The Scarlet Crane: Transition Magic Book One (The Transition Magic Series 1) (11 page)

Hoeryong

The Democratic People’s Republic of Korea

Chirp!

Senior Colonel Zhi jumped, even though he’d been waiting for a call. The ruby red LED for Colonel Rong’s line demanded attention.

Finally
.

Zhi picked up the receiver and stabbed the button for the Attainment Unit. “Yes?”

“The children are ready to begin whenever you wish.”

“Excellent. Excellent. I’ll join you shortly,” Zhi said and disconnected. Three long days he’d waited, unable to concentrate on work, seldom sleeping. Now the moment was here. The first test of his inspiration to divide magic into small pieces, each invoked by one child in tight coordination with others. Each element uniquely trivial. Power unlimited from the sum of the parts.

My power.

Zhi leaped up and crossed to the closet. He wrapped his long woolen coat around him, yanked his
ushanka
from the coat pocket, and jammed it over his ears.

He called to his aide as he left his office. “I’ll be in the Attainment Unit. No interruptions, no exceptions, not even for calls from Comrade Wu.” His boss knew nothing of today’s test. Better to know the results first.

“Yes, Senior Colonel,” the major said in a quiet voice. Word of the trial had spread despite stifling security. Everyone in the camp was speaking in whispers, as if holding their breath. Zhi scowled.

And according to my chief of internal security, you’re the source of the problem.
I’ll deal with you soon.

The sound of his boots ricocheted off the walls as he marched to the exit, muscled the door open against the wind and snow, and stepped down to the icy ground. The loathsome North Korean winter had turned mean in the last few days. Ropes were strung between the doors of the compound’s buildings to prevent anyone from getting lost in the sudden and frequent whiteouts. Zhi lurched across the encampment like a drunk on a high wire.

* * *

As usual, Rong anticipated his arrival even though he’d said nothing of a personal visit, further evidence of the informal network in the camp. They moved to Rong’s small office, where Zhi piled his snow-covered garments on the desk and sat in Rong’s chair. Rong stood by the closed door.

“Where are the children? Any problems?” Zhi asked. He crossed his legs, uncrossed them, tapped his fingers on his knees.

“No difficulties. They’re in the Conservatory and eager to use their magic.” They used two rooms—the Conservatory, in which Rong directed the children, and an adjoining observation room for Zhi.

The two left Rong’s office and zigzagged through a maze of hallways, like mice scurrying after cheese.

They stopped outside the door of the observation room. The entrance to the Conservatory with the waiting children was twenty feet farther down the hall. Both rooms were secured with steel doors and biometric locks. Rong lifted the latch on the lock’s fingerprint reader and pressed his thumb against the glowing blue glass. The double deadbolt retreated with a sharp snick. He pressed the latch and pushed, shuffling aside for Zhi to precede him.

Soft indirect lighting switched on when Zhi entered the room. He strode to the center and spun to his left, facing a wall of one-way glass that separated him from the Conservatory. A wall-sized window for Zhi, a mirror for the children.

Rong closed the door and joined him. A bank of audio-video equipment lined the wall behind them. Zhi stared at the three Vietnamese girls on the other side of the glass. They stood before the mirror, turning from side to side and smoothing their hair.

The Conservatory was designed to instill security, comfort, and focus. An Iranian Farsh carpet with a wine and black lotus pattern spread from corner to corner; the walls were covered by a burgundy cloth fabric. The mirrored wall was framed at the top and sides by heavy damask draping. A brass dragon, smoldering incense leaking from its snout, crouched on a small table pushed against the wall. An iPod mounted on a speaker sat next to the dragon.

Three leather recliners had been placed in the center of the Conservatory, facing Zhi’s right. The chairs formed a semi-circle, focused on a straight-backed wooden chair positioned four feet in front of them and illuminated by a bright overhead spot.

Rong flipped a switch on the equipment console to allow sound from the Conservatory into the observation room. The sweetness of Ravel floated under the crystalline voices of the girls. They were chattering about the dinner of special treats they had been promised for their success.

Zhi was breathing like he was being pursued by a madman. Blood pounded in his ears. He could wait no longer. “Proceed.”

Rong left the observation room and entered the Conservatory a few seconds later. The girls turned to him.

“In your chairs. It’s time we begin.” They scrambled to their assigned seats.

Zhi watched as Rong ambled to the leather chairs, a kindly grandfather. He brushed the hair of one girl, stroked the cheek of another, and kissed the head of the third. He turned from them and took a position behind the wooden chair.

“You’ve each labored to prepare for this day. I’m proud of you, my children.”

Zhi smiled, pleased that Rong had built such strong relationships with Crane’s subjects. The girls behaved as if he were a sainted relative.

“Do you have any questions or wish to stop for any reason? Be certain in your answer; this is no practice. Anyone?” He searched their faces for hesitation, found none.

“No one needs to pee?”

Giggling. “No.”

Rong moved to the front of his chair and sat facing them. “Very well. We shall begin.”

Zhi’s revelation was to have each child say the ritual words in rounds, seconds apart, like the American nursery rhyme “Row, Row, Row Your Boat.” A Transition rhyme. Each girl’s words were identical until they reached the last critical phrase. They would finish with slightly different magical entreaties, small pieces of the larger mosaic. Spoken in close sequence, the final phrases would fuse into a new, paramount incantation.

Or so he hoped.

Rong pointed to the child on the left, who began:

“I invoke my birthright to the Power granted by Transition. I beseech this Power to grant my request. I honor the requirements of Transition and affirm …”

While she continued, he pointed to the girl in the middle, who began:

“I invoke my birthright to the Power granted by Transition. I beseech this Power to grant my request. I honor the requirements of Transition and affirm …”

The hint of an iridescent lavender light surrounded each of the children.

While the first two carried forward, he pointed to the one on the right, who began:

“I invoke my birthright to the Power granted by Transition. I beseech this Power to grant my request. I honor the requirements of Transition and affirm …”

And on with the remaining verses, in perfect coordination:

“That I make my request with respect and humility …

“That my heart is pure …”

The auras surrounding each child merged into a single, pulsing lavender glow that suffused the room.

“That my request is worthy …

“That no request like mine has been uttered since time began …

“That this is my own true wish …

“That I willingly surrender my life if I am found unworthy or my request is found wanting …”

The children’s breath fogged the air.
He reached out and caressed the glass.
Cold.

The girls moved into the final three verses, each building on the invocation of the one preceding. As with the others, the final three verses overlapped. No child’s invocation ended before the one following began.

First the child on the left:

“Hear me: This is for reactor one on the aircraft carrier USS Enterprise, ship number CVN 65. Open a three-inch split in reactor pipe A200BC. So thus I beseech.”

Then the child in the middle:

“Hear me: This is for reactor one on the aircraft carrier USS Enterprise, ship number CVN 65. Open a three-inch split that connects to the existing split in reactor pipe A200BC. So thus I beseech.”

Then the final verse:

“Hear me: This is for reactor one on the aircraft carrier USS Enterprise, ship number CVN 65. Remove a one-foot section of the power feed wiring from the emergency shutdown panel. So thus I beseech.”

The lavender light burst into diamond brilliance and winked out.

Zhi blinked and jerked back from the flare of light, his vision obscured by sunspots. As he recovered, he looked through the glass to see the three girls on their feet, babbling about the cold. Rong was standing, rubbing his eyes, his chair on its back.

“Quiet!” Rong snapped. They fell silent. “You did well, my babies, and earned your reward. I’ve prepared a special place for you where you can rest until it’s time for your meal. This way.” He opened the door and led them from the room, glancing at the mirrored wall.

Zhi rushed to Rong’s office and paced behind the Colonel’s desk. A couple of minutes later Rong entered.

Zhi said, “We’ve never seen each child’s color merge like that. It must have worked.”

“They followed the ritual with precision. They’d be dead if they hadn’t met the Transition conditions.”

“Yes. But this doesn’t mean we destroyed the reactor. Maybe the magic worked, but the damage to the reactor was insufficient. We need proof.”

“Understood. I’ll keep the children sequestered.”

Zhi nodded, threw on his coat, and returned to the Admin building, aware of neither the weather nor the questioning look on his aide’s face. Walking into his office, he tapped the door closed with his foot and grabbed the remote on his desk to power on the large wall-mounted TV. CNN popped onto the screen. It was about three in the morning Eastern Time in the U.S., and the network was repeating its late night news shows.

He stood staring at the monitor until he realized he was sweating. He tossed his hat and coat on a chair, then settled behind his desk, focused only on the screen.

A half-hour later a blurb appeared on the scrolling ticker at the bottom of the screen:

Problems reported on USS Enterprise
…

Zhi bolted upright, heart racing. The ticker looped for an additional ten minutes before a withered, gray-haired woman broke into the broadcast.

“This is Margaret Smith at CNN News Headquarters in Atlanta with this breaking news. Unauthorized sources at the U.S. Defense Department have told CNN about problems with one of the two nuclear reactors on the U.S. aircraft carrier Enterprise, just off the West African coast. The ship is reported to be dead in the water. CNN is working to confirm this report. The USS Enterprise is the oldest …”

Zhi punched the intercom and called Rong. “Success. Come to my office.” He hung up without waiting for a response. The commentator rattled on, but provided no new information.

A sharp tap shook his door. “Enter.” Rong appeared, coatless, snow in his hair, breathing hard. “Close the door.” Rong stood before the TV and listened to the CNN feed. The smile on Zhi’s face grew with each new disclosure. He turned to his credenza and pulled a bottle of Irish whiskey and two lead crystal glasses from a drawer. He’d waited a year for this celebration.

“Congratulations! You did it,” Rong said.

“So it would appear. Please sit, Colonel.” They toasted their health and continued success.

“Shall I transfer them to Repatriation?” Rong asked.

Rong’s question was based on Zhi’s two inviolable rules. First, the spell must be divided among three children to insure uniqueness. Second, the children must be trained for two weeks for each magical invocation so they would meet Transition’s sincerity requirement. Since one of the girls would be leaving Transition in two days, they didn’t have enough training time for another spell.

“No. I want to use them one more time.”

Rong’s face colored. “I don’t understand. There’s not enough time to train them.”

“Perhaps not, or perhaps we don’t need two weeks. They adore you. They’ll believe whatever you tell them. And what’s the worst that could happen? They die during the test. Even so, we’ll learn something. Eventually we’ll know just how little training is needed.”

Rong shook his head, uncomfortable. “You must have required two weeks training for a reason, Senior Colonel.”

“I was being cautious. But that was before I had confirmation that my method worked. Imagine how much more we can accomplish if we can use the children multiple times during their month of Transition.”

“I suppose …”

“Their next assignment will be easier than what they did today. Security has discovered that my aide is the source of the leak to Principal Li and others. The girls will solve that problem.”

“Why don’t you just have him shot?”

“I won’t hesitate to do that if the girls fail.” He handed a piece of paper to Rong on which was written the three interlocking magics that would kill his aide.

Rong studied the spells, frowning. “I don’t know if they’ll be able to learn this in time.”