by K. Gorman
When the video was over, her dad squeezed her shoulder.
“I hope you use your powers for good, whatever they are.”
He believed her. That was nice. She’d half expected more denial, considering the circumstances. What had he found on his search?
“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked.
“Dunno. Just thought it was what a father should say. By the way, it’s two a.m. on a school night.”
“You’re sending me to bed?”
“Yep.”
“But this is important.”
“It can wait. I wrote a note for your school, excusing you from any more recruitment calls.”
“You can do that?”
“Of course I can. I’m your father.” He paused. “You should probably know that I told them we were Jainist.”
“Nice.”
His arms dropped down around her shoulders in an awkward hug.
“Get to bed.”
Chapter 9
The next morning, Mieshka found a stack of paper lying across her keyboard, neatly stapled. It was a university publication, ten years old. ‘The Children of the Stars’ took the title page in large, boldfaced text, accompanied by a picture of three black ships hovering above Ryarne’s old skyline.
One of them looked exactly like the one in the hangar last night.
Hiding it inside textbooks and behind desks, she devoured the article during morning classes. It confirmed the basis of what she already knew about Mages: their original landing on this world, the Lost Technology, the elemental base to their magic, and all the little things that were general knowledge. She pored over the information until Mrs. Murphy hovered too close for comfort and she was forced to flip the textbook’s page over the article.
At lunch, Robin found her in the cafeteria with the article spread out under one hand and a tray of untouched food by the other.
“Where were you yesterday?” Robin asked.
Mieshka glanced up from the article. After having squinted so long at the small print, it took a moment for Robin’s face to come into focus.
“I went back to the… Mage’s place.” It felt weird calling it a memorial in the school cafeteria. “You didn’t text?”
“Murphy has my phone.”
They shared a quiet, knowing look. Robin set her tray down across from her, sliding onto the bench seat.
When Robin didn’t touch the food, Mieshka raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”
“Not with me. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
Just how tired did she look today? She hadn’t missed that much sleep. Her eyes felt strained, but she suspected it was from reading so much.
Robin shifted. She didn’t meet Mieshka’s eyes. “You’ve been acting weird lately.”
“Weirder than normal?”
“Yeah. What is that, anyway?” Robin pointed at the article.
Mieshka showed her the front page. Robin raised an eyebrow.
“Is this about missing last year? Honestly, you didn’t miss much.”
Technically, Mieshka hadn’t missed anything, but there was a substantial disparity between Terremain and Ryarne’s curriculum.
“No. Something happened yesterday.”
If Mrs. Murphy had Robin’s phone, then she wouldn’t have received any of her texts. Which explained the lack of reaction when they’d met briefly earlier. Mieshka dropped her voice low, glancing around. They were at a center table, but the clattering of trays and the buzz of conversation would mask what she had to say.
She leaned closer to Robin, as if they could have a conspiring huddle with the table between them. “I met the Fire Mage yesterday. He said I have magic.”
She cringed at her wording—‘he said I have magic,’ not ‘I have magic.’ She still couldn’t bring herself to admit it herself. After the incident in the chair, she wasn’t sure what she thought about it. The tracking spell hadn’t been scary, at least, but the Phoenix’s words kept circling her mind.
I have been alone. Now, you are here.
Perhaps it was psychosomatic, but she couldn’t help but feel a connection between herself and the Phoenix.
“You’re shitting me.” Robin had frozen, a forkful of macaroni halfway to her open mouth.
“I’m not shitting. I went back to the memorial yesterday, and this dude walked in with a magic tracking device. It pointed at me.”
The macaroni didn’t move.
“You have magic?”
“I’m not sure I believe it.”
Robin set the fork back onto the plate.
“You sure you’re not shitting me?”
“Unless I hit my head yesterday. He gave me his phone number.”
“Is that how Mages get girls?”
“Robin!”
Robin bit her laugh into a grin. Then, her eyes looked above Mieshka. Someone cleared their throat behind her.
“Are you Meese?”
He was about her height, if she’d been standing, and had an Asian look to him—Chinese, if she had to guess. His jeans were loose and faded, and his shoulders seemed a little slim under his sweatshirt. Mieshka recognized him from some of her classes.
She forced a smile.
“Sorry, I can’t remember your name.”
“I’m Chris.” He met her eyes. “You’re a refugee, right?”
Mieshka’s smile vanished. He took that as an answer.
“I saw you run out of class yesterday. I’m from Trent. Mind if I join you?”
Trent. Southeast. It had been one of the first cities to fall. Her hands felt cold all of a sudden. She sat upright, suddenly very aware of him.
“Of course not,” Robin said, ignoring Mieshka’s stiff look.
“Thanks.”
His tray clacked down beside Mieshka’s. She reluctantly shuffled her stuff over to make room.
“So.” Robin leaned her elbows on the table. “Do you know anything about magic?”
Hunched over her backpack, Mieshka froze. Robin always went for the jugular. Always.
“Magic?” he asked.
“Yes, magic. The stuff that powers the shields.”
Somehow, she didn’t think this was the conversation Chris had expected. Mieshka returned to her plate, stirring ketchup in with the macaroni. Beside her, Chris had gone very still.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Just curious. Why’d you want to sit with us?”
Looking over, Mieshka saw that he was busy poking his potatoes. Reading Chris’ stiff shoulders and the bow of his head, she forgave Robin. Whatever else she did, she knew how to get results.
“I thought we studied Mages last year,” he said.
“You didn’t answer the question,” Mieshka said.
His fork paused, stabbed halfway through a carrot.
“You didn’t answer mine.” He looked up, meeting Mieshka’s stare.
Fair point. Her eyes narrowed. If Robin could be blunt, so could Mieshka.
“Because I met the Fire Mage yesterday, and he offered me a magical apprenticeship. Your turn.”
They had a momentary staring contest. Mieshka tried not to blink.
“I saw you run out yesterday,” Chris said. “You have magic?”
“You saw me run.” She raised an eyebrow.
Across the table, Robin leaned forward, propping her head on her fists. Her grin grew as she watched the exchange.
Chris faltered. “I thought you might be a refugee, too. That we might have something in common.”
“You want to be friends?”
Robin’s foot nudged her ankle. Maybe ‘friend’ wasn’t the right word.
Chris straightened up.
“I know a bit about magic,” he said. “But I’m not sure if I’m supposed to tell.”
“What? You can’t leave us hanging.” Robin’s growing grin faltered.
“If I tell you, will you go on a date with me?” He was looking at Mieshka.
‘Friend’ had definitely not been t
he right word. Her smile sank off her face. She had zero interest in dating. It was very far down on her priority list.
Besides, even if she wanted to go on a date, she didn’t know this guy.
“She will,” Robin said at the same time as Mieshka’s dry, ‘No.’
Mieshka turned her glare on Robin. Chris’ choice of seating crowded her elbows. She hunched over her plate like a hawk over prey, exchanging a glare with the other girl. Chris looked between them, measuring the silent battle.
Apparently, he decided Robin would win.
“There’s this guy,” he said. “I’ve heard he can move water.”
“The Water Mage?” Robin asked.
“No. One of us. Around my area, he’s pretty well-known. Kind of scary, actually. He works for the Water Mage. Makes sure things don’t get… nasty.”
Chris looked between them again. Robin folded her hands primly on the tabletop.
“I’m not sure that information is date-worthy. Anything else?” she said.
“Well,” he started, dropping his voice low. They all leaned in. “You know how much water is in a person, right?” He paused, probably for effect. “I hear he can pick people up and move ’em around.”
Mieshka’s jaw slackened. She searched Chris’ face. Was he joking?
“You’re shitting me,” Robin said. When he didn’t answer, she went on. “Anything else?”
“Not really, no.”
“That wasn’t much.” Mieshka leaned back in her chair, arms folded over her chest.
He looked over to her. “Do we still get to go on a date?”
Was he asking now? Her eyes narrowed.
He flinched, just a little.
“Okay,” she said.
*
“How was school?”
Dad had been sitting on the living room couch, sorting through mail, when Mieshka came home. He’d turned the lights on, but the low-wattage bulbs made the off-white walls seem dim and dirty. A Mersetzdeitz television series laughed in the background. She had dumped her backpack on the floor beside him and now addressed the growing pile of dishes in the sink. Why he couldn’t do them during the day was beyond her, but she didn’t want it turning into another pizza box problem.
“Fine,” she said. “I met another refugee.”
She heard the couch creak as her dad got up. A few shuffled steps later, he poked his head into the kitchen. She was elbow-deep in suds.
“What’s she like?”
“He’s from Trent.”
“He?”
Mieshka raised an eyebrow at the mug she scrubbed. Water sloshed over the sink.
“He. He said he knew the Water Mage’s apprentice. Apparently, the guy’s quite scary.”
She glanced over, wondering if her dad’s worries would kick in. Instead, he appeared more pensive than protective.
“Have you thought about the Mage’s offer?”
She fumbled the mug through the suds. It hit the bottom with a hollow thunk.
“I have.” It had been hard to think of much else, especially after what Chris had said. Was all magic scary?
He stuck his head into the refrigerator, the white light glaring on his face. She knew there wasn’t much inside.
“Your mom told me something once,” he said.
She froze. His tone was carefully light. He closed the refrigerator before he continued, retreating to the wall.
“It was before you were born. I had been investigating a research firm that had a… reputation. Told her that I was a bit intimidated by them. You know what she said?”
He paused, as if waiting for her to guess. She clenched the dishcloth hard, holding her breath. The kitchen clock ticked between them.
“She told me not to decide with fear.”
Mieshka bet she had used different words. Her mom had been gruff and matter-of-fact. She could picture her cross-legged on their old couch, cleaning a rifle in her lap. Her hair was always in that ponytail. The last time Mieshka had seen her, that ponytail had been long enough to touch her shoulder.
She focused on the wall in front of her, feeling her throat close around the memory. By the silence, she knew he shared her grief. The dishcloth squelched on the rim of the same mug. Her shirt had a thick wet line from where she leaned against the soaked counter, sudsy water slowly wicking onto her skin.
Eventually, she found her voice.
“You think he’d let me job shadow?”
Chapter 10
Apparently, he would.
Her school had done job shadowing two years ago, back when she still lived in Terremain. The concept was for students to find an adult that worked in the field they wanted to pursue and see what the job entailed. Career taste-testing, so to speak. Mieshka had shadowed one of her mom’s army buddies. Even back then, the military had been keen to encourage recruitment.
She hadn’t known what to expect then. She didn’t know what to expect now.
“Ah, Mieshka. We’ve been waiting for you.”
She winced. Having missed Aiden’s office the first time, she had doubled back when the addresses had gotten too high. It was hard to find. Lying in the shadows of skyscrapers, the shabby two-story stucco building dated back to Ryarne’s pre-Chromatix era of more than seventy years ago. A sign on the front door had directed her to the second floor.
It wasn’t quite what she had expected a Mage to operate from.
“I got lost,” she said.
The office was about the same square footage as her apartment, with a desk on the far left and two couches to the right. The walls were off-white, accented with recessed lights in the ceiling. Outside, the sun was setting on Uptown. Twilight shone through the blinds on the left side of the office. Her cheeks were still numb from the cold.
“How was school?”
Buck had taken a paperback to the black leather armchair on the right, his feet crossed in front of him. Jo lounged on a nearby couch, hunched over her phone. Her face was underlit by its screen.
Their guns sat in holsters beside them.
“Nothing special,” she said.
“I suppose I should show you the shield engine.” Aiden rested his elbows on the desk, face half hidden by a computer monitor.
He’d opened the blinds in his corner. She wondered if he’d seen her walk up.
“I suppose you should.” Jo didn’t look up from her phone.
When no one moved, Mieshka glanced between the three of them. Only Buck met her gaze. He gave her a small, encouraging smile.
Er… okay. I guess we aren’t in a hurry?
“Is the shield engine anything like the ship?” she asked.
“It’s a lot like it, actually. I modified it from a ship engine base.”
The chair rattled as Aiden stood. He made his way around the desk and across the room, passing her without a glance, still looking down at the screen of a small tablet.
She glanced to the side. Buck gave her another smile. Jo was still looking down at her phone.
Right.
With a shrug, she left her pack by the door and followed him in silence. He led her to a second set of stairs—in the back, this time, separate from the one she’d taken in the lobby—with smooth, naked concrete, dark green railings, and tan walls. They lacked a door where the first floor landing should have been.
On the fourth landing—two levels underground, by her estimation—they reached a different door. She peeked over the rail. There were several more stories below.
The door creaked as Aiden swung it open. A familiar-looking obsidian-black panel stood within the frame.
She was beginning to see patterns in the world of magic.
It hissed open—just like the ship and the memorial’s elevator—and they walked into a dim room. A low hum thrummed in her chest, making it tingle. The air smelled of singed dust. It thickened as she stepped inside.
“Sorry about the dark. The bulb burned out earlier today.”
A translucent orange screen hovered at the end
of the room, blocked briefly as Aiden crossed its light. Behind her, the door hissed shut. Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the dark. Like the stairs, the floor was bare concrete. The walls weren’t much better. She squinted at the screen.
“So… this was made from another ship?”
“Yep. Sophia and I scrapped Michael’s ship to make it. He wasn’t pleased about it.”
That sounded… reasonable. “A single ship is enough to power the shield of an entire city?”
“Well…”
He flashed her a quick grin—or so she assumed. She couldn’t see much more than a brief flash of teeth when he turned away from the light.
“Technically, no. If anyone with decently-powered Lürian tech tried to breach it, we wouldn’t last an hour. Fortunately, Swarzgard only has a couple Mages, and we have three crystal engines to power the shield.”
Ah. “I’m guessing Terremain doesn’t have three?”
“Terremain has one crystal and one crazy son of a bitch Mage.”
“That… explains a lot.” She cleared her throat, picking her way across the floor. Something tiny and metallic skipped away from her shoe. “And this engine is powered the same way as your ship?”
“Yep. The engine uses a crystal spirit power source, just like the ship. Same generation, too. Same…” He paused, a frown tempering his tone. “Clutch? I think that’s the best way to translate it. They’re actually a special type of crystal spirits, created toward the end of Lür. Mage-made, rather than natural-born.”
“What’s the difference?”
“It’s… complicated.”
He sat in a chair in front of the screen, making a fine silhouette as he swiveled around to face her. Behind him, the console’s keys glowed with a familiar orange light. His eyes narrowed on her, as if deciding something.
“In crystal science, there is a long-held argument over how spirits are made—it’s a bit like the chicken and egg argument. Most held that spirits coalesced together in places where a lot of magic gathered, and that they and humans developed together, which explained our mythology. Others held that spirits were here long before humans and were involved in the creation and development of magical energy itself.
