Sam looked at Daphne with wide eyes. “What do I do?”
“Beats me,” she whispered. “This is my first time seeing these.”
The mother ray moved along the last twist and started out of the window. It made another call but the little ray did not move. Finally, the mother ray passed out of the restaurant, leaving the baby behind.
The restaurant was empty of light save the glow of the little ray hanging in front of Sam. The golden light from the creature lit the room just enough for Sam to see every pair of eyes in the restaurant looking at him.
The ray rocked its body toward Sam’s covered hand.
Sam had an idea, and hoping that he wouldn’t cause any harm to the ray, he slowly peeled off the second-skin and held out his hand, revealing the swirl.
Another white ripple passed through the ray’s body as it floated toward Sam’s outstretched hand. Sam felt the power of the Veil rush across his palm. He focused his mind and held his attention firmly on the ray.
The ray gently settled in front of Sam’s palm. It grazed the swirl with its belly and then backed away. A third white ripple passed through its body. Sam’s hand was shaking as he did his best to focus on nothing but the ray, to think in harmony with the Veil.
The little creature let out a soft cooing sound. As it did, the swirl on Sam’s hand started to turn the golden color of the ray. The ray cooed a little louder and the entire black swirl on Sam’s hand turned gold.
Sam kept his mind steady as the rush of the Veil continued against his palm. He felt beads of sweat form on his forehead.
The ray gurgled, and the golden swirl on Sam’s hand pulsed with light. Both the ray and Sam’s hand brightened. Their lights entwined and filled the room from end to end, casting a soft golden glow over everything inside. The ray gave one last coo and then fled to the water, swimming furiously through the tube to catch up with its mother. Sam watched as the golden glow from his hand dissipated and the swirl turned back to black.
There was a snap from somewhere in the darkness, and the red floating lights eased back on, illuminating the room.
Sam pulled his second-skin back over his hand. He looked around and saw that everyone in the restaurant was staring at him. No one was making a sound; they just looked at Sam with faces full of shock.
Then, Sam realized that they weren’t looking at him, but at his feet.
Sam gulped and nervously looked down, realizing what he had done.
During the commotion, he had knocked the wooden box off of the platform and onto the floor. The box had broken in two pieces, and the jade symbol had been severed from the body of the Hair-Loom.
Sam looked around and saw that everyone in the restaurant holding their breath. Other than when he’d been immersed in the pod in the snake’s cavern, Sam had never experienced such an intense silence. It was like people were too shocked to breathe.
Sam was about to say something, when Haplon dashed across the room. He bent down and lovingly picked up the broken Hair-Loom and its box. He looked up at Sam with an appalled expression, as if Sam had dropped a Wapawche baby.
Sam looked over at Daphne, the room still as silent as a grave. “How ‘bout we take this date to go?”
She looked around, nodded, and pulled on her second-skin.
Sam took her hand and led her quickly out of the restaurant, away from the building whispers.
***
Bonus Short Story by Daniel A. Cohen:
The Every-Mother Knows Best
I congratulate myself for inventing murder.
What an interesting concept, to die strictly by the decision of another, and not by the calling of the Every-Mother. I’ll have to go back and scribe a few new parchments, but I don’t mind. I actually enjoy the revisions. It’s like wiping away layers of dirt and mud and crust, but by hand. No magic.
A knock at the door and I know it’s Dyoni.
I’ve known him since metamorphosis, and I can instantly recognize the rat-a-tata knock of his. He could always just manifest inside my hut, but he knows I don’t like that. He’s one of the remaining few who still cares.
I rest the tip of my inking needle against a piece of clay.
“Eris, you HAVE to see something!” Dyoni bursts through the door once I slide back the wooden bolt.
Oh well, still better than manifesting.
I take a quick peek outside, and then barricade us from the rest of the realm. “What is it?”
Dyoni grabs a narla-fruit from my basket and takes a big bite without seeing if it’s ripe or not. Eating one too early could bring on a sluggish feeling for weeks, but Dyoni digs right in.
“Okay.” The sap from the fruit drips down Dyoni’s chin and onto my floor. “Have you heard about the new element that the Order is creating?”
I watch the sap puddle at Dyoni’s feet, trying my best not to cringe.
Dyoni follows my eyes. He gives me an incredulous look, snaps his fingers and the sap disappears.
Instant relief. “No, I haven’t.”
Dyoni shakes his head. “I swear, Eris, if you spend one more day cooped up in here, you’re going to turn into a golem.”
I give him a wry smile. “Oh, so I’ll finally have something in common with your mother.”
Dyoni smirks and then sucks the sap away from his teeth. “You’re lucky that I’m afraid of you.”
I chuckle and Dyoni joins in.
“Anyway,” Dyoni bites off another large chunk. “The Order has been—”
“The Order can go manifest themselves to the Volcanic Tar Lands. Permanently.”
Dyoni swallows hard. “Better not let them hear you say that.”
“I’m not worried.” I shrug. “Their ears would have to be open for that to happen.”
Dyoni turns away from me and I realize his robes are tattered and his long hair is unkempt. It’s odd for him to look so haggard, considering his bloodline and all.
I pick up a narla and toss it up and down in one hand. “So how are you and Vixia?”
I technically can’t see it, but I know that Dyoni is rolling his eyes. “She kicked me out last night. Says we’re still too young.” He gives a quick scoff. “Maybe she is.”
“Maybe you both are.”
Dyoni places the half-eaten narla back with the others and starts making his way across my hut. “Maybe if you get out of here every once in a while, you might meet a girl to call to the Ancestors with. Then you can tell me about being too young.”
“Don’t go messing with those forces. Not until the third life-stage. You know that.”
“You know,” Dyoni says in a mocking tone, “keep talking like that and you’re sure to be recruited by the Order.”
I toss my narla at the back of his head.
Dyoni snaps and the narla disappears.
I snap louder and the fruit reappears, continuing its course and smacking the back of Dyoni’s head with a wet thwap.
Dyoni turns and raises his eyebrows. “I thought the great Eris gave it up?”
I pull my gaze to the side. “Just because I can do it, doesn’t mean I have to.”
“Have it your way.” Dyoni shrugs and snaps the sap away from his hair. “It’s a shame that the Every-Mother blessed you with such talent.”
“You’re good with silk.” I bite my bottom lip and meet Dyoni’s eyes. “Does that mean you’re destined to become a seamstress?”
Dyoni gives me a warning look. “You know I only do that with my grandmother. We have nothing else in common.”
I give an exaggerated sigh as I clean the fruit off the floor. “Still.”
Dyoni picks up my inking needle and thrusts it in my direction. “I guess you have a point.”
I nod toward my cup of needles. “More than just one.”
Dyoni bends down and scans my piles of parchment. He clucks his tongue and flips through a few sheets. “It seems that you’ve been using them.”
I go to my desk and hunch over next to him. “It seems so.”
I give a slow nod.
Dyoni claps a hand on my shoulder. “I guess I should say that I’m honored.”
“You’re assuming I actually want you to see them.” I start to straighten the parchment, but Dyoni brushes my hand aside.
“Let me at least see a little of what the great Eris is up to these days.” Dyoni fans the parchment out. “It’s about time you set the record straight. People want to know why you stopped coming to classes.”
I shake my head and continue to straighten the parchment. “You won’t get it.”
Dyoni flings a hand to his heart in salute. “Thank you, sir. Please tell me what else I won’t get. My dull wit is in your hands.”
I shove him playfully. “Fine. But only because it’s you. And you have to swear that you won’t tell your mother.”
“The Order doesn’t have to know everything. Besides, what’s the worst they’ll do to you if they read your silly story?”
“Who says it’s silly?”
“People say a lot of things.” Dyoni straightens a tangle in his hair and I notice the dark circles under his eyes.
I give a confirming grunt. “As well they should.”
Dyoni grins and points towards my cold box. A thin layer of sweat shines on his forehead. “Won’t you offer your guest something to drink?”
I juggle my palms up and down. “Quenching or Inebriating?”
“The latter.” Dyoni nods towards my parchment. “Then I can claim certain ignorance if questioned about what happened here.” He pretends to stumble away from my desk.
I shake my head as I open the cold box. “Who’re they to say that mead never did any good?”
Dyoni begins to read my story as I prepare a few flagons of the strong stuff.
***
“What’s a detective?” Dyoni asks, obviously first meeting my hero. At least, I think of him as a hero.
“It’s explained later. Sort of like a finder, but without magic.”
Dyoni keeps his eyes trained on the parchment. “How can you be a finder without magic? That’s like trying to be a spirit without dying.”
I smile at the thought of him getting to the idea of murder. “Simple. In my new world, magic doesn’t exist. To solve the unknown, the detective has to rely on physical evidence.” I froth the head on the flagons. “Matching a shape in the mud to a foot. Understanding hidden things from what people say. Stuff like that.”
Dyoni frowns. “I don’t understand. They could always just use one of the Every-Mother’s revealing spells—”
I wag my finger. “How do you do a spell if there’s no magic?”
I can see Dyoni trying to wrap his mind around the thought. “Can’t he just summon a…” He absentmindedly rubs a hand under his chin. “How about inflicting a…”
I smile as I toss a dash of the lagoon powder into each drink. “Interesting, right?”
“I think your detective would be about as useful as that powder.”
I smirk. “This powder is the most effective way to fight the next day lag.”
Dyoni scoffs and turns to the next parchment. “You know, we do live in the real world, not your fantasy. You could just use a body-cleansing charm.”
“Haven’t you heard?” I ask, letting the mead settle just a little bit more. “The great Eris doesn’t do that anymore.”
“The back of my head says differently.”
I swipe the flagons off the table and bring them over to Dyoni. “Okay, the great Eris mostly doesn’t do that anymore.”
Dyoni gives me a serious look. “Most would extend their call from the Every-Mother by a thousand years just to have your talent. You shouldn’t turn your back on it.”
“I know,” I say, giving him a hard look back. “Just keep reading. But first…” I break into a toothy grin and hand him his flagon. “To secrecy. At least for a little while.”
Dyoni readily accepts his mead and raises it above his face. “And to the Every-Mother.”
We clank metal and each take a hearty swig.
Dyoni pushes me aside. “Now go occupy yourself. I have reading to do.”
I take another swig, grab a spare needle and a piece of parchment, and make my way over to my lounge cloth.
After a few minutes of silence, Dyoni mutters something.
I break away from my notes. “Hmm?”
“They can’t even manifest?”
“Nope, they have to use their feet to go places,” I say, crossing out the most recent idea. I need to find more realistic games for the characters in my world to play. I’m thinking something involving a ball and a hoop might work.
He rolls his finger along the parchment. “Or… buggies?”
I’m impressed; he’s actually reading it. “Did I explain it well enough?”
Dyoni frowns. “I think so. But what exactly is a horse?”
“I figured my world needed some special animals,” I say as I point to my sketch of a horse hanging on the wall. “A horse is one of the more useful creatures.”
Dyoni gives me a concerned look. “That’s just a unicorn without a horn.”
“So it would seem.”
“What does it do?”
“It runs.”
Dyoni’s eyebrows pinch together. “What else?”
I shrug and tap my needle against the parchment. “Pulls buggies.”
“No self-respecting unicorn would ever do that sort of labor.”
I hold a finger an arm’s length from my face and then bring it to my nose. “It’s a horse. No magic.”
“And what the No-Father is a hospital?”
I lean back and put my arms behind my head. “Keep reading.”
Dyoni groans. “Just tell me. This is confusing enough as it is.”
I shake my head and smile. “I don’t tell. I show.”
Dyoni breaks into a wicked smirk. “Well you’d better tell me, or I’ll show this to my mother.”
The threat is obviously in jest, but it’s still not funny to think about. The rumors alone have the Order watching me day and night. I can feel their eyes on my hut constantly. Good thing I keep the privacy charm over my home; the Order would actually have to be inside to hear anything. “A hospital is a place where the sick and broken get fixed.”
“So they have shamans.”
“Doctors.”
“Excuse me?”
“Doctors.”
“What’s a doctors?”
“A doctor is kind of like a shaman, but they can’t use healing spells.”
Dyoni tips up his flagon and drains the last of his mead. “So how in the realm do they fix people? It’s utter nothingness.”
I give him a concerned look. “That’s some pretty foul language.”
Dyoni makes a dismissive gesture. “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just…”
“Just what?”
Dyoni meets my gaze. The corners of his eyes are wet. “You shouldn’t be doing this.”
I lower my voice to just above a whisper. “It’s not a crime to imagine.”
His cheeks are turning red. At this point, I’m thinking it’s not just the ale. “But you’re not just imagining.” He slams a hand against my parchments. “You’re scribing.”
I hold up my hands defensively. “Calm yourself, Dyoni. It’s not a big deal.”
“But the paper means everything.” He looks toward my ceiling. “It’s proof.”
I’m no longer thirsty for ale. “Proof of what?”
“Treason.”
The absurdity of his statement makes me laugh so hard that I buckle over and spill the rest of my drink. I can feel the corners of my eyes also getting wet, but for a different reason. My newfound activity may not make me the most popular person in the realms, but it surely doesn’t make me a traitor.
Dyoni uses both hands to swipe my parchments off the desk and onto the floor, scattering them abou
t. Luckily, I am meticulous about numbering them, or I might have gotten angry. “It’s not funny, Eris! You don’t know what people are saying!”
“Treason?” I wipe away the tears. “Be serious.”
Dyoni conjures up a ribbon of flame and weaves it between his fingers. “I am being serious. You scribe of things that go against all we believe in. Doctors, horses, worlds without magic: these things aren’t real. They exist only in your mind, and there they should stay, tucked away forever.” Dyoni gives a weak smile and summons the papers together in a neat stack, hovering above his hand. “Let me burn them for you, Eris. Let me help you before it’s too late.”
Things are less funny. I glare at Dyoni and bring myself to my feet. “If anyone should understand, Dyoni, it’s you. Every day, the Order pushes the boundaries of magic. New Elements, new spells, new combinations of creatures—they have no limits when it comes to exploring the Every-Mother’s magic, moving forward with the blessing of the realm.”
Dyoni begins to speak, but I silence him with a wave. “Let me finish. The Every-Mother did not only bless us with one gift. If we let the Order explore the borders of magic, why should we not explore the extent of what’s in our hearts and minds? The tales we tell should not have to be confined to our realm. The possibilities of the stories we can create are endless.” I point to the flame in Dyoni’s hand. “Just look at what we can do with magic. Don’t you wonder about the heroes that have to do without it? How would they cope, how would they live? By understanding what isn’t real, won’t we better understand what is?”
After a few moments of silence, the fire drips away from the gaps of Dyoni’s fingers and disappears in a wisp of smoke.
“Why don’t you keep reading? You might just like what you find.”
He spreads out my parchment, and then jiggles his flagon. “Fine, but I want seconds.”
“Done.”
***
A few minutes later, after I’ve finished drying my floor, I glance up and find Dyoni on the final page. His eyes flicker back and forth quickly, his face intense. He takes a large swig of ale, his eyes never leaving the parchment. After a long swallow, he turns toward me.
Masters of the Veil Page 34
