by Vance Huxley
At first sight the thick-set boy and the girl stood side by side against one of the bins didn’t even seem to be restrained. A moment later Abel realised they were being held by strong wind glyphs. Using obvious magic, even on bullies or thieves, would lead to awkward questions so he opened his mouth to stop the glyph-casters.
“That lad is a Taverner. He’s a magic user, a new one, I recognise him.” Jenny sounded as shocked as Abel felt. They’d never had serious fighting between members.
“So is Natalie. They’ve been using magic to get money out of the kids in year nine. We haven’t got many thirteen-year-old Taverners so nobody noticed at first.” Rachel, Justin’s fourteen-year-old younger sister, an advanced magic user and unofficial leader of the younger Taverners, scowled at the pair. “Well it stops right now.”
“Where’s the victim?” Abel wasn’t sure what to do about this pair but any non-magic user who’d seen them pinned had to be mazzled, sharpish.
“Gone. We told her the Tavern would fix it and she promised to keep quiet if we did. To be honest, I doubt she realised anyone used magic. These two are still learning wind, but Carl uses it to enhance punches.” Rachel pointed at the girl. “She’s got better control so she trips anyone trying to get away. Carl is bigger than most his age so he doesn’t really need magic, it just makes it easier. We turned up with older pupils and numbers, so the victim will think that’s all we needed.”
“Good. Keep an eye on the victim anyway, and if she says the wrong sort of things tell me. Ferryl or Zephyr will smudge her memories a bit, mazzle them.” Abel saw the gleam in Rachel’s eyes. “Not a chance. Even Kelis isn’t good enough to learn that one. What have you told this pair?”
“If they want to be the bad guys, there’s a price. We’ve taken their lead bars away for starters.” Rachel pointed again, at four grim-looking youngsters. “Those four over there are thirteen and fourteen, in year nine the same as Natalie and Carl. I reckon they’ll want to tar and feather them, or the magical equivalent.” From Rachel’s tone, and look, she might be wielding the tar brush. “We should take away their magic, all of it. They’ve disgraced the Tavern!”
“I think you might have disciples.” Ferryl squeezed Abel’s hand, gently. “Take care they don’t start a crusade.”
“Connect me to just Ferryl, please, Zephyr.” Abel waited as the spooky-phones retracted from the others. “What do you mean? We aren’t a religion.”
“You could be, and now something about that Tavern sign is scratching away in my mind. I told you the way it worked felt familiar.” Even mentally, Ferryl sounded very thoughtful.
“Never mind that, what about crusades?”
“Remember when you described your plans, your cause, in front of Terese Green. You saw our reaction, me, Kelis, Jenny and even Rob. I’m an ancient, jaundiced, embittered sorceress and I signed up on the spot. Not because of your scintillating wit and personal charisma, or because I owe you my life, it’s the idea of it.” Ferryl sighed, out loud. “All through the ages most sorceresses and religions have been interested in money and power, not in helping out the poor and powerless. Sometimes holy men and women were real saints, squandering their lives, wealth and magic to help others. Some had followers, but as soon as they died their work was corrupted by the leaders who took over. Yours might survive because if it works there’ll be an army of dedicated young sorceresses and witches scattered around the country, none of them under anyone’s control.”
“That depends on who inherits. Nobody if I die without having a son. Can I change that? No, later. What are those like Rachel going to do?” Abel looked around at the silent faces watching him. “I’m getting advice from Ferryl and Zephyr, and it’s quicker this way.” Several heads nodded, though Kelis’s look promised she’d want the full story later.
“I believe it is a combination. Many young people are idealistic. They wish they could make a difference, help others and change the world. Magic gives these youngsters a chance to do so, and every single Tavern member knows their discovery of magic is down to you. That makes you their leader. Kelis and Rob also lead, to a lesser extent, as does Jenny, but you are the one with the pet sorceress.” She chuckled and her hand squeezed. “Two pet sorceresses. You could have kept magic to yourself, or charged everyone for lessons, or tethered them before they understood. Instead you’ve given it all away, and now you’ve given them a mission.”
“But not a religion, and this goes beyond what I outlined. I didn’t call it a mission.” Abel pulled himself back to the immediate problem. “You still haven’t told me what Rachel might do.”
“Whatever her high priest or guru tells her, right now. If you want to stunt this pair, take their magic away permanently, she’ll do it without a moment’s hesitation. I’m trying to remember how, because it can be done.” Ferryl paused, looking around at the gathered Taverners. “All the younger ones are angry. I doubt they’ll kill but the keenest want to see that pair suffer, really suffer. They feel betrayed and some of the older ones are as bad. Right now they aren’t thinking about consequences.”
“No stunting. That’s disgusting. I’d rather stop this guru thing as well.”
“Difficult. Perhaps you should just guide them towards tolerance. As they grow older, most of these girls and boys will be less intense, though the charity sections in the rules of your game will tend to attract a certain type.” Ferryl swept her eyes over the patiently waiting teenagers. “Look at them. Even Jenny and Kelis are waiting for your decision, though they might argue once you tell them. Some of the others will never argue, and if you don’t guide them they’ll make up their own rules and punishments. Then you’ll have a crusade.”
“That’s all I need for now. We’ve got to talk properly, and not just you and me.”
“I know, Kelis, Rob and Jenny.”
Abel turned and forced a smile. “First off, no stunting, permanently taking their magic. Not if this pair behave.” He’d never stunt them anyway, but the Taverners didn’t want to hear that right now.
“There has to be a penalty!” Rachel spoke first but others were agreeing, even Kelis. “If the Tavern stands for good, then we have to punish members who pick on the helpless.” Glyphs flared in Rachel’s hands, proving Ferryl’s assessment of her mood. “They can try picking on me any time they like.”
“Calm down. There will be a punishment, though first I’d like to talk to the culprits. Let them go now. If they start to form glyphs, pick them up off the ground.” From the number of hands that suddenly sprouted a wind glyph, Abel realised he’d have to be careful what he said. “Not too high or someone will see them. Just enough so it’ll disturb their casting when they’re dropped.”
“Neat, I like it.” Kelis sneered at the two apprehensive faces. “You are magical babies. A month ago you’d have been the ones being bullied so what started all this?”
“We should all act like proper sorcerers and sorceresses. The mudbloods should pay us for protection.” The boy looked around in alarm as laughter rang out. At least half the Taverners had banished their glyphs to join in.
“Mudbloods? You idiot, magic is nothing like the books you’ve read, and nothing to do with your bloodline. The adepts told you, every single living thing is full of magic and anyone can learn to use it.” Diane shook her head in disgust. “You really are stupid. It’s a wonder you didn’t blow your own hand off the first time.”
“What?” The boy looked horrified, staring at his hand, but the girl wasn’t impressed.
“Ignore her Carl, she’s only just learned about it herself. We can do magic, and most other people can’t. That means there must be something better about us, so we deserve to be in charge.” Natalie tried to look confident, and almost brought it off. She certainly believed what she’d said. “We don’t have to stick to their stupid rules.”
“Zephyr, it’s time for some scary. Is there enough dust to make a really visible shape?”
“I’ll use water vapour as well. After all,
they are beginners so they will not understand.” Abel felt her flow out of his arm and wind gusted around him, picking up rubbish and dust.
“Now you’ve done it, you’ve annoyed Zephyr. You really think humans are the only ones who can control magic? Or do you think this creature is special and should be in charge, just because she’s much stronger than you?” Abel glanced to the side, then stifled a smile. Zephyr had been creating solid-looking varglin and small deer with dust to keep herself occupied while Abel studied. Now he suspected she’d spent her nightly patrols and the hours when he slept getting more ambitious. Vapour billowed up, and up, until it almost reached above the boiler-house. The top blew sideways as the shape began to solidify. Massive limbs, a thick tail and long horns bent forward onto all fours as the burning green eyes of an almost-solid ogre glared at the suddenly-tiny humans. Abel felt the steady pull of magic down the tether, then a shield surrounded the three of them.
“Tell them to attack me.” The humour in Zephyr’s ‘voice’ didn’t match her appearance.
The two youngsters, and most of the Taverners, were staring bug-eyed. “Okay you two. Hit it with your best shot.” Abel had to give her credit, the girl tried. The boy’s glyph didn’t really have much intent, but neither even sparked Zephyr’s shield. “Now tell it you are special, and should be in charge. Or explain why it’s got the same special magic blood as you.”
“What is that! I thought you said the big creatures in the game weren’t real.” Diane looked horrified. “That’s an ogre!” Her identification and obvious shock added to the effect.
“Zephyr can be an ogre if she pleases, and if she hits you with those claws you’ll bleed. Please be harmless-looking for the children, Zephyr.” Abel nailed the girl with his glare. “Note that I asked. This is a powerful sorceress and she hasn’t got a drop of blood, mud or any other liquid. Get it?” The short jerky nods as Zephyr evaporated and the wind died down meant Natalie, and several others, definitely got it. Quite a few looked relieved when a relatively harmless-looking shimmer hovered by Abel. He did his own double-take, because that looked like a very big shimmer.
“Some of me stays inside, most of the time. It is more comfortable and safer for me.”
“Is there still enough room?”
“It doesn’t work like that.”
Abel wanted to know how it worked, but right now he still had to find a punishment. “Fly free, Zephyr, just around the Taverners to show you have no tether please.”
“Back soon.”
“As you can see, the tether isn’t permanent so Zephyr can find you anywhere, at any time. You two have a choice. The first is to leave the Tavern. You will receive no more training or extra magic. You will be weak and alone if something powerful comes for you, something like Zephyr, but that’s your choice.” Abel paused, working on a punishment.
“But we’ll mark you first, a magical one so any Tavern member, anywhere, knows you aren’t welcome.” Kelis shrugged at Abel’s look, while beyond her most of the Taverners were nodding.
“What is the lesser punishment?” Ferryl fought back a laugh. “You don’t know, do you? You won’t physically hurt them or magically stunt them, so the worst you can do is give them a smaller dose of being alone. No extra magic and no training.” Her voice suddenly became more thoughtful. “Better yet, a real shunning. Nobody even talks to them. That might work because there’s whole tribes who managed using nothing else.”
Abel hesitated, but Zephyr flowed back into her tattoo and connected so he could answer. “How do we stop them having magic, even temporarily? They’ll keep absorbing it from the air.”
“Drain them into a lead bar, then keep doing it. It’ll be a boring chore.” Ferryl glanced over his shoulder. “Though your disciples look keen enough.”
With a sigh of relief Abel turned back to the pair. “If you don’t leave, you serve a sentence. For the next three… months you will not be allowed to practice magic.” Abel had been going to say weeks but the looks on the faces of the young Taverners wanted a real punishment, something that would sting. “Every morning, when you arrive at school, you will drain all your magic into a lead bar and give it to a Taverner. Each night before leaving you will drain what you’ve absorbed during the day into another bar. On your days off school, a Taverner will call round twice a day.”
“No Tavern meetings, no playing the game.” Rachel’s curled lip promised she’d have a magnificent sneer when she grew up. “Not that anyone will want to play with you.”
“Which I was about to say, thank you Rachel.” She mouthed sorry and actually looked it. “Zephyr, or an experienced Taverner, will test you at any time without warning to make sure you haven’t taken magic from somewhere else.” From the looks, both the culprits were hoping it wasn’t Zephyr. “You will not use your wind glyph until you are re-admitted into the Tavern.” Abel drew a deep breath, mentally crossing his fingers. “Do you accept your punishment?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, I really am.” Carl sounded it, but the girl still didn’t seem repentant.
Though after a long pause, Natalie nodded. “I accept.”
She’d barely spoken before Rachel held out a lead bar. “All your magic, now.” Natalie hesitated, but Carl reached for the bar someone offered him. Rachel turned to Abel, her face hard. “We’ll arrange the draining, Abel. The Taverners in year nine will watch them in school, and the rest of us will work out a rota.” The younger Taverners including Melanie and Diane moved closer to Rachel, obviously eager to volunteer. Looking at their faces, Abel could see what Ferryl meant, the youngsters were totally committed to whatever they thought the Tavern represented. He’d have to sort that out as soon as possible.
He felt a bit better when he’d talked to his friends, on their way to a rushed lunch. All three had been chatting to the young Taverners while Abel consulted his two sorceresses. The group with Rachel were determined to succeed in their self-proclaimed mission, ridding the school of thieving, violence, intolerance and drugs. There were some non-magical teenagers just as keen, Tavern players who hadn’t been invited because this situation involved obvious magic.
When Abel mentioned the crusade thing, his friends didn’t think enough of the Tavern players were that dedicated. Most of them still played Bonny’s Tavern as a game, and only one in four or five had found magic. The magical ones did tend towards youngsters who liked the charitable side, but there were plenty of non-magical blood and guts type players.
Even after the reassurances, Abel wanted a full meeting of the magical Tavern as soon as possible, to sort out some rules, but events caught up with him before he had a chance.
∼∼
Abel, Kelis, Rob and Ferryl were baffled when Mr Sanders, the Graphic Art teacher, told them to report to the headmaster. Finding Jenny outside the headmaster’s door settled one thing, it had to be about the Tavern. Zephyr quickly connected them but some muttering and head shaking confirmed nobody had any idea why they were here.
All five were even more puzzled and worried when the deputy head opened the door and invited them all inside. They’d never heard of something serious enough that it needed her as well as the headmaster. Despite the five chairs facing the headmaster’s desk, it wasn’t those that caught everyone’s eye. The headmaster had a small stack of paper on his desk, and they all recognised the photocopied top page.
“Please sit down. From the way you looked at this, I can see I have the right people.” He tapped the drawing of Bonny’s Tavern. “The Parent-Teacher Association brought this to my attention.”
“It’s just a game. Sir.” Abel wanted to curse, because his cheeks warmed. He concentrated on not blushing rather than what had to be a copy of the game rules.
“Don’t worry, Abel, you aren’t in trouble. If you are worried at any time, any of you can ask to defer this discussion until a parent is present. You are here because we, the school, have to understand your game better.” Mrs Poole, the deputy head, sounded friendly, which alarmed Abel. Apart fr
om a year as his English teacher, she’d never spoken to him. “As I understand it, this is a beta version, just a test. Despite that, over twenty percent of the pupils have played at least once and it seems to have had a distinct impact on the school.”
Abel thought hard before he opened his mouth. “We can’t help it if they skip homework. We’ve never encouraged anyone to do that.”
“But a few probably have. Those are the same ones who already play computer games instead of completing homework so that isn’t your fault. Your game might or might not be responsible for a strange phenomenon, but to be certain I must understand the whole scenario.” The headmaster smiled at them all. “The subject has become urgent because the parents on the PTA have asked why other schools have a dance at Christmas, for instance, but we don’t.”
Now Abel’s mouth definitely dropped open, and a surreptitious look showed the rest were in various stages of shocked and baffled. The deputy head smiled, probably at their expressions, but she quickly sobered again. “The answer is that we’ve never had any demand for one, especially with about a third of our pupils living out of town in villages or farms. Now it seems that if we allow fancy dress we will get most of your players, at least a hundred students, who will no doubt attract more. According to the parent representatives, your test players want somewhere to meet, but can’t afford a venue that will hold you all?”
Since Mrs Poole looked straight at him, Abel answered. “We had the first meeting at Kelis’s house, but there’s more Taverners now. That’s what we call the players. We’ve been waiting for summer, so it can be held outdoors.”
“Enough of your players are complaining to their parents for them to ask if we can provide a venue. As a school we can’t just let anyone use the facilities. We’ve both read this stack of paper, but want to ask a few questions. If the students are using the characters as some sort of role model, we want some guidelines.” Her smile widened a little. “We’d like some clarification on exactly what we might be encouraging.”