Les supposed he ought to be impressed, but he was used to seeing the everflame back home. “And how would this make it more useful out in the wilderness?” he challenged. “I'd still have no food or water.”
“No,” Xander agreed. “But you could use this to stay warm and keep wolves away. A simple coin couldn't do that.” He drew for a handful of something from the little pouch and sprinkled it on the surface of the water. It appeared to be dried leaves of some kind. Gradually, they began to soak up the water, and waterlogged, to sink down into the warming liquid as he continued to speak.
“Do you remember the trick with the soup?”
“The what?” Les looked up from the water to the wizard's eyes, but the old man was still intent on the submerging fragments.
“When we first met, you wanted to know how I did it. It was in the nature of a test, you know. I'd sensed that someone with the potential to learn magic was in that village.”
Lester's brow compressed. “A soup test?” But he remembered now. The bits of cracker had been drifting around the soup. No, he thought. Not just drifting. They were circling, and going in opposite directions. At the time it had seemed strange.
“Most people are too caught up in the eddies of fate, too absorbed in their own muddled lives to notice the truly peculiar, even when it is right in front of them,” said Xander. “We are every day, all of us, surrounded by wonders our entire lives. Sunlight lifts water into clouds that snow upon the distant hills, so rivers don't run out of water. Most life slows to a tiny pace in winter, only to explode into growth again in the Spring in time to save us from starving. We walk on sand that used to be mountains. And most of us are blind to such mysteries. To wonders. But to become a wizard, you must not be blind to them.”
Les quirked a smile. “You're saying the reason I'm here is because I wasn't blind to the wonder of circling soup crackers?”
“In times not long from now,” the wizard predicted, “you will remember that the course of your life was changed forever by two bits of cracker in a bowl of soup.”
“Whatever,” said Les. “So how did you do do it?”
“With magic,” thee old man answered. “Not the sort from storybooks, with flaming swords and summoned demons. The magic of psionics, the effect of the mind upon space.”
Now Les frowned. “You mean, on the crackers. There's nothing to affect in space. It's empty, or else we couldn't move through it.”
“I mean what I say. I affected the space around them, and the crackers just followed where the space wanted them to go. I call it pathspace. I don't know what the Tourists called it. I didn't push the crackers. I set up the paths that they followed.”
“But how? How did you do it? Now he found that he really did want to know. The old man said he had the seeds of greatness in him. Him! Useless Lester! Could it be true? Could he ignore the chance? Father, he prayed, help me become what is required to avenge you.
“Your mind,” said Xander, “is mapped onto the world. Projected upon it. Written upon it. While we live, while we live in this space, we are affected by it. We can perceive events that take place within it, aided by our senses born of flesh and wired to our very souls. And this goes both ways. We are affected, AND we can affect. You can see and draw, be touched and sculpt, hear and speak.”
“But how?” he begged the old man. “I can touch the table with my hand. I can speak with my tongue and the wind of my lungs. But how do I touch space? ”
“A man with eyes, kept forever in dark, will never learn to see, or to paint what he sees,” answered Xander. “But you were fortunate. The Gifts of the Tourists are fading, but you, unlike many of your fellow humans, grew up exposed to the magic, to the altered paths of space and energy that make your inn's coldbox and everflame work. You have been exposed to light, and your sense is growing.”
“But I felt nothing!” he insisted. “Whatever you think, I'm still blind, still deaf to it!”
“No,” said the wizard. “I'm not wrong, not about this. The process has begun in you, and it never stops, never goes backwards. Stick with me me. lad, and you'll flower yet, trust me. Every day we'll expose you to more, and more kinds, and before you know it you'll see that I'm right.”
Then there was a knock at the door, and for a time Les forgot his frustration, forgot his hopes and despair, when the most beautiful girl in the world brought in their breakfast.
Chapter 12
Aria: “A pool among the rock”
There was almost no sound as pale feet in golden sandals trod the ancient concrete of the stairwell. Aria moved without haste, but still had to work to keep the tray balanced as she descended. Lucky for her that the Governor kept her court wizard near her, else she surely would have spilled the contents of the tray ere she reached the old man's quarters.
Hugging the tray to her with one arm, she pushed the door open at the thirtieth floor and headed down the corridor. Jon and Edgar slouched against the wall outside the door she sought. They straightened as she approached, and not entirely from military reflex. She smiled inwardly.
“Try not to strain yourselves, boys.”
An echo of her mother's clucked its tongue inside her. You should not address your future troops so familiarly. But she ignored it, or tried to, as she always did. She knew from experience that even grizzled veterans took no offense to smiling words from her. Men are such simple things, so easily charmed.
Edgar gave her a lopsided grin that spoke of groundless optimism. “We didn't expect to see you here, Miss. Where's Doris? Doesn't she usually bring the food for him?”
Aria narrowed her eyes in feigned irritation. “She's not well,” she lied. “Do you really wish she had come, instead of me?”
The two men eyed each other. “No, no, I'm just … surprised, is all.”
“Then let me in, will you? Or do you want to explain to him why his breakfast is cold today?
Edgar saluted and slid back the bolt and swung the door open for her. She sniffed and pretended not to notice the wink he gave to Jon as they both enjoyed the view of the back of her trousers entering the wizard's rooms.
They were at the table gazing at a steaming bowl of water. Then they looked up at her entrance and her heartbeat quickened, as it always did when she came into Xander's presence.
It was hard to imagine how there could be a greater contrast than the one she saw between the two of them. The apprentice was confused, wary, surprised, and clearly ill at ease as he ran a hand self-consciously through blonde hair. His features were pleasant enough, but his clothes were coarse and patched here and there. Clearly from a poor family. His hands were large and calloused with years of chores, and his boots had seen better days – probably from long-gone years on someone else's feet.
Xander, also was frugal in his attire. His robe and the cloak thrown over a chair were gray and free of ornamentation, serviceable though they were. But the rest of him was so different from the boy that the apprentice might have been his shadow rather than an entity in his own light. Xander's face was lined with decades of character. His beard marked him for an elder. His boots probably cost more than the rest of his outfit put together. And his eyes! Light like the boy's, though gray like her own, rather than blue. Unlike the boy's eyes, those of the wizard were as far from confused as a man's eyes could be. They gazed upon her with calm recognition, without the interest she saw the boy quickly suppress.
“Let me guess,” he said. “Doris fell sick and you volunteered to bring our breakfast.” But his eyes twinkled, and she saw that he knew this was a lie even before she agreed with him. Suddenly her face felt warm, and she felt an unaccustomed irritation with those eyes, his eyes that seemed hardly to look at anything, yet saw everything – saw right through her own subterfuge that she was sure fooled everyone else.
“Something like that,” she muttered.
“In any event,” he said, “you're here. Meet my new apprentice Lester. Les, this is Aria, a young lady who knows less than she should
but far more than she admits.”
Instantly, she saw the boy drop a mask of courtesy across his face. He stood and sketched a quick bow. Which would have been a bit more flattering had his eyes not fastened upon the breakfast tray she discovered she was still holding. She set it down next to the steaming bow and straightened, a tad more stiffly than she intended.
“Well, there you are. Sorry about the interruption,” she said, turning to leave.
“We are never so busy that an interruption bearing food is unwelcome,” said Xander with a smile that was dangerously close to a smirk.
She hurried out the door, cursing herself for acting the fool in front of the new apprentice. How was it that the old wizard could make her do that – could so easily make her lose control of her reactions? It was not as if she was in love with the old fool, which from the books she read might have explained it. But no, that wasn't it. It was, rather, as if they shared a bond that went beyond any attraction. As if he were … she didn't know, an older brother, or an uncle seen so often that the only awkwardness between them was the fact that he could always tell when she was lying, or hiding something. Like today.
“So how's the old man doing?” said Jon. Is it true he's got a new apprentice?”
“None of your business,” she snapped. “Just make sure he's not disturbed.”
And that last was as unnecessary as telling the sun to rise, she realized. Gritting her teeth, she stalked away vowing to ignore Xander and the boy the next time their paths crossed.
She darted up the stairwell and tried to stop growling in her mind. This distracted her enough that she collided with Miss Gerloch. Only the closeness of the stairwell's walls kept the two of them from tumbling to certain injury.
Miss Gerloch put a hand behind her head and patted her bun back into shape, as she glared at Aria. “Where have you been? We were supposed to resume your training in Geopolitics over twenty minutes ago!”
“I'm sorry, Miss Gerloch. I had to take care of something first.”
The older woman shook her head in exasperation. “I swear, hardly a day goes by that I don't wonder why I even bother. And then I remember.” She fixed Aria with a brown-eyed glare. “Do you know what it is that I remember?” she grated, as she straightened her stiff and unflattering black dress.
“That one day I will be Governor, and must be prepared for that,” Aria recited.
“If you can remember that, can remember just that one thing, then there is a tiny chance that the last three years have not been a complete waste of my time.” Miss Gerloch turned away. “Now come along. The Map room won't come to us, child.”
Aria hurried to catch up with her obsessive tutor, and was a little short of breath by the time she reached the thirty-fifth floor. Miss Gerloch didn't bother to wait for her. She flung open the door and flew in like some enormous bat diving into a cave mouth. Sighing, Aria followed.
She nearly turned right around again, because Ludlow was there.
She ought to have expected it, because she'd heard from Mabel that he spent a lot of time in here these days. Which was probably a good thing, since he didn't fit in anywhere else. Ludlow was too informed to be a commoner, but too crude and brusque to be a courtier. In her opinion, he knew a little about everything, but not enough about anything to fill a useful position in the Governor's staff.
In Ludlow's opinion, she knew, he already filled a valuable position – that of a generalist advisor, an expert of unspecified expertise. He maintained that the Governor needed someone who knew how different areas of concentration related to each other. Someone, for example, who knew what farmers would think if the military demanded more jerky for field rations instead of more milk for the cheese makers. Or someone who could suggest ways to convert fabrics seized in border raids for military bandages.
But really, she couldn't stand the man! He was so, so in-between about everything. Never sure what he thought, until he 'd heard what you thought, so that he could seem to be agreeing with you. Never interested in anything until he learned you were – at which point he would exclaim that he'd been fascinated with it for years. He was a human chameleon, with no color of his own. No, she decided, not a chameleon. Even lizards had more personality. He was a pool among the rock, reflecting his surroundings without addition or improvement. A mirror in the shape of a man.
And his eyes were always clinging to her as if trying to pry her clothes off. It always made her want to go and take a bath.
“Why, hello, Aria!” he oozed. “What a pleasant surprise seeing you here today.”
As if he didn't know she had Geopolitics in the Map room at nine every morning. Her eyes narrowed. “More pleasant for some than others,” she said.
His eyebrow lifted. “Oh dear,” he murmured. “Has someone spoiled your mood already? Fear not, the day will improve, I'm sure of it.”
Not in the way you hope. “Were you looking for something particular in here?”
“Alas, no. Just trying to pick up a few more facts, learn a bit more. You know how it is. I'm always looking for ways to make myself more useful.”
Indeed you are. More useful than anyone wants. Why didn't you just go away when Xander decided you would never be much of a wizard? “I see,” she said.
“Aria! Stop wasting time with Mister Ludlow and get over here!”
Se closed her eyes and turned toward Miss Gerloch, erasing him from her existence and avoiding the conspiratorial wink he was aiming in her direction. “Yes, Miss Gerloch.”
“Time for review drill. Name all of the neighboring countries and for each, give the ruler or rulers, the form of government, and the main exports.”
“To the West,” she began, “is the kingdom of Deseret, a theocracy, ruled by the Prophet. Their main exports are salt and agricultural products. To the South lies the Empire of Texas, with a dynastic monarchy ruled by the Honcho, and their chief exports are beef, leather, and … and livestock.”
“Continue.”
“To the East we have the kingdom of Kansouri, with a constitutional monarchy consisting of the Council of Nine. Their exports are wood, livestock, and textiles. To the – ”
“What sort of textiles?” interrupted Miss Gerloch.
“Wool, flax linen, and burlap or sackcloth.”
“Very well. Continue.”
“To the North lies the People's Republic of Wyoming, a communalist union of farm-states with a Worker's Congress of representatives. Their chief exports are wheat, beef, and cornflour.”
Miss Gerloch turned to the wall, which held a map without labels. It showed the entire continent, without the boundaries of the various kingdoms, those shattered remnants of the original Union. It was something the General had put there, twenty years ago. His Dream.
“Not bad for a start,” she said. “Now go further. What lies beyond Deseret to the West?”
“Californ. Ruled by the Queen of Angeles, Earl of Francisco, and the Duke of the Northern Forests. Main exports are fruits, wines, artworks and hemp.”
“And to the far East of us, east of Okla?”
“The Dixie Emirates. Ruled by the Council of Emirs. Chief exports are tobacco, corn, rugs, and coal.” Aria paused, “Have you ever been there, Miss Gerloch?”
The older woman turned away from the map to face her. “I have,” she said. “And someday I might even tell you about it.”
Chapter 13
Peter: “Of the backward devils”
His Excellency, Defender of the Faith, by the grace of God the Honcho, ruler of the Lone Star Empire adjusted his sword belt and glanced at the water clock in the corner of his office. Where is the Runt? I told him the audience began at ten.
He almost reached for the bell pull at the side of the desk, but stopped himself. It was bad enough that Jeffrey was late. Announcing the fact to his staff by summoning an adjutant to fetch him would not improve things. I swear, if he's been drinking again this early, I swear I'll...
But the thought went unfinished. You'll what? As
his only heir, the Runt could not be demoted, and the problem was, Jeffrey knew it. Impatient for a succession that could be decades away, the boy did his best to evade tutors and trainers to spend more time in his cups or the casinos, where he usually lost, secure in the knowledge that the Honcho would cover all debts as a matter of honor. If he were anyone but the Runt Peter would have had him whipped into shape by now.
The door banged open and Jeffrey strolled in, thumbs hooked in his belt, affecting a bored expression that complained without words of the waste of his time.
Peter rose to his feet. “It's about time. Let's go. The Pontiff is already waiting for us.”
Four guards snapped to attention as the two of them exited the Honcho's residence. Another held open the door of the coach.
He noted that Jeffrey was interested in the conveyance. The boy had never seen it before, of course. His crafters had been working on it for nearly a year and only completed the final touches on the vehicle last week. They had begun with a conveyance of the Ancients called a “stretch limousine” discovered in remarkably good condition in a private garage in the outskirts of Austin. The body had been lightened by removing the useless engine parts, and the top had been sawed off and replaced with a thin leather arrangement that could be pulled up to cover the occupants in the event of rain, in the manner of the “convertibles” mentioned in the old stories. The windshield had been removed to allow the reins of the four-horse team to reach the driver in the front seat. The result of these labors was a comfortable ride for at least four passengers who could sit in the ancient benches facing each other and enjoy the luxury of the car's suspension, a marvel of twenty-first century engineering. The tires, of course, had decayed long ago,.and had been replaced with laminated rims fashioned from many layers of birch bark and a resinous glue compounded by the royal alchemist, who claimed the composite material would survive the wear and tear for at least six months. Materials for the expected replacements had been ordered.
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