The Channeler

by William Kline

  “Here, you’ll need to put this on and wear it during your stay. Just hang your outside clothes on a peg, you won’t need them, and no one will bother them in here. Here, I think this robe will fit you. I’ll step outside while you change.”

  With that, the boy opened the door and left, so Tommy began getting undressed. He considered the robe, and how much it would cover, and decided to leave his socks, shoes, and underwear on, but to shuck off his shirt and jeans. He paused briefly to consider the spell binder that Micah had given him. He always carried it in his pockets, and never let it out of his sight, but there didn’t seem to be any pockets on the robe large enough to carry it. Reluctantly, he concluded that he’d have to leave it here. He’d feel less safe without the thing, but there really was no place to carry it, and Micah had been very emphatic about not letting other people see it. Not wanting it to be discovered, he rolled it up in his shirt, then stuffed the shirt down one of the legs of his jeans, and then hung the jeans on the peg. The robe was a bit dusty smelling when he put it on, and it felt almost like wearing a dress, but it wasn’t particularly uncomfortable, so after a last check of himself, Tommy tapped on the door, took a deep breath, steeled himself, and stepped through.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The hall that Tommy stepped into looked very similar to the room he had been in – heavy wooden ceilings and floors, walls made of the same compressed looking earth and polished to a glassy shine. Nick was standing there, next to the wall but not touching it, waiting for him. The other boy looked Tommy over, then nodded at what he saw; Tommy guessed that he was dressed acceptably.

  “We’re going to be walking down the center of the halls, because we’re on a special assignment, okay? We don’t want to interfere or get caught up in the normal class changes. Just be sure to make way if an instructor comes the other way, okay?”

  Tommy nodded his acknowledgment, wondering what he’d got himself into, but he didn’t have much time to wonder and Nick set off down the hallway at a brisk pace. Following, Tommy was quickly lost as the small, deserted hallways joined other corridors that were much larger, and much, much more crowded. The new hallways were wide enough that 3 people could easily walk abreast, and it was a good thing – groups of students of all ages in identical grey robes lined both the walls, each group walking in an ordered single file behind an adult in fancier robes. The center of the hallway was clear, and it was down this open pathway that Nick and Tommy walked.

  “We’re on a special errand, of course, and unescorted by an instructor, so we have to walk down the center, you see,” Nick explained, glancing back over his shoulder at Tommy as they walked and evidently misinterpreting Tommy’s confusion and uncertainty. “Just please remember that we have to step aside and let an instructor pass,” Nick grinned. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell YOU, of all people, not to get in the way of faculty.”

  Once again, Tommy furrowed his brow at the strange remark; the boy talked as if he should know something he certainly didn’t. Sure, back at Micah’s school, he might get out of someone’s way if he was walking slowly, but it was just courtesy; Someone else might just as readily step around him. What kind of place was he in that they needed rules for walking?

  Finally, after a good deal of walking – the school must be huge, almost as large as Micah’s school – they came to a room designed like a small auditorium. There was a traditional-looking blackboard behind a table at one end of the room, and a set of risers on which long wooden desks sat in front of chairs arranged in groups, three to a desk. Each set of three desks was behind and about half a foot above the desks in front of it, so that the back row of desks and chairs, maybe 20 rows back, ended up being quite high above the base of the floor and the blackboard. As Nick ushered Tommy to the front of the room and then hurried out of the room, Tommy noticed that every single chair in the room was filled.

  That left Tommy standing alone in front of what looked to be about two hundred people, all in identical, matching robes, all of them even with matching, or at least very similar, haircuts. And every single one of them sitting quietly and staring at Tommy. The effect was rather eerie – there was none of the soft conversation that Tommy would expect at his school, and everyone just sat silently and stared at him. Soon, Tommy began to fidget, shifting from one foot to the other and glancing around the room, anxious for someone to give him some sort of clue as to what he should be doing.

  Finally, just when Tommy was about to clear his throat and ask the assemblage if he was supposed to be doing or saying something, an older man with slightly fancier robes swept into the room. The man dumped a sack full of small rocks that’d he’d been carrying onto the table, and Tommy gulped in apprehension – there were a LOT of rocks there, and if they intended Tommy to cast the spell that many times… well, he probably COULD do it, but he was certainly going to be tired by the end of it.

  The older man then went on to explain to the assembled students about what they were about to witness today, and how the “esteemed visitor from the school of the august Archmage Micah” would be teaching them a new technique, and many other flowery words that basically amounted to, “Pay attention.” After his speech, which droned on way longer than Tommy would have guess possible, he turned to Tommy and said simply, “Embrace.”

  Tommy frowned, unsure about the command. He thought it might mean that he should prepare to channel, but he also didn’t want to commit a serious faux pas and embarrass himself and his school by doing something he was expressly forbidden to do. Micah, Chancellor Duvey, and Nick had all been very adamant about that. Tommy looked up at the older man, back to the class, and back again in confusion.

  “Well?” the older man said impatiently. “Prepare to demonstrate!”

  That, at least, was a command that Tommy could understand, so, with a modicum of effort, he relaxed his mind and prepared to channel magical energy.

  “Very good,” the instructor said. “Now, demonstrate!”

  Tommy cast the spell, being very thorough and deliberate with each of the steps – if he was going to teach them how to do this, he wanted to be sure to teach them right. He decided to start small, and selected a stone off the table. He… “spun” the stone, like wool on a spinning wheel - that was the only way he could think of to describe it – and stretched it out as he did so, eventually coaxing it into its final form, a small, thick ring, which he then laid back down on the table. There was some muttering among the students of the class, but the instructor slapped his hand down on the table and barked, “Silence!”, cutting off the noise abruptly.

  Turning to Tommy, the man said, “Yes, well done, except how is anyone supposed to follow that?” He stared at Tommy as if he honestly expected an answer to what seemed to be a rhetorical question. After several long moments, Tommy shrugged helplessly.

  “No matter,” the man finally continued. “Do it again. But this time, do it slowly. Step at a time. And please, explain what you are doing at every step, and why.”

  Tommy groaned inwardly. Casting a spell slowly was very, very difficult – it took a lot more energy and concentration to keep the entire thing from collapsing while you worked. Steeling himself, Tommy prepared, and began stepping through the spell one piece at a time, laboriously explaining what he was doing to the class.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  It was several hours later, several changes of the students in the class, and dozens of crafted rings later that the instructor finally told Tommy, “Well done, you may rest.” Tommy slumped into a nearby chair, totally exhausted. He’d been making smaller and smaller rings as time went on, trying to conserve as much of his energy as he could, and he was glad that he’d decided to start with something small instead of trying to show off. There was a clock on the wall, and Tommy glanced at it – it felt like he’d been at this all day, without a break, but now he saw that it was lunch time and he’d barely been at it for a few hours.

  “As our honored guest, you may go to the head of the line,”
the instructor said soothingly, and it took Tommy a moment to realize that the man was talking to him. The other students had already formed a line and were waiting to leave the classroom, with the instructor at the head of the line and a small gap behind him that was obviously for Tommy. “No rest for the weary, I guess,” Tommy muttered to himself as he hoisted his body out of the chair and onto his feet. He couldn’t help that his feet dragged a little as he joined the line.

  “Right, off to lunch, then,” the instructor barked, and set off with a steady stride. Tommy knew that the man had told him his name, but he couldn’t remember it – there had been a different instructor with every class of students, and he’d long since stopped trying to remember everyone’s names and titles. The line of students, with Tommy and the instructor at its head, flowed smoothly into the hallway where it joined other lines of other students. The almost clockwork precision of it all surprised and amazed Tommy, even as he found it slightly scary and intimidating – sure, it was impressive, but Tommy shuddered to think at the level of control and organization that went into such an arrangement. Still, it was rather efficient, he guessed, and this school seemed to be a lot more crowded than what he was accustomed to. They flowed through the hallways, sometimes pausing to let another group pass, sometimes moving on as another group let them pass, with no rhyme or reason that Tommy could discern on who went first. Finally, the group arrived at a room Tommy did recognize – a large kitchen and dining room. It was smaller and much more cramped than what he was used to, but it was still a dining hall, and Tommy found that he was ravenous.

  The whole getting food process was much quicker and simpler than what Tommy was used to. There were no choices, no different options – he simply walked up to the kitchen counter and was handed a tray full of food, already put together, complete with a drink. It looked to be fairly simple fare – slices of chicken covered with some sort of sauce, cooked carrots, a scoop of macaroni and cheese, a tiny slice of pecan pie for dessert, and a small glass of milk and a larger one of water to drink. Tommy frowned at the tray, but didn’t have any time to voice any objection – he was quickly swept aside by the tide of other students waiting to gather their trays.

  The seating was as methodical as everything else in the school. The students all took seats in order, each student in line grabbing the next available seat, with no space empty or wasted; Nothing at all like the random and diverse clumps of students that Tommy was accustomed to. There was another difference, too – although the room was filled with the low hum of soft conversation, it was quiet and muted; Nothing like the sometimes loud and boisterous noise that he was used to during meal times. Tommy took his seat, feeling cramped and crowded. His elbows brushed up against his neighbors on either side, and it was rather uncomfortable, but Tommy was hungry enough that he didn’t care. He sat down and began to eat.

  “Psssst. Hey, ‘honored guest’,” a boy across the table hissed to Tommy in a loud whisper. When Tommy looked up, the boy continued. “Yeah, you. Hey, what’s it like at your school?”

  Tommy couldn’t quite decide how to answer. The question was so broad, and he’d been warned not to share any information about his school. Still, he felt that the questioner deserved some sort of answer, especially since it was the first time anyone had bothered to speak to him about anything other than the business at hand. His first instinct was to reply that his school was so much nicer and better than this one, but he instantly discarded that idea – it would be very rude to come to the school and speak poorly of it. After a few moments of stammering, Tommy finally came up with, “Well… it’s… very different.”

  A young woman a few seats down from Tommy chimed in. “I heard that they make everyone learn how to use a sword at his school.”

  Tommy was a little surprised at that. “Well, yes,” he agreed. “Just as a method of self defense, in case that you are ever not able to use…”

  The woman didn’t give him time to finish. In fact, she seemed horrified as she broke in with, “I don’t think I could handle that, having to use a sword. Who wants to learn that, anyway?”

  Tommy frowned. “You don’t learn how to use a sword, here?”

  “Only as an elective, of course,” the original boy that had called for Tommy’s attention chimed in. “But almost nobody takes it. Why bother with a stupid sword, anyway?” The other students at the table muttered their agreement, and Tommy kept his mouth shut. He didn’t really want to try arguing against so many people who had clearly already made up their mind.

  A silence that was decidedly uncomfortable for Tommy stretched for several long moments before another boy across the table finally broke it. “I heard that they make you refine energy for the school’s use, in order to pay your way, and that they won’t give you food or clothes if you don’t do it.”

  The young woman who expressed such disdain for the sword slapped the boy on the shoulder. “You know that’s just nonsense. Why are you talking such garbage in front of our guest?”

  Tommy shook his head, though. “No, it’s true, kind of.” An audible gasp went around the table, and the boy who had mentioned it looked smug. Tommy went on, “You don’t have to channel to get food, of course, but we do channel to help pay for our classes and instruction. It’s a good thing, it helps us stretch our ‘magical muscles’ and get stronger. I know I’ve gotten much stronger since I started doing it. Just like learning the sword, it’s good exercise.”

  Everyone around him seemed stunned into silence, and Tommy didn’t know what else to say. Finally, another girl from much farther down the table chimed in in a hoarse whisper. “I heard that it’s pure chaos there, no organization at all. Someone told me that they don’t even take you from class to class, that you have to get there on your own, and that you get in a lot of trouble if you are late.”

  Again Tommy was baffled. He could never recall getting in trouble for being late for a class… but then, he could also never recall actually being late for a class. He couldn’t imagine Micah actually getting upset over something like that, but… it was a two minute walk from class to class, and even counting a trip to the bathroom and a stop back at his room to change clothes, he’d still never felt rushed or pressed for time when changing classes. All he could say was, “Well, yeah, but it’s not a bad thing, it’s…”

  He was cut off by a sharp “Hsssst!” sound from down near the end of the table. The instructor that had escorted them there was staring down at their end of the table, specifically at Tommy, and glowering. Tommy cast his eyes down and quieted, realizing that he’d spoken out loud instead of whispering. He felt his face flushing bright red in embarrassment, and everyone in the area began studying their food in earnest. After several long moments, Tommy saw the instructor sit back down out of the corner of his eye, and he relaxed just a little.

  “I… I’m so sorry,” said the boy who had originally spoken to Tommy. “I didn’t know. I didn’t meant to embarrass you.” A young girl sitting next to Tommy actually patted him comfortingly on the back, her eyes full of sadness and pity.

  “No, it’s okay, really,” Tommy whispered back. “I love it there. It’s… challenging. I’ve grown up a ton.”

  The other students merely shook their heads in bewilderment and commiseration, which was not the reaction that Tommy expected. He didn’t know how to explain to them, to make them understand. He wanted to stand up and shout at them, to tell them that they were being oppressed, here. That things would be better if they were free, if they could rely on themselves. Did they think they were going to spend their entire lives in the shelter of this school? What would they do when they were done, when they had to go out into the real world, where no one was going to hold their hands and escort them everywhere they needed to be? Their entire lives were being lived for them, every action scripted and every moment controlled, and Tommy could only feel sorry for them. But he couldn’t think of a way to make them see that they were basically prisoners, here, so he kept his mouth shut and ate the
rest of the meal in silence, trying not to notice the occasional sympathetic stare directed his way by the other students.

  After lunch, another instructor came and escorted Tommy to another classroom, while his lunch mates went off to another class with their instructor. Arriving at the classroom, Tommy saw that it was full of adults instead of children, all of them in the fancier robes that Tommy had come to understand denoted an instructor. The routine, however, was the same; the same commands, the same demonstrations. The class of instructors, however, studied Tommy like he was some sort of interesting insect, and after he was done demonstrating the spell a few times, the questions began.

  “What made you think to twist the Water energy on the third motion?” asked a scholarly looking older woman, her thick glasses perched on the very end of her nose.

  “Well… I don’t really know,” replied Tommy. “I guess I thought that, since I needed to change the shape of the stone, I’d need water. Kind of like turning dirt into mud, I guess.”

  That was clearly not the right answer; The woman snorted in derision and said, “Mud! Mud indeed.”

  Tommy was given no reprieve, however. A younger instructor, who looked barely old enough to have graduated high school, asked, “Why did you decide to change the stone’s form entirely? It looks like you were almost… spinning it. Like wool on a spinning wheel. Why not just drop away all the pieces of the stone that you didn’t need? That’s the traditional way it’s done.” Several other instructors in the room nodded in agreement.

  “Well, ummm…” Tommy began, feeling like the room was growing hostile. “I wanted it to be very smooth, you know? Like polished metal would be. So I could make stone jewelry for people. I think if I did it your way, it would be very rough, wouldn’t it?”