by Peri Akman
Quinn stared at Kole, waiting for a reprimand, but it never came.
“Okay, after that came us, and we largely roamed the planet for a long time, and then there was a longer time where we stayed together in civilizations, usually grouping around uh, you know, river valleys.”
“All hail the river valleys,” Kole cut in, with a hint of amusement.
Quinn gave an awkward laugh. “So, you know, civilization happened. The Trellian Empire, Javier, Osklo… uh… do I have to go into detail about those?”
Kole shook her head. “No, no, the vital history of the city-states can be skimmed over for now. I'm mostly interested in the recent history. I’m just glad you weren’t taught that the universe started out as a damn rainbow. I was told that origin. Absolutely annoying. Rainbows can’t exist in space. Idiots.”
“Ok! So, yeah… empires came and went, uh, city-states became an important thing. We had several continental wars. Until we settled for a partially independent… uh… I forget the political term,” Quinn admitted.
“Eh, I don’t remember it either,” Kole shot back, but the tone was wrong. Was she kidding? It sounded like it was supposed to be a joke.
“And um… yeah, they got together, instituted a bunch of rules that everyone had to follow. Some stuff happened. There was the great famine. The demonic invasion. The meteor shower. The magical rights movement. The warlock rebellion. And. Now.”Quinn shrunk in on himself slightly. He understood more than that, but… how much did Kole actually want? This was the best way he could possibly summarize.
Kole nodded. “Tell me about the history of magic and the warlocks.”
“Uh… magic has been an untameable force in the universe since it first existed. The monsters and the demons fed on it, and they still do, to some extent. Well, now they feed on us but… yeah. Anyway, most people in the past didn’t ever succeed in magic. They were either killed because they caused problems in their town, or they were institutionalized or isolated because they thought there was something wrong with them—”
“Wrong? What do you mean wrong?” Kole asked, her eyes narrowing.
“Uh. You know. Brain issues.” Quinn felt awkward as he said that.
“And that makes a human… wrong?” Kole was practically staring holes through Quinn.
“I mean… no… not inherently. But putting people who need help… in places where they can get help… I mean, that’s not bad,” Quinn said quickly, trying to save himself.
Kole nodded, satisfied, however slightly. “Do you know the statistic?”
“Statistic?” Quinn questioned, honestly befuddled.
“A warlock, or anyone with a magical inclination, is more likely to show some sort of mental divergence than a non-magical individual. I believe it’s sixty-five percent more likely? Granted, warlocks make up around one percent of the population, if that, so it’s not the biggest number in the world, but it’s still a giant chunk,” Kole rattled off.
This honestly surprised Quinn. His teachers never told him that, or even implied it.
“Oh,” he whispered quietly to himself.
“I mean, I’m not saying the imprisonments of the magically inclined folk of the past were in any way justified, I just want to make sure you understand what the current state of things is. Too many warlocks like to use that as a political tool to separate themselves from those with a mental divergence of some sort. They’re terrible people. Punch them in the face whenever possible.” Kole nodded at her own advice.
Quinn laughed, despite himself, “All right. Where was I? Oh. So, slowly but surely the number of warlocks increased. At first there were only a few people who were able to master their skills, but information accrued. Zin of Shanala wrote that book, A Study of Magyks, that is marked as the first official guide on how to successfully control magic.”
“You ever actually read that book, Quinn?” Kole asked brightly.
Quinn shook his head, “No. I read an excerpt once… I didn’t understand it at all.”
Kole gave a raw laugh. It wasn’t the nasal giggle that seemed to usually come from her, but a loud, nearly booming laugh.
“That sounds about right. Man, I hated that book. My master made me read it, front to back. And used to quiz me. I still have nightmares where I’m trying to read it. Plus anytime anyone uses any sort of fancy calligraphy, I just want to barf.”
It was the most personal thing Quinn had heard so far. It was silly, but it honestly hadn’t occurred to him that she might have had a life before… well, today. He felt slightly foolish for this obvious blip in his mindspace.
Kole gestured with her walking stick, indicating Quinn should continue.
“Well, even if more were figuring it out, it was still really tough. Which meant the best way to learn was with someone watching over you. Which meant leaders and rulers started realizing they could grab the kids off the street, and train them and make them loyal. This… spawned into a business, and for a long time warlocks were seen as property. That’s how tattoos came about, although now they’re removed so it’s not as bad. Then uh… well the rebellion happened, and we got equal rights. Well, no we didn’t. We got some rights. And then we had a social movement and then we got equal rights.” Quinn watched Kole carefully at this part, but she gave no indication of being angered by this. Her eyelids fluttered, ever so slightly, but that was it.
“And the formation of the Warlock Program?” Kole prodded.
“The process took a few years, taking place between warlocks and regular people, with a lot of law-writing and government funded programs. It went through a lot of rewrites, but not recently,” Quinn replied. “But Academies have been around for… uhhh…”
“About four generations,” Kole supplied.
“Yeah. That,” Quinn said brightly.
“Well, your education wasn’t complete crap. Do you know about the Upheavals?” Kole asked.
“Yeah. It was how the Trellian Empire fell. A warlock was in charge, and they ended up being tracked down and targeted by a bunch of monsters, and was replaced by a demon. Because they feed on us,” Quinn replied.
“Right. Which is why…?” Kole prompted.
“It’s why warlocks with protective magical inclinations are highly valued, like Head Vodyk. They can make shields that let us grow up safely. But otherwise it means that warlocks are not allowed to hold positions of power. They can only ever be second in charge, at best.”
Kole nodded. “Do you agree with this sentiment?”
“I—yeah. Warlocks attract trouble wherever they go,” Quinn responded.
“And… yet you snuck out into town last night and saw no issue with it.”
Quinn’s eyes widened. How did she know that? She really was a mind reader!
Kole laughed again, “You wards always think you’re so edgy and clever. I have never heard of an Academy that didn’t have people sneaking out. Do you really think the town’s not protected? Fact of the matter is, Academy towns are some of the safest places to be. The entire area is doubly-shielded. Why do you think the Wind Walker found you guys so easily? He sought you out, and reported back to us potential teachers what he was able to deduce from you. It’s a time-honored tradition of deceit.”
Quinn’s jaw dropped.
“That was also another reason no one asked you any questions. Wind Walker just flat out forgot about you. So even less of a reason to care. Also, don’t act so surprised, don’t you think it’s a bit weird that none of the townspeople so much as batted an eye at your late-night trompings? You’re the equivalent of a declawed pet. No one cares,” Kole continued her rant, shaking her walking stick knowingly.
In hindsight… that made a lot of sense. Actually, a lot of things she said made sense. It sort of chilled him, since she clearly hated the whole institution. She thought they were still slaves, right?
“To be fair… you’re also pretty lucky. Haldon is horribly isolated. You don’t have any major powers here. No need to tough it. Were you told that
your school was an incredibly privileged school?” Kole paused as Quinn nodded. “Yep, that part was true. I would have murdered to have grown up in a place like this. It’s why I initially wasn’t going to actually pick any students here. Was gonna go to Estane, find some shanty school with a handful of kids. But you played on my heart strings, so feel pleased. Or terrible. You’re learning so someone else won’t.”
“That’s…” Quinn trailed off. “Why not just go to the poorer schools directly, then?”
“Government dictated my schedule. Part of the fun deal that got laid out for me. You remember, what that screamer was telling you about? Basically true.” Kole opened the window as she talked and gazed out of it before sitting back properly.
A well of questions bombarded Quinn’s mind. What crime had she committed? What were her powers? Was she really a mind reader? Why had Asim of Trell attacked her? When did he start his own magical training?
“I… have a lot of questions.” Quinn admitted awkwardly.
“Yeah, yeah, I figured. But I’m not done yet. I have a two-part plan on this carriage ride, and we haven’t even made it past the first part yet!” Kole replied. “Now. What did the school teach you about biology?”
Quinn launched into an explanation of what he knew, and Kole responded with her own input. It was odd, though, she seemed to keep making corrections in terminology and little bits of phrases and expressions that Quinn really didn’t see the point of, but it wasn’t the worst thing ever.
“Well, you described one type of human body very well. Your type. Do you know anything about the variations?” Kole asked.
“I mean… do you mean girls? No. We learned about the human body in separate classes.”
Kole gave a pained groan. “I—nope. This is a conversation for another day. I’m not explaining all of this. Let’s just move onwards.”
They covered literature, arts, physics, music, geography, geology, theology, and magical theory in general. The longer the conversation went on, the more relaxed Quinn became. It was… interesting. The way she spoke… it was clear she loved some of these topics. Sometimes she didn’t even lecture Quinn, she just ended up going on an unrelated rant, using words too big to understand, before she realized she was prattling and snapped back to the main topic.
It was scattered, casual, and, above all, comfortable.
Before Quinn realized it, they had talked for three hours. Kole heavily hit the top part of her stick against the floor, and out came a few tied brown packages. She used the walking stick to practically toss one to Quinn, who responded by not catching it and having it hit him in the face.
Quinn opened the package to find some sort of bread with a meat filling. It smelled incredible, and it was at that moment that Quinn realized he was starving. He went to take a bite.
“Stop.”
Quinn halted midbite. Kole was staring at him again, clutching her walking stick tightly. Quinn’s jaw twitched as he waited for Kole to elaborate.
“Not allowed to eat that yet,” she said simply, shaking her stick again, causing a rather deadly-looking knife to pop out of it.
Quinn put the loaf back in the package. He felt a bit embarrassed that he had just dove into it without thinking.
“Sorry,” Quinn muttered. He just ruined all the goodwill he had achieved by this mistake. He was such an idiot.
“You have to complete a task first. As my apprentice,” Kole replied, handing him the large knife.
Quinn looked down at the sharp tool. His fingers tingled as they touched the cold metal. “What?”
“Kill our coach driver,” Kole said as if she were asking him to peel a potato.
Quinn paled. “I… I’m sorry… I have to…”
“Kill our coach driver,” Kole repeated.
“Wh-why?” he stuttered. Quinn could feel his skin crawling with revulsion and horror.
“Because if you don’t, you don’t get to eat. You’re my apprentice, you have to listen to me, and because I have good reason to believe he’s a demon. So therefore, kill him.” Kole crossed her arms expectantly.
“What’s the… reason?” Quinn whispered, his horror rendering him hoarse. “And… wouldn’t it be better if you did it?”
“My reason is that he refused to shake my hand. It’s a classic sign of possession. And yes, it would, but I need to know I can rely on you.” Kole’s voice was surprisingly cold.
Quinn swallowed dryly.
He stared at the knife. He wanted to throw up. Run away and hide. But he couldn’t do it. He gripped the knife, his hands shaking.
Quinn blinked hard and stood up in the moving carriage. He went to the window and opened it. He stuck his head out, then his arms. He gripped the top of the carriage and hoisted himself up. It hurt, but he could do it, even if he wasn’t exactly skinny.
Oh gods, he was actually doing this. He had to do it.
The carriage seemed to be moving much faster once he was outside. Wind brushed against his face with a nearly rough edge. Some instinctual, irrational part of his brain screamed that it was Asim’s wind, who was going to find him and punish him. For whatever reason.
Knife in hand, Quinn crawled, his breathing heavily uneven. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill someone. It wasn’t right. Maybe it was just a demon, then it would be ok, but what if it wasn’t?
If the driver had heard Quinn shimmy his way on top of the carriage, he gave no indication of it. In fact, the driver seemed incredibly well-trained. He did not once move his head.
Quinn crawled closer, every instinct screaming at him in defiance. But… his tattoo. If he didn’t… she could just make him do it.
It was at this moment that Quinn realized how terrifying that was. How terrifying it was to have someone else hold his life in their hands. He could fight tooth and nail, but no matter what, she would have complete control. At one time, it had seemed reasonable. It meant if he ever lost control, she could help him snap back immediately. But now it seemed like a cruel weight.
He was within arm’s reach of the driver. He gripped the smooth surface as tightly as he could and lifted his knife arm. He shut his eyes as he drove it down.
And stopped.
Couldn’t do it. Nope.
Quinn opened his eyes. The driver had not reacted.
“Hey.” Quinn found himself saying.
No reaction.
Quinn tapped the man on the shoulder.
No reaction.
This was weird. Or at least it was probably weird. If he was a demon pretending to be human, this would probably be actually pretty normal.
Quinn grabbed the man’s shoulder, and lightly brushed against his bare skin.
It was cold. Inhuman.
Quinn gave a yelp of surprise. The carriage halted. The driver still didn’t turn his head. What did happen, however, was that Kole stepped out, leaning against her stick.
“How you doing up there?” Kole yelled.
Quinn could only breathe heavily in response. He forced himself to tumble into the driver’s seat, and found, much to his surprise, that the driver was made of clay. It hadn’t been obvious until Quinn was about an inch away from his face.
“Let me tell you something that will swiftly become very relevant to your life, Quinn,” Kole said as she walked over to the seat. She stuck out the uneaten loaf that Quinn had initially tried to devour.
Quinn gingerly took it, as if expecting it to blow up in his face.
“I will give a lot of orders that seem confusing. What I will never do, however, is tell you to do something or else I’ll starve you, or force you to do it. No matter what the circumstances, I will not activate that tattoo on your face, unless you would otherwise die, got it?” Kole placed her stick on the driver’s seat, and began to hoist herself up.
“If you disagree with my orders, then feel free to disagree. If I’m wrong, good, you’ve proven me wrong. If I’m right, then the world should find a way to slap you back into place. If I’m right and you benefit a
nyway, then it’s up to your conscience to guide you. Either way, I’m not here to control you, I’m here to teach you. And if you decide you’re too good for that, then by all means, be my guest.” Kole sat next to Quinn and picked up her walking stick.
“And, finally, this is the most important part, if someone ever makes you feel like I just did, that they have complete power over you, and the only reason you should do what they say is because of that power? Leave. Get out. Punch them in the face. Or listen and bide your time until you can leave, because there are some terrible warlocks out there, and you should give them absolutely none of your time.” Kole spoke somberly.
“Does that mean I get to punch you?” Quinn asked, his voice distant. He did not break eye contact from the food.
“Do you want to punch me?” Kole asked, tilting her heavily bandaged head.
“No…” Quinn admitted. He wasn’t capable of violence. He was just a weakling.
“Then no. Although if you did, I should warn you, I’d punch back. And yeah, a frail middle-aged woman can’t really pack the same punch, but I punch with a stick.” She visibly hefted her stick up, showcasing the solid hard end of it. She shook it back and forth in what had to be the least menacing image Quinn had ever seen.
In any other situation, Quinn might have broken a smile, but right now his head was a flurry of unanswered problems. He stared at his fake target, which had apparently been driving the carriage this entire time.
“What is this thing anyway?” He asked, jerking his head to the clay driver.
“A homunculus. It and the ‘horse’. Far easier than paying every time. Plus it means I don’t have to feed or stable it,” she replied. She stomped her walking stick on the ground, and the carriage started to move again. The homunculus driver barely moved its arms, but even then Quinn was lightly elbowed.
There was a few minutes of awkward shuffling as Kole limped back into the moving carriage and Quinn slowly shimmied his way back into it, sliding through the open window as it scraped across his clothes and exposed skin. It was a lot harder to go down than up, apparently.
