Masters of the Veil

by Daniel A. Cohen

  He felt nothing. The entrance remained firm.

  No monsoon of energy shot through his grasp—he couldn’t feel the Veil.

  “No problem,” Sam said to himself, letting out a gust of breath. “Second time’s the charm.”

  He cleared his thoughts and focused on one thing only: breaching the rock. He clenched his teeth, his fingers trembling.

  Again, nothing happened.

  “Well,” May stretched the rock ledge to where Sam stood, “I’m sure Rona Rono will be happy to know you still have plenty to learn.”

  “I can do it!” Sam held up a hand. “Just gimme a min—Rona Rono? Is that a cartoon character?”

  “He is a sorcerer. One of the best, brightest, and oldest in Atlas Crown. You will be one of his apprentices, and he will teach you all about Her. You should consider yourself very lucky.”

  Sam looked at his second-skin. “I thought I was going to study with Bariv?”

  “You’re not that lucky.”

  Sam gave May a disappointed frown. “Why not?”

  May sighed and placed one foot in front of the other on the ledge like a gymnast. “Bariv is the first to teach those who come from the outside because he is the one who finds them. There is an important connection, like roots, between the Veil and the newcomer. These lessons are only introductory, however; he has far more important things to do than continue the education of new sorcerers.”

  “But you told me it’s rare for two—what was that word?—straighthands to have a magical child.”

  “Flathands, and it is.”

  Sam tried to keep his voice calm, even as the scowl pulled at his face. “So he just sits and does nothing in that cave all day, then?”

  May gave him a quizzical look. “There is a big difference between sitting and doing nothing.”

  “Fine.” Sam sighed, rolling his shoulders. The robe moved with him as if it had been tailored for him. “Thanks for the robe, by the way.”

  She gave a curt nod. “Don’t mention it.”

  “Now,” Sam positioned himself in front of the wall and shooed May backward, “let me try this one more time.”

  He put his weight on his back leg and he readied himself to hit the wall. His calf muscles tensed like a jack-in-the-box. Again clearing his mind—and then thinking about turning the rock to marshmallow—he struck the rock with his open palm.

  Pain shot down his forearm.

  “Shoot!” Sam bit back a string of curses. “I think hitting it made the rock even harder.”

  May beckoned him toward her. “Think about how gumptius works. Physically, you could best LaVink easily, but that is not what magic is about. It is not what the Veil values.”

  “What does She value?”

  “Give me your hand.” Sam obliged. “The Veil values courage.” May waved her diamond-skin over Sam’s palm and the pain lessened.

  “Cleverness.”

  Another swipe and the pain almost subsided.

  “Creativity.”

  One more pass and the pain ceased.

  “Focus.” She let go of his hand. “But most of all, something something.”

  Sam thought maybe he had heard her wrong. “Something something?”

  “I’m not going to spill all the secrets.” She lightly slapped Sam’s cheek twice. “That would close off your most intriguing path.”

  “You are incredibly frustrating.”

  “I am also incredibly excited.” Her face looked frightfully gleeful. “A seam! And between two of the most influential clans!”

  “Is this thing like a marriage?”

  “Marriage, yes. But it is known as a seam to us.”

  “So, where is this seam happening?”

  “I’ll show you.” May drew her second-skin along the stone and melted a passageway into a white room like the one Sam had encountered days before. “It’s about to start, anyway.”

  They climbed through the hole and May sealed it after them.

  May glanced at Sam’s feet. “Why don’t you take off those shoes?”

  Sam saw the mixture of mud and vegetation he’d tracked in staining the white floor. He gave May his most innocent pout. “Oh, sorry about that.”

  “About what?”

  Sam pointed to the mess, but where there had previously been a brown tarnish of glop, now the white floor gleamed.

  May’s voice took on a whimsical tone. “Something I did a long time ago.”

  “Does this particular obscure answer of yours have anything to do with time being different here? Because I don’t think I could wrap my head around that one right now.”

  May gave a hearty laugh. “No, and don’t worry, time is still the same, it is just seen through a different perspective.” She gave his cleats an appraising gaze. “I was going to let Rona show you this—as it is his forte—but seeing as you have a hearty appetite for our world…”—the word appetite made Sam’s stomach grumble—“Hand me your shoe.”

  Sam decided to go with it and took off one of his now spotless cleats. “All yours.”

  “Thank you kindly.” May untied the laces. “You see, one of the most fascinating characteristics about the Veil is that you can use Her in many ways. What I am about to show you is called draping. It is extremely difficult because it is like doing a thousand-piece puzzle in your head while someone tries to poke your mind’s eye. So don’t get frustrated that you won’t be able to do it for a while.”

  May closed her eyes and waved her glistening second-skin over the cleat multiple times. Sam couldn’t consciously pick it out, but he noticed a subtle difference from the technique she’d used to heal his hand. A small wave of heat hit his face, like a puff from a blow dryer.

  “There we are.” May squeezed the cleat, and then handed it back to Sam.

  Sam gave it a once-over. “What did you do?”

  “Put it on.”

  He slipped it onto his foot. The laces immediately tied themselves to a perfect degree of snugness.

  “Well, that will save me about four seconds,” Sam grinned. “Couldn’t you make them fly or something? Like that car thing you brought me here in?”

  “I probably could.” She gave a self-satisfied nod. “And if you work hard, maybe you could too someday.”

  “So, you can enchant objects.”

  “Sort of. Draping is when—after gripping the Veil—you wrap a small amount of Her around an object. You can drape an object indefinitely if you are skilled enough. Can you wrap your head around that?” She stuck her tongue out playfully.

  “And it does whatever you want?”

  “The more complicated the drape, the more complicated the artistry.” She gave a dismissive wave with her second-skin. “But enough about that. I don’t want to take away all of Rona’s fun. We have a celebration to get to! Take those cleats off and let’s get moving.”

  Sam took off his newly magical shoes and still-ordinary socks, aware that May and nearly everyone else always seemed to be barefoot.

  In front of them was another black door.

  “Does that take magic to get through, too?” Sam frowned. “Or is it just a door?”

  “Just a door?”

  Sam sighed. “I don’t think we have time for another speech. Seam, remember?”

  “You’re right!” May opened the door with a gentle push. “I’ll save it for the next time you are having too much fun.”

  Sam grinned. “I appreciate that.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Sam spit out the rinser with a huge sigh of relief. “How long was I gone?”

  May stopped her jovial humming, which she’d been doing since they’d passed into Atlas Crown. “Three days.”

  “There’s no way they did all of this in three days.”

  “These are sorcerers you’re talking about. And Atlas Crown has some of the finest in the world.”

  To Sam’s surprise, it’d taken only a single rinser to rid his mouth of the foul stench that had been brewing there. Now that he could concentrate
on something other than the pungent taste of death, Sam’s attention was free to take in the scenery.

  The center of Atlas Crown looked nothing like it had before. The various shops and shacks that Sam had seen before were stacked on top of each other—at least twenty high—in formations that looked as if they would surely fall with the slightest breath of wind, yet they stood firm. In their places, an almost unending number of festive tables overflowed with the most aromatic foods Sam had ever smelled.

  Hundreds of people milled around the tables, but the majority of the crowd gathered around a beautiful mahogany stage covered with dozens of white birds—all different shapes and sizes—cooing a melody together. Two symbols—a triangle within a triangle and something that Sam thought looked kind of like an octopus—floated above the stage, circling each other, leaving trails of green and gold light. Thousands of grassy stools surrounded the stage, raised from the ground like a giant had poked the earth up from underneath.

  The streams running through the area no longer channeled water. People dipped silver goblets in the red liquid and, after clanging their chalices together, gulped it down. Above them, a display of what could have been fireworks lit the sky, but instead of exploding and dispersing, the light continuously broke and reformed, creating a never-ending cycle of shapes and colors.

  Throngs of happy people gathered in social groups to converse and devour mountains of delicious-looking cuisine, which spawned an envious growl from Sam’s stomach. It took a good amount of effort for Sam to keep himself from diving head first onto the tables. “So, how about you introduce me to some of that food?”

  “I’m afraid I have some duties to attend to, but afterwards I’ll come find you.”

  Sam’s stomach grumbled again. “Was I invited to this thing?”

  May chuckled. “This is a celebration.”

  “Meaning, yes?”

  “Absolutely. There are no exclusions at a seam. It is a glorious union of—”

  Sam cut her off. “So what you’re saying is that I can eat all the food I want and not feel guilty?”

  “Yes, but you won’t be able to—”

  “Good luck with your stuff. See you later!” Sam was already off toward the nearest display, squeezing through the mob of guests.

  Everyone wore robes with symbols, and Sam was thankful he blended in, though he still wondered why he didn’t have anything decorating his chest. Every now and again he saw robes with the same symbols that hung above the altar. The matching symbols glowed like mini spotlights on their chests.

  “Excuse me… watch out… coming through…” Sam tried his best to maneuver

  between the hordes of laughing guests without knocking anyone over. People gave him friendly looks and waves, but no one tried to talk to him, which worked to his advantage because the sooner he made it to a table the better.

  The smells were even more potent closer to the tables. He didn’t know where to start. Striped cakes were piled high next to casseroles of steaming vegetables, glazed

  breads, pancakes topped with fruit, roasted corn, and rice balls oozing with cheese—and those were just the items he recognized.

  Gleaming metal plates, so clean that they sparkled, were stacked among the selections. He picked one up, ready to pile it as high as the stacks of shops, when he noticed the lack of silverware. He hesitated for a second, weighing the possibility of appearing rude by using his hands, but his extreme hunger demanded he put his manners on hold. He was just about to grab a handful of food, when—

  “Everything looks good, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” Sam’s hand hovered over the food. “This is kind of embarrassing, but—”

  “You’re supposed to use your hands.” A smile filled the stranger’s voice. “And the shells for the messier stuff. I was new once, too.”

  At that, he grabbed a fistful of cakes and rice concoctions and loaded a plate. He stuffed his mouth, let out an ecstatic sigh, and finally looked over at her.

  Sam was used to being around pretty girls, but this one took “pretty” to a whole new level. The girl beside him looked to be right around his age, with coffee brown hair and the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. He stopped breathing as he took in her features—high cheekbones, the cute little upturn of her nose, the trace of freckles. The symbol on her black dress—the garment clung more closely to her frame than a robe—looked like a slightly unraveled knot.

  She gave him a bright smile. “Good, huh?”

  Sam gulped, swallowing whatever it was he’d just put into his mouth.

  “Fantastic. What did I just eat?”

  “A rice-pack and a tumble-cake. I was never one to mix savory and sweet.” She shrugged. “But who’s to judge?”

  “I’m Sam,” he thrust out his right hand, and then retracted it as he saw the crumbs and cheese covering his second-skin.

  She giggled. “Daphne. And for future reference, it’s easier to hold the plate with your covered hand and eat with the bare one.” She did a double take at his hand. “Beautiful second-skin, by the way.”

  “Thanks.” Sam looked around the table for napkins. “So how do I…”

  “After we finish eating,” she waved her second-skin—a pink elastic material—over his and the leftovers fell to the ground and sank into the dirt, “we recycle.”

  Sam cocked an eyebrow. “Do you mind-read with the Veil or something?”

  “No, but I remember what it was like. All of us newcomers go through the same stuff, although you do seem a little old to be so new.”

  Sam decided not to address that particular subject. “So you’re from the outside too, huh?”

  “Yup, came here when I was ten.” She picked out a gooey pastry from the table and took a nibble. “American?”

  “Yeah.” He took another bite of his own food.

  “Me too.” She stood on her toes and waved to someone behind Sam. “To this day I still get chills when I think about how lucky we are. This place is like a beautiful dream.”

  Sam shrugged. “I guess so. I figure I’ll stay for a little while.”

  She frowned. “A little while?”

  “I’m the varsity wide receiver at my high school.” Sam gave her a toothy smile.

  “And?”

  “Bariv said I have to stay until I can control the Veil, but once I get a few things sorted out I have a big scholarship waiting for me. I’m probably going to go pro.”

  An uncertain look crossed her face. “So you would leave all this for a—a game?”

  “I mean, it’s not just a game. It’s a career. I would get a lot of money to do something I love. And it’s not like you don’t have games here.”

  Her expression cooled, and she no longer leaned toward him.

  Sam was losing her. He needed to talk a bigger game. “Speaking of which, I’m probably going to stay long enough to beat that kid Petir LaVink at that gumptius game.”

  Daphne’s eyes clouded with anger. “Good luck. Why don’t you just break that second-skin now?”

  With that, she turned away and joined up with a group of girls by what looked like a teepee—covered with a bunch of the double triangle symbols—to the left of the stage. A matching teepee on the right side of the stage had the octopus symbols on it.

  Sam rubbed a hand across his face. What did I say? Most of the time, talk of playing pro ball got the girls in his high school to drool.

  He shrugged it off and returned to the food. He polished off what was on his plate and grabbed a second helping. He devoured a slimy citrus fruit he didn’t recognize, and as soon as it reached his stomach, a blue vapor misted from his nose and mouth and he felt like he had just been to the steam room, refreshed and alert.

  None of the dishes had contained meat. He wondered if maybe the two families were vegetarians or something before he remembered what Bariv had said about killing. He didn’t mind, however, as each dish he tried was better than the previous one. He had no choice but to try all sorts of fruits and vegetable creati
ons. One blue fruit brought tears to his eyes, but then left his vision clear and less strained. Picking up one of the shells that Daphne had mentioned, he scooped up some stew from a decorated gourd and slurped it up. Salty and warm, the large vegetable chunks made his bare feet tingle after he ingested them, and a quick look down revealed that now his toenails were perfectly groomed. He ran a finger over the yellow bumps covering the outside of the shell—it didn’t look like

  any sea-life he’d seen before.

  Is Atlas Crown close to the ocean? Is it even in the same world as Texas?

  Of all the food at the banquet, he did not see a fruit like the one the snake had given him. Maybe it doesn’t taste very good.

  “Distinguished citizens of Atlas Crown!” A voice filled the air, but Sam was the only one to flinch. “Welcome one and all to the glorious seam between Aric and Helvina, yet another uniting between the Wapawche and Hoto clans!”

  People cheered. Sam gave a halfhearted yell along with the crowd.

  “Please eat up, as the ceremony will begin shortly!”

  As the fireworks in the sky died down, Sam went back to the buffet table. He didn’t know how long the ceremony would take, and he decided to scarf down another helping, just to be safe. He picked up a piece of velvety cake, but the sweet decided to continue upward—out of his reach—like it was immune to gravity.

  He frowned. Why they would make cake so light it flies? Diet food, maybe?

  Dozens of other items parted the table of their own accord as well. Carrots soared through the air like small yellow javelins, and dreckler cotton passed by like storm clouds. The food drifted over his head, arching past the red river and right onto other guests’ plates. A glowing, neon-yellow melon—which Sam hadn’t tried for fear of radiation—rocketed upward and then split into many pieces, each landing perfectly on a circle of waiting plates. A splash of stew, floating along in a tight sphere, wandered past his head.

  All around him, people summoned food off the tables with small flicks of their hands. It looked like a slow motion food-fight that ended entirely mess-free. Sam followed his specific piece of cake until it landed gracefully onto the dish of the rat-faced boy he recognized as Petir LaVink. Petir sneered at him and bit into the cake, mocking him with melodramatic flare, then chuckled at his small victory.