Halfway (Wizards and Faeries) Page 9

  “Do people ever fail?”

  “Rarely. Good luck to you, lad.” He followed Temet to the door. “It’s down the hall. Take a left. Can’t miss it.”

  “Thank you.” Temet’s stomach was swimming with anxiety again. He tried to calm himself. Only rarely did people fail. The test was just a formality. He would do excellently.

  He walked down the hall and soon came to the door to the Ten Ring’s chamber. It was a large gray thing with spires at the top. Temet bit his lip, staring. It was obviously designed to awe and terrify.

  He reached out to open it, but the door opened of its own accord into a dark chamber beyond. There was a single pool of light in the middle of the chamber. Temet could see ten unnaturally tall figures, robed, standing in a circle around the light. He peered closer. The figures were standing on daises, wearing cloaks long enough to cover the daises and make them appear taller.

  It was all about intimidation. Temet refused to be intimidated.

  “Enter, Temet Islander.”

  That was the surname everyone had given him after he had described to the Order his home on the cliff, even though when he got older he had realized his home had been on a peninsula, not an island.

  Heaving a breath, Temet entered the room.

  “Stand in the light,” the voice boomed again. He couldn’t tell which of the tall figures it came from. He moved to the light, obediently.

  He could only see the lower part of their faces. Some were men, some were women, all a variety of ages, but none as young as he was. The top parts of their faces were veiled in black to hide their eyes from him. More intimidation. On their cloth-covered foreheads the moon-eye glowed, probably through Magic.

  He stood in the light in front of all of them. He must not feel uncomfortable. That was what they wanted.

  A woman spoke. “Temet Islander, you have been a part of the university for only two years, but you far outstrip your peers in most fields of Magic. Why is that?”

  What was the title used for a member of the Ten Ring? “I am not sure, One-Who-Holds-The-World-Together.” There, he had said the title right. “I study hard.”

  “Things come easily to you.”

  “Yes, One-Who-Holds-The-World-Together.”

  “You think it has nothing to do with your being a Halfway?”

  Temet swallowed. So they knew about that, then. Only a few in the Order had the knowledge to recognize him as a Halfway. Faerie and half-faerie studies were obscure branches of knowledge, and only those who bothered to look in the right books—as Aesath had—could recognize him on sight as a Halfway. Or so he had thought.

  “I don’t know any others who are Halfway, so I can’t compare. I suppose it may have something to do with my accelerated learning rate.” He swallowed. “One-Who-Holds-The-World-Together.”

  “Mmm.” Another of the Ten Ring, a man this time, spoke up. “Do you consider yourself superior to your classmates because of this?”

  “No, One-Who-Holds-The-World-Together, only different.” He didn’t mention that one of those differences was that all his classmates, even the girls, were a full head taller than he was. Being Halfway was a mixed blessing.

  “Hmmm. Now, to your manner of arriving here: most… unorthodox. You say you were picked up by an Order ship containing one Aylward, no known surname. Yet no ship was sent out, and a man by the name of Aylward, who matches the description you gave us, died years before you were supposedly retrieved by him.”

  “He kidnapped me, One-Who-Holds-The-World-Together. I know nothing about him, except that he was very much alive when he kidnapped me, but was lost with the ship in a storm at sea.”

  A few of the Ten Ring murmured to themselves.

  “So he was alive?” the Ten Ring man asked. “This is a most puzzling mystery. As to the ship, the truth is much clearer: a convoy of three of our ships, sent out some months before you were discovered at sea, never returned.”

  Another Ten Ring wizard spoke, a much older man. “Do you think it is possible this lad destroyed the ships and made up the tale about this Aylward?”

  “No!” cried Temet. “How could you even think that? I was ten years old! I couldn’t have destroyed three ships—”

  “We questioned the men from the ship that brought you in. They said that just before they spotted you adrift in the lifeboat, they felt as though their ship was being pulled against the wind, the wrong way if you will, towards your lifeboat. That certainly suggests enough power to destroy the convoy and make up the story.”

  “I was kidnapped! Stolen from my family! I didn’t want to come here! I hated it here for the first year I was in the Orphan House! I had family back home when I was taken; why would I want to leave them?”

  More murmuring among the Ten Ring.

  “You say all of this, yet the mystery remains: who was this Aylward, so conveniently lost at sea?”

  “I don’t know, One-Who-Holds-The-World-Together! Maybe he wasn’t really dead!”

  “Why would he fake his own death to do what he could do just as easily alive?”

  Another wizard broke in, one with a gravelly voice. “And there is the matter of the accident on the way here.”

  “Yes, One-Who-Holds-The-World-Together. I and three other wizards were nearly killed by faulty air masks.”

  “Yet you were the only one who did not fall unconscious immediately.”

  “The other wizards were all much older than I am, One-Who-Holds-The-World-Together. It stands to reason they would succumb first.”

  “Why was the equipment faulty? That has never happened before.”

  “I do not know, One-Who-Holds-The-World-Together.” Temet grew frustrated. Why all the questions? Gringwell had said there had only been a few. These were being hurled at him like stones.

  “Is it possible that you wish to get revenge on the Order for the matter of your supposed kidnapping?” asked another wizard.

  “The rescue… very convincing,” said the first, the woman. “If you had just waited a few more minutes, they would have been dead for certain.”

  “I passed out as well! My air mask was faulty, too!” shouted Temet. “If I wanted to kill them, why would I have tried to save them? I dragged them to safety, and nearly died doing that!”

  “Gringwell saved you. Interesting that he did… the wizard who brought you here against your will.”

  “I hold him no grudge, One-Who-Holds-The-World-Together.” This was true. His grudge was against the entire Order, not just one of its products.

  “I think you are a dangerous man, Temet Islander,” said another woman. “You have too many questions about you, too many secrets we cannot unravel.”

  “I agree,” said another.

  Temet’s breath grew quick. What if they failed him? He hadn’t asked Gringwell or Aesath what happened to the wizards who failed. Perhaps they didn’t even know. Death, perhaps? Would they kill him?

  “I think you have revenge in your heart, and hatred for your fellow wizards,” said one of the male wizards.

  Temet’s palms were wet; he felt himself beginning to panic. He must not panic. No. He was innocent… why did they want to paint him as guilty?

  Relaxing, Temet reached out with his mind. The Ten Ring were just wizards like himself, albeit powerful ones. One-Who-Holds-The-World-Together? Did they really? He relaxed further, feeling his senses searching out their minds.

  There were ten of them. Ten wizards who, despite all their power, feared something. He probed deeper. Emotion. They were afraid of him! He was growing strong, a powerful wizard already, and they felt threatened. That was why they were trying to frame him for the accident with the air masks.

  He felt the wizards’ minds pushing him back. They had abilities, too, but with his Halfway abilities, he was stronger than any of them. He would always be stronger, just as a healthy adult would always be stronger than a baby. He could feel their howls of rage, because they knew this.

  He saw images… heads together, plotting�
� a slim knife making just the right hole in air mask equipment… then Temet had received the summons…

  They had placed the defective air masks! They had tried to kill him! They had known he would come when summoned and they had known that only certain platforms had the capacity to reach the Ten Ring tower. But they hadn’t known which air mask he would take, so they had had to destroy all of them. But they had failed… and now they accused him of the murder so they could execute him!

  The Ten Ring’s howls of rage increased as he probed into each of their minds. No. They were fighting back. He withdrew a little. They still fought him, together. He withdrew all the way.

  He could see them concentrating, trying to rip into his mind. Why? He had withdrawn from theirs. What were they doing?

  He felt them flip through his memories like pages in a book. He gritted his teeth as they focused a memory of ten years ago, soon after he had arrived at the Order:

  Temet lay face down on his bed, screaming into a pillow. He was beyond caring if anyone heard him. It had taken a few days for his grief at losing Nessy and Cemagna to sink in, but it finally had, and now it overcame him. He alternated between sobbing and screaming curses at Aylward or the Wizardly Order. Usually he cursed both. He knew very few curses, so he soon went back to wordless screaming and sobbing.

  He awoke several hours later, having worn himself out in his rage. His throat was raw and he was thirsty. Aesath sat staring at him from his bed, where, as usual, twenty or thirty books were spread around him. His eyes were solemn.

  “I’m sorry, Temet,” he said.

  Temet swallowed. “No, Aesath. They’re the ones who will be sorry.”

  Temet felt the grief afresh as the memory surfaced. He shoved at the Ten Ring’s Magic, trying to oust them from his mind, but it felt like fighting a waterfall. He was so sleepy… why was he so sleepy?

  One of them found another memory.

  He wore the black scarf same as the rest of them now.

  It had been four years since Temet had been brought to the Wizardly Order, and in all that time, he had never been allowed to leave the floating city that was the Order. His prison, he called it in his mind.

  But today, as a reward for helping Aesath with one of his potions, Aesath had begged his superiors that Temet should be allowed to accompany him on one of his trips to nearby Vel City, where Aesath frequently purchased supplies needed for his potions and experiments. Aesath’s superiors had reluctantly agreed, after informing Temet in no uncertain terms that should he run away during this excursion, Aesath would be flogged for every day he was gone.

  Temet had to admit it was an unsettlingly effective deterrent to escaping. The simple thought of his friend flogged senseless on his account sent shivers down his spine.

  “Here,” Aesath had said, handing him the black scarf of the Wizardly Order before they left for the city. “You’re one of the Order now, so you have to look the part when you go out among people. It’s the law of the Order. Try it on; it’s very comfortable.”

  Obediently, Temet wrapped the scarf around his neck. He didn’t mind. He was excited to be going into the city, among people who weren’t the Wizardly Order. That was all that mattered.

  When they reached the city, Aesath led Temet to the Common, the outdoor marketplace where he did his shopping. As Aesath haggled with a seller over the price of two vials of liquid silver and a jar of herbs, Temet looked around at the people around them. The Common was filled with shoppers browsing among the goods for sale.

  A little girl caught his attention. She had brown hair, not white, but she reminded him of Cemagna nonetheless.

  She was standing with a woman, the woman’s back to him as she browsed. Her mother, probably. Or maybe a sister. The little girl clutched the woman’s hand, while with her other hand she hugged a ragged doll to her chest.

  When the little girl turned and caught his gaze, he felt suddenly awkward, surprising himself. He managed a small wave of his fingers in her direction, then smiled, feeling even more awkward.

  She gave him a little smile in return.

  He crouched down to her level, only a few feet of distance separating him from her. He pointed at the doll in her hand. She looked at it, puzzled by what he could mean.

  In the back of his mind, Temet quietly fashioned a spell and unleashed it, using his fingertips to guide the spell. As the girl watched, the doll in her hands changed. The ragged patches faded away, replaced with smooth, new fabric. The faded colors of the doll’s dress brightened; the cracked black bead that was one of the doll’s eyes repaired itself.

  Lastly, the doll’s tangled hair rearranged itself into two soft braids.

  The little girl stared down at the doll. Then, eyes wide, she stared up at Temet, whose fingers were still poised from guiding the spell. He gave her a knowing smile.

  She gasped, eyes lighting up with joy.

  The woman heard the little girl’s gasp and turned around. She took one look at Temet, her eyes fixed on the black Wizardly Order scarf, and pulled the little girl closer to her, gaze full of suspicion. The girl looked puzzled, said something that Temet could not hear over the babble of the marketplace, and pointed at Temet.

  The woman took a firm grip on the little girl’s hand and led her away, casting suspicious glances over her shoulder at Temet as she went. In a matter of moments, the woman and the little girl were lost in the crowd.

  “Temet!” Aesath said. “What are you doing down there?”

  Temet realized he was still crouched in the dirt at the little girl’s level. He rose quickly and brushed the dirt from himself. “Did you get what you needed?”

  Aesath triumphantly held up the herbs and vials of silver liquid. “All done! Now we’ve got to go to the threadgrass shop.” Aesath noticed his expression. “Temet, what is the matter?”

  “There was a little girl… and a woman…” Temet tried to find words. “Aesath, do people fear us because we’re wizards?”

  “You learn to get used to it,” his friend said softly.

  Temet hadn’t thought of the day with the little girl in a long time. That day had cut him to the heart, and he had never gone out into the city again. Not that they had let him. But Aesath had sensed that the experience had hurt him, and hadn’t wanted to expose him to it again.

  “He has a kind heart,” said one of the Ten Ring.

  “A weak, soft heart,” said another.

  Temet was still sleepy. He knew the Ten Ring was doing this to him. Any kind of mental fog was the death knell to Magic.

  They continued looking through his memories.

  His Apprenticeship over, Temet had finally entered the University. Perhaps here he would finally find the sense of belonging he had longed for.

  The University was only one branch of the giant, sprawling organization that was the Wizardly Order. After Aesath had graduated, he had taken up residence at the University as a researcher, which allowed him time for experiments and time away from the plots, plans, and politics that plagued the rest of the Order. Everyone left the researchers alone, because they were the ones who always developed the amazing new potions, spells, and things everyone else could use.

  Even the Enforcers, whom Temet could never think of without a shudder, left their universal bullying and intimidation at the doorstep when they were around researchers.

  Temet could become a researcher like Aesath. He could belong there. He could finally make the Wizardly Order his home.

  “Stop it!” Temet moaned through the sleepy fog they had cast over him. “Get out of my head, please.”

  It was six months after Temet joined the University that he saw the girl.

  He was on a platform, the air crisp and cold about him, on his way back to Aesath’s laboratory. Aesath had just sent him to Miran, who, annoyingly, had a lab all the way across the Order’s floating buildings from Aesath. Aesath had needed some sort of powder from Miran, but, being on the verge of another breakthrough with his research, had sent Temet
for it instead. Temet hadn’t minded; he enjoyed breathing the cool, open air when he was on the platforms.

  As his platform glided, like a bronze swan, back to Aesath, another platform drew close beside him. This was a normal occurrence; sometimes so many platforms would be in use at once that the sky would be filled with them, like a flock of bronze birds.

  As he bent down, studying a dial on the helm of the platform, he heard a soft cry. Looking up, he saw that on the platform beside him, a young girl stood between two wizards, an Enforcer looming behind them, swathed in faceless black.

  The girl, no more than twelve or thirteen, was sobbing softly, her arms wrapped around herself, hands darting up to wipe away tears.

  “Good morning!” Temet called to the wizards standing with the girl. “What have we there?” He kept his voice strong, in spite of feeling unsettled by the sight of the girl crying and the wizards’ obvious lack of concern.

  One of the wizards turned towards him, raising an arm in greeting. “Just another one whose mother tried to hide her from us.” He laughed. Not a cruel laugh. An ordinary laugh, as though stealing children from their parents was a normal thing, all in a day’s work.

  And it is for them, Temet realized. It’s perfectly normal; it was done to them and they see nothing wrong with continuing the chain. They’ve been so brainwashed they don’t see any wrong in this.

  Temet felt sick. After so many years at the Order, he had begun to feel his only option was to make the best of it and make the Order his home. He stared at the jar of powder in his hand. He had wanted to be a researcher, to bury his mind in books and never think about the monstrous organization he had been forced to become a part of. As he stared at the jar, the glistening blue powder shifting inside, he knew he would not be a researcher. He would never stand idly by while the Order continued its ugly work. For now, he would continue at the University, but he would begin looking for opportunities to strike back at them. And he would plan.