by R. L. King
“What the hell has this got to do with learning magic?” He couldn’t help it. There was garden-variety irrational, and then there was this.
She shrugged. “Not my place to question. Not yours, either. That’s what he said to have you do.”
Stone paused, glancing again at the stack. There were a lot of rocks there.
Maybe it’s a test. He wants to see if you’ll follow his directions, no matter how daft they look.
Fine, then. If that’s what he wants…
He stalked over to the pile and hefted one of the rocks. It was heavier than it looked, but at least it was smooth so he wouldn’t tear up his arms. With some effort he carried it to the trench, which was only a few inches deep, and dropped it in.
“Don’t just drop them,” Kira called. She’d sat down on another, larger rock. “You need to place them precisely, or the wall won’t be straight. And lift with your legs, not your back.”
“Right.” Stone returned to the pile and grabbed another rock. This time when he reached the trench, he bent and set it next to the first one.
“Better,” Kira said. “That’s it. Just keep it up until I say stop or you can’t go on any longer. Don’t hurt yourself—that’s not what we’re trying to do here.”
Easy for you to say. Stone cast several nasty glances in her direction as he continued trudging back and forth between the pile and the trench, lugging the rocks and placing the along the track. They seemed to grow heavier as he went, and by the time an hour had passed he was drenched in sweat and every muscle in his body hurt.
“Take a break,” Kira called to him. She’d hopped down off her rock perch and now carried a tray with a pitcher of ice water and a couple of glasses.
Stone swiped his hand across his forehead and slogged over, panting. He hadn’t seen her leave, but for the last half-hour or so he’d gotten himself into a mindless rhythm, using his meditation techniques to focus on the task. She must have gone then.
He took a glass of water and dropped to the ground, resisting the temptation to chug the whole thing at once and collapse.
Kira sat down next to him. “Are you doing all right? Nothing hurt? I was serious—we’re trying to build you up, not injure you.”
“Nothing…permanent, I don’t think,” he said between drinks and panting breaths. “Every muscle in my body hurts, but I suppose that’s the point, isn’t it?”
“Don’t worry—we’ll take care of that when you get back to the tower. We’ll be here for a couple more hours, and then we’ll go back for lunch.” She eyed him critically. “You look like you’ve always been thin, but now you’re just skinny. Need to get some muscle on you.”
Stone slugged down more of the water, then refilled the glass from the pitcher. “So why has he got you doing this? You said you were his student—is this the way he teaches? My apprentice would have told me to get stuffed if I had her building walls instead of learning magic. And I wouldn’t have blamed her.”
She chuckled. “Not me—but my situation was different from yours.”
“How so, if you don’t mind my asking? What did he tell you about me?”
“We can’t talk long,” she said, glancing toward the trench. “It’s not good for you to rest too long—your muscles will stiffen up. Let’s walk for a few minutes.”
Stone didn’t want to drag himself back up yet, but he did it anyway because he knew she was right. If he stayed here too much longer his body would become one with the ground and he’d never get up.
She fell into step next to him. “So…what he told me about you was that you’re not from here. That you’re from another world.” Her glance in his direction suggested she wasn’t sure she believed it.
“I am. I didn’t think anybody but Harrison knew about that sort of thing, though.”
“Not many do. As far as I know, Errin and I are the only ones he’s told.”
“So the others—the ones in the cities—don’t know anything about it?”
“Not that any of us are aware of—and even if they did, they couldn’t do anything about it.”
“So they don’t know how to travel back and forth?”
“Not that we’ve ever heard. And Trevor pays close attention to that kind of thing.”
Stone nodded, wondering if Harrison had ever told Kira that not only was he aware of other worlds, but he routinely traveled between them. Instead of asking, though, he said, “You said our situations were different. How so?”
She didn’t answer for a while. “You asked me before why I have a non-magical name.”
“Yes…”
“I was born into one of the most prominent magical families in Sholandre. Raised in luxury. Had a perfect childhood with my younger brother, and everybody thought I’d follow in my parents’ footsteps with impressive magical power.”
Stone frowned, slowing his pace. “But you do have magical power, don’t you?”
“I do now, yes. But most children manifest it at puberty. I didn’t.”
“So…magic doesn’t always pass down?”
“Not always, but almost always. The most powerful magical families in the cities stay that way because the power does pass on fairly reliably. I don’t know how much you know about the mages’—I refuse to call them ‘the Talented’—society, but the most powerful mages have the most power in other areas, too. Usually that means the power stays with the same people, but sometimes someone turns up with more—or less—and that changes their position. That’s how social status is determined in the cities—by how much magical power you have.”
“What happened with you, then?”
“I hit puberty with no sign of magic. None. I was as non-magical as those rocks over there.” Her voice held no bitterness; she was simply stating a fact.
“And…”
“And…they’re very strict about what happens when a child from a magical family turns out to be non-magical. Essentially, they become a non-person. They’re removed from their family and shipped off to a special home down in one of the non-magical cities. As far as their families or any official records are aware, they’re dead.”
Stone stopped. “That’s…barbaric. And your parents allowed this?”
Kira looked at the ground, and her expression grew hard. “No. They didn’t. And they’re dead now because of it.”
“Bloody hell…”
“I don’t want to talk about that part,” she said, starting up again. “Come on—you need to get back to work. But yes—I was raised among the non-magical people, and grew up as one of them. That’s why my name was changed. My original name, back in Sholandre, was ‘Kiriana.’ They renamed me ‘Kira’ when I got sent away. I like it better. It’s simpler. More to the point.” She nodded toward the trenches. “You work, I’ll talk.”
Stone resumed toting rocks, with Kira following along the side of the trench. “I’m not sure I understand, though,” he said. “If you were raised among the non-magical and manifested no magical abilities—”
“That’s just it—I did. Many years later, when I was an adult. That almost never happens. It was quite a surprise, as I’m sure you’d guess.”
“Indeed. What happens when that occurs? Did Harrison find you?”
“That’s a story for another time, I think. But as for what happens—you have to understand the way the mage houses work. They guard power jealously, and in their society you can’t have magical power without pledging yourself to one of the houses. Usually the one you were raised in, though occasionally people switch. It’s hard to do, but it happens.”
“So what happens if you refuse?”
“You become a criminal. A traitor. They hunt you down and, depending on how powerful you are and what you did before they catch you, you’re either forced to swear a magical oath to one of the houses, executed, or exiled to the Wastes.”
Stone suddenly remembered what his interrogator in Temolan had said when he’d asked about Harrison. “A traitor,” he’d called him. “Is that what
happened to Harrison? Did he belong to one of the mage houses and then leave?”
She gave him a rueful smile. “Sorry. One thing you learn fast about Trevor—you don’t talk about him to other people. If he tells you anything, you keep it to yourself. He’s the most private man I’ve ever met.”
“So you know and aren’t telling, or you don’t know?”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “Either way means the same thing: you’re not getting it from me. Come on—you need to pick up your pace a little. Maybe I should stop talking and let you work.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ll let you know when it’s time to stop, and I’ll leave the water here. Don’t take too many breaks, though.”
Stone didn’t have a watch, but by the time Kira, who’d spent the rest of the morning sitting on a rock reading a book, told him it was time to quit, he barely thought he’d manage to drag himself back to the little cabin to shower and change back to his regular clothes. After carrying rocks from the pile to the trench all morning and managing to fill in about half of the first layer, every muscle and most of the bones in his body ached and he felt he could devour one of the fat cow-creatures all by himself. Raw, if necessary.
The driver showed up as if on cue—Stone wondered if Kira had called him—and took them back up to the tower. This time they did pass through the illusionary wall, and before long, after another trip via the magical teleporter, Kira opened the door on a room. “This will be yours for as long as you stay with us. You can let Anzo know if you need anything.” She indicated the rolling robot-like thing, which had turned up about the same time they had.
Stone expected another room similar to the one back at Errin’s house—comfortable, simply but elegantly furnished—but as he stepped through the door he stopped in surprise.
First, it wasn’t a single room, but a suite. He stood in the front room, which resembled a smaller version of Harrison’s penthouse quarters with its fine hardwood floor, exquisite leather furnishings, and minimalist artwork. It had the same sweeping, floor-to-ceiling window, but only on a single wall and the view indicated it was on a much lower story, perhaps halfway up the tower. It even included a small bar on the far side of the room. It looked completely modern by Stone’s standards; overall, except for the lack of electronic amenities like a television set, it could easily have existed in the Obsidian back on Earth.
“Is this all right?” Kira asked.
“It’s brilliant.”
“I’ll leave you here then, but let me show you a couple more things before you go. If you have any questions after, you can ask Anzo. He’s at your disposal while you’re here.”
He narrowed his eyes at the construct, which seemed to be watching him through its softly glowing blue eyes. He wondered if this was the same one as before—its eyes were a different color, but everything else looked the same. “What is that thing? My own personal robotic valet?”
“I don’t know what ‘robotic’ means,” Kira said, tilting her head. “He’s a mechano-magical construct. We have quite a few of them around here. This one is assigned to you for now. He can guide you where you need to go, answer your questions, or show you where things are.”
She first took him to a spacious bedroom. It included another full-wall window facing a panoramic view of the open space beyond the tower’s peak, a king-sized bed, and a walk-in closet stocked not only with the clothes that had been brought from Errin’s place but also, Stone was surprised to see, a selection of more Earth-like garments including jeans, black T-shirts, shoes and boots, athletic wear, and a few suits and dress shirts.
“These styles are odd,” Kira said, “but I’m told they’ll make you feel more at home.”
“Absolutely,” Stone agreed.
“Come on—one more thing before I leave you alone. You’re going to like this.” She disappeared through a door.
Stone followed and found himself in a bathroom the size of a small bedroom. In addition to a spacious shower, a soaking tub, and all the other usual amenities, it also included a partitioned area with some kind of odd-looking machine in it. It had a narrow, padded bench, a console with various controls, and the whole thing was surrounded by a skeletal metal canopy.
“What’s this?” he asked.
She smiled and indicated it. “Lie down. Relax and put your hands at your sides.”
“But what is—”
“Just trust me.”
Tilting his head in suspicion, he climbed onto the bench and lay down.
She flipped a couple of switches on the console, made a few adjustments, then pushed a button.
Instantly, the thing began to emit a low, soothing hum, and something in the canopy above Stone’s head lit up, bathing him with a mellow, comforting yellow glow. A few seconds later, his whole body began to feel pleasantly warm, as if he were lying in the sun on a temperate summer afternoon. “What—” he began again.
“Relax,” she murmured. “It will only take little while longer.”
Stone settled back. Whatever this machine was doing to him, it certainly didn’t hurt. In fact, he could almost convince himself that all the aches and pains from this morning’s exertions were melting away, if that hadn’t been an absurd concept.
The humming grew quieter and then stopped, and the yellow glow faded. “There,” Kira said. “You can sit up now.”
As soon as he sat up, he could do nothing but stare at her in frank amazement. “What…did you do?” he whispered.
“I told you we didn’t want to hurt you. You can build up a lot faster if you don’t have to worry about injuries.”
Stone raised his hand and looked at it. “This…is…amazing.” He still hadn’t raised his voice above a whisper. He hopped off the bench and spun to study the machine. “How did you—”
“How do you feel?” She seemed amused by his reaction.
“I feel…perfect. Brilliant. Nothing hurts. I thought I might have pulled some muscles before, but…I feel like I’ve just taken a handful of industrial-strength pain pills.”
“Oh, it’s not masked,” she assured him. “That wouldn’t be productive. It’s gone.”
He was still staring at the machine. It didn’t look like much; aside from the framework, the bench, and the console, the only other components were two closed compartments at the head and foot of the bench. “Bloody hell, is this some kind of…magical healing machine?”
“Exactly.”
“You…you people can build magical healing machines?” Stone was aware he sounded like an idiot, but he didn’t care. This was revolutionary.
“Well, we don’t mass-produce them or anything. There are a few around here, all hand built. And don’t think it’s a miracle machine, either—it doesn’t work on real injuries. It’s more of a novelty than anything, to be honest, but it works well on minor injuries like muscle fatigue, sprains, that kind of thing, and it’s good at stabilizing someone who’s badly hurt until they can get proper attention. For real injuries we still need healers.”
Stone crouched, examining one end of the machine. “I would very much like to know how this works. Who built it?”
“Trevor and Errin built the prototype and figured out how to make it work, with help from one of our best healers. They use a combination of magic, machines, and some magical metals and crystals from the Wastes. That’s all I know about it, and all I want to.” She grinned. “Anyway, I need to get going. Anzo can show you everything you need.”
Stone tore his gaze from the fascinating machine. “More rocks later?”
“No more rocks today. You’ve got another session this afternoon. Anzo’s got your schedule, don’t worry. Trust him—he won’t lead you astray.”
After she left, Stone regarded Anzo. “So…you’re my new personal assistant.”
“Is there something I can do for you?” it asked. As before, its voice was pleasant and faintly mechanical, like a living being talking through a speaker.
“Er—right now you can clear out and let me take a prop
er shower. How long do I have before I have to be somewhere?”
“Your afternoon session is scheduled to begin in two hours.”
Stone spent longer than he normally did in the shower, mostly because his mind refused to shut down. He still had so many questions about this place, and he had to remind himself that the questions weren’t the important thing. As intrigued as he was by the “mechano-magical constructs” that seemed to be commonplace around here, and as much as he wanted to dig into their design, that wasn’t why he was here.
You’re not planning on staying, he told himself firmly. Do what you need to get your mind around this magical style, then have Harrison send you home where you belong.
He dressed in jeans and black T-shirt, feeling much more at home in the familiar clothes. When he emerged from the bedroom, Anzo was waiting silently by the front door. “All right,” he told it. “Take me where I need to go.”
“This way, please.”
It took him to one of the teleporters—apparently they had been set to recognize him, though he had no idea whether he’d have access only to specific pre-programmed areas or if he could direct them. Instead of going outside, though, the thing let him off on another floor of the tower. Anzo was still there, and took him down a hallway to another set of double doors.
He pushed them open, wondering what would be next. Would Harrison be inside?
Behind the door was a small, elegant dining room. Simply furnished, it contained only a six-person table surrounded by comfortable chairs. Another spectacular view, this one of the town at the foot of the tower’s hill, spread out in front of him.
“Good to see you again,” said a voice. “I’m glad to see I didn’t hurt you.”
Stone turned to the figure seated at the end of the table and started in surprise. It wasn’t Harrison. “Karol.”
Like Stone himself, Karol was looking much better following his stay at the Temolan prison. Dressed now in loose-fitting pants and a snug shirt, he rose and flashed an easy grin at Stone. “You look good for a dead man.”
Gone were any vestiges of his “slow-witted” act from the Arena. He reminded Stone a little of Jason now—tall and muscular, with an athlete’s grace. “Are you my latest trainer, then?”
