“Anything would be better than what young Jon is facing right now, Keisha.” Hells, he’s almost certainly an Adept-class, being mis-trained, picked on and abused…how much worse can it be for the poor lad? “Even going to the Human Realm to visit your late friend’s relatives has to be better than this.”
“Then we’ll get him there. Somehow. But for now—” she gave him a pointed, long look “—you have to find a way to properly train him. At least, part of the way. So he can access his magic and fight back.”
“How? Carlito won’t let me do a blessed thing!”
“Let me work on Carlito. And if he doesn’t bow to me, well, maybe he’ll like life as a slug.”
Roberto puffed a laugh. Yes, there were reasons you didn’t want to get on Keisha’s bad side.
His sister’s face grew pensive. “I wish Hallvard was still alive. He’d definitely make Jon interested in the Human Realm, could I but get him here.”
Roberto had liked Keisha’s Human husband very much. Hallvard had been a good, level-headed man, with a strong Earth sense and a great counterpart for Keisha.
“I do, too. But as he’s not—” Roberto broke off, because he didn’t know what else to say. He’d always been bad with emotions, anyway.
“I will find a way. And I will talk with Headmaster Carlito. Anything else?”
“Just…I hope we find a way to spend Ba’altinne together this year, sis. Or at least one of the major holidays. It’s been too long since we shared a good meal—” Even today, he’d managed to carve out two hours, no more, before he had to be back at Robin Goodfellow to teach astronomy. Magic was later in the evening, which had never made any sense—astronomy was far more fun when it was dark—but Roberto didn’t make the rules.
He only found ways to get around them.
“I hope we do, too, dear brother.” Keisha’s smile lit up her violet eyes, and he felt warmed even though they hadn’t physically touched. “If I can, I will. Count on it.”
And Roberto left it at that.
A few weeks later, Roberto was teaching magic in his favorite classroom. Everyone was seated at desks. The cauldrons, mortars, pestles, herbs, and other accoutrements of magic were put away, as this was to be a theoretical lesson only. Jon excelled at these, so, of course, he was paying attention. But aside from him, only his friend Leftwich seemed awake.
Had Strohan taken them all on a long run again? Physical training was supposed to be only every other day, but Strohan liked to give what he called “snap quizzes” while running, and could make nearly anyone run. Not Jon, for some reason but just about anyone else.
Well, it didn’t matter. All that did matter was that this gave Roberto his excuse to let all of ‘em go but Jon. And then start telling Jon more about the Human Realm, all while conversing in English, which he’d been teaching Jon for the past several weeks since he’d last talked with his sister. Keisha had managed to make the headmaster back off, but hadn’t managed—as of yet, anyway—to get a Human visitor into the school. She had, however, managed to send a Trader in, and young Jon had been fascinated by the Trader’s tales. Especially as the Trader had actually traded with the Humans, as well as the Elfs, the Trolls…she had entranced the whole class when it came to her quick escape from the Orc Realm, but Jon had paid most attention to the Humans and Elfs, as he ought. Roberto had been fiercely proud of him.
Roberto still had to let the kids in his class go, though, before he could talk with Jon at any great length. But he refused to make it easy on any of them as he truly was displeased. He looked at red-haired Pyotr, who’d put his head down on the desk and was snoring away.
“Putting you to sleep, am I?” Roberto purred.
“Um, no sir!” Pyotr snapped out, sitting bolt upright.
“You can write me a five-thousand-word essay on the problems a distracted magician might face while dealing with a Dark Elf for tomorrow morning, then.” He ignored Pyotr’s downcast face, and looked at the rest of the class. “The rest of you can write me a one-thousand-word essay on the same subject. Class dismissed!”
As usual, Jon hung back to talk with Roberto. (Had he not, Roberto probably would’ve had to stun the poor kid with a spell, and then try to talk with him in the middle of the night. Bad business, that.) “I’ll have that essay for you by tomorrow, sir—” young Jon said. His earnest face, his every-which-way brown hair, and his thick glasses had made him a laughingstock when he’d showed up at Robin Goodfellow four years ago. But there had been something about the lad that called to Roberto, and until this year he’d been able to help Jon find his own way despite the absence of parents, prestige, or any vestige of friendship except for Leftwich. Then Carlito had become headmaster, and everything had gone to the Hells…
“That’s all right. I’m sure you’ll do fine. But I have something else to talk with you about now.” Roberto schooled his face, and did his best to look encouraging but as if he weren’t trying too hard. Boys could sense that, and they’d run from it. Even Jon.
“What, sir?”
Yes, young Jon was unfailingly polite. Maybe that was one reason Roberto liked him so much. But that was beside the point; he’d best get to getting.
“I’ve been remiss in saying this, Jon, but there’s more to life than just St. Robin Goodfellow, you know.”
“You mean…girls?” Jon looked scandalized.
“Well, yes, but that’s not what I meant.” Trying to suppress a smile, Roberto went on. “There are many places for a magician. Some of them, like the Human version of Earth, don’t seem to use much magic, but magic still exists there. With subtlety, you can do a great deal; with additional power, which you have—”
“But the kids all say I have nothing! That I’m no one! And that—”
“That’s absurd.” Roberto loaded his words with certainty. “You are Jon, and you are important because of that. No other reason.” Roberto glared, and Jon had the sense to shift from foot to foot. “You are a smart young man. You know better than that!”
After a pause, Roberto went on. “Besides, you are a much stronger magician than you realize.” Before Jon could butt in and say he wasn’t, Roberto pointed to the blackboard. “Could you wipe that board clean for me?”
Jon waved his hand, and the board was clean.
“See? No one else in the class could’ve done that.”
“You could.” Jon gave him a long, level look. “I’ve seen you do it before.”
“Well, yes. But I’m an adult magician with full command of my powers, and am considered a reasonably strong Master. No one else in this class has my potential—except you, and you are far beyond me.”
Jon started to stammer, but Roberto would have none of it.
“Why do you think we’re talking in English right now? Why do you think I taught you English? Why do you think I want you to realize that you have value and worth?”
Well, that third question didn’t have much to do with the others, but he hoped Jon would catch his meaning.
“I thought it was because you were encouraging me in my scholarship,” Jon said, very quietly. “I know I’m smart. I learn quickly. And I had thought of being a scholar. Like you.”
Roberto felt warm, somewhere deep inside. He truly wished Jon was his son at that moment, because no one could’ve paid him a bigger compliment. But this wasn’t about him. It was about Jon. He redirected the conversation, and got back to business.
“I invent things,” he told Jon. “And yes, I am learned, and yes, I am a scholar. But there are more ways to serve yourself than that. And your talents, Jon, are as big as the ocean, as wide as the worlds, and as deep as the Void itself.”
“I didn’t think the Void was deep so much as it just was,” Jon said, puzzled.
Roberto inwardly rolled his eyes, knowing full well as a teacher he couldn’t show his frustration. “That may be so. But my point is that you, Jon, can do as much as you put your mind to. You have many strengths, talents, and gifts to draw upon. And you can u
se them in different ways than most.”
“How?” Jon asked him.
“Well, look at the blackboard,” Roberto said. “Look what you just did! You waved your hand, and the words were gone, right?”
“Yes, but…that’s how you do it.”
“Wrong.” Roberto looked closely at Jon. “I first draw upon images that I learned long ago. And then I use those images to get at my power. And that shortcut allows me to use the wave of my hand to get rid of the words. That isn’t what you did, is it?”
“No…” Jon thought. “I just waved my hand and told the magic to remove the words.”
Yes, this youngster had power, all right. To do that without altering the chalkboard itself was a heavy and sophisticated piece of magic for most. But Jon had done it, easily, without any strain at all. And obviously didn’t see the significance of it.
“Well, that’s something very few magicians can do without practice, and lots of it,” Roberto told him, as gently as possible. The Hells with mis-training this boy; it was time to tell him some home truths. “I think you have a lot of talent, Jon, for magic. But you aren’t like the other boys here. And the curriculum they have set up doesn’t suit you at all.”
“Then what can I do?”
“Find your own way, child.” Roberto reached out and dared to ruffle Jon’s hair. “You can do it. Just use your imagination.”
Then, hoping that gave the youngster something to chew upon, Roberto packed up his stuff and went to his quarters.
The next day, Roberto took in all the various essays—Jon’s, he scanned quickly, and was inwardly delighted with the clarity and cogency of Jon’s arguments. That young man was going to go far, if only he could be brought to some semblance of his actual talents and worth—but he had to teach the rest of the dullards before he could talk with Jon again. And as there was a full Moon tonight, Roberto had thought they might head off to Geadheil Mebrugud—or at least close to it—as no one else would dare the magical portals there with the extra energy thought to be granted to them by the Goddess at the full Moon as they might cause grief to lower-ranked magic users than he and Jon. They could talk in private, and he could maybe show Jon just a few of the spells he’d put together, and see if Jon could learn how to improvise on the fly.
Several hours later, Roberto paced inside his small suite of rooms. It wasn’t quite moonrise, so he didn’t want to give away anything to Headmaster Carlito. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to leave the grounds except during authorized furloughs or legal holidays. Doing so was grounds for immediate dismissal. To Hells with that, he thought impatiently. Jon needs my help, and he’s going to get it. If Carlito sees me, I’ll just stun him and move along. I know I’m more powerful than Carlito ever was…and Keisha will back me even if Carlito figures it out.
He didn’t like thinking about politics, but there it was. Roberto knew Keisha was powerful. Even if he, himself, was not an Adept, he also could be a power…and it was time to let Carlito know it. Quietly, if need be; forcefully, else.
But hopefully that night would not be tonight.
He wished he had a way to get a hold of Keisha, but his urgent message hadn’t gotten a reply. That’s how he knew she must be closeted with some high sticklers somewhere; anything else, she’d at least send him back a message (maybe even by passenger pigeon; they’d recently brought them back using frozen genetic material). He knew she’d have helped, providing she wasn’t taken up with her other duties. That’s why he’d gone to her in the first place. He knew his sister hated those who abused their power, especially over children, even more than she hated the Dark.
She knows this is necessary, he thought stubbornly. Jon’s an Adept-class mage, or, at least, he should be. He has to have help. He has to start realizing who he is and right now. And he must start to use that creative brain of his to start thinking of solutions, sooner rather than later.
He sat down to think and wondered just what, if anything, he could use to spark Jon’s creativity. Not to mention give him the idea that yes, indeed, he could do magic and lots of it.
Then his backpack chirped. It was midnight. Time to go.
He went to Jon’s room, where, once again, Leftwich was snoring away merrily. (Sometimes Roberto thought the only reason Leftwich liked Jon was because of how Jon tolerated his snoring.) But Jon, himself, was studying—not surprising, that.
“Want to get away?” Roberto asked him.
Jon just laughed.
“Take my hand, then. And we’ll go…elsewhere.” In an eyeblink, thanks to the spells Roberto had set up all day, they’d landed just outside Geadheil Mebrugud. He thought it was too risky to go in there before he’d talked to Jon; magicians had fallen so deeply into their meditations before, in that place, they couldn’t come out of their trances. That would not help Jon, if it happened to him, and it was more likely than not considering how much magic Jon had coupled with his overall lack of proper training.
Despite the lack of the sun, it was easy to see here due to the starlight, moonlight, and other-light…for some reason, the magic here illuminated things, just outside of Geadheil Mebrugud. The pale blue light of the magic was unearthly, but Roberto had gotten used to it over the years.
“Wow!” Jon raised his eyebrows. “Blue light? Where are we?”
Roberto told him, then said, “We don’t have a lot of time, but we have a few hours. I wanted to tell you—then maybe show you—a few tricks my mentor showed me, years ago.” It had taken Roberto a long time to figure out just what was going to work, and this should; besides, his mentor really had given Roberto a ton of help, years ago, and it was good to think of old Fenris for a change.
Roberto hadn’t brought any of his new “thinking backpacks,” because he hadn’t wanted to complicate the issue. But he had brought a regular backpack with magical supplies, things that might help with transfiguration…and a bit of chicken feed, as he enjoyed feeding the birds and knew Jon did, too.
He decided to start there. Even though it was late evening, with Jon’s talent, Roberto figured a simple summoning spell should draw at least a few birds to them. He asked Jon to recite it (as this wasn’t a spell that worked well by instinct), correcting the errors other tutors had drilled into Jon along the way; finally, the spell was ready, and Jon cast it.
Within a minute, there were at least thirty birds—common swallows, most of them—converging on them. “Throw them some bird seed, now!” Roberto commanded. “And if you know of a way to multiply it, go ahead and do it!”
More birds were coming (more swallows, a few cardinals, and perhaps a spotted owl or two), too, and he knew the bird seed he had wouldn’t be enough. Fortunately, Jon had grasped the concept; when he’d thrown the bird seed into the air, he’d mumbled something, and the bird seed had expanded seven-fold.
Neat trick, Roberto thought. I’ll have to ask him how he did it.
As soon as the birds settled down, Roberto asked Jon to cancel the working to make sure no more birds would show up. Jon did something—Roberto wasn’t sure what—and the air was still again. The birds that were already there grew quiet, a few still picking at a bit of bird seed here and there.
“What was that supposed to teach me?” Jon asked, with a quizzical look on his face. It was rather endearing, Roberto thought…oh, if he only could’ve been this boy’s father!
But Jon was waiting for an answer, so Roberto had best come up with something.
“I wanted to see if you could match your magic to the situation. And you did! It was wonderful. You somehow created more bird seed than I had brought, and every bird got to eat; you called over thirty birds within a minute, and I don’t know how many after. I couldn’t do that, not on my best day.”
“I’ve always been good with animals, though,” Jon said modestly. “They like me, and I like them. And I didn’t want them to be hungry…”
“Of course not. But you rose to the occasion, see?”
Roberto could see that Jon didn’t. He tried
again, starting with a home truth he hoped Jon would take to heart.
“Every single tutor, with the exception of me, has tried to dampen your ability.”
Jon just looked at him, shocked.
“It’s true. You can do many things without studying or learning from books, and that’s much more typical of someone who’s likely to become an Adept-class mage in the future than not. The rest of us have to learn a different way; we have to build things up, step by step. But that’s not what you do, is it?”
“No…” Jon thought. “I asked the Goddess to please multiply the grain, and She did. And with the birds, I just asked if any would come…and they did.”
Roberto felt no spiritual energy around, and he would know if Jon was headed for the priesthood by now. Keisha’s Order had come in several times to Robin Goodfellow and talked with all the lads, and while a few were likely to join, Jon had never been among those candidates.
“You may well have asked the Goddess, but what you did came from yourself,” Roberto said flatly. “You have a gift, Jon. You can do things by instinct that other people can’t no matter how long they study. And what you did just proves that.”
Jon still didn’t seem to understand.
Roberto tried one, last time. “If you think about it, you will realize that you have a way to defend yourself now. You can call birds out of the sky, even at the darkest time of night when most are asleep; you can multiply the amount of food they have. And I’m betting if I gave you something to transfigure—” He tossed Jon an apple. “—you could turn this into bird seed, too. Couldn’t you?”
Jon looked at the apple, held it, held some bird seed, closed his eyes…and magically, the apple became more bird seed.
“See? I could not have done that.”
Jon’s eyes were round behind his thick glasses. “I did that?”
“You certainly did. And there’s more where that came from, too.”
For the next hour, Roberto worked with Jon on his transfiguration skills, and even taught Jon how to create useful things from pocket lint. (Roberto had always wanted to use that spell, but he’d never had quite enough magic to carry it off. Jon had it, though, and to spare.)
Fantastic Schools, Volume 3 Page 15