A Scholar Without Magic

by Guy Antibes

  “You are the boy who lost the feeling in his legs?”

  “I am that boy. Thank you for helping me.”

  On the way to his room, Sam realized his legs had settled down, and he was able to move a little better. Perhaps he would recover, after all.

  ~

  Three weeks later, Sam walked out of the hospital with a cane to support him. Moranna walked with him, quizzing him on the hospital words he had learned. They were actually speaking mostly in the Zogazin language. Sam found his ability to learn hadn’t deserted him.

  He could only make it halfway to his house before he had to sit on a bench.

  “Are you too weak to go on?” Moranna said, smiling.

  “I am, as a matter of fact,” Sam said. “Being tired walking is a pleasure for me.” He looked up at the darkening sky. “We can’t tarry too long, or we might get wet,” he said.

  The first few drops hit just as they left the bench. Sam couldn’t move any quicker. Moranna made an umbrella and Sam wished he could, too. Suddenly, a lump of pollen appeared in front of him and dropped to the ground.

  “Did you see that?”

  “What?” Moranna asked.

  “The pollen. Look, it is on the ground, a white lump.”

  “I don’t see anything,” she said.

  Sam struggled to pick it up and showed it to her. “See?”

  Moranna shrugged. “All I see is your palm…” She looked uncertain and put out her hand. “There is something invisible there. I can see the raindrops move around it.”

  Sam whipped his spectacles off and gave them to her. “I wonder, can you see it now?”

  “It is a white lump of pollen.” She lifted up the spectacles and put them back. “It is invisible!”

  “Just like your pollen is invisible to me.” He accepted his spectacles. “My pollen is the reverse of yours, but it is pollen!”

  “Should we go back to the hospital?”

  Sam shook his head, grinning. “How about a little trick? You can teach me how to make pollen things, and I will learn more Zogazin words. When I am proficient enough, we will demonstrate my new skills to Pilkis and Plantian.”

  “A worthy Zogazin joke!” Moranna said.

  Sam couldn’t see a joke in what he had said, but he was excited to get started. Once he had hobbled all the way to his house in the rain, Sam needed more help getting up the stairs. Hilsa had become an Order member while Sam was in the hospital and had moved out, so Plantian was put to work, helping him ascend the stairs.

  “You look better,” Plantian said. “I was worried about you.”

  “I was, too, but in a different way. I’ve lived with an infirmity most of my life, and I didn’t want another, more challenging one. I’m glad I walked all the way here.”

  “It took long enough,” Moranna said. “We had to stop to let Sam rest, and then it began to rain.”

  “A flat never looked so good,” Sam said as he sat down on the couch. “I’ll rest a bit and then go to see Emmy.”

  Plantian’s face fell a bit. “Banna took her. She said Emmy shouldn’t be left without a master. At the time we didn’t know if you would come out of whatever happened to you.”

  “How could you let her take my dog?”

  Plantian took a breath. “She was originally Banna’s.”

  “Who sold him to another person. I bought Emmy fair and square.”

  “I won’t argue with you, Sam. I know where she is going. When you feel up to it, we can go together.”

  “I don’t know when that will be,” Sam said, his spirits sinking. “I could barely make it here from the hospital.”

  “A few days ago, you thought you would be an invalid for the rest of your life. How would you have cared for Emmy, if you couldn’t take care of yourself?”

  Sam didn’t have an answer for that, but he now had a goal. He needed to learn how to use pollen, his kind of pollen, and get his strength up, so he could retrieve Emmy. “I’ll take you up on that Professor Plunk. Thank you for helping me up the stairs.”

  “Anytime you need some help. Pilkis is after me to join the Order.” Plantian looked at Moranna before he said, “But I’m not convinced Zogaz is the right place for me. We can talk about this later.”

  Sam agreed and nodded his head. “Then I will see you at dinner time. I am sure I’ll be able to get down the stairs for dinner, but I might need some assistance getting back up.”

  Moranna left with Plantian, leaving Sam to fend for himself. He rose from his seat and washed up before sitting back down. Emmy’s loss was a hard one to bear. Banna’s lack of patience hadn’t changed since she returned to Polistia, but Sam could see her side of the decision, even though he didn’t agree with it.

  He tried to summon a brick of pollen, and one materialized and fell to the floor. He looked it over and put the gold tip to his forehead and looked at the striations. They were uniform and, if Sam were looking at a normal block of pollen, he would say he had done a good job. However, he knew it took practice to make things, and his learning was cut short when he was five.

  He held the brick in his hands and felt it soften under his touch. With the gold tip, the pollen began to disintegrate like anyone else’s. The missing nodule didn’t cause his pollen aversion, but the block to create the stuff was obviously gone.

  He sat back, looking at the sagging brick. Now that he could make pollen, Sam would have to figure out a place for it in his life. He still wasn’t normal. No one could see his pollen without the assistance of gold-tinted spectacles, but Sam could make armor, and with practice, he hoped he could make it thick enough and dense enough to last a few hours, he thought. That would be another goal.

  To everyone else, Sam wouldn’t have changed. He still was a magician without conventional magic, but now he possessed an unconventional kind.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ~

  “N ow an umbrella,” Moranna said, standing in Sam’s flat.

  Sam made an umbrella appear that fell into her hand.

  “A picture of me,” she said.

  That command required a bit of thought. Sam looked at her, uncertain about the results, but finally, a sheet of pollen paper appeared. There she was, gold spectacles and all, looking out from the page.

  She giggled. “Very good. You have made wonderful progress. I had scoffed when Pilkis said you were a pollen magician, but with a month of training, you put me to shame.”

  “I thought I would have to learn like a school child. I had to sit through most of the pollen classes and watch others do what I couldn’t,” Sam said. “Being able to create what I visualize is much easier than trying to construct something piece by piece in your mind.”

  “Are you ready to demonstrate your new ability?” she said. “Your Zogazin hasn’t progressed anywhere near as much.”

  “I need a bit more exercise to gain back the strength I lost when I was bedridden for weeks, but even that is improving,” Sam said. “I’m not so sure it was worth the pain and the depression I suffered, but that is behind me. I’m sure there will be some new pain, like learning yet another new language,” Sam said.

  Moranna smiled at him. “Have I been a pain?”

  Sam recognized the question and the way it was presented. She hadn’t made a statement like that before. He considered his reply.

  “I wouldn’t put it in past tense,” Sam finally said. “But as you said, I am still making progress. There is progress in everything, and everything moves at its own pace.”

  Moranna frowned. “You sound like my father.”

  “And who is your father?”

  “He is the village mayor in a large town to the west of Hizor.”

  “So what is village life like? I’ve been through villages, but I haven’t lived in one, unless the Order is like a village.”

  Moranna snorted. “The Order of Ren isn’t like a village. It is more like Hizor than anyone wants to admit, but without the nasty humor.”

  Sam agreed with that.
“Can you tell me more?”

  Moranna began to describe her life. She had been a good student and was about to go to the academy at Hizor when a member of the Order arrived, scouting out the local talent. Moranna was far above the ability of others her age, so she was asked to come along.

  Sam thought her being identified was similar to Ziggy Smallbug’s tour of the rest of Mariopa, finding malleable ward makers for Kreb’s army.

  Her early life sounded a lot like the kind of living one would do in Cherryton, Sam decided.

  When she finished, her coquettish comment was long forgotten, at least for the present Sam hoped.

  “I’ve decided I will show Plantian my pollen work tonight when we go to the Vaarekian restaurant in the town,” Sam said. “Do you want to come?”

  Moranna frowned. “I can’t tonight, but another night, and maybe not that restaurant?”

  Sam smiled. “It will be a pleasure,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He grabbed his sword and followed her down the stairs. She left through the front door, and Sam walked out into the back, pulling the sword from its sheath. He worked through Lashakan forms, since they were less taxing on his strength, but he still found the energy to do old ones that he had learned while at the Royal Constabulary at Baskin, years ago.

  Sam was able to work up a decent sweat, and then he pulled out the pocket watch that Banna had given him when he first arrived in Polistia. As expected, it told him he would have to hurry.

  Plantian knocked on the door just as Sam finished pulling on his boots.

  “Are you ready to taste something?” Plantian said.

  “As always,” Sam said.

  They walked down the stairs and out into the twilight. Alloren’s streets were beginning to empty as people made their way home. They passed an alleyway where Sam heard the scuffle of boots on the cobbles.

  He turned in time to see three men, knives bared, approaching them. Sam drew the wand he always went out with and thought that Plantian needed armor to protect him from the thieves. Sam created some for himself in the few seconds before the men reached them.

  “Plantian Plunk and Sam Smith. The Dictator has finally found you. Prepare to die!”

  The ex-professor looked at the man, feeling his chest. He looked quizzically at Sam just as the attacker drove his knife into the armor. It stuck there. Plantian seemed to come out of his daze. Sam quickly turned his attention to the others.

  He slammed his wand into the wrist of one of the knife wielders and heard the clatter of the blade hitting the cobbles while he turned to face the other attacker. As he did so, the man he had disarmed grabbed Sam’s elbows and held him, so the other attacker could easily drive a knife into Sam’s body.

  Sam tried not to panic and created a block of pollen, not just manacles, but a block covering the man’s front including his arms. The weight drove the man forward into Sam, but all it accomplished was to bring all three to the ground in a heap. Sam rolled away and put a similar block on the other man while he looked at Plantian, arms folded, standing over the other assailant, manacled hand and foot.

  “Impressive, Sam. I imagine you were going to tell me at some point in time that you can now create pollen?”

  “Tonight, actually,” Sam said. “I hadn’t expected it to be quite so dramatic.”

  “Novel and dramatic,” Plantian said. “Excuse me.” He put a thin coating of his own pollen over the blocks. “Evidently you can’t see pollen, and the pollen that you create can’t be seen.”

  Sam nodded. “Moranna knows, and she has helped me figure out how to make the stuff.”

  “Still, it should be a closely-held secret, if you ask me. Would you be a good sport and remove the pollen armor that you deposited on me? You forgot about making it removable.”

  Sam colored. “I wasn’t thinking very much.” He took out his gold tip and cut through the shoulder pieces. Plantian let it fall to the ground.

  Alloren constables finally showed up.

  “These men accosted us with weapons,” Plantian said. “Unfortunately, or I should say, fortunately, they underestimated my ability to use pollen. One of them said they were here as messengers, or assassins as truth be told, from Viktar Kreb. If you have any questions about their intent,” Plantian picked up the armor with the knife embedded.

  “You overdid it with these two,” one of the constables said.

  “One does what they can when rushed, don’t you think?”

  The constable laughed. “I think.”

  Plantian pulled Sam along the cobbles and entered the Vaarekian restaurant. It was empty. They walked to the kitchen to see four bodies on the floor.

  “No spicy goodness, tonight,” Plantian said. “I shudder to think these people died because I live in Alloren. I shouldn’t have told anyone we were coming.” He bent down and closed the eyes of the owner who had always served them. “The assassins will not last long in Alloren.”

  The constables were astonished at the carnage at the restaurant. “You should retreat to the Order,” he said.

  They returned to the house and retrieved their spice bags and found an open table at the little restaurant Sam had first visited with Moranna. They sat in silence for a bit.

  “We will have to leave,” Sam said.

  “And leave, and leave, and leave.” Plantian shook his head. “I fear I shall never be safe on Polistia again.”

  “Until Banna destroys Viktar Kreb.”

  Plantian shook his head. “She is juggling too many pieces. If she fails,” he said, “the revolution will be too small to do much good.”

  Sam didn’t agree. “Not if everyone fights Kreb together. The Zogazin aren’t pacifists,” Sam said. “I’ve talked to them. Perhaps the Order of Ren won’t wade into battle until it is too late.” He told Plantian about his escape from Tolloy, and how villagers cut down the Vaarekian soldiers.

  “Are you going to join them?”

  Sam shrugged. “I don’t know what I will do. I don’t know anything about battle tactics, other than applying some common sense, but I can fight.”

  “You can do more than fight. You saved my life tonight. Before I had an inkling of what was going on, you slapped that armor on me. That was very good for your first try—”

  “It wasn’t my first try,” Sam said. “I’ve been working for a few weeks on different things. Look at my blocks. If I knew more, those would have been manacles, like you created.”

  “Manacles don’t stop a knife’s thrust,” Plantian said.

  There was that, Sam thought. “We were a pretty good team, eh?” Sam said.

  “Bah! I’m still an old man,” Plantian said, “but as I think back, we didn’t do so bad, given the circumstance.”

  “Let’s get a good meal inside of us before we tell Pilkis we will be leaving soon.” Sam ached to have Emmy at his side on the road, but that wasn’t to be. Moranna might be sad to see him go. It looked like this might have been another of Sam’s truncated romantic relationships. It made him sigh.

  “Sad to go?” Plantian said.

  “Overdue, but as long as our spice bags hold out, I’m fine.”

  For having survived such a traumatic attack, Sam actually enjoyed his dinner.

  ~

  “Incredible!” Pilkis said, after hearing the real story behind the attack the previous night. He gazed at Sam with wonder in his eyes. “You are still unique, even though you can create pollen like everyone else.”

  “Not like everyone else,” Hadis Torkin said. “We will document everything, but our conclusions will remain held within the Order until Viktar Kreb is defeated.”

  “You don’t object to us leaving?” Sam asked.

  “Just another day of work, and you can leave,” Pilkis said. “I have some things I’d like to see you try, wards being one of them.”

  “I will have to make the attempt,” Sam said.

  “According to Banna, you understand more about wards than most magicians,” Plantian said. />
  Sam shrugged. “We can see if I can take theory and convert it to practice. We can try right now if there is some empty place that can take a few explosions.”

  “That will be no problem,” Pilkis said as he grabbed his notebook and let them out.

  Sam was surprised that one side of the Order compound bordered an open field, now fallow on the other side.

  “This is our expansion land,” Hadis said. “We generally grow crops, but this is a fallow season. Explode away.”

  Sam walked to a ramshackle table at the edge of the field and thought about what kind of wards to make. He saw a pile of dried bushes a few paces away and began to cut forearm length sticks. After he had more than ten, he laid them on the table.

  “I saw Banna do something similar with a bow and arrow. We will have to make do with a toss,” Sam said.

  “Go on,” Plantian said, his face showing as much excitement as Pilkis’s.

  Sam picked up a stick and laid down what he thought was a triple-layered ward. The bottom layer was smoke, the middle the explosion, and the top layer was the trigger. He put his gold tip to his forehead and closed his eyes, examining his work. It looked right since he had seen similar wards often enough when Banna taught him her craft.

  He held the stick and tossed it as far out into the field as he could. The explosion was deafening, and they were all pelted with dirt. Sam opened his eyes to see a column of smoke ascend into the sky.

  “I think it works,” Sam said sheepishly.

  “Try something a little less dramatic,” Pilkis said, brushing off his clothes along with everyone else.

  Sam made one with smoke only. That was a little less dramatic, but it worked, too. Sam smiled. He was in Zogaz, wasn’t he? The next stick was a stench stick. Sam didn’t know what Banna used as a model for her smell that cleared the conference room at Port Hassin in Wollia, but he gave it his best shot.

  This was a distinct advantage to a pollen magician, Sam thought, as his weapon cleared onlookers off the field. He coughed and gagged along with the rest. When they reached the wall and looked at the stench smoke dissipate, Hadis was the first to laugh, and then the other two couldn’t hold it in. Sam joined them in their mirth. He thought they acted like twelve-year-old boys playing a prank, and it made him feel good inside.