Mages in Manhattan

by Phil Gabriel

  Four

  Artifacts of Power

  After we finished our coffee and tea, Kitty-Sue rushed through clearing the table and cleaning the kitchen. Once all the dishes were loaded in the dishwasher and the cycle started, she excused herself to prepare for her visit to her family.

  “About these Artifacts,” started Akiko, stroking her ring as it hung about her neck.

  “We’ll discuss those later,” I interrupted, glancing in the direction of the other room, where the sharp-eared Kitty-Sue was getting dressed. “Today we’re going to cover the five branches of magic.”

  We were bent over a chart laid out on the dining room table, discussing the various colors of magic, when Kitty-Sue came back. She was dressed in a very conservative dark gray blouse and skirt combo, totally unlike her normal attire.

  “I have to say bye now,” she said. “My family is waiting.”

  “Enjoy your visit,” I said, straightening up with a groan. Damn arthritis.

  Akiko gave a slight bow, which Kitty-Sue returned with a bow precisely to the same degree, and Kitty-Sue left.

  “OK,” said Akiko, taking off her blazer, which vanished as she dropped it. “Now we talk about Artifacts?”

  She unbuttoned her blouse, revealing the ring that had become her shintai, as well as her white-lace enclosed assets. Staring at the ring with narrowed eyes, she caused the ring to glow with magical energy.

  “OK,” I started, “Artifacts come in several types. Channeling Artifacts assist concentration, like wands. They help a magician concentrate and focus his energy. They are difficult to make, but can be created by a sufficiently talented magician. Witches and Wiccans use a ceremonial blade called an athame. Magicians use wands, knives, or enchanted swords to channel power. With a Channeling Artifact, the energy is always supplied by an external source. Think of it as a magnifying glass.

  “Artifacts of Power, on the other hand, are objects that can absorb, hold, and channel magical energy. They absorb ambient energy, store it up, and allow it to be used.”

  “So,” said Akiko with a slight frown drawing her eyebrows together, “they like batteries?”

  Yes,” I said, “but most Artifacts can only store one type of energy. Earth, Water, Air, Fire, or Spirit.”

  “But this ring, my shintai,” she said, pulling it out on its chain and holding it in her hand. With a gesture, she made a weave of all five elements, drawing energy from the ring. “How contain all different energies?” She released her will, and the construct dissipated with a minor explosion, scattering the papers on the table. Even Akiko’s ectoplasmic hair was blown back, due to the Spirit component of the spell.

  “I inscribed a series of glyphs on the inside of the ring. One for each of the five elements. The glyphs act as one-way valves for the energy.”

  Akiko nodded in understanding. “I see on your circle. No one else uses symbols. Well, I couldn’t find like that in the books you gave me.” She gestured to my small library.

  “Yeah,” I said. “That’s part of the secret. The other is having the crystal lattice of the Star Sapphire act as a storage system for the energy.”

  Akiko pulled the ring out on its chain and looked at it closely, using more-than-human senses. “Wait! I can see the pattern...”

  Her voice trailed away as she was mesmerized by the tug of the gem. Her form became wispy, and streamers of her substance started entering the ring.

  “Whoa,” I said, placing one hand over the ring, intercepting her gaze. “The ring will take any type of energy. Activating it like that, while unprepared, will suck you dry.”

  I spent the rest of the morning training her in methods of blocking the effects of the ring, as well as ways to use the energy of the ring defensively.

  Once we were both happy with her level of control, she came back with more questions. “Who teach you this? He must have been a great sensei.”

  “Oh,” I responded, “it was just something I picked up in my travels.”

  Unfortunately, even with my step-by-step directions and her unusual aptitude for magic, Akiko was unable to work with the spells that enabled the power attraction and energy storage required to create true Artifacts of Power. She needed an Earthly connection, which ghosts don’t have.

  She could create Channeling Artifacts, for any element but Earth, and perform almost any spell. Hell, she was much more powerful than I had been at that age. It was kind of comforting knowing that there was something she couldn’t do.

  She could draw energy into herself, a talent that all magic users must have, and could also store the energy, which fewer users could do. That was why Jorōgumo had wanted to trap her.

  Under my training, she had improved to the point where she could store a lot of energy, as well as feed it into the shintai that was now her home.

  “For our next lesson,” I continued, “we are going to work on creating crystal lattices to store energy.

  “When you looked into your shintai stone, you saw the lattice and the energy it held. My one-way glyphs allow energy to enter the stone, but not exit until called for.”

  “Why you not make gem for storage,” she asked while sketching a diagram of how carbon atoms could be directed to arrange themselves using flows of magic, “instead of digging them up?”

  “Created gemstones are not nearly as good as natural,” I replied. “Gems created in the interior of the Earth, natural gemstones, absorb significant quantities of mystical energy, which makes them potent items.

  “Created gemstones are ‘empty vessels,’ which require a lot of work to fill with energy.”

  “Is book use for the gemstone spells?” Akiko asked, holding up a volume titled Piezoelectric Design Fundamentals.

  “No, Akiko-san,” I said. “That will be used on another project.”

  She continued her examination of her shintai. “Can’t the Artifact, what’s the word? Explode?” asked Akiko. “If it takes in too much energy?” She suddenly looked uncomfortable at having a magical bomb on a chain around her neck.

  “That’s why I have some other glyphs on the ring,” I said. “If the containment is damaged, most of the energy will shunt off into Spirit, which has almost no interaction with the physical world.”

  Examining the patterns of her ring, she continued, “I see how that work. But moving this symbol to here”—she indicated with a gesture—“shunt the energy to Earth...” She trailed off, then looked at me in horror.

  “I have power here to start another Fukushima quake!” she said. “That’s horrible; nobody need that much power!”

  Holding both palms up in a placating gesture, I said in my most soothing voice, “First, it’s a lot harder than it looks. Second, you couldn’t do it because you don’t have Earth talents. Third, you are bound by a pledge not to harm anyone.”

  “OK,” she said, “I can’t, you could. What keep you from making big quake?”

  It was a good question. What prevented a powerful magician from becoming a walking weapon of mass destruction? There were a lot of reasons: more powerful entities than magicians would certainly take notice and prevent it, our apprenticeship included evaluations on stability, and other magicians would band together to stop him.

  “You know I can’t lie, right?” I asked.

  “I know you say you can’t lie,” she responded. Damn, she was too logical.

  I smiled at her point. “OK, one of the reasons magicians like me choose to always tell the truth is that we know we have a lot of power.

  “For example,” I continued, “if you see a man with a gun, what do you feel?”

  Akiko looked up and away, remembering her time as a human girl. “I feel afraid, scared he might shoot me.”

  “Now if the man with the gun is in a policeman’s uniform,” I continued, “how do you feel?”

  She looked at me in puzzlement. “Still scared. I don’t like guns.”

  Oh, right. Japanese don’t have much exposure to guns, except in movies. My thought experiment wa
s going awry. How about a concrete example? I reached into my ever-present satchel and pulled out my 1911A .45 Automatic.

  Holding the handgun carefully pointed at the floor, finger far away from the trigger, I asked, “Are you afraid of this gun?”

  “I don’t like,” said Akiko. “But you won’t hurt me, you’re my sensei.”

  Discounting the fact that mundane bullets couldn’t even touch her, I nodded in acceptance of her statement.

  “That’s right,” I said. “I wouldn’t hurt you, you’re my apprentice. I wouldn’t hurt anyone who doesn’t try to hurt me first. Everyone who deals with magicians knows that.

  “That’s why magicians cultivate a reputation for never lying. We are powerful, but small in numbers. A single witches’ coven can take down most magicians. There are a lot of covens out there. All who deal with us know that we have constraints, boundaries we won’t cross.”

  “What happen if you lie?” asked Akiko.

  “Good question,” I responded as I put away the weapon. Relief crossed her face as the pistol disappeared into my satchel. “I would lose a lot of power and a lot of my magic would be lost. If it were a serious enough breach of trust, other magicians would band together to destroy me.”

  “Will I have to promise never lie?” she asked.

  “Not yet,” I said, taking a seat on my stool, “and not soon. Until you finish your training, you’re my responsibility.”

  “Oh,” she said, her face lighting up in sudden understanding. “That’s why you make me make promise when you give me ring!”

  “‘An it harm none, do what ye will,’” I quoted. “Yes, that’s why I made you swear not to cause harm.

  “But don’t let anyone else know about the Oath,” I finished. I spun around on the stool and started taking items from the desk for my next project. Silica, aluminum, carbon, lots and lots of carbon.

  “Why not?” she asked, frowning in puzzlement. “Won’t people be happy I can’t hurt them?”

  So much innocence; I had to smile at her questions. “No, in our circles, those who can’t defend themselves become the pawns of those who freely wield power.

  “That’s why Jorōgumo was angry with me. She was waiting for you to wander into her web so she could suck you dry. I ruined her plans by breaking your tether to Roppongi station. Then you turned into a magician’s apprentice, which pretty much placed you forever beyond her reach.”

  “What?” asked Akiko. “You never told me! Is that why Kitty-Sue-san is so afraid of spiders?”

  I spent the next hour recounting the battle with Jorōgumo, covering details that would only interest another magician. I was impressed when my student quickly grasped the magical details and even came up with some suggestions on how I might have done a better job. It was nice to have someone to bounce ideas off of. I kept my hands busy setting up a small circle on a sheet of vellum, placing my elements into the circle, and activating it.

  When I mentioned the fae sword, Akiko’s eyes lit up with interest, almost glowing with intensity. “Can I see sword? Does it have a name? Is there spirit inside like my shintai?”

  “Yes,” I responded. “It might be a good idea to introduce you to the sword. We haven’t had time for a conversation.” I had been gathering materials for my next project, a new set of dentures, while we chatted. Some of the elements needed to steep in the magical field I had set up.

  I stood up from the stool with a groan and walked to the other room, followed by Akiko. In a corner, safely ensconced in a warded circle, sat my trophy from the battle with Jorōgumo, a fae sword of exquisite craftsmanship. I had used the blade itself to free a fae warrior’s spirit from the webbing of Jorōgumo. In exchange for this service, the spirit of the fae warrior had turned his blade over to me.

  I broke the circle and reached for the sword. The hilt leaped into my hand. Holding the sword aloft, I said to it, “I think it’s time we spoke.”

  I really wasn’t expecting much, as most spelled objects have very low intellect, focusing only on their main purpose. I was surprised to see the blade transform into a ruddy copper color, with what appeared to be tiny flames running up and down the shaft. I felt no heat, only the emanation of mystical power from the object. Listening closely, I could hear sounds like distant zithers that increased in volume. It took me a few moments to recognize the sounds as forming words in English. The stereo in the living room started playing a song from Frampton Comes Alive!, the one with the guitar talking. I suddenly recognized the sword’s attempt at speaking as an imitation of the Frampton technique.

  “Yessssss,” the blade thrummed.

  At the appearance of the copper colored blade, Akiko whispered, “Hihi’irokane.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “Magic metal, Scott-Sensei,” she replied. “Indestructible, very powerful.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Dangerous.”

  “Yessss,” the sword said proudly. “Dannngerrousss.” Then as I moved to place it back in the protective circle, the sword continued, “But verrrryyyy loyal.”

  I paused, considering, and then asked, “Are you loyal to me?”

  “Yeeessss,” the blade said. Akiko raised an eyebrow at that comment. Inanimate objects are not known for their loyalty. Still, I once had a car, a 1964 Ford Station Wagon that impressed me with her loyalty. Hell, she lasted through three girlfriends, proving more loyal than them.

  The stereo started playing a Bryan Adams tune: “Everything I Do, I Do It For You.” My unseen muse seemed to think the sword would be loyal.

  “Do you want to return to the fae lands?” I asked, to judge if the blade would abandon me.

  “Nooooo,” the blade said. “Borrriiinnnng. Fight, kill, stab. No funnnnn.” The sword was getting better at talking, or I was getting used to its pronunciation. “Like it heerrreee.”

  The stereo shifted to playing “Wherever You Will Go” by The Calling, another vote for loyalty.

  “So,” I said, “what’s your name?” The response was a discordant cascade of sound, followed by “Blade of Prince,” then another indiscernible sound wave, obviously the name of the deceased former owner.

  “Kind of hard to wrap a human tongue around,” I mused. “So, you’re the prince’s blade?”

  “Yeeessss,” the sword replied.

  “Can I call you Princess Blade?” I asked. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Zzzzzzzz,” the sword hummed, changing her “voice” by raising it half an octave. “Princessss Blade. I like it,” she said, in a voice now more feminine than gender neutral. I heard some extra harmonics in the name that I would never be able to utter, but she responded to my pronunciation.

  “Princess,” I said formally, “I’d like to introduce you to my student, Akiko-san.”

  “Hajimemashita, Akiko-san,” said Princess, getting the honorific right and twisting in my fist, tilting from the vertical in imitation of a Japanese bow. Damn, even the inanimate objects here spoke Japanese better than me.

  “Hajimemashita, Princess Blade-san,” responded Akiko with a precise bow.

  “OK, Princess,” I said, walking towards the warded circle where I kept her, “I have to continue lessons with Akiko-san.”

  “Borrinng,” she sighed. Well, it sounded like a sigh.

  “Hmmm,” I muttered. “You want to be entertained?” I asked sarcastically.

  “Yessss!” she said.

  How the hell do you entertain a bloodthirsty sword of vengeance? I was about to respond poorly when Akiko jumped in. “Do you like movies?”

  “?????????” I never knew a zither could make an interrogative until that moment.

  “Like plays,” continued Akiko. “We can put you in front of TV while I do lessons.”

  “Yessss,” said Princess, with happy harmonics.

  We ended up propping Princess in the corner of the living room with a view of the TV. Akiko turned off the stereo and turned on the TV, then spun through several channels until Princess said, “Ssstop!�
�

  An old Japanese samurai film was playing, one with a lot of swordfights. At her first sight of the film, Princess morphed her shape into a katana, a yard-long Japanese sword. I turned up the sound.

  “OK,” I said, “we’ll leave you to your entertainment.”

  “Shhhhhhhh,” said Princess.

  We tiptoed out. Well, I did, anyway. Akiko doesn’t make any sound unless she wants to.

  We continued her lessons for the day.

  I finally had to end the lesson to start work on my other projects. I sent Akiko away on some errands so that I could work on my personal projects.

  First, the hated exercises to bring my body back to full functioning.

  With the door closed, I set the circle. It was easier today, after a week of practice and recovery. I could now bend over and light the candles without fainting, although I still needed to use the matches.

  The globe of silence enveloped me, blocking out all of the psychic flotsam and jetsam that a huge city like Tokyo produces.

  Why choose to live and work in a city so noisy? Life begets magic, and magic begets life. All of our largest, most populous cities are also founts of magical power. Although noisy and maddening, cities are where the power is. The only thing to compare to cities are areas of intense volcanism.

  Sitting in a cross-legged position, I chased away all thoughts and ruminations on the nature of magic and worries, concentrating on breathing and the flow of energy. The glyphs arranged around my circle were specially designed to allow mystical energy to enter, but not exit. One per each point of the pentagram: Earth, Water, Air, Fire, and Spirit. I had named the glyphs Maxwell’s Demons, after an old joke about a physicist.

  The five flavors of magic flowed in, replenishing reserves used in my lessons with Akiko. Once calmness reigned and my reserves were full, I began the exercises.

  I shifted to a prone position, hands flat on the floor, touching two of the pentagram’s points, head touching the Spirit point, feet touching the remaining two points. The spread legged push-up position was hard, but the advantage of absorbing energy from all five points made up for the clumsiness.