Masters of the Veil

by Daniel A. Cohen

  Sam tore his attention back to the present, away from the crystal cavern, as he examined what else he had been given.

  Covering his right hand, fitting his dimensions precisely, was a glove.

  Second-skin, Sam corrected himself. He finally understood what Bariv had been trying to teach him before.

  The snake had given him a portion of skin. The offering had looked hideously painful, but after the small section was shed, the snake had nodded toward it, urging Sam to take it. Sam had wrapped it around his hand and the beautiful skin had shaped itself to fit. It’d shrunk in some places and stretched in others, until it had become unquestionably Sam’s.

  Sam knew he could take it off at any moment, yet doing so was the furthest thing from his mind. It really was a second skin, maybe even a better skin.

  After recovering, the snake had lifted itself up and glided toward the three pods. Sam hadn’t noticed, but the plant he’d just been looking in had produced a fruit—the one currently in his possession. The snake had plucked it with its mouth and dropped it into Sam’s hand before it motioned Sam toward the exit.

  Now back out of the maze, he let his fingertips roll over the lump on his thigh. After pulling out the pad, he had placed the fruit securely in his slime-free pocket, next to the diamond.

  I desperately need a change of clothes.

  It wasn’t hard to find his way out of the cave, as it felt like he had been living there for a while, like he knew the exact layout of the crystal labyrinth—though he knew that couldn’t be true. Once out, he sped off, hoping to get back to town as quickly as possible and find May. Then he realized he had no idea which way the town was.

  A drop of rain splashed on his forehead. The droplets started out as beads the size of sand, but quickly grew larger. His hair became saturated in a matter of seconds and cool water ran down the inside of his jersey. Normally, being stranded in a storm would have annoyed him, but this one was different. He felt as if the world was trying to wash away certain things—things he needed to let go of.

  Despite the chilly weather, he felt something warm. Even as the freezing water pelted his body, the second-skin insulated his hand, trapping heat.

  No, it’s giving heat.

  He knew it was time to try it out.

  The bright pins of light on his new second-skin glowed against the smooth black scales as it was struck by rain. Closing his eyes and thinking about the tiny sun, he let his fingers curve inward toward his palm. It felt instinctual.

  He could feel energy rushing through his grip like a stampede. It shot in between his thumb and index finger. It was like trying to hold onto lightning.

  Imagination, he remembered.

  Concentrating hard, he thought about the pillars of Atlas Crown.

  Something warm scuttled through his hand down to his feet. As it passed out of his toes, he looked down. Just in front of him lay a disc of light—the same color as the light he’d seen in the pod. Flaws in the crystal ground reflected small spines of light around it.

  He placed a cleat against the light.

  Just as he applied pressure, the disc slid forward the distance of a stride.

  He knew it would take him back because that was what he had imagined. A certain amount of pride welled up inside him. In Bariv’s cave, he had been able to do a few menial tricks, but this was real. This was magic.

  Like playing hopscotch, he jumped from light point to light point, traveling a good distance in the pouring rain.

  He stopped to watch a bird paddling itself through the air with long flipper-like feet. A few minutes later, he stopped again to observe a flower that reflected the rain back toward the sky like a negatively charged magnet. In one spot he even saw a pack of drecklers, whose cotton was extra puffy with soaked-up moisture.

  He followed the light for a good while. The rain did nothing to slow him down; he was used to harsh practices in downpours like this one, and his cleats gave him stability.

  He froze at the sound of music. A friendly tune carried through the rain and reached his ears in a crescendo of lovely notes, the pitter-patter of rain providing a backbeat to the melody.

  Taking a chance, he stepped away from his light and pursued the sound.

  Immediately, the next luminous spot disappeared.

  Oh well. I can always do it again.

  He stepped through the drenched bushes and advanced toward the notes. They grew more piercingly beautiful as he hacked at weeds and tore through vines. He pushed and pulled and struggled, and the tune became more enticing. The notes were almost voices, familiar in a way.

  Back home in Stanton—not being one for live music—he’d listened to whatever was on the radio. This, however, could never be captured through speakers, regardless of amps or watts.

  He came to a clearing and smiled.

  Sitting on a stump next to a cluster of audible symflowers, a boy played a horn. Sam recognized him as the curly-haired kid who’d patted him on the back earlier, though his hair was now plastered flat across his forehead.

  Thankfully, the boy didn’t notice him and continued his wonderful composition.

  The boy’s horn wove flawlessly among the beats, accenting perfectly constructed solos against the symflowers’ background. The boy splashed his foot along in time with the music, sending jets of water into the air.

  Sam’s own foot was doing something very similar. He closed his eyes to listen, determined not to miss a single note. After a little while, the horn died down.

  Sam craved more. He opened his eyes and found the curly-haired kid standing right in front of him. He stared at Sam with a curious expression, holding the tan horn down at his hip, the illegible writing on it brighter than before.

  “That was incredible!” Sam shouted over the rain.

  The boy managed a slight smile and nodded politely.

  “I’ve never heard anything like that!” Sam’s ears were still tingling with delight. “I’m Sam. Sam Lock. What’s your name?”

  The boy said nothing, but placed his horn on the small of his back and gave a low bow, still looking Sam square in the eyes.

  “Your name?” Sam asked, a little louder this time, trying to be heard over the singing of the symflowers.

  Again the boy said nothing, but he raised the horn to his lips.

  A single note left the horn, and Sam instantly knew the boy’s name.

  Though he had no idea how—as the boy had played the horn and not spoken—Sam heard a name.

  “Glissandro Thicket?”

  The boy nodded.

  “How did I know that?”

  Glissandro jiggled the horn in his hand.

  “You can speak through that horn?”

  His head bobbed from side to side.

  “So you’re a sorcerer.”

  A nod.

  “Don’t talk much, huh?”

  A silent laugh.

  Sam’s eyes fell on Glissandro’s horn. “So is this mystical magic?”

  The boy touched the tip of his index finger to his other fingers. Sam frowned. No glove—nothing to grip into the Veil with.

  “I thought you needed metal or something for mystical magics to work best.”

  The boy lifted the tan horn to Sam’s eye level. Golden writing that Sam could not identify ran over the surface of the musical horn.

  “Ah.” Sam nodded. “Can you play some more?”

  The symflowers’ voices trilled in the air as Glissandro looked off into the distance for a moment.

  Then he shook his head.

  “Why not?”

  All of a sudden, as quickly as it had arrived, the rainfall dwindled. The symflowers’ singing quieted as the last of the drops fell. It sounded like the batteries dying in a stereo.

  Glissandro shook the water from his head and his curls perked back up.

  “Well,” Sam wrung the water from the front of his jersey, “it was nice while it lasted.”

  Looking Sam up and down, Glissandro’s eyes came to rest on hi
s second-skin. His eyes opened wide, and Sam could see he was either surprised or impressed.

  “I just got it,” Sam explained. “It’s a long story.”

  Glissandro looked as if he wanted to inspect it. His eyes kept flickering from Sam’s face to the snake’s skin—Sam’s skin.

  Sam decided it wouldn’t hurt to let him. “Go ahead.”

  The silent boy caressed the star-encrusted skin on the back of Sam’s hand.

  Sam flexed his fingers. “Pretty cool, huh?”

  Glissandro gave a fierce nod. He took his horn, wiped the water off the tip, and placed it in Sam’s palm. Glissandro looked at him as if to say “go ahead.”

  Sam placed his lips against the opening and blew.

  A terrible noise came out. He imagined it sounded like a lion frog being stepped on.

  Sam laughed, wiped off the tip with his jersey—though that probably made it dirtier—and handed the horn back.

  “I was never good at music.” Sam continued to wring out his jersey, though it didn’t do him much good.

  Glissandro brought the horn to his mouth and let out a few quick bursts of noise. The sound acted like air in a wind tunnel. The water shot out of Sam’s clothing. He was left dry and warm, like his entire outfit had just come off a clothesline.

  Sam felt much cleaner as well; the various stains and smells were no longer there. His jersey looked fresh out of the box.

  Sam gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Thanks.”

  Glissandro nodded.

  Sam noticed Glissandro’s clothing was waterless as well.

  “I need to learn how to do that. I hate doing laundry.”

  The boy still said nothing.

  “Can… do you know the way back?”

  Glissandro nodded and motioned back the way Sam had come. Sam turned around and saw the tip of a pillar in the distance.

  He smiled. “That’ll come in handy.”

  They trudged through the bushes toward the sandstone column.

  Sam followed behind Glissandro, and after a few minutes of silence, he decided to try and get some information out of his new companion.

  “So, Gliss.” Sam wondered if he went by that. “Were you born here?”

  The boy nodded.

  “How old are you?”

  Glissandro stopped, turned around, and bit his bottom lip in contemplation. After a moment, he shrugged in defeat.

  “You don’t know how old you are?” Sam’s eyes went wide.

  The boy pressed the horn to his lips and blew.

  Again, Sam didn’t hear any words, but he knew what Glissandro was trying to convey. The words “Age loses importance very quickly here” nestled in Sam’s head.

  Glissandro turned around and started toward their destination again.

  “Do you know May?”

  The horn played again and Sam heard what Glissandro intended.

  “Really?” Sam asked. “Everyone knows her?”

  Again the boy nodded.

  “I guess I can see why,” Sam said, remembering how stunning she was.

  Suddenly, a strong surge of nausea came over Sam, and he realized just how hungry he was. He wondered how long it had been since his last meal. “Hey, anything to eat out here? I wouldn’t mind some of that dreckler cotton about now.”

  “Hold out a little longer,” Glissandro played. “It’ll be worth it. Tonight is a seam.”

  “What’s a seam?”

  “It’s a clan union,” Glissandro played with a smile.

  “There are clans? Like, Native Americans?”

  Glissandro turned around and pointed to the design on his robe. It was an upside-down V with a circle above and below the tip. Turning back toward Atlas Crown, Glissandro played a few more notes. This time, Sam didn’t hear any words, but the tangle of green fire-vines in front of them bent out of their path.

  “You’re pretty good.”

  Another nod.

  At the next tremor of hunger, Sam remembered the taste of the slider-buns Fromson had given him earlier. If all their food is that good, it would be well worth staying at least a little while.

  “Do you always come out here when it rains?”

  “I try to.”

  “Why?”

  “It is the only gift I can give back,” Glissandro played. The notes’ pitch bent upward.

  “Back to who?”

  Glissandro stopped and pointed his horn toward Sam’s covered hand.

  “The Veil?” Sam asked.

  “Boys!” A voice called out. “Over here!”

  Sam was glad to finally hear a voice coming into his head in the normal fashion.

  May perched on the lone rock in the otherwise muddy field in front of the pillar. She waved her diamond-covered hand through the air; it sparkled as it cut through the mist. In her other hand, she held a bundled up piece of cloth.

  They joined May in the muddy moat.

  “Splendid, Sam.” She clapped her hands together. “You’ve met Glissandro.”

  “Yeah, I heard him playing on the way back.”

  “Wonderful. I have had the pleasure of hearing his divine music many times. Which, if I may add, is many times too few.”

  Glissandro made a small bow.

  May grabbed the hem of her robe and curtsied. “If you don’t mind, Glissandro, I would like to have a private word with Sam. I trust I’ll see you later at the seam?”

  Glissandro gave a tiny wave goodbye and headed to the pillar. He gave a light toot on his horn, which made a section of stone draw back so he could pass through.

  “So how did it go?” May stepped off the rock, but instead of sinking into the mud, she landed on a second rock as it popped out of the earth, keeping her feet clean and dry. “Though I feel it is a needless question, judging by what is now fitted on your hand.”

  “How—what…?”

  “Bariv filled me in. Stopping one of his attacks is very impressive. Yet another thing I probably couldn’t have done—at least not early on in my career.”

  Sam’s voice filled with pride. “It was pretty awesome, I have to admit.”

  She stopped and nodded toward his hand. “And I see you have successfully negotiated with Bariv’s snake.”

  Sam cocked an eyebrow. “His snake? Like, a pet?”

  “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “How then?”

  May skated around his question. “I hope you haven’t left your appetite in that cave.”

  Sam put a hand on his stomach. “Please tell me you’re going to take me to some food.”

  May nodded. “Plenty of it. You are in for a treat tonight.”

  “The seam thing?”

  “Yes.” May tossed him the bundled-up cloth. “And I think this would be more appropriate for the ceremony than your uniform.”

  Sam unfolded the fabric and held it out. It was a blue robe like the ones he had seen people wearing around town, but this one was unadorned.

  “Thanks.” Sam pulled the robe over his uniform. “But how come this doesn’t have a symbol thing on it?”

  May made a small turn of her wrist and Sam felt a tight yank on the robe. He looked down and saw that the wrinkles had been smoothed out.

  “It will make more sense tonight.” May looked down at the numerous symbols on her own robe. She continued toward the pillar, stepping stones emerging under her feet like a disjointed bridge.

  “You know,” Sam trudged through the mud beside her, “that snake was more straightforward with me.”

  She tilted her head to give him a look. “Do you just want the answers given to you?”

  Sam frowned. “I… yes?”

  “Answers close paths; questions open them. I think that now is the time when you need the hunger to discover things for yourself.” She put a hand on Sam’s shoulder, steadying herself on the next stone, which was smaller than the others. “You can’t have a quest without questions, you know.”

  Sam groaned. “Here we go.”

  “We do indeed.�
�� May pulled a small ledge out of the pillar, creating a final stepping stone as the opening widened. “Tonight you will see one of the highlights of our society. Are you ready to go?”

  “Before we do, I have another question.”

  “Hmm?”

  Sam pointed to the portion of the pillar Glissandro had gone through. “How did that kid talk to me through music?”

  “All music talks to us, Sam.”

  Sam sucked air through his teeth. “You know what I mean.”

  May smiled. “I do. I was just practicing my cryptic banter, which I know you love so much.”

  “Thanks for that.” Sam made sure that she could see the full extent of his eye-roll.

  “Glissandro is an extraordinarily unique boy. I mean that literally. You see, he is mute, and—”

  Sam cut her off. “He can’t talk?”

  “No, he never has been able to. It was quite troublesome for him as a child, though he had ways of dealing with it, things like writing in the air. However, that was most tedious work. Barring his one handicap, he was otherwise in perfect health, and though he couldn’t talk, when it came to listening he was truly gifted. The ability to hear without reservation spurred his love of music. Though always rather intelligent and a quick learner, he has amazed all of us with his discovery. He figured out a way to communicate through the Veil with music. Beautiful music. And I haven’t the slightest idea how.”

  Sam’s curiosity was piqued. “That’s incredible.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “So he’s the only one that can do it?”

  “As far as I know.” May nodded, her bottom lip protruding.

  “So why doesn’t he teach people how?”

  “Think of it this way. Could you explain music to a deaf person?”

  Sam thought about it for a moment. “No.”

  “Some things you just can’t teach. And some things are truly your own, like what lies on your hand.” May slapped a hand against the pillar. “Now how about you show me what you can do with that magnificent second-skin?”

  Sam thought about conjuring the light to guide him home. “Not a problem.”

  He stepped up to the solid wall and placed his hand against it. Focusing his mind, he thought about the wall melting away like warm butter and let his palm rise and fingers arch.