A Life Less Ordinary (3 page)

Fiona gave a hint of a shrug. For a dragon, her body language was very human. “You could start with the open spell book,” she suggested, waving one wing towards the table near the door. “Or you could just pick up a spell book at random and see what you find.”

I walked over towards the table, limping slightly, and looked down at the book. It had a palpable sense of age – it looked like a volume produced by a monk in a monastery, rather than a mass-produced modern book – and felt oddly warm to the touch. I found out later that it was impossible to actually mass-produce magical books. The strange rules binding magic made it impossible, although a considerable amount of common knowledge could be stored in more modern books or computers. I didn’t know that at the time, of course. If someone should happen to write down a magical spell, they are effectively casting it. The implications are nastier than they sound.

The book opened at my touch and I started to read through the pages. There was a spell promising beauty untold to the woman who chanted it at full moon. It was tempting, but I had no idea how long it would be until full moon. There was a spell for cursing your enemies and giving them bad luck for a year and a day. I was thinking about my ex for several minutes before I hastily turned the page and moved on to the next spell. It talked about summoning invisible servants who would work for you, in exchange for a tiny drop of blood. The ritual involved in summoning them made me blush.

“Try the rear of the book,” Fiona advised. “The more complex spells won’t be held at the front of the book. They’ll be weighed down by the less dangerous spells.”

I flicked through the book and finally located a spell for creating pocket dimensions that could be spelled to me, or spelled to anyone who happened to be in the area. I could see a use for the former right away. I could create my own private dimension and not have to worry about carrying a bag or anything else ever again. Or – and I smiled at the thought, even though I would never put it into practice – I could use it to steal from shops and they would never have the slightest idea of what had happened.

The spell didn’t look that complex, not even compared to some of the others in the earlier part of the book. I picked up the spellbook – in my hands, it felt light and yet surprisingly warm – and walked back over to the shelves. The pile of fallen books had shifted slightly, but they seemed disinclined to jump back onto the shelves. I wasn’t too surprised. There was little room for the books to fit.

“Be careful,” Fiona said, as I studied the words of the spell. They were written out phonically, allowing me to pronounce them correctly – or so I hoped. I had no idea what would happen if I mispronounced even one of the words. “You have to keep an image of what you want to happen in your mind at all times.”

That wasn’t quite as easy as it sounded. I started the spell and then was distracted as a thought burst into my mind, making it hard to concentrate. She’d told me not to think of anything else, so I naturally
did
think of something else, anything else. I felt a rising wave of frustration and forced it down, taking deep breaths to calm myself. There was no hurry. Even if it worked, I would still have to start shelving the books and that would take days, perhaps weeks. My breathing slowed to a crawl – I could hear my heartbeat pounding away – and I focused, concentrating on precisely what I wanted to happen. I wanted a pocket dimension, one anyone could use, one that wouldn’t break when I removed a book...slowly, the image grew and settled in my mind. I opened my mouth and chanted the spell aloud.

I felt a sudden tingle running up my spine, which grew rapidly into a thunderstorm. Energy seemed to be crawling all over me, like the touch of an unwelcome or unwanted lover. I could barely move as the forces played over me – I was suddenly aware of just how vulnerable I was – and I almost panicked. Only the thought of losing control now, with so much magic in the air, kept me focused. The forces I had unleashed could tear me apart like paper if I lost my concentration. And then it was over. I keeled over and collapsed on the ground.

“You seem to have succeeded,” Fiona commented, archly. The tiny dragon fluttered down to my side and rubbed her scaly head against my cheek. She felt hot to the touch. I pulled myself up into a sitting position and looked up at the shelves. Where the shelves had been there was now a faint blur, as if many different images were fighting for supremacy. I looked closer and understood. Hundreds of thousands of shelves were positioned within the pocket dimension, awaiting my touch. “It wasn’t too bad for a first effort.”

I frowned. The original shelves had been neater than mine. “How long will it last?”

Fiona snorted, producing an impressive gout of flame from her snout. “How long do you want them to last?”

“Forever,” I said. I paused. I had been thinking of forever, hadn’t I? “Will they last forever?”

“Well, I’m only a mere sorcerer’s familiar, but I’m fairly sure that they will last a good long time,” Fiona said. “You ought to be proud of yourself.”

I couldn’t help myself. I burst out laughing. I had been so scared and yet...I had succeeded. It had worked beautifully. I was so proud of myself.

“Thank you,” I said, and meant it. “Now what do I do?”

A thought struck me and I walked back to the table, carrying the spellbook under my arm. I flicked through the pages again until I located the one I wanted, the one advising how to summon invisible servants. As I read through the spell again, it occurred to me that Master Revels might have given me the task as a test, one to see if I could learn to use the magic in the library to get the job done quicker and more efficiently. Fiona looked doubtful as I explained my brainwave to her, but I ignored her doubts. I was sure that I was right.

The spell was clearly written out and actually seemed to be less complex than the pocket dimension spell. I had to strip down to bare skin, squat on the floor and recite the spell aloud, with no room for error. I didn’t understand the nakedness at the time, although I learned later that such rituals were often more about preparing the magician rather than part of the spell itself. The trick lay in separating what was truly vital from what wasn’t – and research into the subject rarely led to a long and happy life. I cast a doubtful look at Fiona – reminded myself that she wasn’t human and was female anyway – and started to undress. Halfway through, it struck me to wonder what Master Revels would think if he walked in on me, but I told myself that he would understand. It was necessary for the ritual, after all.

Fiona fluttered down to the table, her unblinking red eyes fixed on me. “Are you sure about this?”

I nodded, positioned the spellbook on my bare knees, and began.

This time, the tingle came quicker, followed rapidly by a wave of power that rapidly took on shape and form. I saw enough to understand why the servants were normally invisible to human eyes; looking at what I saw out of the corner of my eye, it was clear that prolonged contact would be bad for my sanity. I squeezed my eyes closed, yet I could feel them, a burning presence all around me.

It was hard, suddenly, to speak, but I forced out the words. “I bind and command you by a drop of my blood,” I said. I held out my thumb, inviting them to suck on it. The spellbook had assured me that they could only take what they were permitted to take. “I order you to sort the books and shelve them into my pocket dimension.”

There was a dull rumble, like distant thunder, but nothing else.

“I command you,” I said. They hadn’t taken anything from my thumb. A cold presentiment of disaster started to make its way down my spine. “I offer you my...”

It all happened very quickly. Suddenly, tiny fingers were running all over me, pinching and slapping at my body. I felt them reaching for my hairs and pulling at them, one by one, as others slapped at my private parts or my face. I screamed in pain as hands started to form around my neck and started to squeeze...

“Enough,” a voice snapped. A blast of power shone, just for a second, though the air and the pinching stopped. “Get thee gone from this place.”

There was a second blast of power and I opened my eyes. Master Revels was standing there, staring down at me. He didn’t seem aware of my nakedness, but I didn’t like the look in his eye. He looked angry. Somehow, I didn’t blame him. I closed my eyes and awaited the worst.

“Stand up,” he said, calmly. I opened my eyes and stood up. My body was covered in tiny scratches, some dripping blood onto the floor. I was surprised that there wasn’t more pain. “What did you learn from that?”

It was hard to think and focus, but somehow I managed. “I learned that I shouldn’t play with fire,” I croaked. It hurt to speak. I touched my throat and my hand came away bloody. “What went wrong?”

Master Revels didn’t seem to notice my discomfort. “There are spells that cannot be written down safely,” he said, calmly. Fiona fluttered down to land on his shoulder. “When they are written down, there are always sections left unwritten, or rewritten to make the spell less dangerous. Never – ever – take anything for granted in the magical world.”

He snorted. “Go have a shower” – he’d shown me where the showers were the first day I’d spent with him – “and look at yourself in the mirror. The scars will fade slowly, so don’t forget.”

“I won’t,” I promised, and meant it. It could have been a great deal worse.

***

The mirror was magical. It showed me almost as a holographic image, rotating me around so I could inspect myself from all angles. I was covered in bumps and bruises, with scars running down from my hairline to my knees. The little creatures had left me marked for a very long time. I washed, wincing as the water fell into my scratches, and swore never to try that again. I had come far too close to death.

On the other hand, I told myself, one spell had succeeded perfectly.

Perhaps I had a future as a magician after all.

Chapter Three

“So tell me,” Master Revels said. “What do you think of your costume?”

“I think they will all be looking at me,” I groused. If I had seen the costume before agreeing to serve as his assistant, I might have had second thoughts. “No one will be looking at you at all.”

“That’s the point,” Master Revels said, evilly. “I wouldn’t want them looking closely enough to realise that the puppet has no strings.”

I scowled as I examined myself in the mirror. The outfit gave new meanings to the word
revealing
. I looked rather like a demented cheerleader. My breasts were covered by a sequined tunic that drew attention to them, while my shorts – also sequined – were so tight that anyone watching would be convinced that they were painted on. They didn’t feel uncomfortable, but they were so tight that I was half-convinced that I wasn’t wearing anything to cover my rear. The tiny glamour that Master Revels had given me would obscure my features, yet also give me an air of beauty that would ensure that all eyes were turned to me. And I was barefooted. It didn’t seem fair somehow.

Master Revels himself wore a black suit with a white shirt and a top hat. He looked far more like a typical stage magician, even down to the silver-topped cane he carried in one hand. I knew that his cane was, at least in part, a magic wand and he could produce anything he wanted from his top hat, but anyone else looking at him would only see a stage magician. I never understood why he wanted to show off on stage – I like to think that it was a uniquely male attribute – even though few would realise that there was real magic being displayed.

“Come on,” he said, holding out a hand. I pulled on a pair of sandals and took it, reluctantly. A moment later, we were standing outside his house, near the castle. As he had promised, we were surrounded by hundreds of people wearing their own strange costumes; even I, wearing so little that I was almost naked, passed unnoticed. I saw a dozen men wearing kilts and carrying claymores, several men dressed up as famous cartoon characters and a woman wearing what looked like the world’s largest hat, covered in fruit. There were small donkeys, a horse and even a giant dog, all carrying small children up and down the Royal Mile.

I had to smile. The Edinburgh Festival Fringe is the world’s largest performing arts festival and it is held right here in Edinburgh. Hundreds of thousands of people from all over the world come to see the shows, even though it isn’t quite as spectacular as Mardi Gras or some of the other festivals held around the world. Master Revels had been quite right. We could walk down the roads wearing only top hats to cover our privates and no one would actually notice, even without the glamour covering our presence. The entire magical world could walk out in the night and few would realise that they were in the presence of something unearthly. I watched a team of flamenco dancers from Latin America go dancing past and concealed a smile. We were definitely dressed conservatively for the area.

It was strange, but Edinburgh itself seemed to have taken on a new appearance after the time I’d spent in the magical chambers. The entire city seemed to shine with a strange blue glow, with certain areas marked out more clearly than others. The castle seemed to shine the brightest, but I could see a dozen others within the Royal Mile and another down towards the Grassmarket. It was weird, yet I was starting to understand that there were actually two cities, a magical Edinburgh co-existing with the dull mundane city. The more I looked, the more I saw, from strange creatures jumping from shadow to shadow to a glowing statue that seemed to dominate part of the city.

“That man volunteered to remain on guard for the rest of his life,” Master Revels commented, when I asked him. “The magical community lent him some of their strength and placed him there on guard. No one can invade Edinburgh while he remains there, a silent sentinel in the night.”

I shivered as we walked past the statue. I could make out, now, the fine traces of magic that had turned a man into a statue. I wondered, suddenly, just how he was feeling. Was he aware of time passing while he remained frozen, or was he in a form of suspended animation? If I had been frozen like that for so long – the plaque at the base of the statue claimed that it had been there since the 1700s – I would have gone mad.