“No,” he assured her. “You've got the talent all right. Impatience is just making you try too hard.”
“What are you saying? That trying less will somehow make it happen?”
“Well, no. Not less, just less forcefully. Didn't Lester explain this? You can't push photons out of their paths. You have to concentrate on changing the shape of the pathspace they are following.”
“He said something like that,” she admitted. “But somehow it seems clearer when you explain things. Why can't you be my teacher, like you did with him?'
“I know it's hard,” he said. “But two people are learning here. You have to learn pathspace...and Lester has to learn how to teach it to people. The only way he can learn how to teach this is by being your mentor. If I take over and do the teaching, all I will end up with is a bunch of students. That's not good enough. Soon there will be too many students for me to teach them all, so we need teachers. If you think learning pathspace is hard, just wait until you're a teacher yourself, having to watch someone else try and not being able to do anything to help them except talk.”
She scowled. “That wont happen any time soon, at the rate I'm going.”
“Oh, I don't know about that,” he said. “This isn't like lifting heavy objects, where you gradually grow stronger and can lift more. It's more like a dexterity thing, like juggling. You mind will keep thinking about it even when you're asleep and the next time you try you will find you have gotten better.”
She shook her head. “It's been days now, and I still can't even go invisible, even for a second. Maybe I should go back to Inverness.”
“Don't be hasty,” he said. “Try again, but first let me remind you of something I'm sure Lester has told you.” He picked up an apple from his desk. “Pretend this is a photon, a piece of light. It's coming toward me, following a path that will lead it to bounce off me and reflect toward you so that you see me. I don't want that to happen. So that do I do?”
“You nudge it out of the way, out of that path,” she said.
“No,” he said. “That's what's holding you back. You're trying to affect the photons. You can't push a photon. They're like ghosts without bodies. There's nothing material to push against.”
“He said something like that. But what else can I do?”
“Listen carefully. What you need to do is affect the path the photon is following.” Seeing her expression, he tried again. “When a road bends around a lake, why don't horses and travelers fall into the lake? Because the lake pushes them away? No. Because they are following a road that goes around the lake, not into it.”
He moved the apple slowly toward himself. “Don't think about the photons at all. Think about the paths they are following, the pathspace they are embedded in. You have to imagine the pathspace bending.” With his other hand he traced a path around him, then moved the apple along that path. “When you do that, you will affect all of the photons.”
He watched as she tried again. This time she had more luck, and faded almost completely away before popping back to full visibility. “That was better.”
“I could see the room getting a little dimmer that time,” she said. “But there's too many paths to imagine. The weave is still too loose.”
“That's my fault, for using the apple,” he said. “You can't think of the paths as individual lines. By grouping them together, you can affect more paths with less effort.” Placing the apple on the desk, he traced a path bending around it. “Affecting a single path is pretty easy, but trying to build up the weave from a lot of single paths is too much work.”
“Then how do you do it?”
“Imagine a collection of paths.” He picked up a piece of paper and stood it on edge on the table. With his other hand he took the edge of the paper and bent it around the apple. “A plane, like this sheet of paper, has an infinite number of line paths in it. If I imagine bending the plane, I am bending all of those lines at the same time, instead of individually.”
Then he picked up a book, opened it, and set it edgewise on the desktop so that standing there it made a V around the apple. “Then if you imagine a huge number of parallel planes, like a book, you can see how to bend them all around the apple at the same time. It's just as simple as bending a single path, or a single sheet, but you get a more comprehensive effect. Try it.”
Standing up, she tried again. This time she was more successful. After a few moments she faded completely from sight. She popped back almost immediately, her eyes wide. “It worked! The whole room went black that time.”
“I'm sure it did,” he said, smiling. “You were completely invisible that time. Good job. Now go back to Lester and tell him you're ready for more drilling. You still have to learn.”
She groaned. “Can't I just take a break and enjoy the moment?”
He laughed. “You've already enjoyed it. Now go back and practice it. You need to be able to go invisible at a moment's notice. Practice it until you can do it without thinking about it first.” He picked up the book again. “And tell Lester that when you can do it in less than a second, ten times in a row, then he can come to me for another lesson in spinspace.”
She closed the door behind her. He picked up the book and flipped back to where he had been reading. A wave of dizziness passed over him, and he blinked and set the book down. Maybe I've been overdoing it. I'm talking too much and sleeping too little.
The dizziness passed. Maybe I'm too easy to find. They'll learn faster if I'm less in the way. He reached out to weave pathspace so he could take a nap unseen.
But as soon as his mind touched the space of paths, he felt three echoes, the sensed presences of other magic workers. Two of them were about twenty yards away and should be Lester and Carolyn. But the third was below him...and moving closer. A new student?
Chapter 40
Nathan: words across the miles
כמים קרים לנפש עייפה,כל כך חדשות טובות מארץ רחוקה
“ As cold water to a weary soul, so is good news from a far country”
– Proverbs 25:25
They skirted the edge of the Emirates, traveling just north of the southern border of the Desolation. Nathan kept trying to learn more about the Tzaddikim, but his father did his best to deflect his queries for the most part.
“You ask too many questions,” his father Isaac said.
“But Father, are we not told 'Apply your heart to instruction, and your ears to words of knowledge'?”
Isaac frowned. “Proverbs 23:12,” he agreed. “Yes, such is written. But return to your lessons. 'In all labor there is profit, but idle chatter leads only to poverty'.”
Nathan looked to his book again. He was sure it was another quote from Proverbs, but he could not place it. But how could it be 'idle chatter' to ask about the Tzaddikim? Especially when his father was one?
Next to him, Isaac was writing a letter to Rebekah. That was a welcome sight. It meant they would be stopping at the next town.
It also explained his father's sour mood. Sending mail inside one's own country was uncomplicated, but between countries, not. If they had been traveling in a regular coach service, it would have been a simple matter to hand the letter off to the next coach from the same company that passed them going in the opposite direction. Since they were traveling by private wagon, his father would have to find someone trustworthy who was traveling back to New Israel. It was not impossible, but it was also not easy, and the farther they got from their homeland the harder it would be. No wonder his father was cranky.
Shortly after lunch they stopped at the next town. It was a place called Medina on the outskirts of one of the old cities called Akron. They pulled up next to the local inn for travelers.
“Wait here,” said Isaac. “I will be back soon.” He was not wearing his white robe now.
Nathan watched his father go into the inn, telling himself there would be nothing to see in the inn but weary travelers, drinking farmers, and the innkeeper's family.
While he waited, he cast about for something to do to pass the time. His eyes fell on the book his father had left on the seat. He glanced out the window, then opened the book.
The first page was blank. Impatiently, he flipped the pages. They were all blank.
He frowned. A blank book would make perfect sense, if his father had been writing a journal. But he could have sworn his father had been reading earlier. It was yet another mystery, another secret his father was keeping.
He closed the book, slid back across the seat to his own window and gazed out at the strangers walking in and out of the inn.. Would the wax seal upon the letter be respected by these people? Would the missive find its way back Rebekah? And how would his father pay for its journey? According to him, the gold certificate held all of their money.
After a bit longer than he had expected, his father returned to the wagon, apparently in a much better mood than when he left it.
“Did you find a courier?”
“No,” said Isaac. “But the innkeeper will send it with the next reliable courier heading in that direction..” He resumed his seat and shut the door.
“How did you arrange that? You said we carried no coin, only the gold certificate. Will he hold it until we send back coins from Denver?”
He half expected another reprimand for asking so many questions. But his father only smiled. “He will pay the courier for us.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because I made him a couple of everflames, one for his hearth and another for cooking or warming his bedroom.” At Nathan's questioning look, he added “He supplied the coins I asked God's blessing on.”
“Why coins? Couldn't you just ask God's blessing on his inn, itself...just as you did with the wagons?”
“I could have,” his father agreed. “But it wouldn't last as long. The effect is best with more dense materials. Even brick and stone are not as good as metal for holding the influence.”
“Any metal?”
“Some metals are better than others. Cobalt is better than iron, and copper even better...but if we had gotten the Tourists to make all of the everflames for us out of silver and gold, they'd all still be working.”
“So he let you use a couple of his pennies?”
“I talked him into using a silver Texas dollar and a gold Rado dollar. It seemed a fitting way to celebrate the good news.”
Ah, so there was another reason for the improvement in his mood. “What good news?”
“Texas tried to invade Rado and lost. I had feared I was bringing you into a war zone, but the war is already over.”
“Are you sure? Won't Rado press their advantage and move to invade Texas now, to prevent another invasion attempt?”
“That's the biggest surprise of all. The Honcho of Texas fell in the battle, and Rado has made peace with his son. They are actually in alliance now! Can you believe it?”
“I can believe it, but I am not sure if I like it. Will they join forces now, and move against the Emirates and new Israel?”
“I do not think it likely,” said Isaac. “It seems their alliance is a voluntary one, rather than a conquest. According to what I have heard, they are seeking to gather other countries in a new Union, in which decisions will be made by a Council or Congress made up of representatives from the member countries. No doubt they will invite the Emirates and new Israel to join them also.”
“Surely new Israel would never join a Union if the Emirates were part of it! We made the Desolation to keep them from attacking us.”
“Actually, both sides decided to create the Desolation,” his father informed him. “But you are probably right. It would be very difficult to convince both countries to join.”
“I should hope so! From what I've read, Arabs have killed a lot of Jews in the past.”
“Jews have killed Arabs as well,” Isaac said. “But besides that, the people of the Dixie Emirates are Muslims, not Arabs. Not even their grandfathers have set eyes on the sands of Arabia.”
Nathan stared at his father. “Are you saying that you would welcome an alliance with the sons of Ishmael?”
“I am saying,” his father replied, “that it would not be the worst thing that could happen on this continent. As you have seen yourself, the Desolation is healing. Soon farmers will be settling it, and then it will once again be usable, as before, for either of us to invade the other. I, for one, would not wish a return to the bloody past.”
Chapter 41
Kareef: good news or bad?
“...if they leave you alone, refrain from fighting you, and offer you peace, then Allah gives you no excuse to fight them.”
– Quran 4:90
As they drew nearer to Rado, they began to hear more recent news from the West. First, rumors of war. Texas was going to invade Rado. Descriptions varied, however. Some stories spoke of an enormous army of foot soldiers, others of swarms of cavalry, and still others of great armored vehicles of the ancients, the tanks that he had heard of back in Dixie.
Kareef was grateful for the scraps of information that reached them, for they relieved the oppressing monotony of the journey. If this had been some sort of grand tour, as the Emirs, may they be blessed, or their sons, sometimes made among the Emirates, they could have been proceeding at a more leisurely pace, making note of how the local peasants were employed during the Winter, observing and evaluating fortresses or potential trade routes, or investigating possible trade goods or new food crops.
But there was no time for such pursuits. According to Qusay, they must proceed to Denver. He told Kareef that they must arrive long before Spring.
“Why? You don't think this School will disappear before we get there, do you?”
“Of course not. But among the things I have been commanded to observe is how adequately they deal with snow. If the Emirates ever extend this far, we must know how inclement weather affects their defenses.”
He understood the wisdom of that, but it was hard not to grumble at the waste of opportunities. For the first time in his life he was outside the borders of his country, and instead of learning more about the lands outside it, he was seeing only the width of a road, and hearing little more than the rolling of their own wheels upon it.
To keep himself from going mad with boredom, he had decided to make a game of learning about the Order. Qusay had already told him that he was not to be trained in the ways of magic until he reached Denver and Xander's School, so that his impressions would be fresh and his understanding unfiltered by layers of Sihr lore. Very well. He had, further, been informed that he was to know as little as possible about the magic-wielders of the Emirates, so that if captured and interrogated he could reveal little to potential adversaries of the Faithful.
But he refused to remain ignorant. Shut in a wagon with Qusay and his wife Ateeqa for a few weeks, he would use whatever opportunities presented themselves to learn something, at least. It gave him something to do, and allowed him to see himself as more than a mere pawn in the wider games of rulers.
The first thing he had learned was obvious: members of the Order were allowed to marry. The fact that Qusay even mentioned the Order in front of his wife and referred to himself as protection for Kareef meant that his wife knew he was a member of it. The way he explained his handling of the bandit leader in front of her showed that she already knew at least some of his skills.
It was comforting to know that when he took a wife he would not have to keep secrets from her. When that time came he would have at least one person with whom he could share his fears and hopes without worry of committing indiscretions. He filed that away in his mind and set himself to learning whatever else the Ambassador's behavior and remarks would reveal.
“One of the dangers you will face in Denver,” the older man said, as if he were reading Kareef's mind, “is foreign women.”
Kareef had to raise his eyebrows at that. “How could they be a danger to me? I am not going there to seek an infidel wife.”
> Qusay and Ateeqa exchanged amused smiles. “Often,” the ambassador-mage told him, “you find what you are not seeking...or it finds you. The women of foreign lands are no less comely than those of the Emirates.”
He tried not to snort. “I won't have any time to carouse.”
Once more Qusay and Ateeqa smiled at each other. “You cannot spend all of your time eating, sleeping, and studying,” the ambassador said. “And, truly, your observation of all things, including the Rado men and women, may prove useful someday.”
Kareef shifted his weight on the seat. He had heard that non-Muslim women did not cover themselves enough, that the shapes of their bodies were exhibited shamelessly to invite the stares of men. Fortunately, the women he had seen in his own country were not so ignorant. His father was a simple landowner; he and Kareef had not been invited to the homes of the Emirs, nor any who maintained a harim. All of the women he had ever seen had been decently covered, thanks be to the Ever-Merciful!
“I do not need to ogle their women to learn what must be learned,” he said.
Once more, there was that silent smiling conspiracy between Qusay and his wife. Also, they did not appear shocked when the wagon passed women walking with their heads uncovered. Kareef found himself wondering if belonging to the Order led its members to believe they were outside the Law. Was it possible to develop abilities most citizens did not share...and still hold to the customs and beliefs of the majority?
At the next stop Qusay came back to the wagon with the marks of concern on his face. Kareef spoke up before Ateeqa could. “What is it? What did you hear?”
“The Honcho invaded Rado. He found a way to fuel their tanks and drive them right into the city, all the way from Texas.”
Despite the the ambassador's expression, Kareef took this as good news. The school would be closed! They could turn around and go back to Dixie!”
“Don't look so happy,” Qusay said, reading his expression perfectly. “We're still going to Denver.”
Spinspace: The Space of Spins (The Metaspace Chronicles Book 2) Page 13
