Stone Magic

Helena heard her nursemaid calling and mentally acknowledged it as a reminder to hurry.  She had chosen her father's rooms for the spell and felt exposed in front of the cold fireplace.  Helena had already spilled about half the liquid from the stone bowl, but it would be enough, and the stone on stone scrape of the bottom as she slid it into position on the hearthstone seemed very loud.  Again, mentally acknowledged.  Hurry.

Wilson on Erie

The sea of grasses stretched out to the real sea, invisible beyond the line of curving trees, but sensed with sound, and smell, and taste.  The grasses mimicked the sea waves without the finishing roar on rocks, crushing them into sand.  A gull cried above the hissing rushes and circled away.  Lena watched him disappear.  She watched the grasses undulate.  She stood as still as one of the grave statues behind her.

If you were president, what would be the first law that you would pass?

"Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live."  Tara was sentenced to burn in three days, to coordinate with the Fall Festival.  All the town would be there to witness and pray for their own souls.  Tara's was, to them, already long gone.

If you had to perform some talent for us today, what would you do? What does your talent mean to you?

"Jorah slipped and fell into the gorge.  I can't see him anywhere.  I can't get down to him."  Filan was flushed and panting, having run the entire distance back to the Hall after his friend disappeared, hands scrabbling and useless, down the steep embankment to the rocks he knew were below.

Donno the Blacksmith was in conference with Hammon, so the Council's leader asked Donno to fetch other strong men and as long a rope as possible.  Even as he began the trek back to the gorge following the distraught Filan, Hamm began composing what he'd say to Prince Edman, Jorah's father.  At least they could bring up the boy's body to identify.  Other, lesser folk who had fallen, or jumped, into the gorge had only been left, buried only by rockfall.

What do you believe is at the other end of the rainbow?

It's not easy to keep a sense of mystery in your life.  Even when you're a kid, you have to lie to yourself.  "There could be a mysterious cave in these woods!"  But you know the land around your house is dead flat.  There are no caves.  Maybe a sewer pipe, but no caves.  And those woods aren't endless, you dip; you live on an island, after all.  You can sometimes allow yourself a temporary thrill, but reality always settles in.  "A spirit moved the Ouija board pointer to 'YES'!"  When the thrill wears off and your friend goes home, you can contemplate the fact that your friend is a liar and of course she wanted it to say that Corey liked her.  You learn that the pointer is called a "planchette" and you put the whole thing away and only see your friend's random posts about her dog on social media.  How can a person possibly expect to keep a sense of mystery in the face of reality and logic and reason and explanation and depression and hopelessness?

What’s the difference between religion and spirituality?

"Brother Carlyle," the monk cleared his throat and shifted in his bare, wooden chair, "lives alone."

The reporter was beginning to get annoyed, but tried not to show it.  "I understand that, but why did he choose to separate himself?"

"He didn't, Miss."  The monk was newer, that is, he became a member within the last ten years.  Most of the monks were quite old, but this one could still be considered young.  She arched one eyebrow and he continued in a whisper, "Brother Carlyle was sent away."

Now we're getting somewhere.  The other brothers, friars, monks, priests, or whatever they were, kept giving her the runaround, but eventually, Tia Teagarten always got her story.  She leaned in and matched the monk's volume, "Why was he sent away?"

What do you look for in a role model?

In Grand Park's Magician's Corner, mages were allowed to busk, license prominently displayed, of course.  Licenses were cheap, but not easy to come by as there were a limited number given each season.  Auditions were held every year, and everyone had to reapply, even the veteran performers.  Sometimes they didn't get in.  Competition was fierce for those spots, and some years, fights broke out in the audition lines.  Magicians were known to have disappeared after not getting in, too.  Sometimes they reappeared other years, and sometimes... they performed the ultimate vanishing act.

Holly loved to take her lunch breaks from Nova, the upscale clothier, in Magician's Corner.  Grand Park was only a five minute walk from Nova, which was in line with the other major clothiers on Parkview Avenue.  She was a relatively new salesgirl in Gloves, brought on when Messiah Blanchett wore long, elegant gloves to King's Court.  Messiah was always fashion-forward.  But Holly had been coming here far longer than her most recent job.  Her grandfather had been Maurice and Magnificent, back in the day, and performed here in his youth, before he hit the big times, which was decades before Holly was even a glimmer in her parents' eyes.  She had adored Papa Maury and followed him like a puppy.  Holly learned a lot about magic, the art of performance, and magicians.  She still kept in touch with most of them, and they waved or said hello or stopped by to show off their most recent creations when she sat on the steps of Benedict's Statue to eat her bagged lunch.

Today was the third day, however, that Holly came with butterflies in her stomach, hoping to catch a glimpse of a new magician.

Pageant Question: When you look into the mirror, what do you see?

The big, yellow wrecking machines were at it again, this time on the next street over, but Jenny still jumped when she heard their diesel engines roar to life.  It was her street that had been the most recent victim of the city's progress.  Her block, which in its heyday had shoulder to shoulder houses, was now toothless and grey.  Rocky lots with the tops of filled-in cellars poking through the third-rate fill the demolition crews used to fulfill their city contracts were more common than living houses.  Now the block behind Jenny's house was getting the same treatment; onward the machines would churn, block by block, until they hit the expressway that decades ago replaced what had been an award-winning park.  On the other side of the cement scar, people still prospered.  On Jenny's side, people hung on.

Jenny was lucky that she owned her house without a mortgage and she had enough to pay taxes and bills on time through her unconventional work.  She spent most of her personal days on the upper floors as her front rooms were devoted to her business: fortune telling.  Jenny shoved her feet into work boots and threw on a sweater before setting the house alarm.  Even a lived-in house wasn't safe from copper pipe thieves, even in the daylight.  The early morning dew from a devastated former front lawn dampened her boots as she scanned the last and newest empty lot on her street, created only a week ago.  While she liked to get to the demolition sites before the crews were completely done, she hadn't been able to get out because of a sudden string of appointments.  It seemed like the word-of-mouth was finally gaining momentum.

A sudden sparkle in  the mud caught her eye.  It was a fragment of mirror.  Jenny freed it with her right hand and planted her boots firmly against the rocky clods.  Angling it over her left shoulder, she rotated the piece from side to side, up and down, peering beyond the reflection.

Pageant Question 34: If you could un-invent an invention, which would you choose and why?

My boyfriend is from another dimension.  True story.  He appeared in my bedroom, naked and screaming.  If that's not a fantastic way to start a weird relationship, I don't know what is.  It happened like this:

Me: sleeping, twisted in my ancient Hello Kitty sheets and comforter, drooling onto my pillow.

The sound and feel of a giant vacuum pulling all the air from the room, followed by a loud *pop!*

Han (my boyfriend): writhing on the ground in pain, sucking wind as hard as he can and letting it back out in a hair-raising scream.

My parents: moved to Vegas and left me the house when I graduated high school two years before, so I was alone.

My neighbors: tiredly expect my life to be weird.

Han, which is a ridiculously short abbreviation of his real name, has been living with me for a few months now.  I call him my boyfriend, but that's what I have to do because he lives here.  He is not, technically, my boyfriend.  I don't have anybody who could really care, but, still, it's easier to say "boyfriend" than to explain why this dude lives in my house and is with me all the time.

Pageant Question 29: What are you most afraid of?

The path had turned to dust under her feet, and Janine had only just noticed.  She had been walking for days, and was running out of both food and water.  A shimmer to her left heralded the arrival of her spirit guide, Ham.  She swallowed hard around her dry tongue, "It's about freaking time, buddy.  Where've you been?"

The shimmer gathered density, but never quite became full.  It had been a long time since Ham had appeared to her, much less in his full form.  The blazing sun made him sparkle and difficult to look at.  His voice came as if from a distance and, as always, she suspected it was only in her head.  "Caution."

"Caution?" Janine wheezed a laugh.  "All this way, and now you say 'Caution'?  Listen, bub, I can't stop walking.  I gotta get me through this before I can rest, and if I stop, I'm not moving again.  Caution is what I should have had before I started."

Ham's indistinct form kept pace with her.  "Stay to the right."

Janine looked up properly at the specific direction and saw, to the left of the path in the distance, a black object of some sort.  It was smooth and tall.  As she neared she saw it was made of giant blocks of blacker than black stone, stacked on one another, five tall, with a cross beam near the top.  A cross.  "What in this blazing desert is that?"  The blotted cross was coming up faster than she expected and she felt why Ham had instructed caution.  It hummed with a pulsing beat she could feel at a distance.  It emanated a feeling of evil, of fear, of agony, of yearning, and as she closed the distance, she thought she heard human voices.

Ham glimmered brighter and stayed firmly on her left side, staying between her and the cross.  "You are safe with me," he hummed in her head, and she wanted to believe him.  Janine wanted to quicken her pace, but found she couldn't, and so she trudged slowly by, wishing she could run.  Looking out just the corner of her eyes, and mostly through Ham, she noticed the towering cross had windows, though they revealed and reflected nothing.  She involuntarily whined, but kept moving, which she felt was her only hope.

Pageant Question 24: Name one possession that you cannot live without and why?

The beat officers had called in the disturbance before they arrived, so the Chief was prepared, but he was not ready.  The entire precinct could hear the officers struggling with the suspect, even through the thick, oak doors.  It sounded like they were trying to drag a mountain lion up the front steps.  The Chief motioned to the officer on desk duty with his chin.  Brody hurried to open the doors and as soon as he slipped the latch, two harassed officers burst through, dangling what looked like a churning bundle of rags between them.

"What the hell are you bringing in here, gentlemen?  Brody!  Open the door let them through.  Bring, whatever it is, into Interrogation Room One, and strap it down!"  The officers followed directions as their charge kicked and screamed.  "I thought you radioed that it wasn't drugs," he accused, watching them attempt to control the flailing limbs of their suspect.

"It's not drugs, Chief," panted Officer McIntosh.  "I swear... Now hold on, sister!  Just calm the heck down and we can help!"

"Schaffer, did McIntosh say this is a woman?"

The other officer stood from strapping padded Velcro restraints around the suspect's bare ankles, "Yes, sir."  Schaffer rubbed his shoulder as if it ached.  "The orneriest woman I've ever run across, and that's counting both my ex-wives."

Once she was fully strapped into the metal chair which was, in turn, bolted to the floor, all the officers and the Chief backed out of the room, closing the door on the woman's furious scream.  "If it's not drugs, gentlemen, then what the hell is wrong with her?"

McIntosh reached into a pocket and pulled out a silver-colored necklace with a blue stone pendant.  "It's about this."

Pageant Question 23: What is your feeling about the saying, “The grass is always greener on the other side.”

The first death I attended was that of my cat, Iggy.  He was old, but in such great health right up until the end, it didn't seem right that he had to die.  He was clearly unhappy about it, too, but there was nothing left to do but sit by his side.  I was ten, and he was eight years my senior.  I was compelled to keep watch and stroke his back; everyone else was at the Harvest Fair, but I had refused to go.  My step-sisters laughed at me, and I remember it was the first time I applied the word "heartless" to anyone.  I knelt over Iggy as he hissed, drew his last breath, and exhaled gently one final time.  I don't know why I did it, but as he exhaled, I leaned over Iggy's face and breathed in deeply, pulling his last into me.  At that moment, a light flared in my mind, and I saw his soul.  It's the only way I can explain it.  It was not a version of my cat in my imagination, nor was it a ghostly film, but an impression in my mind of Iggy's essence, and I knew that what made him Iggy was forever.  My ability has developed since, and it has been both a blessing and a curse at times, but I will always remember my beautiful furry brother and I will always be proud that he was my first connection to the other side of life.

Pageant Question 16: Tell us about a book you’ve read that has influenced your life, and why?

Jamie's toes had gone numb from the cold and her knees would have bruises from  scuttling around the Circle of Power she had drawn on the stone slab floor in her workroom, but she couldn't stop until the Summoning was finished.  She had worked for months leading up to this moment, and her discomfort was nothing compared to the agony Falk must have suffered all this time.  Jamie used her fear for her mentor's life as motivation to learn the most complicated and dangerous spell she had ever attempted.  If it went wrong, the best possible scenario was sending herself into one of the various hells that could open within the Circle.  The second best possible scenario was sending only half her body and bleeding to death.  The other scenarios were worse.


Because I was inspired to think about which books have influenced me, I include here for you a partial list, from earliest read to most recent, and I heartily recommend them all:

On Beyond Zebra, Dr. Seuss
The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins, Dr. Seuss
The House with a Clock in Its Walls, John Bellairs
The Haunting of Cassie Palmer, Vivien Alcock
I Will Make You Disappear, Carol Beach York
The Silent Tower and The Silicon Mage, Barbara Hambly
The Talisman, Stephen King
The Dark Tower series, Stephen King
It's Always Something, Gilda Radner
Cruel Shoes, Steve Martin
The Time Traveler's Wife, Audrey Niffenegger
Ready Player One, Ernest Cline

Pageant Question 9: What is your biggest disappointment in life?

"What about Old Lor, there, hmm?" the man at the bar nodded sideways at the wisp of an old man dozing in one of the armed chairs nearest the fire.

"What about him, Shane?"  The Traveler spared only a narrow-eyed glance at the old man.  Most people didn't spare him even that as he wasn't much to see.  Wild grey hair bristled out from under his crushed, felt hat and over the layers of his invariably filthy clothes.  The Traveler was, in contrast, impeccable, in the newest traveling fashion.  Travelers were hired to move merchandise, or even people, across the untamed lands, and they were well-paid for it.  This Traveler thought highly of himself, as he had always, so far, been successful with his deliveries.  Today, however, was his third day in the luckless, so-called "town" of Janesburg.  If it weren't for the unprecedented pay he was receiving, the Traveler would have abandoned the commission, but he saw this job as his next step up.

Traditionally, Travelers were hired, and they sub-contracted as they saw fit.  In this case, the Traveler had hired Shane on his first day to be his labor.  Shane was in his late 30s, but strong, knowledgeable, and surprisingly intelligent for a labor-hire.  Shane had been trying to help the Traveler fill out their company with a mage for these past three days, but no reputable magic-worker would take them up on the Traveler's increasingly generous pay.  The job, they said, was too dangerous, and even impossible, which is how they came to be sitting, midday, in the local tavern, pondering their options.

"Well," said Shane, leaning in, "he's a mage."  The bartender, near enough to overhear, barked a laugh.  "He is, though!  At least, that's what they say."

The bartender shook his head, "They say a lot, they do, but Old Lor's reputation was made by cruel children for sure."

The Traveler turned on his bar stool to better look at the old man.  Old Lor was dust in a sack.  A ruined mop in a coat.  A pile of drunken bones.  He was no mage, of that the Traveler was sure.

Shane, however, was becoming increasingly positive the rumors were true.  The more he looked at Old Lor and remembered the tales, the more sure he became, especially when thinking about the pay from this single job and how it could start him on his own path as his own man.  Confidence welling up, Shane stood.  "I'll find out."  Both the Traveler and the bartender watched in fascination.

330

The apprentice was much more upset about the latest training session than the mage, though he kept his hot indignation down to a simmer as he carried his master's supply cases back to their workshop.  Once inside, however, Obidiah's indignation boiled up.

"That was... awful!" he cried, being careful to set down the cases first.  "What a load of arrogant...self-centered...twits!  Why didn't you chastise that lot?"

Master Daniel smiled and shook his head, "It would do no good."

"But they need to know how wrong they are!"  Obi puffed, so outraged, it was difficult to find constructive words.

"They would not understand," replied Master Daniel.  "So far, you have attended me with groups where those who think they already know are outnumbered by those who wish to learn.  This group, however," he spread his hands in a gesture of inevitability, "was overly-concentrated with those of little skill and much inaccurate knowledge."

Obi growled in frustration and paced the stone floor.  "They were arrogant without any reason.  They were disrespectful.  They wasted our time!"

Master Daniel smiled and held Obi's shoulders, "Yes.  It is up to us to find those who are willing and able to learn.  We cannot let ourselves be frustrated by the, how you say, the 'twits'."

328

The enchanter bent low over his crystal bowl, concentrating on seeing images in the shallow water.  He was focusing not on the King nor any of the Royal Family.  Nor was he focusing on his enemies.  The enchanter was focusing on a seamstress.

264

Jarod's hands ached as did his knees, but the need to finish was greater than the pain.  The fat piece of chalk slipped from his fingers again and again and he finally gripped it with both hands, knees digging into the stone floor as he leaned forward to complete the diagram.  Jarod finally sank to his right hip, the last sigil in place, and stretched his legs out carefully, avoiding smudging the drawing.  A greater ache began in his stomach when he thought of the night to come; the night where he would perform the high magic needed to complete the spell.  It made his already tired body and mind sink into an agony of weary dread.  Anticipating pain and knowing there was no way to avoid it and, even more than that, willingly inflicting it upon oneself was worse than the act itself.

243

Martie hated when she thought Jon was mad at her.  Intellectually, she knew the fights were usually in her own head and that he had moved on hours ago, or was never really angry in the first place, but the feeling nagged at her and caused her to make mistakes in her work, which she couldn't afford to do.  Martie sighed and cleansed her hands with air, moving them in the intricate patterns ingrained into her bones from years of repetition.  She would just have to find Jon and ask him.

220

The wizard was dying, and he knew it.  It was slow, but he could no longer ignore that it was happening.  On his knees in his workroom, the cold from the flagstone seeping into his bones, Cal wondered who would ever find his bones.  After some moments, he was able to heave himself up by the edge of the wood table and stood, breathing, Yes, I'm still breathing, till his heart stopped its murderous thundering.

"Help," he whispered.  "Who will help me?"  The wizard Cal could not find an answer.

216

Chlora's master sacrificed another of her finger joints the night before, and she wasn't feeling well enough by the morning to stir the fire and make breakfast.  She cradled her truncated hands to her chest, curled on her straw in the corner of the master's workshop.  The demon breathed heavily in the middle of the room, within the protective circle.  Undoubtedly, the master was still sleeping in his feather bed, waiting Chlora's call for the morning meal.  She knew if he woke on his own before she rang the silver bell, she would pay with bruises and maybe even bones.