve heard of it?”
“That town has more problems than empire capitals. It’s as if the place is the focal point for all the world’s absurdities. The residents may hate their mechanical sentry, but believe me, it was the best thing to ever happen to them.”
“Um...” Rich said, “Not anymore.”
“What happened?”
“I kinda disintegrated the sentry with a spell of ridiculous power.”
“Oh no... that sentry was the only thing keeping the legion of crazy things at bay,” Rew said, her mouth making a moue. She gave Rich a look of feigned malice. “If that town gets taken over by sentient mole people or some other nonsensical menace, I’m holding you responsible.”
“That’s not fair at all, Rew. If I beat Sentry Triptoe then I know he wouldn’t have been any match for the mole people.”
They both laughed a good while. As Rich looked at Rew, he realized all his feelings of despair and isolation had melted away. Her words and company had given him strength and resolve. He no longer feared the cost so much. After all, Rew had been casting powerful magic for centuries.
They finally stopped laughing and the silence grew from seconds into moments. “I see you were about to go to bed,” Rich said, looking at Rew in her dainty nightgown. “I guess I should go. Or cut the feed. Kill the scry? How do you break the connection anyway?”
“You just have to want it bad enough, to leave that is. But you don’t have to. It doesn’t look like it right now, but we’re both in a state of sleep.”
“You sure I’m not putting you out? I don’t want to be blamed for bags under your eyes and mole people.”
Rew smiled. “Let the scry itself be your proof. It can only hold if both parties want to be here. So as long as we want each other’s company, the scry will persist until the deeper levels of sleep extinguish it.”
She winked at him. “But that still won’t excuse you if something ludicrous happens to that town.”
He held his hands up. “I didn’t know the robot I was blasting into fine powder w
as your unwitting henchman. How can I make it up to you?”
She leaned closer and rested her chin on her hand. “Tell me about the world you come from. You know a good deal about my world, but I’m afraid I’m completely ignorant about yours.”
Rich shook his head. “Oh no, that wouldn’t make us even. See, I know a little bit about this world,” he said pointing down to his simple bed. “But I don’t know anything about your world. If this is gonna be even, I tell you about my world and you tell me more about your childhood.”
He liked the way her eyes danced when she spoke of her childhood, like she was a world away. There was something magical about it.
“If you wish,” she said with a smile. “But you owe me, so you first.”
So Rich began, talking of the modern conveniences now gone that he had taken for granted. He and Rew shared their worlds as they shared their minds, talking back and forth until the time sleep would come to finally claim the scry. Maybe it was just Rich’s imagination, but it felt like that moment never came.
Chapter 17
Loose Ends Unraveled
Druze Wozencraft hoped the barbarian girl’s megrym brother was quietly resting beneath a mountain of fortress stone. But centuries in the world had taught him never to rely on hope. So he wasn’t shocked when a megrym showed up with a caravan trader—few things ever shocked him—but he was annoyed.
He didn’t abandon all hope right away. Perhaps this megrym wasn’t the brother of the barbarian girl. After all, his basic order was for the workers to directly report any strange megrym presence. By definition, “strange” encompassed that whole race of slimy lizards.
Druze walked with the shipping steward who had reported the megrym. The morning air was brisk as they walked through the gardens to the exchange yard. In a week or two the leaves would start changing and another autumn would have its turn in the world.
Despite the fact that the sun was just beginning its climb, the Hierophane was bustling with activity down at the exchange yards. The mages traded with all flavors of nations and groups. Not only that, the Hierophane moderated transactions and guaranteed security of goods, so many traders came there to trade with one another. The shipping steward led Druze through various crowds: high-cheeked Hillanders haggling with Agoni nomads, aian bakers unloading confections preserved from the ovens of Nasreddin, nasran Denizbashi showcasing delicate carpets made from the rare kelp of the Azure Coast.
On a small patch of grass on the outskirts of the exchange enclave, one trader had parked his contraption engine. The megrym was there, completing the ensemble of a thoroughly motley band of rabble.
“Hey! You the one running this theme park?” the megrym asked Druze as he approached.
“Theme park?” Druze asked. The steward had been right to report this megrym; he was strange even by megrym standards.
“Yeah, rides, guys in costume,” the megrym said, pointing to a mage apprentice who was traversing the courtyard on a floating tile. “You should add concessions and charge for this, but whatever. I’m looking for a warrior chick. Steel drawers, big ass sword on her back. Seen her?”
Druze let out a sigh. So much for optimistic thinking.
“I have,” Druze said. “Mike, is it? I was told you may come here. You and—” Druze went up to the small fellow with a face that looked like he routinely washed in road dirt except for the clean circles around his eyes. “—a man named Runt, I believe.”
“Yo,” said a different man, one as big as a weagr.
“You would think otherwise, right?” said the dusty faced man, offering a friendly smile and hand. “I’m Ruki Provos of the Provos Trading Company. I’m just a businessman with a pleasantly settled contract.”
Druze took neither the hand nor returned the smile. These people were all irksome and confusing. If the big one was named Runt the tight-lipped nasran woman must be named Straight Legs.
The shipping steward whispered in his ear that Provos had delivered three crates of Maltep hexes. That got an eyebrow raise from Druze; none of the other merchants had been able to trade with the tight-fisted bastards for months now.
At least something good came out of this caravan. Druze turned his attention back to the thing that wasn’t.
“Follow me,” he told Mike.
“Word,” the megrym said with a nod. He turned to Provos and stuck out his little purple hand.
“Aight, Ruki. Preciate the ride. Stay up, playboy.”
The tradesman grabbed the megrym’s hand and shook it vigorously. “You all have been the best investment ever. I’m going to remain in Ardenspar for another day, restocking the caravan and all. Once you finish your reunion, come and celebrate our good fortunes with me. I’m lodging at the Exquisite Promise.”
“Bet.”
Druze turned and began the walk through the trade exchange. But he heard more than just the megrym in tow. He turned and saw Runt on one side of the megrym and the nasran woman on the other. He looked down at the megrym.
“What?” the megrym asked with a shrug. “Following you.”
It was bad enough playing host to a bunch of pendulum rejects. Now he had to extend the courtesy to their hangers-on as well. But Druze nodded, kept walking, and kept his tongue still.
The moment the fake gray robe completed his mission couldn’t come soon enough.
He led them out of the exchange yard, through the gardens to the dormitories. They could stay in the same rooms as the last guests. High up and out of the way, cooling their heels until the others were done.
The megrym must have grown restless passing by the various enclaves and buildings to get to the dormitories. Druze heard him stop.
“Ok, so where’s Melvin?”
Druze turned his head to speak as he continued walking. “First, I am going to show you to your rooms.”
“I don’t want a room. I wanna see my brother.”
Why, thought Druze. Why do these people make everything so complicated? He turned to face the megrym. He was going to have to explain what happened to his brother, in tedious detail, until Mike nodded his little purple head and got on the walkway so Druze could float him up to his room and forget about him.
Something was missing. Not something. Someone.
“Where’s the nasran woman?” Druze asked.
“Took off for the pisser,” Mike said. “So where’s my brother?”
Druze found it hard to understand more than two words at a time from Mike, but he got that the nasran had left to relieve herself. She’d likely pee all over the floor rather than figure out how to use the fixtures. Yet another reason why he just wanted to get this brood in their rooms and contained.
“Your brother is on a vital quest on behalf of the Hierophane. He will return soon enough. Meanwhile, I’m sure you and your friends are tired from your journey here. I will show you to your rooms where you can relax and recuperate.”
Mike looked at Druze, his face scrunching up in disbelief. “Vital quest? What vital quest?”
“You were at Fort Law. The creature your brother and his companions freed cannot be allowed to roam unchecked. So they have gone to contain it.”
“Contain it? You mean the big black monster that crashes through solid stone walls like he’s a stripper popping out of a cake? Big as four Runts, with wings, lives underneath the zombie apocalypse and has no problem getting along with the neighbors? You sent my little brother to go heads up against that?”
“I assure you, your brother and his friends are well-suited to the task.”
The little lizard looked up at Runt. “You believe this dude?” he asked the oversized man. “He’s assuring me of something my own eyes can’t.”
The megrym turned his attention back to Druze. “I’m also well-suited to a task, the task of finding my brother. Where is he now?”
Druze shook his head. “I’m sure you will understand when everything is explained fully. For now, know that pursuit would be impossible. I cannot allow it.”
; “Man, you may be able to get kids on board with that, but I don’t follow the orders of a dude in a snuggie. Where is he?”
Mike was starting to become the loose end Druze had wanted to prevent. The last thing he needed was some half-informed, half-crazed megrym running around trying to stop the others from completing their mission.
He had lost some of his proficiency in interacting with people over the centuries. It was always easier to incinerate them or wait a few decades or so until they died.
The thought of incinerating Mike popped up, as warm a thought as his charred body would be, but the repercussions were something Druze wanted to avoid at all costs. His daughter had grown unduly fond of the fake gray robe and she would be livid. Her good-intentioned, guilt-filled heart would drive her to tell the fake robe and he would tell the barbarian girl and maybe they’d all quit the quest. So, no, he couldn’t incinerate Mike, at least not here. He changed his tack.
“You are right, megrym. I cannot tell you what you can do. So allow me to offer help. I will escort you to your rooms, where you can wash up and refresh yourselves. While you two are doing that, I will prepare some maps and some packs filled with rations and travel supplies. Is this agreeable?”
Mike looked up at Runt and they exchanged brief nods. “Word,” Mike said to Druze.
Druze led them the rest of the way to the dormitories. Soon enough they’d be lifted up on a tile and locked away in the tower. And when he found the nasran woman, Druze would incinerate her just for associating with this annoying megrym.
Inside the dormitory tower, Mike looked up at the doors and the few people that floated to them on tiles. “Sweet,” he said. He smiled as he looked at Druze, little razor teeth peeking out behind thin lips. “We get to ride on the tiles up to our room?”
“Of course,” Druze said. “Right this way.”
Mike approached Druze but stopped suddenly. He stared at something beyond Druze in the courtyard gardens. He walked up to a flower carefully.
“Oh my god, they got Gahniytues! How’d you get these?”