by Alex C Vick
"I'm sorry," I said.
Still he didn't let go. "This isn't from a bottle. You really are a magician. But your magic is silver."
"Yes."
"Do you have a match?" he asked.
"No."
"I…" He half laughed. "That question was supposed to stay inside my head."
He moved his hand downward and linked his fingers with mine. We stood for a minute in silence. The only sound was a faint buzzing generated by our force fields where they touched. It made the hair on my arms stand up.
"I can sense it already," said Art. "My spark, I mean. It feels weird, but at the same time it feels right. Like it belongs."
"You're not… angry with me?" I said.
He shook his head. "With you? Why? It's not like you did this deliberately."
Art looked me in the eyes. The trust in his expression made me all the more determined to be honest with him.
"I'll tell you whatever you want to know," I said. "I've hated lying to you about this."
"There's a few things I want to tell you too," he said. "I'd like—"
"Art?" came a man's voice from the direction of one of the turrets.
We both jumped. Art's grip on my hand tightened. There was no hiding it. We were surrounded by too much visible magic.
"It's my father," he whispered. "What should we do?"
The man's voice came again, louder. "Art? What is this?"
"Do you want him to know?" I whispered back.
Art gave me a frantic look. "No. No. But I don't see how…"
"Try to suppress your magic," I said. "You have a spark now. It will be much easier."
"Ammartus," said the man. His voice was right behind us.
I turned around, relieved that the man seemed to be confused rather than furious. There would be no need for a Harmony Spell. It only took me a couple of seconds to redirect my magic.
"Mister Bavois." I patted his elbow. "How lovely to meet you. I'm so grateful to you and your wife for supporting my sponsorship."
He blinked. Distraction Spell finished. Time to redirect. "It's very kind of you to seek me out like this." Another pat. "Or was it Art you were looking for?"
"I… yes. I think so."
I regretted that the spells were necessary, but I didn't regret projecting them. Art and I deserved some privacy while we figured things out, and I knew I wasn't putting Art's father in any danger. Art wasn't glowing anymore. He stared at his father like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
"Father?" he said.
The man's slightly bewildered expression faded, and he broke into a smile. "Art. I'm so glad I found you. Are you all right?"
"Er… I'm fine," said Art. "Just… er… showing Serena around."
"Of course. Where are my manners?" said the man. He turned to me. "I'm Vidian Bavois. How do you do? I hope you're settling in."
Vidian's demeanour was relaxed in comparison to that of his wife. His smile was easy to return.
"Art was just giving me the tour," I said. "The city looks very impressive from up here."
"Yes." He hesitated. "It certainly does."
My curiosity rose. He wasn't smiling anymore.
"Art, I'm sorry to interrupt you," he went on, "but your grandfather just told me about the Board's offer. If you want to talk about it…" He looked at me and didn't finish his sentence.
"Should I leave the two of you alone?" I said.
Art shook his head. "It's OK, Serena. Thank you, Father, but I'm not ready to discuss it."
Vidian nodded. "I understand. But this is your choice, Art. I'll support you either way."
Art smiled briefly. "Thanks. What about Mother? Does she know?"
"It was her idea."
Art smiled again, but he didn't look happy. "Of course it was."
"She just wants you to realise your potential," said Vidian.
"I know," said Art quietly.
There was an uncomfortable silence. I pretended to study the crystal.
"I'm going to change for dinner," said Vidian. "Will you be joining us?"
"No," said Art. "Not tonight. I think the formality would be a little much for Serena on her first day. Maybe tomorrow."
"If you change your mind about wanting to talk, you know where I am," said his father, taking a few steps backward.
"Oh, there is one thing you could do for me," said Art.
Vidian brightened. "Yes?"
"I want to show Serena the clinic. Can you validate a couple of permits for us?"
"Ah. But I thought… forgive me… she did not respond to the Detection Spell. There is no need for her to know."
Know what? I turned back to the shimmering crystal. I wondered if Art had asked because Peric and Savra were in this clinic. That would be reason enough for me to go. Besides, if someone said there was no need for you to know something, that usually meant they didn't want you to know. Which was a different thing entirely.
"I've shown her the beautiful view," said Art, his voice hardening. "Don't you think it's only fair she sees the rest? Besides, it might help me to decide."
"Of course, Art. If that's what you want. I'll bring them in the morning."
Vidian gave me a quick nod before leaving the rooftop. Fortunately, what with the Distraction Spell and the awkward conversation, he hadn't noticed that Art and I were standing on the wrong side of the Protection Spell.
"What happened?" said Art. "How did you make him forget what he saw?"
"Er… with a spell?" I said. "Because I'm a magician?"
He rolled his eyes. "That's not what I meant." He hooked a finger under his collar. There was a thin black cord around his neck.
"His amulet never reacted. Nor did mine."
"Why would it?" I asked. "You weren't projecting."
"No, but it glows as a warning either way. It resonates too. Like a vibration. It warns cotidians that a magician is using their magic, and it warns magicians about their peers."
"Perhaps my magic isn't something amulets can sense? Do they glow for A-grade normally?"
"What?" he said. "I mean, no. They don't. Why would they? No one projects A-grade. Wait… your magic is A-grade? That's…" He stopped. "That's impossible."
"I gave a bottle of it to your mother as my price of admission," I said.
Art let out a disbelieving laugh. "You did what? Your own magic?"
"Yes. I filled an empty bottle and the swirly symbol turned silver, so I thought it would be fine."
"The Judix symbol," he corrected, still torn between laughter and disbelief.
"Whatever," I said, smiling.
"You've got some nerve," he said. "And she obviously never noticed anything different."
"Didn't she?" My smile faded.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he said.
"I think she noticed something. She wouldn't give me the time of day until she saw that bottle. Then suddenly she was welcoming me to Vayl."
Art took a step closer. "No. My mother can be a difficult person to like, but she never lies to me."
And how would you know? I left the words unspoken. It wasn't my place to be critical of Adelle to her son. Especially when I had no evidence outside of my own suspicions. Especially when Art was tense with indignation.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"No, I'm sorry," he replied.
We exchanged self-conscious smiles.
"What now?" I said. "I meant what I said. You can ask me anything."
"OK. Let's go back to the apartment. It will get cold pretty quickly once the sun has set. And I want to…" Art looked down at his hands. Two seconds later his palms were glowing with a mixture of purple and silver energy. He raised his head. His eyes, purple and silver too, met mine.
"It's real," he said. "It's actually real."
"Yes," I agreed. "Looks like you're learning fast. It must be your age. Your magic was only waiting for a spark to anchor it."
"Do you think so? I just wanted it to expand and it did. As easy as turn
ing in a circle."
He looked at his hands again.
"I don't think it's going anywhere," I said. "It's part of you now."
"I can't wait to try some spells. I know all the theory. We even handled A-grade lumien sometimes. Closely supervised, of course. But now I can create a real spell. With my own force field." Art's voice was rising with excitement. "Will you help me?"
"Of course," I said. "We can help each other. I love learning new spells."
I had a feeling his becoming a magician could be the start of a very complicated situation, and I was glad he had the chance to be happy about it.
"How long have you been a magician?" he asked. "The spell you used on my father wasn't exactly basic. You are sixteen, right?"
"And a half."
"OK. I'm a few months older. So how long…?" Before I could answer he shook his head. "I have a better idea."
He bent down to pack away the remains of our food. "Let's go downstairs. I have a Calculo Clock in my room."
"A what?"
"You'll see."
I folded up the blanket and we left the rooftop. The stairs were easier now I could use Solo Transference to support my weight. Art turned to watch.
"You're using magic," he said.
"I am. Not much, though. I could avoid the steps completely if I wanted to."
"No," he said. "No, you couldn't."
"Is that a challenge?"
"You're bluffing."
I held his gaze, projecting my magic. Solo Transference meant pushing the force field to the very edges of the body and using it to defy gravity. Like a magical workout, it developed strength and reflexes for other spells.
After a flash of movement and magic, I was at the bottom of the stairs, looking up.
"Not bluffing," I said.
He stared. "That's exactly the kind of spell magicians can't do. Since the war, I mean." Slowly, he walked down the stairs to join me. "Where were you born, Serena?"
I took a breath.
"Wait," he said, looking left and right. "Not here. Inside."
Art unlocked the door to the apartment and held it open for me. After he'd closed it behind us, he walked to his bedroom door.
"The Calculo Clock first," he said. "And I'm sorry about the mess."
He gestured to a clock hanging on the inside of the door. It was silver, with a frame shaped like an inverted triangle, flat across the top and sharp at the bottom. A circular clock face fitted into the centre. There were three hands on the clock: two for telling the time and a third, longer hand pointing downward, curling like the symbols on the lumien bottles.
"What's the symbol for?" I asked.
"The Judix symbol is there because it reads magic," said Art. He pointed to the three corners of the triangle in turn. "Days until. Days since. Days left."
"I don't understand," I said. "Days until what?"
"Take hold of the symbol and see."
"No," I said, stepping backward.
"I'll go first then."
"Wait. Is it safe? What does it do?" I asked.
"It's perfectly safe. The symbol is only an interpreter."
He traced the silver spiral with his fingers before wrapping his hand around it. A few seconds later, a flickering silver "1" appeared in the "days since" corner.
Art grinned. "Now I believe it."
"Days since you became a magician?" I guessed.
"Yes. The last time I tried it I had ninety-two days in the other corner. Ninety-two days until my production of magical energy reduced."
"So your birthday's in ninety-two days?" I said.
"No. Sixty days. But coming of age is an approximate thing."
I took a closer look at the clock. The "1" was no longer flickering. "Clever," I said.
"Will you try it yourself now?" he asked.
"All right. I promised you the truth."
Art removed his hand, and I curled my fingers over the symbol. There was no flickering this time. The result was instant. I felt the barest tingle of magic, then "1,275" appeared. Sounds about right.
I turned to see Art's reaction. His eyes were wide. "Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"How?" he asked.
"The same as you. Proximity to another force field when I was making enough magic to ignite a spark."
He huffed a laugh. "That simple, huh?"
"It can be," I said, remembering the Five Tenets and the complicated matching criteria. On Androva, the only prerequisite was Sygnus compatibility. "What about 'days left'? What does that one mean?"
"Mage-sickness," he said. "It calculates how long…" Art paused, his expression serious. "Access to Calculo Clocks is restricted though. Knowing isn't always for the best."
"Oh."
That has to be the reason Peric and Savra were so desperate. He even said, "The clock is ticking."
"The Ricards," I said. "You told me they were dying. How long have they got?"
"I'm sorry, Serena."
"How long?" I repeated.
"Three days."
12.1 Vidian, That Evening
Vidian Bavois. Journal Entry 15,217. Year 6015. Day 98.
I just discovered what the Board of Mages offered Ammartus after his assessment yesterday. He's been given a chance to learn the art of the Gallium Dagger. He will use it as a cotidian, of course, which reduces the risk. Better for him. Better for us. However, his lack of force field will make it harder for him to see the lines of magic and locate their source.
I know he is undecided. No one can wield the dagger accurately every time, and the price of failure is high. But I understand why Adelle suggested our second son acquire this skill. His temperament fits and we need another. There are too many mage-sickness victims. We cannot cure them all without additional resources.
The Bavois family is also sponsoring a new cotidian. A girl. Art seems to like her.
13 A Family Visit
I was horrified. "Is the clock ever wrong?"
"No," said Art. "But they will receive what treatment we are able to give them. It may extend the timeline."
"How much?"
"Not long," he admitted.
I took a couple of steps backward and sat down on the bed. "I can't bear the thought of Marty losing both his parents so soon."
Art gave me a sympathetic look. "At least he has a chance of escaping the same fate."
"Can we definitely see them tomorrow?" I asked.
"If my father sorts out the permits."
All of a sudden I felt exhausted. The bedcovers were soft underneath my hands and it would have been very easy to curl up and close my eyes. For a few seconds, it was hard to remember why I shouldn't.
"Oh, no," said Art, leaping forward. He grabbed my hands and pulled me to my feet. I didn't resist, putting my head against his shoulder. He was a little taller than me, making him the perfect height to lean against.
"Serena," he said.
"Hmmm?"
"I… I'm sorry about this. I have a… I don't sleep very well. So I have a Sedating Spell in my bedcover. And your body weight would have released a night's worth."
"A Sedating Spell," I said. My eyelashes scraped against his shirt as I blinked slowly. "Oh. Oh." I lifted my head. "A Sedating Spell. Is that the reason everything feels so fuzzy?"
"Yes. We should leave the room. You obviously don't have the same tolerance as I do."
Art tried to steer me toward the doorway but my legs wouldn't cooperate.
"Serena," he said. "Just a few steps. Come on."
"I… I don't think I can," I said. It sounded like our voices were muffled. I had to lean against him more heavily to avoid falling over. "Sorry. Know you don't like contact."
Art made a noise that was half sigh and half groan. "It's not that I don't like it. Open your eyes, Serena. Please." He put his arms around my shoulders in an attempt to hold me up. "Serena. I've never projected a spell before. I can't risk using my own magic to wake you up."
"What did you say?" I m
anaged.
"I have an Energy Spell in the kitchen."
The room tilted. My bones could have been made from honey for all the use they were in supporting my body. I don't think I'm standing anymore. My face was against something colder than Art's shirt. But it still smelled like him. I was distantly aware of someone smoothing back my hair, then I drifted into unconsciousness.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
My awareness returned gradually. It was quiet. I could hear the sound of my own breathing and the rustle of my hair against the pillow. There was a layer of soft material covering my clothes, and I pulled it higher up my shoulders with a contented sigh. Wait. Where am I?
Opening my eyes, I saw the journal with the purple cover on the table next to me. I was in Art's bedroom. But why? Cautiously, I sat up and turned my head. I was alone. Daylight was spilling onto the floor from underneath the curtains. I looked at the clock on the back of the door. The clock with the extra hand shaped like a Judix symbol. It was early morning.
I don't remember going to sleep. It made sense that I would have gone to sleep at some point, but not in this room. I needed to find Art.
After disentangling myself from the covers, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and projected a Cleaning Spell. My boots were right there on a small circular rug next to the table. I didn't remember taking them off any more than I remembered going to sleep.
I flexed my toes, deciding that my ankle was definitely less sore. Resolving to be more careful today, I took off the bandage, good as new thanks to the Cleaning Spell, and reapplied it as tightly as I could. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the door open a little. Art's head with its messy dark-blond hair appeared through the gap.
"Serena," he said, sounding relieved.
"Morning," I said, standing up. "Er… I'm sorry, but I seem to have slept in your bedroom."
"No. I'm sorry," he said, opening the door wide and walking up to me. "Are you all right? Do you still feel tired? The Sedating Spell is only supposed to last six hours and you've been asleep for ten."
"I've been asleep for ten hours?" I said incredulously. "I never sleep that long. What do you mean about a Sedating…" I trailed off.
Hazy memories surfaced in a jumble of images and words. His arms around me. My cheek against his shoulder. I wish I could remember it more clearly. I looked down at the offending bedcover.
