Masters of the Veil (35 page)

“The Order doesn’t have to know
everything
. Besides, what’s the worst they’ll do to you if they read your silly story?”

“Who says it’s silly?”

“People say a lot of things.” Dyoni straightens a tangle in his hair and I notice the dark circles under his eyes.

I give a confirming grunt. “As well they should.”

Dyoni grins and points towards my cold box. A thin layer of sweat shines on his forehead. “Won’t you offer your guest something to drink?”

I juggle my palms up and down. “Quenching or Inebriating?”

“The latter.” Dyoni nods towards my parchment. “Then I can claim certain ignorance if questioned about what happened here.” He pretends to stumble away from my desk.

I shake my head as I open the cold box. “Who’re they to say that mead never did any good?”

Dyoni begins to read my story as I prepare a few flagons of the strong stuff.

***

“What’s a detective?” Dyoni asks, obviously first meeting my hero. At least, I think of him as a hero.

“It’s explained later. Sort of like a finder, but without magic.”

Dyoni keeps his eyes trained on the parchment. “How can you be a finder without magic? That’s like trying to be a spirit without dying.”

I smile at the thought of him getting to the idea of murder. “Simple. In my new world, magic doesn’t exist. To solve the unknown, the detective has to rely on physical evidence.” I froth the head on the flagons. “Matching a shape in the mud to a foot. Understanding hidden things from what people say. Stuff like that.”

Dyoni frowns. “I don’t understand. They could always just use one of the Every-Mother’s revealing spells—”

I wag my finger. “How do you do a spell if there’s no magic?”

I can see Dyoni trying to wrap his mind around the thought. “Can’t he just summon a…” He absentmindedly rubs a hand under his chin. “How about inflicting a…”

I smile as I toss a dash of the lagoon powder into each drink. “Interesting, right?”

“I think your detective would be about as useful as that powder.”

I smirk. “This powder is the most effective way to fight the next day lag.”

Dyoni scoffs and turns to the next parchment. “You know, we do live in the real world, not your fantasy. You could just use a body-cleansing charm.”

“Haven’t you heard?” I ask, letting the mead settle just a little bit more. “The
great
Eris doesn’t do that anymore.”

“The back of my head says differently.”

I swipe the flagons off the table and bring them over to Dyoni. “Okay, the great Eris
mostly
doesn’t do that anymore.”

Dyoni gives me a serious look. “Most would extend their call from the Every-Mother by a thousand years just to have your talent. You shouldn’t turn your back on it.”

“I know,” I say, giving him a hard look back. “Just keep reading. But first…” I break into a toothy grin and hand him his flagon. “To secrecy. At least for a little while.”

Dyoni readily accepts his mead and raises it above his face. “And to the Every-Mother.”

We clank metal and each take a hearty swig.

Dyoni pushes me aside. “Now go occupy yourself. I have reading to do.”

I take another swig, grab a spare needle and a piece of parchment, and make my way over to my lounge cloth.

After a few minutes of silence, Dyoni mutters something.

I break away from my notes. “Hmm?”

“They can’t even manifest?”

“Nope, they have to use their feet to go places,” I say, crossing out the most recent idea. I need to find more realistic games for the characters in my world to play. I’m thinking something involving a ball and a hoop might work.

He rolls his finger along the parchment. “Or… buggies?”

I’m impressed; he’s actually reading it. “Did I explain it well enough?”

Dyoni frowns. “I think so. But what exactly is a horse?”

“I figured my world needed some special animals,” I say as I point to my sketch of a horse hanging on the wall. “A horse is one of the more useful creatures.”

Dyoni gives me a concerned look. “That’s just a unicorn without a horn.”

“So it would seem.”

“What does it do?”

“It runs.”

Dyoni’s eyebrows pinch together. “What else?”

I shrug and tap my needle against the parchment. “Pulls buggies.”

“No self-respecting unicorn would ever do that sort of labor.”

I hold a finger an arm’s length from my face and then bring it to my nose. “It’s a horse. No magic.”

“And what the No-Father is a hospital?”

I lean back and put my arms behind my head. “Keep reading.”

Dyoni groans. “Just tell me. This is confusing enough as it is.”

I shake my head and smile. “I don’t tell. I show.”

Dyoni breaks into a wicked smirk. “Well you’d better
tell
me, or I’ll
show
this to my mother.”

The threat is obviously in jest, but it’s still not funny to think about. The rumors alone have the Order watching me day and night. I can feel their eyes on my hut constantly. Good thing I keep the privacy charm over my home; the Order would actually have to be inside to hear anything. “A hospital is a place where the sick and broken get fixed.”

“So they have shamans.”

“Doctors.”

“Excuse me?”

“Doctors.”

“What’s a doctors?”

“A doctor is kind of like a shaman, but they can’t use healing spells.”

Dyoni tips up his flagon and drains the last of his mead. “So how in the realm do they fix people? It’s utter nothingness.”

I give him a concerned look. “That’s some pretty foul language.”

Dyoni makes a dismissive gesture. “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

Dyoni meets my gaze. The corners of his eyes are wet. “You shouldn’t be doing this.”

I lower my voice to just above a whisper. “It’s not a crime to imagine.”

His cheeks are turning red. At this point, I’m thinking it’s not just the ale. “But you’re not just imagining.” He slams a hand against my parchments. “You’re scribing.”

I hold up my hands defensively. “Calm yourself, Dyoni. It’s not a big deal.”

“But the paper means everything.” He looks toward my ceiling. “It’s proof.”

I’m no longer thirsty for ale. “Proof of what?”

“Treason.”

The absurdity of his statement makes me laugh so hard that I buckle over and spill the rest of my drink. I can feel the corners of my eyes also getting wet, but for a different reason. My newfound activity may not make me the most popular person in the realms, but it surely doesn’t make me a traitor.

Dyoni uses both hands to swipe my parchments off the desk and onto the floor, scattering them about. Luckily, I am meticulous about numbering them, or I might have gotten angry. “It’s not funny, Eris! You don’t know what people are saying!”

“Treason?” I wipe away the tears. “Be serious.”

Dyoni conjures up a ribbon of flame and weaves it between his fingers. “I
am
being serious. You scribe of things that go against all we believe in. Doctors, horses, worlds without magic: these things aren’t real. They exist only in your mind, and there they should stay, tucked away forever.” Dyoni gives a weak smile and summons the papers together in a neat stack, hovering above his hand. “Let me burn them for you, Eris. Let me help you before it’s too late.”

Things are less funny. I glare at Dyoni and bring myself to my feet. “If anyone should understand, Dyoni, it’s you. Every day, the Order pushes the boundaries of magic. New Elements, new spells, new combinations of creatures—they have no limits when it comes to exploring the Every-Mother’s magic, moving forward with the blessing of the realm.”

Dyoni begins to speak, but I silence him with a wave. “Let me finish. The Every-Mother did not only bless us with one gift. If we let the Order explore the borders of magic, why should we not explore the extent of what’s in our hearts and minds? The tales we tell should not
have
to be confined to our realm. The possibilities of the stories we can create are endless.” I point to the flame in Dyoni’s hand. “Just look at what we can do with magic. Don’t you wonder about the heroes that have to do without it? How would they cope, how would they live? By understanding what isn’t real, won’t we better understand what is?”

After a few moments of silence, the fire drips away from the gaps of Dyoni’s fingers and disappears in a wisp of smoke.

“Why don’t you keep reading? You might just like what you find.”

He spreads out my parchment, and then jiggles his flagon. “Fine, but I want seconds.”

“Done.”

***

A few minutes later, after I’ve finished drying my floor, I glance up and find Dyoni on the final page. His eyes flicker back and forth quickly, his face intense. He takes a large swig of ale, his eyes never leaving the parchment. After a long swallow, he turns toward me.

I get up and stretch my back. “Not bad, huh?”

“I don’t understand the final passage. What’s murder?”

I haven’t figured out how best to explain it yet, but I’ll give it a try. “It has to do with death.”

Dyoni’s forehead wrinkles. “So it’s when the people in this world get their call from the Every-Mother?”

“Sort of, but it’s not like in our world. Murder is death brought about solely by the decision and actions of another person.”

“I don’t get it. You know as well as I do that the Every-Mother often calls through people’s actions.”

I hope I can explain this correctly. “But in this world, dying isn’t a call from the Every-Mother. In this world, people can bring upon death all by themselves. They choose to end a life for their own motives, not because of a call from the Every-Mother.”

Dyoni’s eyes expand with horror. “You’ve created a world with no Every-Mother?”

I can see the fear building in his expression. “No, it’s just—”

Dyoni mutters a few words and then brings his knuckles together. I can feel the privacy charm over my home shatter. “MOTHER!”

In an instant, my hut is swarming with members of the Order. All around me are people in white uniforms, staring me down with haughty expressions.

“Mother, it’s true!” Dyoni blurts out, backing away from me and pressing against the wall. “At first I thought it was all just harmless mischief, but Eris is plotting against the Every-Mother. Everything you suspected is happening. His words go against everything we believe in!”

“Thank you, son,” a voice says from behind the circle of white bodies.

I don’t have time to react.

“Eris GreenValor.” Dyoni’s mother saunters though her white wall of minions. Her smugness is only thinly veiled by a stern expression. “Your plotting will not be tolerated. For your treason, you will be sentenced to live until your call at the—”

“It’s not treason!”

The room gasps. No one ever interrupts the Grand Edict when she’s speaking.

A large vein pulses in her neck. I can almost see her stomach knot up with rage. “How dare you interrupt me? Just who do you think you are? You go against the Every-Mother and you—”

“Silence!” I can feel the entire Order taking a collective breath. I have just sealed my fate. I can only hope that the story of Eris might resonate in her mind long after I’m gone. “You enter my home uninvited, on a whim, so you will hear what I have to say.”

I can feel a tugging at my voice, Dyoni’s mother trying to silence me.

“You have all the power of the Every-Mother behind you,” I continue, unfazed, “yet you are frightened to the point of madness by a few of my words?” I move to the center of the circle, closer to Dyoni’s mother.

Her eyes are icy with rage. “It’s not your words Eris, it’s your ideas.”

“You do not know my ideas.” I can feel the pull growing stronger, but my will is iron.

“I have heard enough. If my son says you are scribing blasphemy, then we need no further proof. It is an immediate transgression, garnering no right to a trial. You have committed the ultimate offense, and you know it.” Her eyes narrow. “You should never have turned your back on your gift.”

My mind flashes to my detective, my doctors, my firemen and my bankers. I know my
real
gift. My police chief, housekeeper, street sweepers, shopkeepers, and everyone else I’ve yet to discover. They have so much growing left to do. Their world is just coming into light, and I can’t let them fall back, ignored and unloved. None of us deserve that.

I look over at Dyoni and give him a warm smile, snapping a hand over my heart in salute. “Maybe one day you
will
get it, brother.”

He finds nothing to say, and I feel truly sorry.

The Grand Edict makes a sweeping gesture, and Dyoni disappears into a cloudy void. I know the magic well. He is now thousands of leagues from here, in a holding area. Dyoni won’t be able to manifest until it’s all over. Heck, I’d have done the same thing if I were in her position. If they really believe that I’m a traitor, then this won’t be pretty.

She signals to the rest of the order, who instantly cast a locking sphere around us. I can see the wavy disturbances in the air. They don’t want me going anywhere. They mean to immobilize me, body and mind, until they can make sure I won’t be able to scribe against the status quo ever again.

“There will be no more discussion.” She rolls her shoulders back, drops her chin, and gives me a searing look.

I know what’s coming.

She doesn’t.

If the Every-Mother did not want me to explore my imagination, she would never have blessed me with the ability to do so. It’s only the Order that does not approve of my scribing. My dreams are the enemy, and the Order means to murder them for their own motives.

But I know the Every-Mother is still behind me, and just like my detective, I can prove it.

Without much effort at all, I summon fire from the Every-Mother. The difference between my fire and Dyoni’s, however, is that my fire is not a wisp. Great lashes of flame blaze from each of my fingertips, scattering the white circle backward.

The Order assumes that I’m no longer the
great
Eris. They’re in for a nasty surprise. I was not imparting an empty message to Dyoni earlier. The truth is, I am more powerful,
greater,
than I’ve ever been. By understanding what isn’t real, I better understand what is.