by Alex C Vick
He gave me a disbelieving look. For a moment I was worried I'd upset him again. Then he laughed.
"You speak your mind, don't you? Please don't say that to anyone else. You'll never find a sponsor."
"I'll do my best. Speaking my mind isn't something I can change easily," I said.
His smile faded, and he pushed the papers to one side. "It is possible to change who you are. At least, it is if you are a magician."
He can't mean what I think he does.
"Change? How?"
"You asked about the aim of the pact. It's to prevent another war, obviously. By creating stability and connections across the magical community. Because who would go to war against their own children?"
"No one," I said, putting down my glass of water. I switched the ice pack to the other side of my ankle. "But that's not the part that worries me. It's what you said about changing who you are."
Art returned to his armchair. "The compatibility test leads to a secure outcome," he said. "We have to be matched with someone complementary so the bonding ceremony can offset the risks on either side."
"I don't understand," I said. "What risks?"
"There's a scale. Against the eight criteria. Anything above a six out of ten is a risk." He bowed his head. "I had a lot of them."
"Like what?" I asked. "Give me an example."
He kept staring down at his hands. "Like a nine out of ten that I would choose with my heart before my head. Like a seven out of ten on self-doubt." He pulled at a loose thread on his top, disconnecting it with a snap.
"I was a real catch. That's why there's no backup plan for me now Maxia's dead. According to the Fifth Tenet, I must give up my magic."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"I can't be a magician as I am," he said. "And I can't change for the better without a match."
"But how are you supposed to change?"
"The Bonding Spell. All of my high-risk scores would become low-risk."
My mouth was dry. He had to be exaggerating. What he was describing sounded like permanent emotional sedation.
"There is a blade called a Gallium Dagger," he went on. "It was the most feared magical weapon during the war, but since then its use has been modified. It is… well… it is infallible."
A feeling of dread settled in the pit of my stomach. Being an unmatched magician in this world apparently made me unique. And not in a good way. I didn't know all eight criteria but I could guess I would have high-risk scores too. I might have made a terrible mistake in coming here.
8.1 Adelle, That Morning
Adelle Bavois. Journal Entry 14,577. Year 6015. Day 98.
I believe I have a solution that balances our need to be cautious with the absolute requirement that the girl remains in Vayl. It will also give Art something constructive to do in place of counting down the days until he becomes a cotidian. I know he feels his emotions keenly. Unfortunately, he always will.
His father has agreed. And the Board of Mages will be easy to convince. After all, what if this girl is a spy? We have to protect ourselves. The outer territories have been quiet in recent generations. Perhaps they've been regrouping. Perhaps they have magicians capable of projecting A-grade lumien. The possibilities and the risks are enormous.
Such magic would be outside the terms of the pact. There would be no rules.
9 Eight Criteria
"Don't look at me like that," said Art. "The things that are wrong with me can be a huge problem in the cotidian community. They have no Bonding Spell. I've seen the issues it causes. I would be a risk to the pact."
"They're not wrong with you." I raised my voice when he shook his head. "They're not. They make you who you are."
"Yeah," he said, making a face. "I know that."
"Listen to me," I said. "Those things only make me like you even more than I already did."
We stared at each other. Art appeared to be genuinely surprised. "You like me?"
It was his complete lack of arrogance that persuaded me to repeat myself. "Yes. I do."
He opened his mouth and closed it again. "I… I like you too."
I smiled. He smiled back. I had to check that my force field was still suppressed because it felt like my insides were fizzing with magical energy.
Then I remembered. I hadn't told him the truth about myself yet. It wasn't fair to keep it from him when he'd been so painfully honest with me.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"I still owe you an explanation," I said. "About why I didn't already know any of that stuff."
Before I could continue, there was a knock at the door. Art got up to answer it and had a murmured conversation with the person on the other side.
Part of me was still struggling to get my head around what he'd said. To remove what made you unique as a person in order to become a magician… In my opinion, the price was too high. Way too high. Perhaps the life of a cotidian was a better one.
Except for the whole mage-sickness and sponsorship thing, obviously.
I wondered about the other territories. The ones with fewer magicians but also no tenets. Perhaps—
"Serena?" Art's voice interrupted my train of thought.
He gestured toward the door. "I have to go. It's time to ratify the new sponsorships. They need my signature. I'll be back as soon as I can."
"Oh. Well, I guess I'll wait here then."
"Let me just change this top and I'll get you…"
He walked through one of the doors next to the kitchen. When he emerged he was wearing a dark blue shirt with small silver buttons. After disappearing briefly behind a second door, he came back with three books.
"Here," he said, offering them to me. "Some not-so-light reading."
"Thanks," I said. "I think?"
He smiled. "I promise to be quick."
Then he was gone.
It was a relief to allow my force field to expand again. The first thing I did was add a Contusion Remedy to the rest of my water and drink it down. Apparently my ankle was going to need proper rest to get better. And that was my dilemma. Should I stay in Vayl for another two days or return to Galen and Claudia now while I had the chance?
I was scared. All that talk of the special dagger and the personality adjustment had been very creepy.
But setting aside the risk, there were two reasons I wanted to stay. Firstly, there was Marty. I wanted to find out what had happened to him and his parents, and Art was the only person I was willing to confide in.
And secondly… Art himself. I liked him a lot. The more time we spent together, the more time I wanted to spend. And it wasn't because of the way he looked. Not anymore. It was him. The person underneath.
I glanced down at the books he'd given me, turning to the smallest one first. Tenets: A Guide. I flicked through the definitions, surprised at how prescriptive they were.
The First Tenet, as Art had said, was about restricting underage exposure to magic. Direct magical energy seemed to mean when it was being projected by a magician. Indirect was the bottled version.
There was definitely no chance that sparks would ignite outside of the elaborate bonding ceremony.
The Second Tenet described the amulets. Magicians' children were required to wear them from five years of age. A lot younger than I'd expected.
Each amulet was unique. Cut from a section of the Vayl Crystal, its shape depended on how the crystal came apart each time. The crystal was described almost reverently. I wondered if Art was wearing an amulet. I hadn't seen one.
The Third and Fourth Tenets were concerned with the matching process and the eight criteria used to measure risk. By the time I'd read the list, I was furious on Art's behalf. I had to force myself to hold the book less tightly so as not to tear the pages.
One: Magical strength. [Diagnosis Spell.]
Two: Magical purity. [Diagnosis Spell.]
Three: Magical skill. [Observation.]
I wasn't sure how you tested potential before you ev
en had a spark. In fact, I wasn't sure how you tested potential at all.
Four: Emotional sensitivity. Head/facts versus heart/emotions. [Diagnosis Spell.]
Art had already told me this was one of his perceived weaknesses. I thought for a moment. Never taking the facts into account could be dangerous. But it was too simplistic. A fact-based approach wasn't infallible either. And the fun of life was in the living of it. The emotions. The light and shade.
Of course it would be nice to never feel sad, or angry, or scared. But not at the expense of joy and amazement. And what about romantic love? I saw the way Galen and Claudia looked at each other. I could never give up the chance of having that myself one day.
Five: Extrovert or introvert. [Observation.]
Six: Self-image. [Ten-word test to describe oneself. Count negative/positive.]
Seven: Self-doubt. Anxiety before/after challenges. [Diagnosis Spell.]
Another one of Art's "weaknesses." I bristled. Not everyone was born self-confident. And a little humility went a long way, in my opinion.
Eight: Insomnia/nightmares. [Count nights with/without and calculate percentage.]
The book went on to specify assessment intervals according to age. Face-to-face meetings between potential matches didn't take place until sixteen years, by which time scores were not expected to change.
And what happens if they hate each other? The book didn't say.
Finally, the Fifth Tenet confirmed that unmatched magicians had to transition to cotidian status, despite the twenty percent risk of death.
What?
I leaned closer, checking the words. Risk of death? That made no sense.
I closed the book, unwilling to read any more. The ice on my ankle had partly melted, and my sock was wet. I limped over to the kitchen and put the remains of the ice pack into the bowl. Leaning on the counter, I looked across the apartment. It was really tidy. There were four doors, all of them closed. Surely it won't hurt to take a quick look?
The bathroom was more luxurious than the one I'd seen the night before. There were towels in all the colours of the rainbow, and a deep stone bath inlaid with silver. I would have to pretend to use it if I stayed here.
Of the two bedrooms, it was easy to see which one was Art's. They were identical in layout and mirror images of each other, located in opposite corners of the apartment. The first room I checked was devoid of any personal possessions, but Art's room, by comparison, was chaotic.
The blue-and-silver bedcovers were rumpled, and there were books, clothes, and pieces of paper full of drawings on every available surface. Balanced on the bedside table, at an angle as if it had been put there hastily, was a thick manuscript with a purple cover. I tilted my head to read the curling silver letters on the front.
Ammartus Bavois. Journal. 6015.
I left the room immediately. No way was I going to be caught staring at something so personal, even if only from a distance.
The library was small. Walls on both sides contained rows of shelves with books piled vertically and horizontally in no particular order. It was a mystery how Art had managed to find what he wanted so quickly before. There was no window. The wall facing the door was covered with a series of maps.
I walked up to them, reaching out a hand to touch the map at eye level. Vayl City. There was the tower, and the square, and even the fountain where I'd stopped the day before. I traced a route to the city's entrance. I was halfway across the map when the door swung shut behind me and everything went dark.
I froze, holding my breath and trying to hear if there was anyone else in the room. The back of my neck prickled. I ignored it, readying my magic. I had the advantage of surprise, and I intended to make the most of it.
"Serena?" came Art's voice from within the main apartment. "Where are you?"
I smiled, relieved, and pushed my force field back. "I'm in the library," I called.
I was about to turn around when I noticed some faintly glowing dots on the wall, lined up to create a path across the map. They were made from magical energy. I was sure of it. But what were they for?
The sound of Art's footsteps came closer. "Did you find the button for the light? The door has a habit of…" His voice faded to nothing when he opened the door and found me standing in darkness. "What are you doing?"
Not taking my eyes off the map, I put my hand over the dots, invisible now that light was spilling into the room. "I'm wondering where this secret pathway leads to."
"Nowhere."
"All paths lead somewhere," I said.
A pause. "It doesn't as long as I never use it," he said.
"And what would you use it for?" I asked, looking over my shoulder.
He avoided my gaze. "To run away."
9.1 Adelle, That Evening
Adelle Bavois. Journal Entry 14,578. Year 6015. Day 98.
A successful day. The tithe from Vayl's market was its highest yet. And four out of six new sponsorship applications were approved. Five out of seven if I include the unusual arrangement with Miss Caesar. I intend to watch her. She is extremely sure of herself. Art seemed a little ambivalent when they first met. Then his opinion changed. I am glad he has the company of someone his own age, but he is impressionable. It is a risk. I will watch them both.
In addition, we have another confirmed case of mage-sickness. A boy of six—the youngest yet. His parents have it too. Naturally. Although they are past our help. Fortunately for them, their son's situation was enough to secure their sponsorship.
Propensity has risen to one in ten.
10 A Touch Of Magic
I tried not to let my excitement show. "Is that an option?"
"No," he said quickly. "Definitely not. I don't even know why I said it. What are you doing standing here in the dark anyway?"
"The door closed. I was preparing myself for a fight."
Art gave me a curious look. "Why would you need to do that?"
It's interesting that he thinks I'm safe.
"No one knows I'm allowed to be here except for you, your mother, and Petro," I said. "What if someone thought I was an intruder?"
"The only keys belong to me and my parents. Besides, everyone knows who you are, even if they don't know what you look like yet."
"Any respectable magician can open a locked door if the lock isn't magical," I said. "Wait—everyone knows? How come?"
"Well… not everyone." He smiled. "Not the whole city. But the Board of Mages and the magical families know."
I supposed I could hardly expect my existence to remain a secret.
"So…" The curiosity had returned to his expression. "How were you going to fight?"
"Er… I hadn't decided." There were a number of tactics I could have used. Combat Spell. Distraction Spell. Invisibility Spell. I had also learned a little hand-to-hand fighting during my time on Terra, but given the choice I would always favour a magical defence.
"I thought you might be able to give me some pointers," he said. "All my life I expected to become a magician. I have no idea how to defend myself if not with a spell."
"I could do that. Once my ankle's recovered."
I took a step away from the wall. The Contusion Remedy had reversed some of the damage. Art watched as I walked carefully toward him.
"You seem a little better," he said.
"I am. But I don't think I can manage the stairs again today. I hope it really is OK for me to stay here."
"Of course it is."
He held the door wide open, allowing me to go past him, before going to the window and standing with his back to it. The sun behind him was low in the sky, lightening his hair from dark blond to gold.
"I have a question," I said, sitting down. "Can you… would you keep something secret if I asked you to?"
He considered. "You mean the truth about who you are."
"Yes. I don't want to put you in a difficult position."
"It's hard for me to reassure you because I don't know what you're hiding," said Art.
I unfastened and refastened a button on my top. "Do you think it's fair that you can't be a magician? And would you change it if you could?"
Art let out a surprised laugh. "What?"
I waited.
He lifted a hand to his face and rubbed his forehead. "You're very direct, aren't you?"
"You're not answering."
"I can't," he said. "The second question is… It's impossible to change."
"But if it weren't?"
"OK. Yes. Of course I want to be a magician. I'll miss my magic. Even though I can't control it. It's like… it makes me feel like I'm not alone, you know?" He ducked his head. "Sorry."
"What for?" I asked.
"Being so sentimental. I was relying on the bonding ceremony to stop that kind of thing."
"Anyone would miss it," I said evenly. "It's part of you."
"It would be different if I'd been born a cotidian. But I know what I'm losing. And"—he swallowed—"I'm not looking forward to the transition. Or what they've offered me as an alternative profession."
He walked up to my armchair and sat on the floor next to it, his legs crossed. "I'm not used to thinking like this."
He tucked his hands under his knees. "I'm remembering my scores. This conversation is a bad idea."
I lowered myself to sit on the floor alongside him. "We can change the subject. I don't want to force you."
"You're not forcing me."
"My brother always says I wear him down like the waves on the beach," I said. "Eventually I could turn rocks into sand."
Art smiled. "You have a brother? So do I. Older or younger?"
"Older," I said.
"Mine too. Darix is doing really well. He was matched last year and he's living in Midian for now." Art's smile faded. "I've barely heard from him since Maxia's funeral. I think he's pretty busy."
It felt like my heart was being squashed. I wanted to give him a hug so badly.
"You're lucky," I said in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Galen would never be that considerate. He's always checking up on me."
I could see the question on Art's face. Then where is he now?