FORTY-EIGHT: The Machine

Dawn came. The red blob continued to spread across the map of Moon Thegund.

Alden and Kibby stayed alive.

Instructor Gwen-lor taught the class full of wizard tots magic, and Alden and Kibby studied with them. In the beginning, the first thing you had to learn was how to move your authority deliberately and with control. To do that, you had to feel it. That was the point of the beginner exercise, and it was why you were supposed to have a partner to poke at you.

It came naturally to the Artonan wizard class. Alden didn’t think he ever would have figured it out if he hadn’t been trapped in a chaos sandblaster, being poked from every direction with no means of escape while also being highly motivated to actually try for Kibby’s sake.

But he had figured it out. He’d obtained the supposedly unobtainable sixth sense, and he’d learned how to use it.

Then, finally, the lessons moved on to actual spell casting, and it…wasn’t that hard?

Well, it was. But it was hard in ways that had a lot more to do with basic physical and mental limitations than with his newfound sense for and control over his authority.

Artonans could think two thoughts at once. Literally. Two completely separate conscious mental processes. When they wanted to, they could work a math problem with one eyeball and read a book with another. They weren’t just good at multitasking, as Joe had once said, they were the gods of it.

Which was so unfair that Alden had to complain about it aloud every now and then.

“Facts are facts,” Kibby intoned, looking at him with one eye while the other was fixed on the tv. “They’re not required to be fair.”

“Ugh. You are so….what’s a friendly-mean word that says you are too proud of yourself?”

“Smug,” Kibby said smugly.

“You’re that,” said Alden, slouching on his learning cushion. Slouching was acceptable. Sitting on your butt was not. He knelt on it properly now like a respectful student.

“You’re moving forward faster than me,” Kibby said. “And they’re my lessons. That’s what isn’t fair.”

Kibby was very proud that she even had lessons. It was pretty uncommon for a child to be taught magic long distance. Most teachers, especially good teachers like Instructor Gwen-lor, found anything but in-person instruction insulting. They didn’t allow themselves to be recorded.

“I’m only faster because I’m older. And I’m an Avowed.”

She smiled and nodded determinedly.

Alden was lying. Kibby knew he was lying. But Artonans considered kind lies to children to be an act of love. It was grown-up manners he’d learned from one of the soaps. Not exactly a foreign concept for a human, though the Artonans took it way farther than he ever would have on his own.

If Kibby was expecting a loving lie, and he didn’t give it to her, it really hurt her feelings. On multiple levels. It was like in addition to forcing her to have the information she didn’t want, he was telling her that he didn’t care enough about her to protect her. He’d accidentally made her cry several times before he’d finally watched the right show and realized his mistake.

The truth was that Alden was pretty sure he was not better at magic because he was older. And due to some recent realizations, he was positive it wasn’t because he was an Avowed.

It was a strange thing to think, but he was growing fairly certain that he was just naturally more talented at authority control than Kibby. He was careful not to ask about it, since it was a painful subject for a girl who was pursuing wizardry so doggedly despite some sort of disadvantage.

But the more they partnered up and worked on manipulating their power together, the more he could tell. Authority was more than just strong or weak. There were multiple other elements involved in turning it from something you had into something you used to enact magic on the world around you. Kibby seemed to have power, but it was like it didn’t want to move for her.

She had the Artonan gift that had allowed her to know her authority and use it in the first place, but now that Alden had found his, too, he was outpacing her.

Not that it means I’m particularly good in comparison to other small Artonan children, though, he thought as he watched the kindergartners on the screen.

He couldn’t perform a huge percentage of even the most basic spells. And he would probably never be able to.

Artonans sure liked their magic ingredients and toys and tools and chants—things Instructor Gwen-lor said carried them through the maze of reality to a new destination. That metaphor meant nothing to Alden, and even if it had, he could not obtain the supplies or chant many of the chants.

Not enough octaves in his vocal register, and besides, trying to say one magic spell in his head and a different one with his mouth—a fairly common requirement—was like patting his head and rubbing his stomach times a thousand. You were supposed to mean the things you said, and he couldn’t mean two completely different words at once as far as he knew.

But Artonans and humans had really similar hands. And Alden’s little bit of enhanced dexterity plus lots of repetitions of the finger exercises were doing him some favors.

The spells were silly. They were for little bitty people after all. But Alden just followed the patterns with his fingers, wove his authority in and out of the imaginary symbols they made in the air, and presto. A series of musical notes sounded through the vault, matching the rhythm of his ring fingers as they flicked through the air.

It had required a few hours of practice and memorization to learn the signs.

It was useless.

And it was so damn cool.

“That is very good,” Kibby said.

You always complimented your partner when they got their spell right. Alden had gotten several right lately. He could light the promise sticks with one. With another, he could create tiny puffs of air that blew dust off of things. With a third, he was supposedly sanitizing his hands, though it was hard to know if it was working. He hoped Kibby would get one right soon, so that he could compliment her, too.

“Thank you.” Alden tried not to grin too much.

“You aren’t upset anymore.” She was staring at his face with both eyes now.

“What?”

“After you did that spell for the first time last week. You were upset. You left the vault in a hurry.”

“Oh, that. I hurt my finger a little. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to do it again. But it’s better now.”

“Which finger?” Kibby asked, her brows drawing together as she leaned over toward his cushion to examine him worriedly. “You are only good at hand casting. You must take better care of yourself and remember your stretches.”

“I will.”

“Let’s stretch now!”

“Oh. Sure.” Alden felt guilty about it, but he let her lead him through the hand stretches.

There was nothing at all wrong with his fingers.

#

They should have spent every waking minute in the vault. But they couldn’t. They’d go mad.

A few times they had tried and managed for multiple days, but one of them inevitably lost their temper or, more dangerously, they started to feel despondent. Authority wasn’t willpower, but you had to have at least a little willpower to keep asserting it when you were tired.

Sometimes, if you were depressed and tired and feeling sorry for yourself, it started to seem like too much trouble to right the askewness again. And again. And again.

So they did the best they could. And they had agreed to let themselves enjoy going outside.

On the grounds of the compound after their lesson that day, Kibby threw chunks of gravel at Alden enthusiastically. He caught each one, flicked his wrist, and dropped the preservation in a smooth motion so that they flew off in different directions. Momentum preserved and redirected. One after another in rapid succession.

Panting from exertion and clearly delighted, Kibby ran at him. “You’re so much better at it, Alden!” she crowed. “You never used to get it right, and now you’ve gotten it right every time!”

Alden gave a dramatic bow. “I am the great rock…er…direction changer?”

“Bouncer?”

“I am the rock bouncer.” He stood up. “And there’s something else. Hand me two pieces of gravel at once.”

Kibby’s face lit up with excitement. She grabbed two pieces of the pale gray gravel and flung them at him.

“Ouch,” he said. “Hand them to me this time. Not throw.”

“Oh! I am sorry.”

She politely put two pieces side-by-side in her palm and offered them to him.

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“They don’t have to be touching,” Alden said.

Her eyes widened. She moved the rocks apart, and Alden stared at them for a moment, concentrating, then he grabbed one in each hand.

“Yes,” he said, looking down at them. “Both preserved.”

“Let me feel!”

He shifted his weight from foot to foot to keep the skill going and held out his hands. She prodded at the rocks. “Alden, you did it! Two at once! Did you finally master the Art of Perceiving in Multiple Ways?”

“No,” said Alden.

The Art of Perceiving in Multiple Ways had been mentioned in passing by Instructor Gwen-lor, so Alden had been able to tell Kibby he thought perception would be important for practicing his skill without mentioning that Joe had given him the idea. “That’s still really difficult for me. I did it in a different way.”