Against the Magicians

by Parteau, Paul

  At a time like this, which didn’t come often—they’d argued once, twice, in the space of twenty years—they were so far out of character, so uncomfortable, that they weren’t sure how to proceed.

  But she was saying.

  “Look. I don’t make a lot of demands on you. I didn’t saying when you built that thing that’s sitting on top of my roof. I said nothing about the way we just can’t seem to move out of these three rooms of the house—three rooms—and I’m not even concerned about the fact you don’t seem to be interested in learning anything new. Oh. You didn’t notice I’d noticed? I noticed. I know. But we don’t have to talk about it. We don’t. We can just keep moving on. Because at some point I hope you will want to learn something again. If you don’t, it’s no matter. I’m the one who makes most of the money. I’m the one whose clients provided many of the things we live with. Including this home. This estate. Those servants, the ones making food downstairs, the ones keeping clean the place we apparently refuse to live in, they were gifts, of happy clients. Mine. But it’s okay because you taught me everything I know. I owe you, in a way. I’m not sure what kind of way because apparently I had no other option but to find you, so I’m not sure how I owe you for something I didn’t give freely to you. It was a command. Unless of course it wasn’t just a command, it was a spell, and this wasn’t really apprenticeship, it was just sorcery. Was it sorcery? Would you tell me? Have we come so far you wouldn’t even be able to? For fear of reprisals? For fear of what I’d do to you, with powers I was never fated to earn? Are they mine, really, these powers? Are they actually just yours? Have I been your dupe? You’ve done so many things with me it would nearly be okay if I were. But was I? Should I be afraid? Should I be afraid of everything around me?”