Wager's Price

by G. P. Ching

  Theodor’s gunmetal-gray eyes hardened. Straightening, he paced to the desk, mumbling something Finn couldn’t hear. After a moment or two of talking to himself, he faced Finn again, stroking his chin. “I’ll make you a deal. I will teach you one spell today. If it works for you, you will agree to open your mind and believe what I tell you, without question.”

  Finn frowned. “And if it doesn’t?”

  “If it doesn’t, you will cease being my apprentice.”

  “One spell?” He’d been so excited to learn to do tricks. Could magic be real? Could anything prove to him that it was? He shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

  “Choose a card. Make certain it’s a red one.”

  Finn chose the two of diamonds. “Why does it have to be red?”

  Theodor wagged a finger. “Ah, ah, ah. No more secrets until you’ve committed to the process.” He handed Finn an ordinary black permanent marker.

  “A Sharpie?”

  “Are you going to complain about everything? I’m sorry to disappoint, but I am fresh out of fountain pens filled with unicorn tears.”

  Finn yanked the cap off with his teeth and stuck the back of the marker into it.

  Theodor strode to the front of the room and pressed chalk to chalkboard. “Copy this exactly on the card.” He drew an infinity symbol, leaving a gap at the end so that one side of the figure eight was open. Inside the closed circle, he drew a clover, the stem and each leaf touching the sides of the circle. Within the incomplete circle, he placed one thick dot.

  Finn transposed the symbol exactly in black permanent marker over the two of diamonds, surprised at his own handiwork. There was a familiarity to the process, as if the symbol was already on the card and he was merely melting a layer of wax away to reveal it.

  “That’s it. See how the symbol is a living thing. It wants to be known by you. It forms itself perfectly beneath your hand.”

  “Okay. Now what?”

  “Put the marker down and cup the card in your hands. Like this.” Theodor demonstrated with his own card, bringing his cupped hands to his lips. “Now, this is very important, Finn. I’ve given you the symbol for unbind. I want you to picture in your mind a lock springing open. Perhaps it’s a bicycle lock or your locker at school. Picture unbind and then breathe the word onto the card.”

  “Breathe the word. How exactly do I breathe a word?”

  “Air and intention. A loud whisper. Vocal cords are unnecessary.”

  Finn brought the card to his lips. He pictured turning the dial of the rotary lock on his locker, focusing on the last moment when a subtle pop signaled he could retract the metal trigger and swing open the door. With a deep breath, he exhaled the word unbind. The symbol lifted from the card, casting a green glow in the dim light of the office. The gap in the figure eight closed and opened again before sinking into the card and vanishing altogether.

  “Where’d it go? Did I do something wrong?”

  Theodor shook his head. “Oh no, you did something very right. First time, no less. I suspected as much.” He winked before retrieving a wooden box and placing it before Finn. It was the size and shape of a cigar box, carved from ebony wood and without symbol or decoration. He tested the lid.

  “It’s locked.”

  “Use the card to open it.”

  “How?”

  “The magic is already there. You simply have to cast the spell. The card is your magic wand, Finn. Tap it on the box and tell it what to do.”

  Finn gripped the two of diamonds between his thumb and pointer finger. Here goes nothing. “Unbind.” The lid to the box popped slightly, a rush of cold air flooding across Finn from inside. He lifted the lid, a smile spreading across his face. “It worked. I did it!”

  Theodor nodded appreciatively. “Now, do we have an agreement? Will you become my apprentice and fully open your mind to the belief and practice of magic?”

  Finn stared at the two of diamonds in his hand. He was going to learn magic—real magic. He nodded eagerly. “Yes. I’ll do it.”

  Theodor bowed his head. “Very well. Then, for your second lesson, I will show you how to reverse the enchantment. You’ve unlocked the box using unbind. To lock it again, hold the lid closed, flip the card over and say bind.” The magician backed up a few steps and waited for Finn to execute the enchantment.

  Hand resting on the lid, Finn tapped the card as instructed and whispered, “Bind.” The lock on the box clicked, and a sharp pain traveled up Finn’s arm to his wrist. He tried to pull his hand away but couldn’t.

  “Ow. Oww! It hurts,” he pleaded with Theodor, but the magician didn’t move from the place where he leaned casually against his desk.

  “Ignore it. It will fade.”

  “What?” But the pain was already diminishing. Finn jerked his hand off the box and rubbed the underside of his forearm, which itched furiously. For no longer than a heartbeat, a copy of the symbol from the card flashed green beneath his skin, then faded as if it had never been there. “What was that? What did you do to me?”

  “I did nothing to you. You did it to yourself. You bound yourself to me as my apprentice. Think of it as a contract. I agree to teach you, and you agree to learn without question and to keep our relationship secret,” Theodor said. “This spell will ensure you keep your end of the bargain.”

  “Do you mean I can’t tell anyone, even if I wanted to?” Finn asked.

  Theodor picked up the box and placed it back on his shelf. “Yes. You are on your way to becoming a powerful magician.”

  Finn stared at the two of diamonds, still gripped between his fingers. Exhaustion thickened his blood to approximately the weight of concrete.

  The magician placed a hand on his shoulder and shook it to get his attention. “Sunset. Time for you to be in your room. I’ll call you again when you’ve had time to rest.” Theodor pulled the king of spades from his pocket and tossed it at Finn’s feet.

  The room spun again, this time with nothing for him to hang on to but the desk—useless, as it was promptly ripped from under him. Finn toppled through the vortex, the resulting vertigo turning his stomach. He landed at the foot of his bed, hugging his cards to his chest.

  Hope emerged from the bathroom and stopped short when she saw him.

  “There you are! Where’ve you been?” she asked.

  “None of your business.” He turned his back to her and slipped the deck into his drawer. A key rattled in their lock and footsteps trailed down the hall. Ravenguard.

  “Fine, but can you let me know when you’ll be gone next time? I was afraid you’d miss curfew.” Hope grabbed his shoulder and turned him around to face her. Her eyes were narrowed and a muscle in her jaw twitched.

  “Don’t worry about me, Hope. I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.” He smiled to try to defuse the tension between them. He liked Hope and he didn’t want to lie to her, but he couldn’t tell her the truth. The mere thought of saying Theodor’s name made the inside of his arm burn. Not to mention, he didn’t owe her an explanation. He was sure she had her own secrets.

  He scratched the space near the inside of his wrist, then pulled away from her grip to take his turn in the bathroom.

  20

  Training

  Time at Revelations ebbed and flowed like the tides. Finn stopped keeping track of the days, stopped complaining about his lot in life, or the pain, or the unfair aspects of the school’s curriculum and, like the hanged man in the tarot card, accepted his fate.

  He had a full schedule of regular classes to keep him busy. In aerial, he fell on his face at ever-increasing heights. He juggled burning torches that scorched his hands in pyro, learned to compel a tiger to sit up in menagerie, and endured endless jabbing with sharp implements in resilience.

  It was almost a full two weeks before Theodor called him again, the joker warming in his pocket. This time his travel by portal was less jarring, whether because of their bond or Finn’s experience.

  “You were right,” Finn said when he
arrived in Theodor’s office. “It gets easier.”

  “I thought you looked less black and blue these days,” the magician said through a half smile.

  “The lessons still hurt and seem pointless, but they’re endurable.”

  “Do you have a favorite?”

  “Aerial. It isn’t just about falling anymore. We’re practicing tightrope walking and acrobatics.”

  “You look like an aerial,” Theodor said.

  “Sometimes, when I fall, a strong wind blows through the gazebo, and for a moment…”

  Theodor nodded. “Keep practicing. I predict you’ll be a new man in a week or two.” He walked to the blackboard and lifted the chalk. “Speaking of practicing, today we learn the spell for ignite or extinguish.”

  Finn slid into the student desk and retrieved his deck of cards from the inside pocket of his jacket. “Red?”

  “Always red, Finn. For now.”

  He selected the three of diamonds before retrieving the Sharpie from within the desk.

  Theodor drew a circle. Inside, he made a triangle, the lines at the apex crossing like logs in a campfire. Finn traced the symbol on the card.

  “Is this used to start a fire?” Finn asked as he completed the drawing.

  “The cards are used in the way you believe they can help you. Yes, this symbol can start or extinguish a fire, but it can also allow you to see in the dark or heat up a pan of cold soup. The application of the spell is only limited by your imagination. You decide how it can be used.”

  Finn brought the card to his lips and breathed ignite over the surface. The symbol glowed red. The triangle opened and closed at the top before sinking into the card itself.

  “You remembered how to activate it. I’m impressed.”

  “Can I practice?”

  Theodor retrieved a tall red candle from the shelf and set it on Finn’s desk. “Give it a try.”

  “Ignite,” Finn said, tapping the card to the wick. The candle gave off a wisp of smoke, but no flame appeared.

  Theodor leaned his hip against his desk and laughed. “You can’t just go through the motions, Finn. Magic requires energy. Starting a fire requires the heat of all the atoms around your card to collect on that wick and form a spark. This is a more difficult spell than bind or unbind. You aren’t changing the position of what exists; you’re creating something new. The card isn’t doing the magic. You are.”

  “Then why have the card at all?”

  “The card is a tool. The card focuses your energy.”

  Finn gave the wick his full attention. “Ignite!” More smoke.

  “It doesn’t help to say it louder. You must mean it more. Picture it, in your mind.”

  “Ignite.” Finn managed to produce the smallest of sparks. Not enough to light the wick.

  “Again,” Theodor said, holding up his hands. “With feeling.”

  Another two weeks passed before Finn was able to consistently light and extinguish the candle. By the time he succeeded, he’d improved in other subjects as well, his favorite being aerial.

  “We’re getting better,” Wendy said between classes. “I never thought it would get easier, but it is.”

  “Your cartwheel on the high wire was amazing. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

  She lowered her voice. “I’ve never been able to do a cartwheel before. Who would have guessed I could do it on a wire?”

  “Wendy?” Finn grabbed her hand, an action that seemed to make the sun above them shine a little brighter.

  She paused on the garden path next to a blooming red hibiscus. “What, Finn?”

  “I knew you could do it.” His words all mashed together into one syllable.

  The blush of her cheeks told him she understood. “Thanks. Something about this place…” She swept her sable braid behind her shoulder. “I hated it at first, but now.” She shrugged.

  “I know,” Finn said, running his thumb over hers. He’d already gotten her attention. He didn’t need to hold her hand. But he did anyway. She didn’t seem to mind. “It’s like anything is possible.” Anything, Finn thought. Like a skinny kid being good at something. Like holding the hand of the most beautiful girl right in the school gardens.

  Wendy grinned. “I never thought I’d say this, but I love aerial.” They were so close Finn could feel the warmth of her beside him, could smell the sweet scent of her, like soap and fresh air. He leaned toward her, inhaling deeply, his gaze focused intently on her lips.

  “Move along, Wager,” Orelon said from behind them. “You too, Ms. Matthews.”

  Embarrassed, Finn pulled back, muttering a quick goodbye. For how worried he’d been about his earlier experiences at the school, he was surprisingly excited about the way things were going. When he was sure no one was looking, he flexed a bicep and admired it appreciatively. He could do this. He liked doing this.

  “It’s about time, Wager. Get your ass down here.” Mike stood alone on the stage next to the pyro equipment, fidgeting like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

  “Where’s Fuse?” Finn jogged down the aisle and vaulted onto the stage, not bothering with the stairs.

  “Don’t know. She’s late.”

  “Late? She’s never late. None of the teachers are ever late.”

  “Relax, I’m right here.” Fuse walked in from stage right, a roll of yellowed parchment in her hands. She handed it to Mike. “You’re moving in with Jenny Pendleton. Ms. D gave me this to give to you. It has your new room assignment. Don’t go back to your old room. The staff will move all your things over.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Amanda and Paul are coming back to class and need to room together. The rehabilitation process requires them to have a special schedule to catch up.”

  Finn looked at Mike and back at Fuse. “What exactly is the rehabilitation process? They’ve been gone for weeks. I was afraid Paul was dead.”

  Fuse laughed like Finn was joking, but he wasn’t. The thought that Paul might be dead had actually crossed his mind.

  Fuse stepped in closer and leaned between them. “You don’t get a one hundred percent success rate with free thinking and hug therapy,” she said quietly. “Do yourselves a favor and stay outta trouble. Truth is, I don’t even know what they do to them, but the kids are never the same. Never.”

  Mike’s lips parted and his gaze darted to Finn’s.

  “We’ll keep that in mind,” Finn said. “It’s a relief Paul is coming back.”

  Fuse agreed. “Now, today we’re juggling fire. Grab two torches each and light ’em up.”

  No questions were asked and no one complained. Finn obediently retrieved two torches and pressed the button on the side to ignite the ends. Mike did the same.

  “Try to catch the part that isn’t burning,” Fuse said. “Go.”

  Ninety minutes and several burns later, Finn and Mike dragged their scorched selves into the dining hall. Finn hadn’t even reached the buffet when Hope hooked her hand in the crook of his elbow and pulled him aside.

  He groaned. “What now?”

  “What’s wrong with you? And what happened to your eyebrow?”

  Finn reached up to find smooth skin where his left eyebrow used to be. “Pyro class,” he said.

  She winced. “Sorry. I can try reiki later.”

  “No, thanks. It’s fine. It’ll grow back.” Finn scratched the bare spot. “So, ah, what do you want?”

  “Did you hear Amanda and Paul are back?” she whispered.

  “Yeah, they moved Mike in with Jenny. Amanda and Paul are going to be rooming together.”

  “She was in my class last period. She’s not normal, Finn. It’s like she’s…”

  “What?”

  There was a rumble of voices behind them as Paul and Amanda entered the dining hall. Unlike before, Amanda was chipper with a dark ponytail that swayed with her bobbing steps.

  “Hey, Finn.” Amanda waved before getting in line for the buffet.

  Paul was less bubbly
but far from the catatonic mess Amanda had been the first time she’d returned. “What’s for lunch?”

  “Paul?” Finn asked.

  “What’s up, Finn?”

  “What happened to you? You’ve been gone for weeks,” Finn whispered, spreading his hands.

  “Why are you whispering?” Paul smiled a broad, friendly smile like he belonged in a comic strip. Finn had a hard time reconciling it with the brooding hulk he’d met before. The old Paul looked like he chewed barbed wire for breakfast. This guy had the chipper aura of a flight attendant.

  “Are you okay?” Finn asked.

  “I’m fine. I needed some time to rest and recover. I’m better now.”

  “But what did they do to you?”

  Paul loaded his plate like he’d never missed a day. “Nothing worth talking about.”

  “See?” Hope whispered.

  “They’re different, but both of them look really good. Frankly, I’m relieved he’s alive. After that nightmare I had, I thought we’d eventually hear he died or got sent home with a permanent injury.”

  “You don’t think the plastic smile is at all forced? Do you think they drugged them or something?”

  “I don’t know, Hope. I’m hungry.” Finn joined the line for lunch, leaving Hope behind, arms crossed and foot tapping. It wasn’t that he didn’t get what she was talking about—Paul and Amanda had obviously gone through an extreme transformation—but Finn didn’t care. He didn’t want to waste time worrying about the things he couldn’t change. He wanted to succeed and that meant doing things the Revelations way. If he was going to make it home, it wasn’t going to be because he challenged authority or wallowed in negativity.

  He’d heaped his plate and was about to sit down when Ms. D thrust into the room and rushed to the head table like the tails of her jacket were on fire. She held up her hands, and the crowd of students became instantly silent.

  “I have an announcement. Your instructors have shared with me how hard you’ve all been working. I can already see the change happening inside each of you. Some more than others.” Her gaze fell on Finn. “I am pleased to announce that your instructors have made preliminary selections for their troupes. Those students whose names I call will henceforth discontinue their current schedules and begin training full-time with their assigned troupe.”