“Petir,” Rona’s thick African accent added a lilt to the words, “I expect you to treat our new apprentice with respect. And I also expect to be addressed by my proper title.”
“But Master Rona,” Petir whined. “He’s basically a flathan—”
“Enough.” Rona brushed away Petir’s words with a dismissive gesture. “Sam, please come join us. Sit down.”
Glissandro waved and patted the ground beside him. Sam gave him a nod as he plopped down next to him, bouncing a few inches off the ground as he landed on the strangely springy earth. Daphne gave Glissandro a wide-eyed look of disbelief. Cassiella smiled and opened her mouth, but then dipped her head and giggled. The beautiful, mocha-skinned girl Sam did not recognize wore a white robe with a bull-symbol like the one Rona had on. Her black hair was tied back with ribbons of gold, and Sam’s brows shot up as she met his gaze with sparkling, orange eyes.
“Welcome, Sam.” Rona clasped his hands in front of him, and sat as though his spine was a rod of steel. “My name is Rona of the Rono clan, but since you are my apprentice, it is tradition that you address me as Master Rona.”
Sam nodded. “Nice to meet you, Master Rona.”
“May has informed me that you know Glissandro, Petir, and Cassiella already.”
“We danced together last night.” Cassiella’s face turned red.
Sam scratched the back of his neck, looking to the side. “Um, yeah.”
“I’m surprised,” Daphne matched Petir’s sneer as she looked at Sam, “considering dancing isn’t a competition.”
“Daphne.” Rona gestured toward her. “And this is my daughter, Zee.”
Zee flashed a dazzling smile at him. “You can call me Zawadi, if you would like.” She had a lighter accent than her father.
“Nice to meet you, Zawadi.”
“Sam, now that we are all acquainted, May has asked me to spend some time answering your questions.”
Petir groaned.
Sam picked the first one that popped into his mind. “People keep mentioning that second-skins can break?”
“He doesn’t even know about that,” Petir whined. “How are you supposed to prepare us for Omani when you have to spend time—”
“Enough.” Rona’s voice was a tad firmer, but remained pleasant. “You know as well as anyone, Petir, to teach is to learn. Which, as you know, will help you with Omani. So how about you start thinking positively?”
Petir grumbled something indecipherable.
Rona held a hand up to his ear. “I didn’t quite catch that, Petir.”
“Sorry, Master Rona,” Petir muttered a little louder.
Rona smiled—his teeth were impressively white, as well. “That is an excellent question, Sam.”
“Thanks.” Sam looked over as Glissandro also nodded in approval.
Rona rested his index finger under his bottom lip and thought for a moment. “The best way to answer that is... it’s like biting off more than you can use.”
“Chew,” Sam corrected him.
“Sorry?”
“The expression is ‘bite off more than you can chew.’”
Daphne rolled her eyes.
“Well, you can probably chew it,” Rona nodded, “but you surely could not use it.”
Sam hesitated for a moment. “Huh?”
“Let me give you a demonstration.”
Rona lowered himself into a crouch. The banded orange and black skin on his hand hovered just above the ground. His fingers curved inwards as a plant grew. It started as a tiny bud inching its way above the ground, and grew to the size of a bonsai tree in seconds. Like a puppeteer, as Rona stood up, the plant grew taller. It was the same color as the green earth they were sitting on. The plant produced broad, blobby leaves as it expanded to about shoulder height. All in all, compared to the plants Sam had seen around Atlas Crown already, it was rather dull-looking.
“This is the Solowunda plant.” Rona returned to a perfectly straight stance. “But we call it the practice plant.” He tucked his tiger’s eye glove into an invisible pocket of his robe. Plucking off one of the bigger leaves, he placed it on his upturned palm. The leaf began to mold itself to his hand, slowly constricting, with the sides sealing themselves together where they met, forming a perfectly fitting second-skin, like green spandex.
“Now watch.” Rona raised his covered hand and faced the sky. He muttered something under his breath and took in a lungful of air. Clouds stained the clear blue sky, rolling above the valley from all directions as if Rona had called them over.
One smaller cloud, in the shape of an eagle, raced down toward Rona’s hand. The closer it got, the smaller and denser it became. Rona brought his palm down as the cloud came into contact, pulling the vapor into it, and then held up a tiny ice sculpture crafted to look just like an eagle about to take off.
“This is a grip I can handle, and do very easily.” Rona held the eagle between his thumb and forefinger and flipped out his palm for Sam to see. “Notice my second-skin is still intact.”
Sam brought his hands apart to clap, but stopped when he saw no one else was doing it. “That was awesome!”
Rona gave a satisfied nod. He made the ice-eagle float through the air and stop just in front of Sam. As Sam reached out and took it in his second-skin, a sudden burst of energy rushed across his palm. The surge passed harmlessly through the little sculpture. He stared at the sculpture and thought about turning it back into a cloud. Without so much as a warning, the eagle burst into thousands of shards, pelting everyone with slushy shrapnel.
Sam grimaced. “Sorry!”
The other apprentices wiped the ice crystals from their clothing. For some reason, far more ice particles were scattered around them than could have possibly come from the small eagle.
Glissandro puffed a small note into his horn and large chunks of ice shot from inside the bell. Cassiella had a small cut on her forehead, which Zawadi sealed with a wave of her covered hand, and then looked at Rona with a sly smile.
“I don’t know what happened.” Sam held up his hands defensively.
Rona gave him an appraising look. “How about that.”
Daphne looked at him curiously.
“Anyway,” Rona waved his hand, causing all the ice to melt and seep into the ground. “Like I was saying, that is magic that I can use.”
Sam was wondering what he had done to make the ice explode, when Rona tucked his hands in at his sides, fist clenched, and bent both knees about ninety degrees. Considering the white robe, Sam couldn’t help but think of the kung-fu movies he used to watch. Rona thrust out his hands and began performing some sort of dance. His arms swirled through the air and his body shifted with ease, like the air supported his weight as he moved.
Then he struck toward the sky.
Sam felt heat push past him. The others didn’t seem to notice.
Rona’s hand shook, vibrating like a string that’d just been plucked. Sam saw the green material start to turn brown and wither away. Beads of sweat appeared on Rona’s head, rolling down and catching in his golden headband. Tension pulled at his cheeks, and his eyes went wide with the struggle. More of the second-skin drifted away, leaving Rona’s hand covered with a brown, veined skeleton of the plant. The rest of the second-skin trembled and then popped off.
The tension left Rona’s body as he sat with a limp sigh.
Sam leapt up. “Are you okay?”
Rona chuckled. “Yes, yes. Just a little tired.”
“What just happened?”
Rona let out a small huff of air. “I just tried to move the moon.”
Sam’s jaw dropped. “The moon?”
“It’s the big grey thing in the sky.” Sarcasm filled Petir’s voice.
Sam tossed him a dirty look. “I know what the moon is.”
“Then you know what an impossible task it would be,” Rona interrupted. “Please Sam, take a seat. I am perfectly fine.
“When a grip is too much for you to handle,” Rona began,
already regaining vitality. “It will destroy your conduit to Her. This holds true for draping, as well. But you should not worry too much; only hard concentration and a stubborn will for an impossible task will cause your second-skin to break. Normally, when you pursue a grip that is out of your proficiency, your concentration will break before your conduit. Even so, we always use the practice plant during these sessions—though it won’t give you nearly the results of your true second-skin—so that we don’t chance destroying the conduits that are precious to us.” He paused, tipping a finger in Sam’s direction. “That is, when we attempt to do magic that is far beyond our capabilities.”
“I understand.” Sam looked from side to side. “So what exactly am I doing here?”
“This is your gift to society, Sam. The citizens of Atlas Crown will make sure that you receive everything and anything you will ever need, and in return, you are studying the Veil to eventually take over for them, and provide for future generations.”
“So what are we learning here?”
Rona tilted his head. “I teach natural magic.”
Sam felt his stomach constrict. “But Bariv said I’m suited for power magic.”
The others let out a collective gasp.
Daphne’s body tensed, like she was ready to run away. “Why would you want to do power magics?”
Sam felt his second-skin grow warm. “It’s not exactly what I want, but it’s apparently what I’m meant for.”
Daphne raised an eyebrow. “But no one new here has excelled at power magics since…”
“Don’t worry, Daphne,” Petir said. “From the looks of it, he won’t actually be able to do any of it.”
“Sam,” Rona leaned forward, “how about we take a walk together?”
“But who—”
“This way, Sam.” Rona stood up, ushering him toward the funny river. “Apprentices, I want you all to work on growing your own practice plant. I want…two arms tall with ten leaves, equally spaced. Glissandro, you know what to do.”
Sam trailed behind Rona until they stopped at the water’s edge. Up close, Sam could see that the water seemed to come from under the earth, like the river was a closed loop. A little ways downstream, a shell jumped from the water in front of him. It was large—the size of a conch—but swirled like a snail shell. It traveled through the air to Glissandro’s outstretched hand.
“Sam,” Rona kept a slow pace, “you might not want to spread that information just yet.”
“Why not? Shouldn’t I be proud of it? Bariv said it’s really rare to do power magics.”
“I have heard about what you have done,” there was an solemn air to Rona’s words, “and I, too, believe that power magic will be your path.”
Sam felt a twinge of relief.
Rona continued, “I’m terribly sorry that you have come to us at such an advanced age. Let me take a moment to explain a few things about our society, which, knowing May, you probably did not have the luxury of hearing—not that it’s her fault, as she is very busy.”
“Thank you.” Sam threw his hands up in relief. “I’ve been waiting for someone to let me in on what this place is. Right now, I’m still all jumbled. I was basically kidnapped and brought here in a car that travelled under the earth; I ran into a bunch of flies that formed my face; I’ve been lifted off the ground by magic—multiple times—and I’ve seen a miniature sun inside of a plant, which proceeded to talk to me—only it wasn’t talking, more like—”
“Slow down.” Rona gave Sam a curious look. “What miniature sun?”
Sam sighed. “Bariv’s snake took me to that cave made of crystal, where he had that pod with the little sun inside.”
Rona furrowed his brow. “I know the crystal land of which you speak—we tend to stay away from it, as the crystal breaks very easily and below it, there is only an abyss. But I’m sorry, I’m not aware of any connection between Bariv and a snake.”
Sam couldn’t believe it. This was the second time someone had told him they didn’t know about Bariv’s snake. Could I have dreamt it? His hand moved to the bulge under his robe where the fruit lay. It was real, so the snake must have been real. For some reason, Sam’s instincts told him not to show Rona the fruit. “The snake is how I got my second-skin.”
“I have never seen any material like it,” Rona admitted. “How did you get it?”
“The snake gave it to me. He talked for a while and then shed it.”
Rona held out his hand. “May I see?”
Sam placed his palm on top of Rona’s.
Rona examined it, and then spoke almost as if addressing the skin instead of Sam. “A taste of the night sky. What wonders might we see from you?”
“Huh?”
Rona let go of the skin. “I think you might have met Karundi Kai.”
“Who?”
“We have a legend in Atlas Crown about a snake we call Karundi Kai. It is said to be the cleverest of all creatures that She has bestowed upon us. The story goes that She gently peeled off a sliver of the heavens, rolled it in Her palms, and shaped it into a serpent. Karundi Kai is massive and cunning and beautiful, but no one has seen it in many, many years—some say never. There have been sightings of a black tail whipping around corners like fire, and even reports of big flanks of starred skin melting away into the ground, but this is all hearsay.”
Sam wiggled his fingers. “I’m telling you, I saw it and talked to it.”
Rona’s face became serious. “I believe you. I am concerned, because it is also said that Karundi Kai will only present itself when the world needs its words, words that can change everything, when it is time for…”
“For what?”
Rona’s voice dropped to a whisper. “A new era.”
Sam’s throat went dry.
Rona slapped him on the back and laughed. “But that is also hearsay.” His face lit up. “It is a beautiful skin, so consider yourself extremely lucky. But stay away from the crystal land, you might not get so lucky next time.”
Sam nodded. “Sure thing, coach.”
Rona frowned.
“I mean Master Rona.” Sam felt odd using the title.
Rona smiled brightly. “Very good.” He pulled his own second-skin out and wrapped it around his hand. “All mysteries aside, I will begin our lesson on the division of magics. In Atlas Crown, almost all of the sorcerers have been chosen to use natural magics. It has been this way since our community was founded. This is not saying that they cannot do other magics, but for the most part, the majority of what they excel in—including myself—are grips and drapes of the natural world. Natural magic is a wondrous feat. It is how we are able to feed, clothe, shelter, and occasionally heal so many.”
“So most of the town helps with all that?”
“Yes. There is a small sector of sorcerers, however, whom She has chosen to become authorities in the area of mystical magics.” Rona tapped a finger under his lip again. “I would say…two percent.”
“Two percent!”
Rona gave a satisfied nod. “I believe that is a fair assessment. It is rather rare for the Veil to give the gift of the mystical arts. Glissandro is one of the few, though he has not gone through Omani, so his path is not yet set in stone. She proportions the different talents based on how much need there is in the community. She is remarkable, you know. When someone passes on and joins Her, She inspires someone else to take their place.”
Sam looked over to where Glissandro played a bright little melody toward the ground. “Why are there so few mystics?”
“Because they live very long lives, extended so they may study their art deeply and wholly. I regret to say that I know frightfully little about mystical magics. Those who are chosen for the mystical side tend to surround themselves with their own… and keep to themselves. The authorities of the mystical magics are known simply as ‘The Mystics,’ of whom there are always three. Atlas Crown is very lucky to have them here.”
Sam was almost afraid to ask. “What…what
about people who are chosen for power magics?”
Rona gave Sam a steady look, and something hid behind his expression. “Here, there is only one.”
Sam leaned in. “Me?”
“No.” Rona grinned and slapped Sam on the shoulder. “You are still too new. I speak of Bariv.”
Sam thought back to their session in the cave. “That can’t be.”
“It wasn’t always that way. There used to be a few who lived with us.”
“Who?”
“Bad men.” Rona hesitated. “No, misunderstood men. Misguided men.”
“Why aren’t they here anymore?”
“They are no longer welcome.” Rona adjusted the crown on his head. “Outcasts. They decided to pursue something that was not good for the community and we have banned them.”
Sam gulped. “All of them?”
“All of them.”
“Forever?”
“Until they give up their pursuit.”
The knot in Sam’s stomach moved to his throat. Right then, he wished he could be back on the gridiron, chasing passes and waving at pretty girls. “What did they do?”
Rona waved away the subject. “I have said too much about them already. May would not be pleased.”
Sam took a deep breath, yet it did not squash the frustration. “This is stuff I need to know, Rona!”
“Master Rona,” he corrected. “The most important thing you need to understand is that power magics are not evil, though some may hint that they are. It is just that we have had some trouble before. Regardless of what people may say, you need to remember something. Bariv has already gone down the same path you now embark upon.”
“Yeah, but if he’s the only one—”
“He is one of the most important people in our society—maybe the most. People often forget about Bariv’s position because he lives in seclusion. He deals with the newcomers and with May, but only rarely has contact with anyone else. New sorcerers always come to Atlas Crown because of him. They have the option of traveling to other communities once he has prepared them. Bariv is a special case. He doesn’t need to leave his cave for anything. Not food, not clothing, not the company of others. He is the Conduit to the Veil. The only one in existence.”
Masters of the Veil Page 15
