Science Is Magic Spelled Backwards and Other Stories

by Jacqueline Lichtenberg

  He’d become more livid as he spoke, and I felt the old shiver of intimidation start. Something snapped inside me. “Well then,” I quipped, “sell it as bake-at-home!”

  “I don’t have to take lip from a ‘chanter! You’re fired, Miss Nau, effective this minute! Pick up your pay and leave—and take that with you!” He gestured to the sword.

  Aventura spat sparks at him, very much as I wished I could. I turned and stalked out of the office, and across the floor, without speaking to any of my friends. I picked up my pay, and, as I cleaned out my locker, Myra, who ‘chanted the hot buttered toast, came over.

  “What happened, Tira?” She eyed the sword.

  “Got fired.” I refused to cry. Myra wanted to console me, invite me over to dinner. I explained about the sword, and said, “I’ve got a million things to do. I’ll call you.”

  I walked to the bus stop, berating myself. I knew better than to snap at a manager during a richly deserved reprimand. But maybe one ‘chanter in a hundred could have done what I did—even if it wasn’t the job I was hired for. Maybe I’d snapped at the boss because I’d been feeling important, like the people Rogero knew. But I wasn’t really that good, only a little better than I’d been yesterday. Yet—no, I’d have known if the sword had amplified my enchantment. I’d done it all myself.

  Still, I’d never have done it without the sword. Rogero was right: I had to turn it off before it made chaos of my life.

  I got off the bus at the university and bought a campus library card.

  After an hour of fruitless labor, I asked for help. It took three librarians another hour to locate the history of Aventura. With copies of those pages and a stack of books, I found a nook among some lawn statuary where I could sit in the afternoon sun, sheltered from the wind, and read.

  Aventura was easily a thousand years old, but the books only traced it back to the Magical Renaissance. I’d been right, one had to master it to pass it on.

  As an “Attitudinal,” it operated on the psyche, not the physical world. It didn’t add power to the magician’s work, but helped the magician tap his own. Uncle Prosper’s words suddenly made sense: he’d willed Aventura to my father to induce my father to change his attitude about magic. Now, it seemed to be changing mine. And the only way I could make it stop was by mastering it.

  I’d never done well in school. I’d almost flunked out of Enchanter’s Trade School. But perhaps I hadn’t done well because I didn’t think enough of myself. I mused on this until shadows crept over my toes; then I strode over to the administration building and picked up some catalogs.

  I caught an express bus home in time to meet Rogero. He was going to help me sort my junk and pack what I needed off to his apartment, which was much larger than mine.

  When I arrived, he was pacing back and forth in front of my door. Dressed in his immaculate blue suit and white shirt, with navy shoes and hat; he carried a large bundle (probably work clothes), and his Paraphernalia Case was bulging.

  I came toward him brimming over with good news, and started to babble out all I’d discovered.

  He cut me off. “Where’ve you been? I’ve been waiting for half an hour!” I could hear how offended he was.

  My head was full of muzzy plans for unlocking my latent talents. I’d even daydreamed of becoming a professor. But I leashed back my temper, offering my armload of reference books. “At the university. Research.”

  “You took off from work?”

  I confessed I’d been fired for cause.

  “Fired? Insubordination?”

  “Rogero, he had a right to fire me. There are thousands who could replace me.” Tears sprang to my eyes. I’d never been fired before, and I felt humiliated.

  I sniffed, holding my breath against the urge to sob. Rogero put an arm around me, his whole attitude melting into protectiveness. Strangely, I felt it was as if he’d always expected me to fail, and it was his prerogative to comfort me when that happened—like a retarded child. Just as my father always had comforted me. Is this why I’ve never felt my own power? I’ve soaked up my father’s attitude toward me, fulfilling his unconscious expectations?

  “There, now, feel better?” he asked, taking the key from my hand and opening the door. As we went on in, dumping our things in the living room, he said, “While you start dinner, I’ll see what we can do about this sword. We’ll have it whipped in an hour or so.”

  I went cold all over. He wasn’t even looking to see what I’d brought home. He would rely on his friends, and his contacts, and his knowledge, as if mine didn’t exist.

  True, I didn’t move in the kind of exalted circles he did. He could probably find out from a wizard friend what I’d be charged a bundle for in an office consultation—and he could use what he found out. But—I paused in the kitchen door. “Rogero, you know Aventura is my sword, and I don’t think anyone else is going to be able to affect it.”

  “I’ll call you when I need you.”

  He’s going to call me when he needs me. Now doesn’t that summarize our entire relationship! He did things, and called me when he needed me. When he didn’t need me, I should be put away in a closet. I don’t know why I hadn’t seen it before. It was as plain as my nose reflected in Aventura’s blade.

  He started to spread a symbol cloth on the floor, consulting a diagram drawn on a napkin.

  “That seems awfully elaborate, just to find the off-spell for an Implement,” I observed.

  “How many swords like this have you seen turned off?”

  “Probably as many as you have!”

  Exasperated, he said, “Look, I know what I’m doing. Leonardo explained it to me, step by step.”

  “So explain it to me.”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Try me.”

  “Tira, we don’t have all night.”

  “I just wanted to make sure it wouldn’t get damaged.”

  “Now, how could you think I’d do anything like that? That’s a valuable antique, and it will add a certain—elegance—displayed in our living room.”

  “Our living room,” I repeated. Always before, those words had lit in me a warm wriggling of anticipation and happiness; but, suddenly, I heard what he himself didn’t know he was saying. It was his living room, and I was his, and my sword was his, and we’d both be displayed there. “My Implement will add a touch of elegance to your living room.”

  He put one hand on a hip, and cocked his head aside. “What has gotten into you? All last night, and now this. That sword is ruining your attitude.”

  “Ruining my.... Suppose I like my new attitude?”

  He said, softly, as if speaking to an excitable mental patient, “That could be the sword talking, not you. Now, just be calm a while, and we’ll have it turned off and put away. And then you’ll be your old self.”

  “Suppose I don’t want to be my old self? Suppose I want to turn Aventura back on again?”

  “Tira, neither of us has the training to wield it. It’s already got us fighting. It’s best to be laid aside.”

  “Who are you to decide what’s ‘best,’ and without even consulting me!”

  “Your fiancé, that’s who. In just a few days, we’ll be married. With this new promotion, I’ll be able to move you into a lovely house. And with you by my side, there’s no limit to where I can go in the company. They’re already talking about sending me to the West Coast.”

  My whole vision of married life crashed around my ears. “I can’t go to the coast if I’m in the middle of college here!” My voice was loud enough now for the neighbors to hear, but I didn’t care.

  “It doesn’t matter. There are schools out west.” He kept his voice down, but the effort made him growl.

  It was clear he didn’t think any more of my chances in school than my father had. No, I didn’t have the strength to fight that every day and night. “Maybe we better get this straight right now. I decide what’s to be done with and to Aventura. I decide what school I’m going t
o, what I’m going to major in, when I’m going to move, and where I’m moving to. If it’s not convenient, you can adjust to it. Maybe you’ll have to go on to the coast for a year or two without me.”

  “Tira, you’re out of your mind! There’s no point my going anywhere without you! Who would entertain for me? How would I get ahead? What would people think?”

  “That I have a career of my own?” There was an edge to my voice. “And who’s going to entertain for me? How am I going to get ahead?”

  He frowned, as if suddenly hearing me for the first time. “Are you telling me you don’t want to marry me?”

  I heard myself for the first time. Choking back disgraceful tears, I said, “No, but I don’t want to marry anyone who doesn’t know I exist.”

  “What an awful thing to say!” Now he was yelling, deeply offended. “I’ve spent hours today taking care of your problems. You’re practically all I’ve thought about for months and months now. Everything I do is for you!”

  “Which makes me some kind of burden!” That’s how Dad always thought of me—a chore, a burden.

  “Is that why you want to go back to school? So you don’t need me to do things for you?”

  I snapped, without thinking, “That’d scare you, wouldn’t it? Well, I’ve decided I’m going to get my Wizardry Degree, and if you don’t like it, there’s the door!”

  He stood dumbfounded for a moment. “You think it’ll be that easy?” He gathered up his cloth, saying, “Well, it’s not, Tira. You’re making a big mistake. You’ll never even pass the entry exams. And now you’ve been fired,” he added ramming his hat on his head, “you’ll never get another decent ‘chanter’s job. You’ll live the rest of your life on public assistance. Mark my words. Goodbye!”

  The door slammed with total finality and I crumpled into a heap, and sobbed my heart out. It was only afterwards that I realized Aventura hadn’t spat sparks at him. It just hung in the air, barely glowing—letting me fight my own battle.

  Since I’d given notice as of my wedding date, the landlord had already rented my apartment to an elderly gentleman. I couldn’t get it back. So I went apartment and job shopping near campus. Bus fare ate into my small savings, and what I could get from selling the ring I’d bought for Rogero. I wondered how I was going to survive.

  Nights I lay awake, hungry because I was chintzing on meals—besides, I could afford to lose a few pounds—and alternately wishing Rogero would call and make up, and exulting in my fortitude in not calling him. I wanted to be established before he called, or I knew I’d fall weakly into his arms and let him turn Aventura off. And I’d hate myself for the rest of my life.

  I began to talk to that sword, telling it my troubles as if it could understand why I couldn’t face any of my friends from the bakery until I was settled. Rogero’s parents had a secretary who’d do the work of calling the wedding off. None of the guests were mine, anyway.

  I made myself read the university library books, even when I didn’t understand a word in five. I answered every ad for a part-time job in my field, and even some outside it. I filed with every agency, and went to dozens of interviews, glibly reciting the explanation that I needed the job to pay for my Wizard’s Degree, dull quartz sword bobbing happily beside me. Twice I was promised a job, and then turned down—after they’d had time to check my references. I began to wonder if I should cheat and not mention the bakery, because they’d blackballed me.

  The day before I was to be evicted, I went to campus to return the books. Afterwards, I crawled into the nook of the lawn sculpture where I’d first gotten the idea I could go back to school. Less than three weeks ago, I’d had a good home waiting, a solid husband, and a bright, open future. Now I was all but a vagrant without a place to sleep for the night.

  But the sunset was gorgeous. The cricket song was balm to the nerves. The grass was soft and sensuous beneath my bare feet. The rough, hard granite sculpture was warm from the sun, and eased my aching back better than a heating pad. The buildings around me seemed the very definition of beauty, as they blended with the natural setting. Students strolled or bicycled or jogged about; anxious, listless, worried, or joyful, each was uniquely alive.

  The world hadn’t changed; I had. Suddenly, my heart was bursting with tearful gratitude that I was finally allowed to know this hidden beauty. I sat spellbound for nearly an hour, until the exquisite pain of that knowledge abated. I knew I was happy. I’d never been happy before. Better that all trace of that former life be gone.

  At last, it began to get chilly. I thought of beds, breakfast, toilets. Soon the campus would be closed, the students off to their apartments or dorms.

  I pulled myself to my feet, and noticed Aventura’s dull light in the growing shadow. It had never so much as sparkled since the night I threw Rogero out. It seemed to have turned its back on me. I stood up, almost nose to pommel with it, and said, “Uncle Prosper, you sent me freedom and happiness—but being jobless and homeless is no blessing!” I hardly recognized my own voice. It was an octave too low, and sounded like a wizard’s. “Aventura, I will not allow you to master me.”

  “Yes, Mistress. How may I serve?”

  Stunned, trembling, for this was the first response the sword had ever made, I continued in that same tone. “Help me find a place to live, and a job.”

  “This way, please, Mistress.”

  I followed, glad Aventura didn’t sound like Prosper, or my father. The sword vibrated, glowing brightly. It sounded a C natural, then tilted and picked up speed, as if homing on a beacon. I felt ridiculous, panting along behind a very conspicuous sword, calling, “Not so fast! I’m coming.”

  It twanged again, but went faster. It led me through tunnels of greenery, up stairs set in hillsides, across a wide glade, under some ancient trees, and to the edge of campus, where the buildings were more than a century old.

  There, on the steps of a three-story brown-shingle building half smothered in old ivy, I found a young woman in flowered shorts and a scanty top, crying softly and desperately into her cupped hands. It was the woman I’d met on the bus. “Aventura,” I hissed, still trying to catch my breath, “I meant paying work, not counseling distraught students.”

  The sword didn’t answer. It had gone dull again, bobbing serenely behind me. I started to fade back into the shrubbery. Whatever her problem, I had no time or resource to help her. But that desolate sound grabbed my heart. Maybe the old me could have walked away pretending to mind my own business when I was really just intimidated by a problem bigger than I was. The new me was so sure I could help that it would be a crime to turn away.

  Reluctantly, I presented myself at the bottom of the steps. She looked up, recognized the sword, and exclaimed, embarrassed, “Professor!”

  “I’m no professor,” I confessed. I sat down beside her, and said, “But I’ve done some crying in my life. Want to trade tales of woe?”

  “Mine’s about a man.”

  “Mine, too.”

  “Are all men like that?”

  “Not any more than all women are like us.”

  She told me how the guy she’d been living with had pulled out, taking her things, and leaving a big rent bill, a whopping disillusionment, and a broken heart that would never mend. She ended, blowing her nose into a wad of tissues, “If I can stop crying long enough, I’m going to see if they can help.” She indicated the building behind us.

  I read the sign. “Campus Women’s Counseling Center. What do you suppose they can do? What you need is a better paying job, not a psychologist.”

  “Or a new room-mate. They keep a room-mate-wanted list—what’s the matter?”

  “What would you think of taking in me and my sword?”

  “What?”

  “I told you, I’m not a visiting professor.” I sketched my story briefly. “So you see, if I can find work—”

  She was eager to have me—or maybe Aventura. “They keep a jobs list inside, too—let’s go!”

  The place st
ank of dampness and disinfectant, stale coffee, and, even this late, it rang with the sounds of phones and busy people calling to each other. Hallways led in three directions, and behind an abandoned secretary’s desk heaped with papers, a stairway led upwards. Bulletin boards were layers deep in old notices. The floors were tilted this way and that, as if the building had been jacked up many times, and there was a stain on the thin carpet where water had leaked through the roof.

  “Come look at this—,” my new friend called, then laughed. “I don’t even know your name!”

  “Tira Nau. Yours?”

  “Nadine Shellman. Look, here’s a whole kitchen outfit for sale. Norm took everything I had when he—”

  “I’ve got tons of housekeeping stuff- I need a job.”

  “Which one of you said that?” came a deep voice.

  I jumped, with a start, as if caught at something naughty. “I did,” I admitted. Suddenly, I was intimidated, driven back to being that same, ultimate failure of a person I’d been all my life.

  The woman was tall, overweight, grey haired, not very crisply groomed, but imposing in her manner. She questioned me, shotgun style. “What sort of a job?”

  I listed my qualifications.

  “Three years in a bakery? You a student here?”

  “Not yet. I’m going to enroll next semester.” I tried to hold my head high and sound as if I meant it, but my voice squeaked, and I could hear, see, and feel all the ways I’d ever projected failure to everyone I spoke to.

  She quirked an eyebrow toward the sword, as if wondering what I was doing with such a powerful thing.

  Slowly, it came to me that I had gotten Aventura to call me Mistress—which was more than Rogero would ever have tried for. “I’ve come here,” I said, my voice dropping into the wizard’s tone, “to master this sword. But I’m already a top freshness enchanter. I’d be valuable in the cafeteria, setting food to stay hot or cold, or preventing overcooking.”

  “Those jobs are usually reserved for students.”

  It was a cold put-off, the sort of thing that once would have made me slink away with my head between my shoulders, wondering where I’d gotten the nerve to apply in the first place. But not now.