by R. L. King
He thought about that, turning around to face her. “I suppose you might be right. I mean, I’d prefer they didn’t happen—losing several hours on a trip that should have taken less than five minutes can get inconvenient—but as long as they’re occurring, I won’t deny it’s intriguing to track down what’s behind them.”
“Maybe you should team up with Ian and run around the world looking for magical weirdness.”
He led her into the sitting room, poured them both glasses of wine, and settled on the sofa. “Not sure he’d be interested. From the look of things, he’s inherited my sense of adventure, but not as much of my curiosity.”
“Give him time. This is all new to him, and he’s got a lot to explore.”
“Yes, but…”
“But what?”
“Well, from what I’ve been hearing from him, he seems more interested in exploring the local party scene than anything to do with magic.”
She snuggled into his shoulder. “Mind some unsolicited advice from somebody a lot closer to his age?”
“Do enlighten me. I miss these things sometimes, being in my dotage.”
She punched his arm. “Shut up, silly. I’m just trying to say—he’s young, he’s had a lot of stuff change on him fast, and for the first time in his life he’s got the freedom to be himself. I think it’s good for him—and I also think it’s good that you’re letting him do it.”
“I can’t very well stop him,” Stone pointed out. “He’s over eighteen—and besides, I doubt I could control him if I wanted to.”
“Yeah, I know. But you gave him some money and told him to go have fun. That will mean a lot to him. From the sound of it, all his life he’s had people not only telling him what to do, but forcing him to pretend to be what he isn’t. That’s hard, trust me. Let him get it out of his system he’ll come back to you.”
Stone nodded, but didn’t reply.
“You’re worried he won’t be as focused on magic as you think he should be, aren’t you?”
As usual, she’d zeroed in on his concern. “Not...worried, per se. But I am concerned about his being a black mage without a teacher. It can be dangerous for black mages if they’re given incorrect or incomplete training during their apprenticeships. He’s got such potential, and I don’t want him to lose the opportunity to take advantage of it.”
She took his hand. “Have you tried to find him a teacher?”
“I’ve sent out a few feelers. The difficult part is that I don’t know that many black mages. I even contacted Matthew Caldwell, but he wouldn’t even take my call. He’s never forgiven me for…” He dropped his gaze.
“For what happened with Deirdre,” she finished softly. “I know. I’m sorry.” She snuggled in closer and sipped her wine. “Hey, what about that guy you always go to for magical information? The one who always makes you pay for lunch?”
“Stefan?” Stone blinked, startled. “No—I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Why not? You said he’s really powerful. And he’s local, so Ian might stick around more.”
He pondered. He hadn’t ever considered Stefan Kolinsky as a potential master for Ian. He hadn’t even revealed his son’s existence to his friend, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. It likely had to do with the nature of their relationship: he thought they might have grown a bit more amicable over the years they’d known each other, but essentially they still maintained a trader’s give-and-take regarding any information, favors, or magical items they exchanged. If Stefan were even willing to take Ian on as an apprentice, what would he ask in return?
That wasn’t the only problem, either, if he had to admit it. “He’s…I don’t think he’d be right for Ian. You’ve never met him—if you had, you’d see what I mean. He’s…quite old-fashioned. Rigid. Set in his ways. I suspect if he’d even consider such an arrangement, he and Ian wouldn’t be terribly compatible in their styles.”
“Are you hinting around the fact that he’d have a problem with Ian being gay?”
“I…honestly don’t know. It’s not the sort of thing we’ve ever discussed. But even if he didn’t, based on my nearly ten-year acquaintance with Stefan, I have a feeling his teaching methods would make William Desmond look like an easygoing slacker by comparison.”
She took another sip of wine. “Maybe. But people can surprise you sometimes. Would it hurt to ask him? You should at least tell him about Ian. From what you’ve said about him, he’d probably be pretty offended if he found out from somebody other than you, right?”
“Well…yes, I suppose he would. And it’s not as if I’ve got anything to hide.” He finished his wine and levitated the glass to the table, holding it in place long enough for Raider to lose interest in knocking it to the floor. “In any case, I should probably ask him about the anomalies—he’s likely to be my best option for finding out what’s going on.”
Her wineglass joined his on the table and she snuggled closer. “Great. So, now that I’ve solved all your current problems for you, how about you solve one of mine?” Her eyes glittered in the dimness, and the way she looked at him left no doubt as to the nature of her “problem.”
He rose, pulling her up with him. “Brilliant idea. Always happy to be of assistance.”
13
Stone didn’t have a class the next day, so on a whim he drove over to Stefan Kolinsky’s shop in East Palo Alto. He had no idea if Kolinsky was even around—the man seemed to be away more often than he was home these days—but he figured he could at least tell Verity he’d tried.
To his surprise, he found the black mage in his usual place in the back room, crouched next to a solid black, humanoid construct the size of a small child.
“Never thought you were the type to play with dolls, Stefan,” he called, chuckling.
Kolinsky rose gracefully to his feet, removing a pair of wire-rimmed glasses with several lenses attached to them. “Good afternoon, Alastair. It has been a while.”
“Been busy, as usual.” He studied the object, shifting to magical sight. As he suspected, faint arcane energy hung around it, but he couldn’t identify its exact nature. “So, what is that thing, if you don’t mind telling me?”
“It is a piece I acquired recently from an…unusual source. The lore around it claims it is a receptacle for a human spirit…a soul, as it were.”
“Indeed?” Interested now, Stone moved closer. “Anybody we know?”
“I do not believe it is functional any longer. It is at least a thousand years old, and if it did in fact contain a human soul, it has long since departed.” He removed the glasses and waved his hand, moving the black construct to the other side of the room, where he covered it with a cloth. “But surely you have not come to examine my acquisitions. What can I do for you, Alastair?”
“I thought I might take you to lunch and discuss a couple of things with you.”
Kolinsky’s eyebrow crept up. “I will never turn down lunch and intriguing conversation. I have heard good things about the new Eritrean restaurant in Los Altos.”
“Eritrean it is, then. We’ll go when you’re ready.”
Stone didn’t say much on the way to the restaurant, and Kolinsky seemed content to look out the window and leave them both to their thoughts. Stone still wasn’t sure whether he’d bring up Ian—he supposed the magical anomalies would be a sufficient topic to keep them engaged for an hour or so, but he decided to play the rest of it by ear.
The restaurant was small, set back on a side street, but the crowd was large enough Stone was glad he’d thought to make a reservation. When they were seated at a secluded booth near a party of khaki-clad tech workers and sipping wine, Stone studied the menu, then regarded Kolinsky across the table. “So,” he said. “Something odd happened to me this weekend, and I wanted to get your thoughts about it.”
“To hear you call something ‘odd’ must mean it is unusual indeed,” Kolinsky said calmly.
“Well, I’ve certainly never heard of anything like it.” T
he server came by and they both took her recommendation for their order; Stone watched her go until she disappeared around a corner, then recounted the story of the portal glitch and the events in Devil’s Creek.
Kolinsky listened attentively, leaning forward a bit, his obsidian-chip eyes never leaving Stone. When the story ended, he remained silent.
“So? Any thoughts? Have you ever heard of anything like that before?”
“I…am not certain.” Kolinsky paused for another sip from his drink. “I have heard of peculiarities in the portals—most recently the events from a few years ago, with the extradimensional entities.”
“Yes, but this has nothing to do with the Evil. I’m certain of it. The Evil drove people mad, or occasionally tore them to pieces. They never caused time glitches.”
“And you are certain it was an issue with time inside the portal?”
Stone narrowed his eyes. “What else would it be? It doesn’t take several hours to go from Sunnyvale to Chicago.”
“No…but when considering situations such as this, there are two likely causes: either something is amiss with the portal, or you yourself experienced an event.”
“You’re saying something happened with me? I thought about that, but it doesn’t fit. I didn’t pass out in the portal, Stefan. I’m certain of it. I walked through just as I always do. I saw the colors and heard the sounds.”
“Are you certain?” Kolinsky still sounded calm and untroubled.
Stone thought about it. Was he sure? Illusions were insidious things—they were one of the few types of magic that could affect people regardless of power level, because they relied on the mind more than magical ability. He hadn’t been expecting an illusion in the Overworld. Why would he? It would be like expecting to see an illusion on the Tube in London. It could happen, of course—hell, it had happened to him. But the likelihood was so low it wouldn’t be the first—or even the tenth—explanation he’d settle on for something strange going on.
“Well…” he said slowly, “I suppose I can’t say I am, now that you mention it. Are you suggesting I was fooled by an illusion and something or someone—what—knocked me out for several hours? It doesn’t make any sense. Why would they do that? And in any case, wouldn’t I have noticed when I woke up?”
“It is an intriguing question,” Kolinsky admitted. “You may well be correct: it was simply a one-time anomaly. For something that is used as frequently as the Overworld portals, the level of understanding as to their nature and their specific operation is surprisingly low. You know this as well as I do.”
Stone did know it, and it often troubled him. Most of the public portals had been built many years ago, and each new generation of mages showed less inclination to study the difficult, calculation-intensive branch of magic required to design and construct new ones and keep the old ones functioning if they experienced problems. Stone himself was one of the few mages he knew of with any kind of deep understanding of portal science, and even he wasn’t confident in his ability to diagnose this kind of issue, let alone fix it.
“All right, well, let’s put that aside for the moment. I’m willing to accept the ‘one-time anomaly’ hypothesis if I don’t hear of anyone else experiencing similar issues. But the business in Devil’s Creek has me a lot more nervous.”
Their meals arrived, and Stone paused to sample the unfamiliar cuisine, a tangy meat stew called tsebhi served over a flatbread called injera. “Good call, Stefan. This is excellent.”
“It is indeed. And I think you are wise to be concerned about the events in Devil’s Creek. Usually I hear of such things, but this one, regrettably, slipped through my information network.”
“Not surprised—even you can’t hear about everything. I only heard of it myself because a friend of a friend lives in the area. But what do you think it could be?”
“I should ask you the same question, since you observed the phenomenon firsthand.”
Stone sighed. “I’ve been going over my notes since I got back, and I’m not coming up with much. Based on what I saw, I’d almost say it looked like some sort of rift opening to—somewhere else. But I’ve no idea where, or why. There were quite a lot of echoes in the old mill, but I’ve never heard of echoes opening dimensional rifts. Have you?”
“I have not.”
“I suspect the man I spoke with and his sister might both be latent talents, which could explain why the energy affected them differently—or even that they were the catalysts for bringing it into being in the first place. But once I managed to block the energy, the sister doesn’t remember anything about what happened to her. And the brother is so hopelessly mundane that I doubt I’d get anything out of him. His father and the clergyman have probably already convinced him he dreamed the whole thing up, or the devil was giving him visions. He probably wouldn’t talk to me even if I went back there.”
“And you got no useful readings from the energy?”
“Not really. Whatever the rift was, the energy wasn’t strong. I suppose I should be glad for that—if it was, those kids would probably be dead. And I couldn’t get any decent data from the girl because her brother practically chucked me out the window before the others arrived.”
Kolinsky considered. “Fascinating.”
“Do you have any idea what it might be? What might have caused it? And most importantly, whether it’s likely to occur again?”
“Let me do a bit of research—on both the portal and the other events. I will contact you if I discover anything.”
“Thank you. And what do you want in payment?”
“This intrigues me—I would have heard of it eventually through my sources, and investigated even if you had not approached me with it. So I will say in this case, the information itself can serve as payment.”
“All right, then,” Stone said, surprised. “Thank you. And if you hear of any similar situations, please let me know. I’m probably winding myself up over nothing—these events were likely isolated incidents—but if not, I’d like the chance to go in with a bit more preparation and get some better data.”
“Of course.”
Stone settled back, forcing himself to concentrate on the excellent meal instead of his continuing mental turmoil about whether to reveal Ian’s existence to Kolinsky. It was one of those situations he experienced now and then—the ones where he pictured himself standing on the edge of a cliff or poised in a doorway, and his next steps had the potential to be irrevocable. As much as he valued his association with Kolinsky, the man and his motivations remained nearly as much of an enigma now as he had been when they’d met almost ten years ago.
“Alastair?”
Stone jerked his head up. “Yes? Oh—sorry. Checked out there for a moment.”
“You look as if you have something else on your mind. Were there any other anomalies you wished to discuss?”
Stone chuckled at the thought. Is Ian an anomaly? I suppose in a way he is. He could never do anything the normal way, that was certain. “There is something else, but it’s a…different subject.”
Kolinsky waited.
Here goes… “I’m looking for someone willing to take on an apprentice.”
“An apprentice.” Kolinsky tilted his head. “I would have thought you had other resources better suited to—”
“A black mage, Stefan.”
“Indeed.” He set his fork down. “That is…unusual. Black magic at the apprentice level is uncommon, as I am sure you know.”
“Yes, believe me, I’m aware. And this one is more unusual than most. He’s nineteen years old, only recently discovered his magical abilities, and was trained for two years by a black mage who had few strictures against pursuing the darkest corners of the Art.”
“I see. And where is this teacher now?”
“Dead.”
“At whose hand, if I may inquire?”
“It’s…complicated. I suppose ultimately it was mine, but I didn’t kill her directly. I don’t want to go into the details—t
hey’re not relevant at present.” Stone had Kolinsky’s full attention now, but that didn’t mean he intended to spill everything. “The relevant bit is that I’m looking for a teacher for this young man, and circumstances have limited my options. He’s got the potential to be a brilliant mage, but as I’m sure you understand he needs to be handled carefully. Complicating matters is the fact that he’s had a difficult life, and now that he’s got his freedom, he’s understandably reluctant to focus on a rigorous program of study.”
Kolinsky sipped his wine. “I will begin by asking the obvious question: why do you not teach him yourself? It seems the most logical choice.”
The precipice loomed. Stone studied the black mage for a moment, meeting his calm, settled gaze. “I can’t do that, Stefan.”
“Oh? Why not?”
“Because he’s my son.”
Both of Kolinsky’s eyebrows elevated, but all he said was, “Indeed.”
“Long story. I’d rather not go into it right now. But I’ve done the necessary checks, and he is my son. I’m certain of it. I tried training him for a bit on my own before I knew he was a black mage, and it…didn’t go well. There were extenuating circumstances.” He sighed. “I’m at a bit of a loss, to be honest. As I said, he’s got immense potential—I can see that already. He’s irrevocably black, since he ashed someone while studying under his former master, but he’s not interested in pursuing that path any longer. He’s also quite…stubborn.”
“That does not surprise me, if he is truly your son,” Kolinsky said with a faint, arch smile.
“Yes, well, I can hardly argue with that. I’m actually a bit surprised you hadn’t already heard. I thought that information network of yours would have picked it up, and I was afraid you might be offended that I didn’t tell you earlier.”
“Your business is your own, Alastair, and no, I had not heard. Where is the boy now?”
“Who knows? I think he’s still in Prague. He’s met a group of mages over there who seem more interested in the local nightlife than rigorous study.”
