Across the Great Barrier fm-2

by Patricia C. Wrede

  I was actually fairly good at the spell for doing things at a distance, because it was so useful at the menagerie. Cleaning the scorch lizard’s pen was downright dangerous if you got too close, but with the distance spell, I could just stand outside and lift the mess into the bucket without getting anywhere near the lizard’s teeth or breath. I’d never been able to do the weight-adjusting spell, though, so I expected the class exercise to be a failure, as usual.

  I set up my table the way the instructions said, with a little wooden teeter-totter at the far end and a stubby candle, a feather, a linen string, a lead weight, and a paper fan in front of me. Most Avrupan spells need a lot of equipment to get them to work when you’re learning; it’s only after you’ve practiced a lot that you can do them without the supplies, and there are some spells that only the most powerful magicians can ever learn to do without gear. Being a combination spell, this one needed supplies from both the spells we were supposed to combine, plus some extra things to make the spells work together properly.

  I measured the herbs carefully and set part of them aside so Mr. Nordstrom could see that I’d done it properly and maybe give me partial credit. Then I tied one end of the string to the feather and the other end to the weight, and looped the middle around the base of the fan. I started murmuring the spell as I lit the candle and sprinkled the herbs across the fan and the candle flame.

  As I picked up the fan (carefully, so as not to let the loop of string fall off), I felt the magic thicken around me like a warm blanket. It gathered around the flame and the fan, getting stronger and warmer as the spell shaped it. I was fascinated; I’d never watched an Avrupan spell casting through my world-sensing before.

  And then my spell started to go wrong. Instead of balancing evenly between the candle and the fan, the feather, and the lead, the magic grew hotter around the fan. It was speeding up, too, and I knew that in another minute my paper fan would catch fire.

  So I reached out and pushed the magic back toward the candle. I’d done something like that at the Little Fog settlement, using Aphrikan magic to make the mirror bugs’ magic do what I wanted instead of what it was supposed to do, but I’d never thought about doing it to my own spells. It worked better than I expected. The spell slowed and the magic evened out, and a minute later I finished the casting.

  The teeter-totter on the far end of my table shivered. I held my breath. Slowly, the lower arm rose until the bar of the teeter-totter was dead level, just the way it was supposed to be.

  I got full marks in magic class that day for the first time since I’d started upper school. After that, I made sure to keep doing my world-sensing whenever I was casting spells. It let me sort of feel where things were going wrong before they fell apart, in time to push them back together again. My grades in magic class went right up and stayed.

  Of course, improving my spells also meant that Allie made me take on a bunch of the housekeeping magic that I hadn’t been able to do before. I’d have been cross about it, except that she made Robbie take over most of the chores that were just plain hard work and no magic. I didn’t much mind trading hauling firewood and hoeing the garden for working the fly-block spells and the fast-dusting charms.

  Lan and William didn’t come home for Christmas that year, not either one of them, nor did most of my other brothers and sisters, but there were letters from everyone. Even Rennie sent a letter, the first we’d had from her since Papa and I had been out to the Rationalist settlement back in June. It was kind of sketchy for something covering all that while, but we didn’t have much time for thinking on it because of Professor Jeffries and William.

  Professor Jeffries came by just after we got Rennie’s letter, with a fat packet that had gold trim and red wax all over it. I knew because I was the one who answered the door for him. He asked to see Papa, and they spent an hour in Papa’s study before they came out to have cider and biscuits with the rest of us. And right about then, Professor Graham showed up and the parlor pretty near exploded.

  Professor Graham was William’s father. He was an angular, intense sort of man, and he hadn’t changed much in all the years we’d been in Mill City, except that his hair was a little thinner and his eyeglasses were a little thicker. He had emphatic notions about a lot of things. One of them was magic, and another was William. When he came busting into our house, he was shouting about both of them, and it was a while before he simmered down enough to make sense. He was so mad he didn’t even stop to take off his coat and boots in the hall, and Allie and I had to spend nearly an hour later on drying out the carpet where he’d tracked in all the snow.

  Between Papa and Mama and Professor Jeffries, they finally got him set down with a cup of hot cider and some biscuits, though it was plain that Professor Graham was still plenty fussed about something. After a minute, Papa and Mama exchanged a look over his head, and then Mama said, “What brings you by today, Professor?”

  For a minute it looked as if Professor Graham was going to explode all over again, but instead he pulled a letter from an inside pocket and handed it to Papa. “That,” he said bitterly.

  Papa started to read, then looked up. “This is from your son.”

  “No son of mine,” Professor Graham said even more bitterly than before. “Go on, read it.”

  From the way he said it, I thought he meant for Papa to read the letter aloud, but Papa only nodded and commenced looking over the letter again. It didn’t take him long to finish. “Well,” he said. “Seems the boy has a mind to choose his own way.”

  “Choose!” Professor Graham burst out. “Choose Triskelion University, when everything’s arranged for him to attend Simon Magus? He’s an idiot, and he’s ruining his life.”

  I very near bit my tongue off to keep it still. Professor Graham had been bragging for months about William attending Simon Magus College, same as Lan, so I could see why he’d be upset at the news that William had decided on a different course. But I couldn’t say I was surprised, and neither would he have been, if he’d paid attention. William had already messed up Professor Graham’s plans for his life twice: once when he talked the professor into sending him to the day school like Lan and me instead of tutoring him at home, and once when he insisted on having two years at the upper school in Mill City, instead of going East for prep school the way Lan had when he finished day school. And William had taken Miss Ochiba’s extra class in Aphrikan magic after school for years, same as me, even though his father had made it plain that in his opinion nothing was worth spending time on except Avrupan magic.

  William going off to Triskelion fit the same pattern. Triskelion University wasn’t anywhere near as old as Simon Magus. It was founded in 1824, just eight years before the Secession War started, but even though it was practically brand-new, its first four classes of graduates had been as helpful in winning the war for the North as the magicians who’d studied at the older, better-known schools. It was the first university in North Columbia to give equal weight to all three major schools of magic: Avrupan, Hijero-Cathayan, and Aphrikan. And Miss Ochiba, who’d taught Avrupan magic at the day school for twelve years and Aphrikan magic after school for six, had been a professor at Triskelion since right before William left for boarding school. I wondered whether that was what had decided him.

  Something of what I was thinking must have shown on my face, because Professor Graham rounded on me and snapped, “Did you know anything about this?”

  “No, sir,” I said, for once thanking the stars that William was such a bad hand at letter writing. “He didn’t say a thing about it last summer, and he hasn’t written since.”

  Professor Graham gave me a suspicious look, but let it go. “Well, he’ll not have a penny from me for this folly.”

  “It may not be folly,” Professor Jeffries said in a thoughtful tone. Ignoring Professor Graham’s scowl, he went on, “Triskelion has an excellent reputation for such a young school, and after that business with the mirror bugs last summer —”

  “Nons
ense!” Professor Graham said sharply. “He needs a solid grounding in higher Avrupan theory if he’s to get a teaching position with one of the great Eastern universities. Triskelion can’t provide that.”

  “I don’t think William wants to be a teacher,” I said before I could stop myself.

  “What?” Professor Graham looked mad enough to have an apoplexy. “I thought you said you didn’t know anything about all this!”

  “I-it was something he said a long time ago,” I stammered. “Back before he went East for school.”

  “Boyish nonsense!” Professor Graham said. “He’ll come to his senses soon enough.”

  “Perhaps,” Papa said. He glanced at the corner of the mantelpiece, where the little wooden squirrel sat that my brother Jack had carved. Jack had gone for a settlement allotment the minute he turned eighteen, though Papa and Mama were both against it. He’d stuck to it through two years of waiting until the Settlement Office found him a place, and now he was out in Bisonfield, starting on his five years of working to earn his claim.

  “Eff,” my mother said, “would you bring some more biscuits from the kitchen, please?” She handed me the platter even though there were still three biscuits left on it.

  I could see she wanted me away for a while. I took my time in the kitchen, but when I brought the biscuits back, Mama handed me the cider pitcher to fill. I went back out and added two sticks of kindling to the cookstove so I could heat up the cider. I wasn’t any too keen to go back to the parlor while Professor Graham was that angry, and I didn’t know how long it would take Mama and Papa and Professor Jeffries to talk him out of his mad. Professor Graham had a powerful temper.

  When I finally came back out with the pitcher, Professor Graham was gone and Mama and Papa and Professor Jeffries were talking real serious. I poured more cider for everyone and then took Professor Graham’s cup and plate to the kitchen without being asked. I washed up the dishes and tidied the kitchen, and when I came out again, Professor Jeffries was gone, too.

  Papa and Mama didn’t say much about what had happened, but it didn’t take long for news to get all over town that Professor Graham had had a gigantic dustup with his son and cut him off without a penny. I was real popular at school for a week, on account of having practically been there when Professor Graham got the letter. William had been in my class until he’d gone East for school, and most of my classmates remembered him.

  I sat down and wrote William a letter right off, to let him know I understood why he hadn’t written and to tell him that Mama and Papa didn’t seem to think Triskelion University was such a bad choice, though they weren’t saying so straight to Professor Graham’s face. I thought a long time about what else to write. If William had been there, I’d have told him to his face that going to Triskelion was a fine idea for him and that I wished him well, but every way I tried to write it sounded like I was puffing off my opinion. In the end, I just asked him to remember me to Miss Ochiba if he saw her. I was pretty sure he’d understand.

  William didn’t write back, but a month after Christmas we got a letter from Lan. He told us all the things Professor Graham hadn’t: that William had taken his graduating exams early and found a sponsor to send him to Triskelion before he’d ever written his father about it. Lan sounded a tad miffed that William hadn’t told him anything in advance, and a mite disappointed that William wasn’t going to be at Simon Magus with him after all, but he mostly sounded cross with Professor Graham. He said that if the professor hadn’t gone all obstinate about William attending Simon Magus, William might have changed his mind. I was pretty sure he was wrong about that last bit, but there was no point in writing to tell him so.

  I spent the weeks after Christmas thinking real hard about William and his father, and about Lan’s and mine. One of the things I thought was that William had been partly right, last summer, when he’d said that all Papa’s plans were about Lan, but he’d been partly wrong, too. Papa and Mama expected most of us to make plans for ourselves, once we got past upper school; they only got involved when there was a special reason, like Diane’s music or Lan’s double-seven magic.

  I’d never made much in the way of plans, and I could see it was well past time I did. I’d already decided I wasn’t going East like Lan wanted, and I knew I didn’t want to work for the railroad like Nan, or get a job with one of the mills. About the only thing I really liked was helping out at the menagerie.

  So right about the middle of February, I went to Professor Jeffries and asked him if there was any chance of me being hired on at the menagerie full-time after I finished the upper school exams in the spring.

  Professor Jeffries narrowed his eyes at me. “And when would that be, exactly?”

  “They start testing in March,” I said. “I figured on signing up for an early place, if the settlement folks don’t grab them all.” The students who came from settlement families all tried to take their exams in March or early April, so as to be home in time to help with planting. Sometimes, if there weren’t enough places, they’d just go on home, anyway. Some of them never did get their upper school certificates.

  “Hmm. And you think you’d like working here?”

  “I know I would.” I hesitated. “For a while. A few years, anyway.”

  “A few years,” Professor Jeffries repeated. “And after that?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. I knew that I wanted to see more of the wildlands of the Far West, but I didn’t want to join a settlement, and the only other job I knew of out on the far side of the Great Barrier Spell was the one Wash did. I didn’t think the Settlement Office would hire a girl fresh out of upper school with no experience and no great knack for magic to be a circuit magician, even if I had helped out with the mirror bugs the summer before.

  “Aren’t you?”

  The professor looked honestly interested, and next thing I knew I was telling him about wanting to go West, only not to a settlement. “I don’t know how, but I mean to find out,” I said. “Maybe somebody will get up another expedition to explore, and I can talk them into taking me along.”

  “Maybe.” Professor Jeffries’s eyes crinkled like he was amused about something, but all he said then was, “Well, if and when you pass your exams, I think I can find something for you to do.”

  I went home that day feeling very pleased with myself. All I had to do was pass my exams. And I wasn’t much worried about just passing any of them, except maybe the one in magic, and I’d been doing a lot better with my spells since last fall.

  I signed up to take my upper school exams in late March, and as soon as I was sure I’d be doing it, I told Mama and Papa what I’d arranged with Professor Jeffries. They seemed a little startled, but not unhappy. Mama actually seemed pleased. That is, until I told her that I wanted to see more of the Far West one day.

  “Eff!” she said. “You’re much too young to make a decision like that!”

  Papa gave her a look. I said, “I’m eighteen, Mama. Nineteen in June. And I’m not looking to head out this summer, or even next. I just wanted you to know it was something I was thinking of, so you wouldn’t be too surprised when it comes up for real and all.”

  I don’t think Mama heard anything past me saying I was eighteen. That was the age you had to be to claim an allotment from the Settlement Office, the way my brother Jack had done, and though there weren’t many women who did, it wasn’t unheard of.

  “You can’t mean to go for one of the settlements!” Mama gasped.

  “No, no,” I said quickly. “I’m not inclined to farming, and I’m nowhere near good enough to be a settlement magician. Anyway, I don’t want to stay in one place. I want to get out where I can see the country and the animals and such.”

  “I still say you’re much too young to be doing something like that!”

  “Mama,” I said, “I’m only just deciding to work for Professor Jeffries. Far as I know, he hasn’t got any expeditions planned. I expect I’ll just be doing the same thing I’ve been doing
all along, only I’ll have some pay to help with the householding.”

  “I’m sure Allie could get you a job at her day school. She’s always saying that the office could use more help.”

  “I don’t want a job at a day school. I like working for Professor Jeffries, and I already know most of the work. And if something likely does come up in the way of heading West, I’ll be in a good place to hear about it.”

  “Eff!”

  “Sara,” Papa said, and Mama looked at him and pressed her lips together, and didn’t say anything more. Papa turned to me. “It sounds as if you’ve thought this out very carefully.”

  “I’ve been doing just about nothing but think since last summer,” I said. I must have sounded a mite cross, because Papa laughed.

  “If Professor Jeffries thinks it will do, and you pass your exams, I think it will work out very well,” Papa said. “For a short while, at least.”

  Mama looked crosser than ever. I’d expected her to dislike the notion of me going West; she’d been upset for months when Jack signed up for a settler, and then she got snappish again when he finally got his allotment and left. I hadn’t expected her to be this cross, though, not when it was just a notion for somewhere far off in the future. I didn’t worry too much. I figured she’d grow accustomed after a while, the way she had when I first started spending time at the menagerie.

  That same night, I wrote Lan and William about what I’d decided. They both wrote back right away, for a wonder. Lan’s letter wasn’t happy; he still thought I should go to magic school, and he warned me that he’d be home in the summer to badger me about it. (He called it “talking it over some more,” but I knew what it’d feel like to me.)

  William’s letter was more of a short note. Good for you, it said. You always have liked animals better than people. Then it went on to say he’d be heading off to Triskelion as soon as he finished his last term, and gave me his address. It was the first letter I’d had from him all year, and I’d have thought he hadn’t gotten any of the other letters I’d sent him, except for the line at the bottom.