Chy

by Greg Curtis

  But that was their choice he supposed. There wasn't much he could do about it. Even with all the casts he could perform these days, there wasn't one that would fix things. Families and life in general were simply too tricky for magic. That was one lesson he had learned a long time ago.

  He had learned it the hard way. Once he'd had his brother Jaynes gather a crowd around him as he played his mandolin who were completely taken with his songs. They'd thrown coins like crazy. The next day the town guards had turned up at the door and arrested Jaynes for vagrancy. One of the parents of the well to do crowd members had got upset at his child's delinquency and wasting coin, and complained.

  Then he'd had his baby sister Soot find a gold piece in the street. The family had taken it from her, eaten well for a week, and straight after that they had returned to the way they had been. Yet oddly Aisha still talked about that find as if she'd found a unicorn.

  Another time he'd arranged a chance encounter for Percival with a printer when his older brother had mentioned that he might like to work there. He'd lasted three days before he'd given up and returned to singing for his supper on the streets. It seemed he didn't like getting up early or wearing a suit.

  Of course he could have used his gift to control Percival – but that would have been to rob him of his free will. Make him nothing more than an automaton. Others might think that was the right thing to do – but he knew better. Controlling people that way was wrong. He knew it more so than others because he could also know the thoughts of the ones he controlled. He could feel their mental distress as they struggled to understand why they were doing what they were. They might not understand it, but they were locked in the tightest prison imaginable and they knew it the whole time.

  You couldn't magic families. That was one of the more painful lessons he had learned over the years. You couldn't magic girlfriends either. Having magic at his fingertips couldn't actually make life perfect. Especially when he had to hide what he could do.

  Still twenty minutes later he was able to put all his troubles with his family and his ex girlfriend aside as the steam wagon arrived in Stonely, and then begin his morning's business.

  The streets were relatively empty, at least near the station where the steam wagon had parked. But then he'd missed the early wagon which took people to work, and it was too soon for the midday one. That was good and he was grateful for the blessing. Some days the streets of Stonely were so crowded he almost had to fight his way through the hordes. Though that was usually on sale days. And it was always good to avoid the priests as they wandered the crowded streets asking for alms for the poor.

  Overhead the dirigible was flying high as usual, a couple of town guards in it keeping an eye on the streets below. He'd always doubted how much use the tethered balloon was when the guards could only see the tops of peoples' heads. It seemed to him that it was mostly a toy for the guards to play with. But he had to admit it was an impressive sight. And maybe seeing it overhead, many of the cut purses and six fingered street urchins thought twice about doing whatever they intended to do.

  Of course there was always one other problem with the floating gas bag filled with water gas – every so often someone would creep into the yard of the guard post and cut the rope tethering it to the ground. Then the guards had to go chasing the thing over half the countryside! That always made him laugh.

  Naturally his first stop was Morten's Accoutrements in Edge Road, and he set off for it at a good pace. Morten was a jeweller and he bought most of his best stones. He paid well for them too. So Chy was happy when he walked in the front door and saw the frail old man with his monocle sitting at the far end of the store behind his counter.

  He was happier still when he left the store with four silver pieces and any number of copper bits and pieces in his coin purse. It had been a good negotiation which was saying something. Morten might look old and frail, but his mind was sharp and he loved to bargain. There was something of the Great Beast in him when it came to coin, Chy thought. Though it would have gone better if he'd had some jade to sell.

  Things didn't go quite so well at his next stop, Harold's Emporium which was just around the corner. Harold was a through and through scoundrel with a heart of pure larceny. But still he walked away from the store having got rid of the last of his stones, with a couple of silver bits and some more copper. That alone was enough to keep him fed for another week or two.

  After that he started on his purchases, filling his pack with fresh tea and preserves mostly, but also stopping at the hardware for most of the things he kept running out of. It was going well he thought. Until he wandered down Frostward Way and was almost run over by a woman he knew too well who was hurrying out of a store loaded down with parcels.

  “Sana!” He was surprised to see her. Though not surprised that she should have bundles of brown paper packages filled with new clothes, all neatly folded and tied. She loved to spend coin on clothes. But he didn't care about that. Not when she looked so beautiful. When she was almost glowing.

  “Chy, what are you doing here?” Her eyes grew wide.

  “Just passing through, shopping.” He showed her his pack for some reason, unsure why she was even asking. Was he not supposed to come to Stonely any more? He wasn't sure. He hadn't seen her in six months, save from a distance. They certainly hadn't spoken. So he didn't know if there were rules he was supposed to follow now that she'd left him.

  “Well good. You could use some new clothes,” she replied. “Something with a collar.”

  “A collar?!” He was taken aback by the thought. That was one thing he would never want to wear.

  “Of course. As Helmond says, if you want to be taken seriously as a businessman, you have to dress like one.” She smiled pityingly at him. “You never really understood that, did you?”

  Chy just shrugged helplessly. He didn't know how to answer that.

  “So hows the family?” Sana asked politely. “Peaches still struggling with all her ailments? Percival still singing for his supper?”

  “They're well,” he replied. Sana had never really liked his family. She thought they were beneath her. Especially for some reason, his mother. But he supposed it was only fair. They hadn't liked her either. Not really. Though they hid it behind their smiles. But in private Soot called Sana the pooh faced cow of Stonely, and Percival had written a ballad about her that was still sung in the alehouses of Charlton. A less than polite ballad.

  “You know Helmond's up for a seat on the Business Table?” Sana continued before he could say any more..

  “I didn't know that.” And he wouldn't have imagined it if he was honest. Helmond was doing well for himself as a baker. He had a fine store. But the Business Table was for the upper crust of industry. The ones with not just stores but factories and workshops and warehouses.

  “Yes, and Father says he's very likely to get it. When he opens his second store.”

  “A second bakery?” Chy hadn't heard about that either and he would have thought someone would have mentioned it. He had friends here after all. Not that he came to Stonely a lot.

  “On Wellford Place,” she continued. “It's going to be grand. And it should be open in another month, just after the wedding.”

  “Wedding?” Chy's mouth dropped. No one had told him about that either! And it seemed horribly quick. It had only been six months since she'd left him!

  “You didn't know?” She frowned. “I'm sorry. I thought you would have heard. Most of the town has been invited. Helmond is eager to show everyone how happy we are.” And if it wasn't clear what she meant, she held out her hand for him to see her new ring complete with a chip of ruby in it.

  It was a nice stone, Chy thought. And Helmond was going to have to open a second store to pay for it!

  “Ah … congratulations. And may Alder smile upon you.” He did his best to sound happy for her, even though he really wasn't. He was somewhere between shocked and saddened. Maybe he'd always secretly hoped she would come back t
o him. He didn't know. Or maybe he just hadn't wanted to admit it. But either way now it was too late for such hopes.

  More than too late he abruptly realised when he noticed that her belly was slightly swollen and his gift of sight showed him the baby growing inside her. No wonder the wedding was being so rushed! There wasn't time for a proper courtship!

  How had this happened, he wondered? How could she have left him and so quickly got herself engaged and pregnant? It just didn't seem right! But as she continued to tell him all about her plans for the wedding and her dreams for the future, it occurred to him that maybe the real question he should be asking himself, was why had he come to Stonely today? It could have waited. By the damned Great Beast he could have gone to Charlton instead!

  Of course then he would have had to face his mother! And he would have ended up handing over all his coin to her to pay for some crisis she was dealing with. Peaches was an unstoppable force when it came to draining his coin purse!

  Still he did his best to stand there and look pleased for Sana, even when inside a part of him was slowly dying. The same part that kept thinking how beautiful she was – and how pathetic he was to have let this happen.

  But what could he do? Nothing. And as she left him and wandered off down the street, her elegant dress swishing perfectly with every graceful step she took, he remembered the basic rule of his life. He was nobody! He had magic. He was a damned wizard for Alder's sake! And it was completely useless! Magic could not solve any of his problems! Not when it came to family or matters of the heart.

  Having magic made him no better than any street urchin as far as the world was concerned. And as far as Sana was concerned. He might as well start begging in the streets for his coin. Or play a damned lute like his family!

  The worst of it was that he couldn't blame her for finding another man. A man with prospects. She wanted to have a family. Children. And that cost coin. They needed a proper house, not a cabin a couple of leagues out of town. A good education in a proper academy. The chance of a good career. He couldn't offer them that either. He couldn't offer her what she wanted.

  It was about then that he decided that he'd had enough of shopping for the day, and headed back to the station to catch the next wagon home. He needed a cup of tea and a lie down.

  Chapter Seven

  After another couple of days Chy decided it was time to get back in the river and start digging again. He was strong enough to return to work and he was sick of just sitting around feeling sorry for himself. It was time to become a peasant labourer again.

  Of course his work was made a little easier by the fact that he didn't have to travel far to get to his workplace. It was just on the side of his cottage where the water wheel turned day and night, propelled by the rush of water through the sluice channel he'd dug. And attached to the centre of the great wooden wheel was a huge wooden barrel filled with river sand and stones. He didn't have a manager either. Just his belly which complained a bit if it didn't get regularly filled.

  Even before he'd built his cottage, he'd built the water wheel, dug the sluice channel and bought the old oak wine barrel he'd connected to it. He'd lacquered it too – on the inside. The wheel had been his priority. That was coin, and he'd needed coin even more than he'd needed shelter. So the wheel was attached to a solid log wall that stood maybe a pace and a half apart from the side of the house. And it spun on ball bearing races which kept it running smoothly and quietly all day long. It was probably the most expensive part of his home. The most reliable too.

  It had to be. Chy had discovered long ago that there was silver to be earned in polishing rocks. More silver than he could make by simply chipping pieces of rock out of the river bed. Prospecting had earned him enough coin to purchase the land in the first place – but only because the land was largely worthless. The farmer who owned it, had sold him the acre and a half because he couldn't farm it. Not without first clearing the land – and that was too much like hard work. So a single gold piece had bought him the title. But building his home after that while at the same time buying the pearls he needed to continue his magical studies was more expensive. And for a long time he'd thought he would never be able to. That he would simply keep chipping away at river beds and escarpments with a pick, and never earn more than enough coin to eat. Never be able to build a home for himself, even on his worthless land.

  Then a chance visit to a jewellery store had shown him how much people would pay for polished stones. Not even precious stones. Anything that they could put on a chain. It had surprised him how many people would pay good coin for something that glistened. And polishing stones it turned out, wasn't that difficult. All he needed was a wheel. From that moment on, his life had improved. Of course he was lucky in that the river from which his sluice took its water, had some chips of jade in it, so sometimes the stones he pulled out of the barrel were actually worth a lot more.

  Today though, wasn't going to be one of those days. As he sifted through the river sand in the barrel and pulled out the various stones that he could sell and put others back in for more polishing, he couldn't see any flecks of green. It was mainly sandstones, schists and volcanic glasses. Pretty stones, but not precious ones. But they would still earn him a few coins when he next went into town – and even though he had plenty in his tin, he always liked more. After all now he had to start buying more pearls for his next blessing.

  After he'd done sorting through the barrel, he opened the sluice gate to let the water flow once more, and start the wheel turning again. Then he grabbed a pick and a couple of buckets and headed for the river. It was time to get wet.

  This was the hard part of the work. Wading through the river, looking for any stones which might have a sparkle to them, and then chipping them free from the river bed. It was also a cold job as the river was swollen with snow melt. Good boots and thick leggings could not protect him from the bone chilling cold.

  Today though he found that he had a new weapon in his battle with the chill. He simply concentrated and the blood in his feet started flowing harder and hotter, and soon, somehow, he was nice and warm in the freezing water. Control of his body temperature it seemed was one of the new casts that he had learned. Chy was pleased with that one.

  But he had picked up a lot more than just that. Even though the magic was still settling in to him, he could feel it swirling around in his blood, almost like a flower unfolding in his thoughts, telling him about all the other things he could do. And this time it seemed that what he had learned from the throne of life, was mostly about healing – himself and others. And his mystical sight had improved. He could see disease in others at a distance and heal a lot of it with a touch. Not that he could dare to do that. The last thing he wanted to be was recognised as some sort of healer. Healers generally had short and hard lives.

  He had a new weapon in the gift too. Before he had been able to knock someone out with just a touch – a useful skill no doubt if he ever got into a fight – but now he knew how to do that at a distance. To put people to sleep just by staring at them. That could be useful. There were a few people in town that annoyed him. Others that could use a good comeuppance. Causing them to faint in the middle of the street might be a fun idea. It would embarrass them nicely.

  Though he couldn't do it, he reminded himself. There was no magic in the world. Althern and most especially Ruttland was a land of science and technology. At least it was as far as anyone was concerned. There were stories and tales and some songs and even a few legends about magic. Naturally there were street performers who peddled fake magic tricks. There were also a few, mostly deluded people who claimed to be wizards, and of course some faith healers who couldn't heal a stubbed toe. But actual magic didn't exist. And those like him – there were others, though he had no idea who they might be or where they lived – kept their secrets.

  In part it was all about not being called a loon or a drunkard. Laughed at as a buffoon. Or avoided as if he was some sort of madman. People feare
d the mad. They worried that the madness might be able to passed on to them. But the other side of the coin was fear. People were afraid of magic. Of the thought that their nice orderly lives might be turned upside down. And they didn't like to be afraid. Those people that demonstrated the existence of magic, quickly discovered that it was no blessing. It was a curse.

  As a child he had seen people stoned and driven out of Charlton simply because people claimed they were witches. That they were in league with the Great Beast. And there was worse that could befall them. There was a history of burning people at the stake for having magic – or being thought to have it. Because as far as the priests of Alder were concerned, magic was the stuff of the Great Beast – the enemy of their Lord of Light. It was evil. They probably sacrificed goats to it – or children. So if someone had it, then clearly they were in league with the Beast. Normally that just meant driving the witches from the town. But sometimes, if there was sickness about or crops were failing, that wasn't enough. Someone had to be blamed. And punished. With a noose or fire. He would never forget those screams.