Masters of the Veil

by Daniel A. Cohen

  Sam cracked his knuckles and flexed his chest underneath his jersey and robe.

  “Laugh now.” He clenched his covered hand. “I’ll wipe that smug look off your face soon enough.”

  He took an identical piece of the velvety cake, along with enough food to keep him happy throughout the ceremony, from what was left on the table. Picking up a silver goblet, he pushed his way through the crowd to the red river. It was at least five or six feet across and Sam couldn’t see the bottom. Every twenty feet or so bridges of decorated metal crossed the river. Sam bent down, carefully balancing his plate, and plunged his goblet into the red liquid.

  An old man wearing one of the glowing triangles on his chest bent down a few paces from him and dunked in his own chalice. The man winked at him. Sam gave a weak smile back.

  Although the man’s face was mostly wrinkles, his eyes were somehow young and bright. “Welcome.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I know who you are, Samuel.”

  Sam was taken aback. “Huh?”

  “Be wary.” The man’s expression turned serious. “You are the key to the parting.”

  Before Sam could respond, the old man was lost among the crowd.

  “Weird.” Sam shook his head. He pulled his goblet out of the river. The liquid in it was not red, but clear.

  “Weird,” he repeated.

  He tipped it out and let the clear liquid run back into the running red. Again he dipped his goblet, only to find that it once more came back clear. What the heck? He repeated the process a few more times with the same result.

  Then someone tapped his shoulder.

  Still in a crouched position, Sam turned around to see Glissandro staring back at him.

  “Hey, Gliss.”

  Glissandro smiled and nodded.

  Sam jiggled his goblet. “Why can’t I get the red stuff?”

  Glissandro tucked his horn into a smooth white holster and took the goblet from Sam. He dipped it into the river. He brought it up to Sam’s face and revealed that the contents were clear again.

  “You too, huh?”

  Glissandro nodded and gave a mock frown.

  “Why?”

  Handing the goblet back to Sam, Glissandro placed his horn against his lips. Just as he was about to play, the loud voice spoke again.

  “Accomplished citizens, humble beginners, and everyone in between, welcome. Let us all take our seats and let the seam begin.”

  Sam saw people cheer and clap and even jump up and down all around him. Glissandro beckoned him over to the two closest green lumps coming from the ground. Sam took a sip of the clear liquid, which turned out to be water.

  Sam gestured with his goblet toward the lump. “We sit on those?”

  Glissandro nodded and plopped down on the raised earth.

  Sam settled down on the one next to him. The lump compressed to a comfortable fit. It was like sitting on a large pile of cotton balls.

  “We are gathered here today,” the voice boomed, “for another, everlasting union between two sorcerers and their long-running clans.”

  Rumbling cheers came from the guests with glowing symbols.

  “How long do these things usually take?” Sam whispered to Glissandro.

  Glissandro’s eyes flashed from his horn to Sam and then he grimaced.

  “Gotcha,” Sam said in a hushed voice. “Can’t answer—don’t wanna be rude.”

  A look of relief crossed Glissandro’s face.

  “A long and wonderful relationship,” the voice continued, “will continue

  forevermore in the love, companionship, and guidance of our community and the Veil.”

  Sam nibbled on a slice of seasoned bread topped with jam, but then stopped as he realized he was the only one still eating. He ducked his head and put his plate on the ground.

  Up on the raised stage, the two people were getting… seamed? He wondered if that was the right term. The couple, dressed in black robes with both the triangle within triangle and octopus symbols, stood before… May. To Sam’s surprise, it turned out to be May’s voice over the loudspeaker—distorted down a half octave—although she wasn’t speaking into anything. Instead, she held a diamond finger to her throat, which magnified

  her voice at a level volume all across the fields.

  May prattled on for a while, and Sam feigned interest. She was going on about love and togetherness and gripping as one. Sam found his eyes flashing more and more to the plate of food going to waste beside him.

  It would be a shame not to eat it.

  “Now,” May backed away from the front of the stage, “will the clan leaders please bring up their gifts.”

  Gifts? This could be interesting. He straightened up on his grassy stool.

  An elderly woman emerged from each of the teepees, each holding something in outstretched hands. They climbed onto the stage from opposite staircases, moving curiously in sync. As they reached the podium, the white birds started cooing, and the symbols above the stage pulsed with light in time with the birds’ song.

  May stepped further back, along with the couple. The two women faced each other.

  The woman on the right spoke first. “For the noble Wapawche clan. We present to you something very ancient that we hold very dear. It has been passed down through our family for generations.” She took a deep breath. “Here is our draped reed-paper Epitom.”

  The assembly of guests burst into approving applause.

  Sam glanced over at Glissandro with a confused look. Glissandro took advantage of the hearty sounds and played Sam a few quick eighth notes. “It is most old. It’s a piece of parchment that changes shape according to what the closest person is thinking about. It’s an extremely complicated example of draping.”

  Cool. The noise died down and Sam focused back on the stage.

  “We are truly honored.” The receiving elder took the reed-paper, which shifted into a shape Sam could not see. “For the admirable Hoto clan,” the woman bellowed with the use of her second-skin, a featherlike material. “We present to you a droplet of pure Veil.”

  A hushed awe fell over the crowd. Sam heard someone in front of him say, “That must have taken a hundred arcs to create.”

  The elder on the left handed the other woman a small vial with a fantastically bright drop of something in the bottom. “It has taken a tremendous amount of effort to procure and we feel blessed to present it to you at this most auspicious seam.”

  The crowd did not make any noise for a moment, and Sam’s gut clenched. I didn’t freeze everyone here like I did at the game, right?

  Then ear-splitting applause and confused, ecstatic shouts came from all around.

  Glissandro’s jaw hung open. Even May looked impressed.

  Sam cheered along with the crowd, taking advantage of the hectic moment to sneak a piece of doughy bread from his plate.

  Glissandro had his horn in hand, blasting loud notes into the air. Up on the stage, the Hoto clan elder’s eyes were wide as she stared at the vial in disbelief.

  What could possibly shock a community of sorcerers who can do things like enchant stone walls and make people float in the air against their will? Sam—still stealthily chewing the bread—looked at Glissandro for an explanation.

  Glissandro caught Sam’s eye and blew a single note. “I’ll explain later.”

  The audience settled down and the ceremony continued. The elders both retreated with their gifts and the young couple again became the focus. May continued with her monotonous speech on love and magic and magical love and loving magic and Sam again got caught in a web of his own thoughts. What’s “pure Veil?” Why does May seem to do everything in town? What the heck does the Tembrath Elite have to do with me?

  “Congratulations to both clans!” Sam shook himself out of his rampaging jumble of thoughts as May waved to the crowd. “And congratulations to you both. You may now fuse the symbols!”

  Fuse the symbols? Not kiss the bride?

  The couple waved
at the guests and then looked at each other. They both thrust their respective second-skins straight into the air, pointing at the glowing symbols above them. Slowly, the couple moved closer to one another. As they came together, so did the symbols. At last, as their hands touched, the symbols joined in an explosion of white light. The blast thinned and became thousands of silky strands careening through the air, like a weeping willow of brilliant threads. Each separate filament rained down and landed in the outstretched hands of each guest. Sam—emulating the crowd—thrust his second-skin out and let a shining fiber land in it. Somehow, the light had a bit of weight to it. As the radiance diminished, he saw a tiny white berry in his hand. It was the size of a plump blueberry and had the waxy sheen of an apple. All around him, people were holding out their berries, waiting for something.

  Next, May cried out, “To Helvina and Aric!”

  The couple’s black robes were now white.

  “To Helvina and Aric!” the crowd chanted back.

  Everyone threw the berries into their mouths. Sam did the same.

  As he swallowed, his whole body tingled in delight. It was like a week’s worth of endorphins all at once. He was struck with a strong desire to dance. Since he considered himself a terrible dancer—especially after his coach’s “ballet will improve your dexterity” fiasco—the urge was all the more bizarre.

  Sam, still concentrating on how vital and healthy he was feeling, missed the memo for a standing ovation. The stool beneath him began to sink back into the earth. Green lumps all around him retreated back to whence they came. He rode his chair down, until he was left sitting with legs outstretched on the ground. His fingers now level with his plate, he felt powerless to resist the urge to chow down again. Sam didn’t know how it was possible, but the food tasted even better than before.

  He lifted himself off the ground and looked around, wide-eyed. People’s plates cruised through the air like tiny flying saucers from an old 1950’s sci-fi movie, piling up in neat stacks on the tables.

  Glissandro was no longer where he’d been a moment ago. People all around Sam were laughing, hugging, and cheering. The mood of the seam infected him, and he too felt abnormally chipper.

  People drifted into large circles, like a large magnet pulled them into formation. Huh? What’s going on? Sam backed away.

  Sharp blasts of cheery music came from the stage. Smack dab in the middle of the line of musicians, Glissandro played his horn. Sam continued to shy away from the oncoming circle and backed up against the stack of shops, careful not to nudge them at all.

  One by one, the other musicians joined Glissandro in perfect harmony. Sam didn’t recognize any of their instruments. A middle-aged woman with her hair in a bun held a round piece of wood with strings extending from every side like a mane. She let her second-skin pace through the fence of strings, emitting a pitter-patter sound. A beefy man held a brass horn that looked sort of like a trumpet but had three bells, each pointing in a different direction. Beside him an Asian man tapped a drum that looked like a fat lightning bolt.

  It sounded to Sam like the big band music his grandfather used to play on the record player, but with a strong syncopated backbeat. The urge to move grew stronger, as if his feet were late for an appointment. The circles of people started to rotate together in some sort of dance. Sam’s mind was perfectly content with watching this happen and enjoying what was left of his goodies, but his body wanted to join in.

  Oddly enough, he felt his jaws chewing in rhythm to the music.

  “I’ll show you how to do it if you want,” a tiny voice squeaked next to him.

  Somehow he’d failed to notice the girl in the bright purple robe standing beside him. On her hand was a matching second-skin, with a purple, ceramic glaze. The bird symbol on her robe looked as if it might fly right off the fabric. She was not unattractive, but very small and fragile-looking, not the type of girl he usually talked to. She looked to be maybe a year or two younger than Sam. Her hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, with a yellow mushroom crimping it together.

  Sam waved a dismissive hand. “I’m fine with just watching. I was never good at dancing.”

  “Me neither.” She looked at him with a big, hopeful expression. “But we could fumble around together.”

  “I don’t know.” Sam rubbed underneath his chin and felt the rough stubble that had grown over the last few days. “I think I just want to watch.”

  “Okay.” Her eyes were now pinned to the grass.

  Sam looked into the dancing wreaths of people and saw Daphne not too far off with a giant smile across her face, laughing and matching footwork with the same group of girls from the teepee. Something about her intrigued Sam, something besides her looks. Maybe the fact that she danced with the fluidity of the Grizzlies’ offensive line when they performed a buttonhook play—which was about as smooth as it got.

  “You know what?” Sam gave a confident smile. “I’m sure I could get the hang of it.”

  The girl’s eyes lit up. “Really? You want to try?”

  “Sure… as long as you don’t make me look bad.” The urge to dance was actually starting to win over Sam’s inhibitions. “I’m Sam.”

  The girl stepped in front of him and gave a deep curtsy. “Cass… Cass of the Pyx clan.”

  “Nice to meet you, Cass.”

  She looked at him with a bashful expression. “You can call me Cassiella, if you want.”

  Sam repressed a smile at the odd introduction reversal. “I’ll do that.”

  Cassiella let her eyes meet Sam’s. They were a soft green, with some real depth behind them. Sam wondered if perhaps, like Bariv, she wasn’t as young as he’d guessed.

  “So, do you want to go dance now?” She clutched her hands to her chest.

  Sam pushed off the wall. “Yeah, but what exactly do we do?”

  “Just join the circle and follow the person next to you. There are no set steps or anything, they just make it up as they go along.” She looked down as she giggled. “You can follow me.”

  Sam gestured forward, feeling uncharacteristically giddy. “Lead the way. Let’s show these people how to move.”

  Cassiella took Sam’s hand in hers, leading him toward the closest group.

  “Actually, hold on.” Sam tugged at her hand. She stopped short and turned as she blanched.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” Sam assured her. “Can you just answer something for me before we go?”

  She gave a timid nod.

  “What’s so great about pure Veil?”

  “Oh!” She slapped her forehead. “You’re new, you wouldn’t know.”

  Sam grinned. “Hence the asking.”

  Cassiella gave a nervous laugh. “I—I guess… I…” Half of her face scrunched in concentration.

  “Maybe you could just explain what it is?”

  “You see…. well, I… umm…” She pursed her lips and then tapped them with her index finger.

  “How ‘bout just a brief summary?”

  She hesitated for a moment, her eyes back on the soft grass. Then she gave the most innocent shrug Sam had ever seen. “Anything, I guess.”

  Sam felt his legs itching to dance. “What do you mean, ‘anything?’”

  “It’s kind of like… if you are trying to grip or drape or anything that is too far out of your skill, you could use the pure Veil to do it without breaking your skin.”

  Sam grimaced. “Breaking your skin?”

  “Your second-skin. Like the one you have.” She peered at his star-covered hand, her eyes growing wide with wonder. “What exactly is that, anyway? It’s lovely. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

  Sam flipped his hand over so she could see all of it. “It’s from that giant snake in the woods.”

  Her face went blank. “What giant snake?”

  “Bariv’s snake.”

  Still no recognition.

  “You know,” he moved his hand back and forth in a serpentine manner, “talks without actually talking
, grows crazy plants with suns in them, its scales look just like this.” He wiggled his covered fingers. “The giant snake.”

  Her eyes widened. “Did you get it in Grus’ Pass?”

  “What? No.” Sam felt his face getting red. “Right out in the woods over there.”

  “Sorry, Sam.” She tucked her chin against her chest.

  “Its… fine. I… just, how ‘bout we go dance with everyone?”

  At that, she finally relaxed a little. “Follow me.”

  He grinned, but he couldn’t help but think about the pure Veil. What does she mean, “anything?”

  Cassiella suggested the circle closest to them, but Sam shook his head and gestured to a different circle. She didn’t ask why they ended up in the ring with Daphne and her friends. The circle graciously opened with a cheer as Sam and Cassiella entered. Everyone except Daphne. Sam ended up squished in between Cassiella and Fromson of the Bellamy clan.

  Fromson clapped a heavy hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Sam, my boy!”

  “Hello, sir!”

  Sam looked over at Daphne, but failed to grab her attention.

  They moved around the circle and alternated kicking out their feet and bobbing their heads from side-to-side. Sam felt incredibly silly, but kept going, hoping to catch Daphne’s eye.

  Fromson pointed at one of the building stacks. “That’s my stand all the way up top!”

  “Is it?”

  “Yep. Did it myself, too. Figure if you own a stand, you ought to be able to stack it.” He stuck out his chin. “Hope it doesn’t topple over! It would be a shame if I couldn’t give out my new tender benders. Came up with the recipe this morning.”

  Sam followed the next step, which involved putting his hands together and rocking his shoulders back and forth. “I’ll have to stop by tomorrow and try it.”

  “I’ll save the first one for you.” His lips twitched into a coy smile. “If you let me take another look at that New Jersey of yours again.”

  “Deal.”

  Sam frowned; Daphne was too busy gabbing with her friends to notice him.