Path of the Magi (Tales of Tiberius)

by Stuart, Richard J

  He started to say something, then saw to his surprise that his brother Marcus was on the coach, not Mr. Okubo.

  “Hello, Marcus. What happened to Mr. Okubo?” Tiberius asked. He had the sinking feeling that something bad had happened, though what he couldn’t say.

  “Ti, there’s been an accident,” Marcus explained.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked sharply.

  “It’s our godsister. There was a problem at school.”

  “Is she hurt? How badly? I can get Messura,” he said worriedly.

  “It’s not her. She almost killed someone.”

  Ti thought for an instant, then went over and got in the carriage. “Tell me as we go.”

  Mr. Okubo was a good friend to him, and Maci was like a little sister. If there was anything he could do, he had to be there for them. Marcus gave him more details as they rode along.

  “You know that bully, Gabe? I think you knew him slightly. Behind us at school, thank God. Obnoxious twerp. He gave my boy a bit of trouble one time. Well he took a dislike to Maci, probably because she reads better than he does. He tried to push her into the mud by the creek,” Marcus explained.

  “Good God. I know Gabe’s years older than she is, but Maci dodges full speed staff swings from me!”

  “No one told Gabe that. When he missed the first time, he tried to make an issue of it. Maci fought back, broke his arm, and almost broke his skull.”

  “Serves him right picking on a lady younger than him,” Tiberius scowled.

  “Yes, some hold to that opinion. I don’t think anyone’s going to press charges on that account. Still the pure lethality and professionalism she displayed was a bit alarming to her classmates. My boy saw it. You know she’s really hell on a bicycle when she gets mad.”

  Before long the carriage pulled up by the Okubo’s house. Tiberius stepped out and went around back to where Mr. Okubo was sitting in his back yard. He looked a bit shaken. He’d had more than one cup of his home brewed sake already. He rose and greeted Tiberius.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t come, Master Tiberius,” he said.

  “Don’t be silly; I heard what happened. I thought I might be able to help,” Tiberius said.

  Mr. Okubo sat down with a shrug. “I don’t know what you can do. I don’t know what anyone can do. I don’t even know if there is anything to do.” He turned to Tiberius with a look of desperation and urgency. “She’s only a little girl!” he said, unsteadily. “I thought she killed him, when I first heard. She almost did!”

  “She’s your little girl. You’re a good teacher. She’s a good student. You’re teaching her an ancient and honorable art,” Tiberius said.

  “I didn’t think … he outweighs her by a hundred pounds. I hadn’t realized she was that gifted … that dangerous. She’s not even nine years old ...”

  “You didn’t train her to punch the nose of some school chum. Maci’s a very sweet-tempered girl and you never expected she’d be in a schoolyard fight. If that idiot Gabe wasn’t a bully with bad taste in his victims he’d have been fine,” Ti said.

  “She’s…” Old Okubo had run out of words.

  “Better than you dreamed of? The most talented martial artist either of us has ever seen?” Tiberius offered.

  Okubo nodded agreement. “I’ve never heard of anyone actually using that flying kick in combat. She did it, and she did it flawlessly. What do I do? She’s already a lethal weapon.”

  “I guess you already gave her the safety lecture. I think she can be relied upon to take it to heart. I suggest your next few lessons concentrate on aikido techniques. Something more appropriate to a schoolyard fight. In Gabe’s case, something to inflict intense pain without leaving marks would be appropriate.”

  “I just thought it was cute the way she copied what I did. Do I dare keep teaching her?”

  “Do you dare to stop? Why should you? She’s an excellent student. You just need to keep the safety lessons in mind in the future. I suppose you’ve spoken to his family?” Tiberius said.

  “Yes. They are not honorable,” he said with a grimace at the recollection of talking to Gabe’s family. “But there were witnesses. He did start the fight,” he said.

  “No doubt he’ll try and take advantage of the situation. He’ll try and make her life a living hell knowing she can’t hit him back,” Tiberius said. Mr. Okubo nodded.

  “I’ll handle it,” Tiberius said.

  “Hmm? What are you going to do?” Mr. Okubo said.

  “Something on the order of a direct threat. Better you don’t know the details. This is a job for a young hotheaded apprentice. If anyone asks, it’s regrettable that you have no control over your old student. Another year or so and I can call him out legally. No court will deny a petition for a duel over harassment of a young lady. I’ll make sure he knows that.”

  Okubo nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Maci’s my little sister. I have to take care of her. Where is she by the way?”

  “By the creek,” he said. “I may have been a bit hard on her. I spoke with her before I spoke with Gabe’s family.”

  “She’ll get over it. I’ll have a word with her,” Tiberius said.

  Tiberius found Maci sitting alone by the river, her arms cradled around her knees. He came and sat down beside her.

  “I’m disappointed in you,” he said. That earned him the expected glare and no more.

  “If you are going to go and break Gabe’s arm you could at least wait till I’m around. I’d have paid good money to see that. He always was an obnoxious jerk.”

  “It’s not funny,” she said with sudden indignation. “That creep attacks me, I defend myself, and everybody yells at me!”

  “Says the lady to the man who lost his fiancée by saving her from a dragon,” he replied.

  “Oh, right,” Maci said, a bit humbled.

  “I suppose you might want to be a bit more careful around the school yard,” Tiberius said casually. “Not everyone trains with me and your dad, you know.”

  “Can I help it if Gabe doesn’t know how to block? I thought he’d duck. I didn’t think he’d walk his arm into my best kick. I wasn’t trying to kill him.”

  “He’s pretty lucky then, isn’t he? You know you could have killed him.”

  “I know; I already had this lecture from Dad,” she said.

  “Then I’ll spare you the safety tips. I just want to make sure you know what this really means,” Tiberius said.

  “I know what it means,” Maci pouted. “It means I’m a freak. I can kill people if I’m not careful.”

  “Gifted, was the word I was thinking of,” Tiberius replied. “You do have to be careful, Maci. But that’s only because you can do things that other people can’t do. I don’t think your dad really appreciated how good you really are. You’re his little girl. But I’ve seen you too. You learn staff moves faster than I do, and I’m not bad. When your dad gets over the shock he’s going to see it too and take your training more seriously. You’re going to be a great fighter. Maybe the best ever.”

  “I don’t want to be great; I want to be like everyone else! Everybody already hates me cause I’m smarter than they are. Now they doubly hate me! I don’t look like them; I don’t act like them; I don’t think like them. What’s wrong with me? I’m a freak! I hate it,” Maci cried.

  “I know something about that,” Tiberius said. “I didn’t exactly win any popularity contests when I joined up with Dallen and the magi.”

  “Oh … right,” she said quietly.

  “It gets on your nerves at times. You don’t make friends easily; there’s hardly anyone you can talk to. You think it would be so much easier if you weren’t so bright or so talented. But gifts from God makes us who we are, Maci. We can’t ignore them; we have to cultivate them. If people don’t like who we are, that’s their problem. It’s more important to serve God than to be popular. We have these gifts for a reason. Remember what Jesus told us. ‘Does the world hate you? Remember that it hated
me first. If you belonged to the world, it would love you like one of its own. But you do not belong to the world. I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you.’”

  She frowned thinking about it. “John 15: 18-19, but I think he was talking about being a Christian, not beating people up. Jesus didn’t break anybody’s arm.”

  “He never met Gabe, did he? My point is you should follow Christ in all things and not worry what the world thinks of you. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be more careful. But don’t hate yourself for being gifted. You should take care of your gift and use it for God. You’ll do great things one day.”

  “If they don’t put me in jail first,” she said gloomily.

  “I wouldn’t worry about that. I had a word with Pastor Adams on my way to finding you. You know what the real moral of this story is?”

  “What?”

  “If you want swift action from the local constabulary, it’s wise not to fling rocks at the police chief’s window the week before,” he explained.

  “Oh. Did he … I told you he was a jerk,” Maci laughed.

  “I gather public opinion is decidedly mixed. Half the town thinks you should be burned as a witch. The other half thinks we should give you a parade, considering it was Gabe. I think everyone’s willing to settle for you being a little more careful in the future. Anyway, I thought you weren’t actually supposed to use those elaborate flying kicks in combat?”

  “What is the point of learning them, then? It worked, didn’t it?” Maci said.

  Tiberius couldn’t argue that point.

  The incident with Gabe died down, but Mr. Okubo did take Maci’s lessons more seriously from that point on. Tiberius made a point to stay in touch with her, too, and see that her spiritual education was not neglected. One thing was becoming apparent; Maci was a very gifted martial artist. If she was bigger she’d have been unstoppable, but frankly Ti wasn’t sure that her being small was a disadvantage. With her strength-to-weight ratio she could rocket up walls and gave her mother more than one fit over how high up trees she could go. If she had to hit hard, she knew how to pick up a weapon.

  “She has another advantage, too,” Singh observed one day when the conversation had turned in her direction.

  “What’s that?” Tiberius asked.

  “She’ll never be afraid of a magician,” Singh said.

  Maci was given strict instructions on how to deal with any future schoolyard incidents. Fortunately, however, there were none. Bullies at school may have said a bad word to her now and then, but they didn’t dare to attack her.

  ∴

  Things went well in her classes, too, so when her next birthday came around in mid-May, Tiberius came back into town.

  His first stop was his own family. He found his mother out painting. Kissing her on the cheek, he stepped around to admire her landscape.

  “That’s really not bad,” he said.

  “I’ve been improving. If you’d visit more often, you’d know that,” Tiberius’ mother said.

  “Father doesn’t want me around; he made that quite clear,” Ti answered.

  “Now, that isn’t fair; you know he didn’t mean that,” Greta replied.

  “Do I?”

  She put down her brush and turned to face him. “Tiberius, by now you know that magic means different things to different people. For Julian it means the works of the enemy. He understands that you only mean to use the works of the enemy against him, but he doesn’t feel comfortable with that and he never will.”

  “So what am I supposed to do?” Tiberius asked.

  “You’re supposed to act like the Christian boy I raised. Do unto others as you would have others do unto you. You need to repay your father's coolness with greater warmth and love.”

  “It isn’t easy,” he said.

  “You’re stubborn and proud, like him,” she replied.

  “What do you think of this, Mom? Am I doing the right thing? You don’t seem as troubled by it.”

  “Ti, I’ve had more exposure to magic than your father has. I grew up in a home devoted to Odin, the all seeing father. Growing up we did little bits of magic as part of our worship. We’d cast runes and make our little spells to help the crops. I even met with the elves now and then. They showed us ways to speak to the spirits of the plants,” Greta answered him.

  “I didn’t know you were a magician,” Tiberius said, smiling.

  “What you’re doing is infinitely more complicated than anything I ever attempted. But I did my little bit in my time and I was good at it. When the witch queens came to power they wanted anyone who showed any magical ability to work for them. I would have none of it. Around the same time I met some Christian missionaries. Though them I came to understand that there was only one great spirit in the universe and that good things all came though Him. I gave up any magic I ever used because I found a greater power in prayer. I understand what you are going though now. Not everyone I grew up with accepted my transformation or understood what I was doing. But what I did, I did to make myself a greater servant of God. I know you well enough to know that you are doing the same.”

  “I hope I am doing the right thing,” Tiberius said.

  “If I thought you weren’t, I would tell you,” she replied.

  Tiberius was struck by another thought and looked up at his mother.

  “You know, I never stopped to consider that any magic I possess might be hereditary,” Tiberius stated.

  His mother laughed. “I was never any great sorceress, Ti. If you’ve inherited any ability from me in the art of magic, it is artistic ability and not magical power that I’ve passed along to you. You’ve got my love of art and beauty, and I think that’s the greatest gift I could give to you. Art is always something you can use in magic, though, Tiberius. I do know that.”

  Tiberius nodded. “Dallen always calls it his art. He says imagination’s as valuable an asset to a magician as all the raw knowledge of the universe.”

  “Imagination’s a powerful tool, Tiberius; always keep that in mind. Now, before you run off with Marcus, I want you to show me how you’re doing. Why don’t you show me that hamster illusion you wrote me about.”

  “I shouldn’t do magic lightly, Mom.”

  “Oh, posh, even Jesus had to do miracles for his mom; don’t think you’re any better. Let me see now while your father isn’t about.”

  Tiberius spoke a word and the well dressed hamster appeared again, this time with a well formed top hat which he took off in a sweeping bow to Ti’s mother. Greta Fuller looked down in amazement and then stared at Tiberius.

  “I’m not scaring you, am I?” he asked in alarm.

  “No, it’s just, well, I saw some of the witch queens’ magic, Tiberius, back in the old days. I had no idea you’d come this far this quickly. They weren’t as good.”

  “Dallen’s a good teacher,” Tiberius mumbled.

  “Yes, he is, and he’s right, you are a gifted student. Well, you’d better go collect Marcus and Maci or you’ll be late,” she said. As he turned to go she called after him, “You keep writing, young man. And keep up with your studies.”

  Tiberius then left to catch up with Maci and Marcus and his kids. Marcus had printed the programs for the match and helped Tiberius get some excellent seats for the joust. A beautiful day in mid-May found Maci seated next to Tiberius, her father, and mother, watching a preliminary bout in the National Jousting Competition.

  Maci had been properly equipped for the occasion with a popcorn ball, a ribbon on a stick to wave, and a large cup of lemonade.

  “That’s Darras Walker, the National Champion,” Tiberius pointed. Darras was the picture of a knight: tall, blonde, in gleaming armor on a great grey horse he called Smoke. He’d won one championship already and there didn’t seem much chance he was going to lose this one. Already he’d scored a perfect score in the preliminary ring jousting event, his lance neatly spearing each of the small suspended rings. Now he was simply waiting his tu
rn to run the course against his fellow riders.

  “He’s really good,” Maci said. “I wish I had a horse like that.”

  “You’ll have your own horse someday,” Tiberius said. “I don’t think you’d want one like Smoke anyway.”

  “No, probably more of an Arabian. We’ll, I’d really like an Andalusian purebred, but I’d never afford that,” Maci said. Clearly it was a matter to which she’d given some thought.

  “I'd have thought you'd want an elvish horse; they live longer,” Tiberius said.

  Maci looked at him like he'd lost his mind. “Elvish horses are Andalusians. Well, not all of them, but they brought Andalusians with them when they came over the seas. Gillyian says they're the real purebreds. Elves have breeding records going back thousands of years. Obviously it's a different sub-type than a horse that lives in Spain today. Elf horses live longer because of elf magic, not because of the breed. Honestly Ti, don't you know all this? Don't they teach you anything useful at school?”

  “My horselore is a bit weak, but I figure I'll mostly be fighting from foot.”

  The first round of ring jousting was done, The knights in the tournament were starting to walk about working the crowd a bit. Darras' handler urged him onward.

  “Better go get one of the local ladies to give you a favor. The rest of the knights are doing it.”

  Darras climbed into the saddle. “You know I hate that. Too many of them get the wrong idea. I'm not here for a date. God will bring me a wife in due time.”

  The handler shrugged. “That may be, but go do something with the crowd. You know this is General Fuller's old town. He may be semi-retired, but he's still a general in the militia and a bad word from him can still end your career.”

  Darras glanced at the crowd. “Is the general here?”

  “No, he avoids these things like the plague. I heard a rumor one of his sons may be in the audience, but wouldn't know him from Adam.”

  Darras walked his horse Smoke along the crowd. His friend was right; it would be good manners to ask for a favor from a lady in the crowd. He was single, after all. But which one?