Spinspace: The Space of Spins (The Metaspace Chronicles Book 2) (4 page)

Chapter 8

“A person who never made a mistake never tried anything new.”

– Albert Einstein

His mother came out while he was sinking the pipe next to the old pump.  She stood there, holding the bucket handles.  “What are you doing?”

“Making an improvement,” he said.  “Here, let me show you.”  He accepted  one of the buckets for her and set it down under the new pipe.  Then he concentrated for a bit, weaving the pathspace around the pipe.

She was about to say something, but her mouth closed again when he stroked the pipe and after a few seconds of gurgling water began pouring into the bucket. When it was full he shoved it aside and took the other one from her and filled it also. Then he stroked the pipe downward, turning off the flow.

“Now you don't have to pump anymore,” he said. “The swizzle will bring up the water for you.”

Her eyes were wide.  “How did you do that?”

“Xander taught me.  I'm his apprentice now.”  He smiled slightly.  “Don't worry, I'm not putting salt n my beer yet.”

She was quiet for a moment as he picked up the buckets.  “Carolyn came by last night.  You were already in bed, so I didn't wake you.”

“I was pretty tired,” he said. “But I'm glad you reminded me.  I wanted to have a talk with her today.”  He followed her back in and set the buckets by the sink.

“What about?”

“I'm going to ask her to come back to Denver with me.”

She stood stock still there in the kitchen, staring at him now.  “Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

He shook his head.  “It's not like that. I'm going to ask her to come to Xander's school.”

She frowned.  “Why on Earth would you ask her to do that?  Jonathan won't like it, not at all.  He still thinks she has feelings for Burton.”

“Because I think she can become a wizard.  And I think she deserves the chance.”

His mother lifted an eyebrow at that.  “But she's a woman.”

“So?  Who said wizards have to be men?”

'Wouldn't she be a...a witch?”

“No.  It's not really magic.  She won't be adopting black cats or wearing a pointed hat.  In fact, Xander would rather we call ourselves 'psionic engineers' or something like that.  But I think the old word is fine by me.  I'm becoming a wizard.”

His mother leaned on the counter and looked away.  “Then what does he need her for?”

“He doesn't need her.  Rado does.  We all do.  We need all the wizards we can find, especially now., because you can't have a school without teachers.”

“But what do we need wizards for?”

“Well,” he said. “Two of us stopped the Honcho's invasion.  That's the first step.  Right now his son is convincing Texas to join with Rado to start a new Union.  That's the second.”

“I see.  And now what?  We join Texas in their war of conquest?”

“No,” he said.  “Now we find ways to get the rest of the countries to join us instead of fighting us.  That's going to take a lot more than two wizards.  And so we need the school.”

“And are you going to kidnap her, if she doesn't want to go to Denver?”

He stared back at her.  “I'll try reasoning with her instead.”

Chapter 9

Kareef:
The Reluctant Dropout

“It is the men of knowledge who can truly realize God.”

– Quran 35:28

All the way home from the
madresah
he tried to figure out what he had done to deserve this disaster.  The briefing the Mullah had provided, what little there was of it, had done nothing to reassure him that this was not a colossal mistake and waste of his time.

For one thing, he would not even be graduating.  Instead of receiving his certificate, he would be trekking off to a foreign land to enroll in a sketchy establishment run in the headquarters of the Governor of Rado.  From his geopolitics studies he knew that Kristana D'Arcy was a ridiculous anomaly.  Imagine: an entire country taking orders from a woman!  And yet she had succeeded and survived for two decades of attacks from Texans and other barbarians. 

What this meant was that either (a) she was a mere figurehead and smarter men were running the country, or at least its military...or (b) that she was some kind of fluke: a woman who could handle authority almost as well as a man. 

But it made no sense, her supporting the school of Xander.  Unless, as certain members of the Order had apparently decided, she had powerful wizards tipping the military balance and wanted more of them. 

But as bad as it was that he had now spent years of his life on an education that would not be recognized (instead of learning a useful trade), what made it even worse was that he would not be able to explain his failure to graduate.  He could not explain it, because to do so he would have to reveal his membership in the Order of the Sihr.

Like most of his classmates did at some point in their lives, Kareef had fantasized about being in the Order.  The one thing, however, that everyone knew about them was that none of them joined to become famous.  Their identities were kept secret.

With a start he remembered that he knew one member's identity, at least – the
Mullah
Nizar.  He wished he didn't.  It could be dangerous to know things other people want kept secret.  And now he had to keep his own involvement with the Order secret, to avoid spreading the danger.  So he expected an awkward dinner tonight. 

When he divulged that he is dropping out of the
madresah
and going to a foreign country to study at a school they have never heard of, he was fairly certain they would be neither pleased nor amused.

Chapter 10

Esteban:
Inopinatum Audientibus

(an unexpected audience)

“For in much wisdom
is
much grief, and he who increases knowledge increases sorrow.”

– Ecclesiastes 1:18

He nearly tripped over his robe going into the waiting room. His mind was a jumble of nervous anticipation and apprehension.  What could His Holiness possibly want to speak with him about?

Esteban's fingers twitched as he handled the beads of his rosary, but he was not using it in the traditional way, to count prayers, but to enumerate reasons why the Pontiff would be interested in him.

One.
He could be about to be ordained, to leave his brothers at the monastery and take up a new calling. But that seemed unlikely, given that he had heard nothing that might indicate anyone was particularly impressed with his aptitude.

Two
.  He had committed some sin so grievous that he was about to be thrown out of his Order.  But try as he might, he could not conceive of any way he might have given offense.

Three
.  He possessed some bit of information that His Holiness needed.  Also unlikely, because as a member of the Custodians, all he did was look after the Reconditorium Prohibitum.  As such, his duties were not complicated.  When priests brought artifacts to him all he did was to classify and store them, and make sure they never left to tempt the faithful.

There had been only one exception to this rule.  Some weeks earlier he had been ordered to allow a number of swizzles and everflames to be handed over to officers sent by the Honcho. 
But that could not be counted against him as dereliction of duty!  The seals on the orders had been genuine.

His fingers hesitated on the fourth bead.  What other reason could there be?

The door opened and Cardinal McTavish poked his head in. “His Holiness will see you now.”

Esteban forced himself to stand up and take a moment trying to calm the trembling in his knees before following the cardinal into the audience chamber.

Pope Enrique II was engaged in quiet conversation with another of the cardinals as Esteban approached and prostrated himself. 

He looked up.  “Ah, brother Esteban.  We are pleased to welcome you.  Please rise and be seated.”

Esteban sank into one of the chairs facing the papal throne.  “Your Holiness,” he began, “I do not --”

“You are no doubt wondering why we have summoned you.  Let me put your mind at ease right away by telling you that you are not in any sort of trouble.  We have heard only good things about you and your service to the Church.”

Esteban swallowed.  “Then why?”

“Have you heard about the recent developments in Denver?”

Denver?  What did that have to do with him?
“I must confess, Your Holiness, that I do not follow events in the secular world very closely.  Has something happened in Denver that I need to know about?”

“Indeed it has...or is about to.”  The Pontiff leaned back in his throne, regarding him. “Word has reached us that the Governor of Rado is finally opening a school to teach people about the alien artifacts known as the Gifts of the Tourists.  It is a school meant to produce sorcerers.”

Esteban blinked.  He supposed he should not have been surprised.  Such a thing was unthinkable in lands where the Church was powerful, such as Texas, but in Rado...“I had thought, Holiness, that the Honcho was going to invade and conquer Rado,” he said.

“Such was his plan.  Apparently, though, it has come to naught.  His invasion forced was defeated and he died in battle.”

Esteban drew in a sharp breath.  “I was not aware of this.”

“Nor were we...until his son Jeffrey, the new Honcho arrived in Dallas yesterday and broke the news.  But here we are.  If the invasion had succeeded we would not be concerned, but now Governor Kristana is free to go ahead with the plans for the school.”

“This is grave news, Holiness.  But if you will forgive my asking, what does it have to do with me?”

His Holiness steepled his fingers.  “What, indeed?  I have a mission for you, Brother Esteban.”

That didn't sound good.
  “A mission, Holiness?”

“I want you to enroll at that school.”

What?
  “I, I do not understand.  My duties...”

“Your work at the Reconditorium can be handled by one of the other monks of your Order.  You can therefore be spared for this task.  The others, however, cannot.  They are too old.”

Esteban swallowed again.  “Is there an age limit, then?”

“Not as such.  But I need someone to be able to blend in with the other students, and it is expected that they will be young people, who are not committed or with other responsibilities, like children.”

“But, Holiness!  To be around such influences...”

“Come, now,” the Pontiff reproved him.  “You have been handling forbidden artifacts for years now.  Have you found it a burden...that it tested your faith?”

Esteban shook his head.  “No, Holiness.  But all I do is receive them, classify them, tag them, and put them into storage.  I have not attempted to learn anything about how they were made.  That would violate the ban promulgated by one of your predecessors.”

“So you fear the risk to your immortal soul?  You have doubts in your ability to resist the temptations of sorcery, once you are within the nest of vipers?”

“In a word, yes.”

The Pope leaned forward.  “What would you say, Esteban, if We told you the ban was not an
infallible
proclamation.  That, in actual fact, it was simply an act of desperation, and not the result of divine inspiration?”

Esteban's eye widened.  “But they are gifts from demons, or from those who traffic with demons!”

His Holiness sighed.  “Brother Esteban, it is good to meet someone who does not doubt the word of the Church.  But the sad truth is, the Tourists were not demons.  They were merely people like us, from a different lineage, whom God used to humble the arrogance of the Ancients.  In the aftermath of the Fall of civilization, they became convenient scapegoats, nothing more.”

Esteban tried to process this.  “Then why are you worried about this school?”

His Holiness shrugged.  “They failed us once.  I, for one, would prefer not to risk that happening again.  We should rebuild our civilization the way the Ancients were doing, before they traded for the Gifts.  We should do it the hard way.

“And there is another reason.  The too-rapid progress of technology caused it to replace religion in the minds of many the first time.  Science led to atheism.  We will save more souls if they are not distracted, this time, from the authority of the Church by the glamor of new toys.”

“You are right as always, Holiness.”

“One more thing.  You are to go in ordinary clothes.  You cannot show up in cassock and rosary, bible in hand.  They would suspect you are an operative of the Church.”

“I understand.  But what am I to do there, Holiness?  What is my mission?”

The Pontiff leaned forward again.  “You are to be Our eyes and ears.  We shall find a way for you to get reports back to us.  It is not certain, after all, that the school will succeed.  If it fails, then there is no danger, and you will simply return to your duties here.  Or, if you wish, we shall arrange for you to be ordained.  Would you like that?”

He thought about it.  There was nothing wrong with being a monk.  As a priest, however...he could help people more than he could as a mere caretaker of artifacts.  “I might enjoy serving in that capacity, Holiness.  But what if the school does not fail?”

His Holiness's face grew more serious.  “In that case, Brother Esteban, We shall have to take...other steps.”