The Galactic Mage (37 page)

They talked at him, and to each other, for a few moments more before she moved up to him and put her hand upon her chest. “Orrrr-leeeeee,” she said to him, speaking slowly. She repeated it again, this time rapidly. “Orli.” She smiled. Then she turned her slender hand over in a gesture clearly meaning that it was his turn to say his name.

He spoke his as she had, slowly once, and then at normal pace. “Allll-tin,” he said. “Altin.”

She beamed at this announcement, her smile revealing perfect teeth and setting a spark alight in her deep blue eyes. “Altin,” she repeated. Then she slapped the stocky fellow lightly on the shoulder with the back of her hand, turning to face him with a grin. “Roww-bur-tohhh” she said, prodding a finger deeply into his arm at each syllable in a gesture that was clearly meant to be an irritant to the man. “Roberto.” She smiled back at Altin again as the stocky fellow gave her a withering glance, seemingly both annoyed and entirely amused.

Altin repeated the man’s name carefully just as he had hers. Roberto grinned and nodded, stepping forward and putting out his hand, saying something that once again Altin missed. If it was the same gesture as they had back at home, Altin was meant to take his hand and shake it, so he did. The man had a powerful grip. Roberto grinned again. He said something else that ended with Altin’s name. Altin smiled back. A chorus of smiles all around.

Altin decided that Roberto had kind brown eyes, despite a mischievous something lurking in them too. The stocky fellow turned back to Orli and stabbed her in the arm with a thick finger as a measure of revenge. He said something that from its tone was meant to be intimidating, at which point she laughed. Roberto looked back at Altin with a helpless expression on his face and offered up a shrug. His smile immediately grew warm again.

Altin then learned that the doctor was known as “Sing.” When he spoke it back, once again everyone laughed and seemed happy. Maybe only the captain had the personality of a gorgon’s mate. Which of course was just Altin’s luck.

What followed were several long, agonized moments of failed communication. They simply couldn’t get past the names and endless smiles. After many of these well-meant-but-futile attempts to found the beginnings of common speech, Altin grew impatient to give divination a try. The conversation had gotten to a point where he felt like they were wasting time. With the dragon alone out in his tower, he needed to move this meeting along, and he wanted to make at least one attempt with a divining language spell.

However, he’d learned his lesson regarding teleporting in and out of the ship, so he needed to find a more discreet way to get out to his tower and back, and he knew immediately how: the small room with the watery chamber pot he’d had occasion to use a few times during the last few days. His doctor had gleaned Altin’s need for such accommodations at one point and Altin had to admit to being entirely amused—albeit a different approach than the simple enchanted teleport for carrying out the waste in chamber pots back home, he thought the rush of blue water was certainly an aesthetic touch; he might even consider introducing the little waterfall idea to Aderbury when he got home as it was just the sort of thing that the pampered bourgeoisie in Crown would gladly pay a few extra silver pieces to have superfluously added to their pots.

He raised a finger, indicating that he wanted them to wait, and then went into the tiny room with its waterfall-enchanted amenities. He closed the door behind him, but he could hear Roberto laughing about something through it as he began to cast. As quietly as he could, he teleported himself back to his room in the tower outside the ship.

He ran down to his library and rummaged through his books. He’d been pretty haphazard about collecting divination works, but he did find one large and musty old tome that had some language spells inside; it was a huge book, nearly half as wide as the table at the center of his room, and he grunted as he pulled it off the shelf. He leafed through its giant pages and eventually found one that seemed like it would work. He didn’t have time to study it here, however, for he didn’t want them growing suspicious at his already rather longish visit to the tiny private room, so he quickly teleported back and stepped out into their ship’s bright unwavering light.

The smile evaporated from Roberto’s face as Altin stepped out holding the giant tome clutched against his chest, and even Orli seemed to be taken by surprise. The look in her eyes suggested she felt as if he’d let her down, as if he’d betrayed her in some inexplicable way. His heart emptied like a basin drained. How could he tell her it was only just a book?

“No, no,” he rushed to say. “It’s not like that at all.” He set the book down on the bed, its weight pressing deeply into thin, unnatural feeling sheets. “Just watch and you will see.”

He opened the book and had to flip back and forth several times to find the spell again. The three of them were suddenly speaking in agitated voices, and Altin could see Roberto’s fingers twitching near his red-light gun.

Realizing this was not working as he had planned, Altin stopped and moved away from the book. He pointed to it, his expression exasperated as he grew weary of so much mistrust. “Go,” he said. “Look for yourself. There’s nothing there. It’s not even an offensive spell. By the gods you people need to relax.” He wondered what had happened to them to make them so distrustful all the time. He wondered if all of them were like that. It didn’t bode well for the future if they were like this across their entire race. But still he waited; let them check the book themselves.

He knew, of course, that if they could not speak his language, they likely could not read it either, but he hoped his message was clear all the same. He set his hands on his hips and sighed loudly with his desire for a bit of faith. He tapped his toe and crossed his arms, waiting. They just stared at him for a while. Which was fine. They could stare all they wanted, but he would not cast until they checked the book.

Finally Orli made a move as if she was going to have a peek, but from the sound of Doctor Singh’s words, he did not think it was a good idea. Before she could get close enough to touch the book, Roberto stepped in front of her and pushed her back with the sweep of a straightened arm. He said something indecipherable, shooting Altin a sideways look. Altin knew exactly what he’d said. He decided he liked the man.

Roberto examined the book for a few moments, flipping through all the pages and turning it around and over several times. Finally, apparently convinced that it was just a book and not some enchanted firetrap, he set the book back on the bed and returned to Orli and Doctor Singh. Altin continued to wait, raising an eyebrow at them as he persisted with the tapping of his foot against the floor. He would wait until they asked him to carry on.

After a brief conversation, finally it came. Roberto swept his hand out towards the book and muttered a pair of words. Altin smiled and with an inclination of his head stepped back up to the magic tome. He had to leaf through it again to find the spell; it was titled “Common Tongue.” After a few moments, he found the page and began to read the spell’s description aloud:

Common Tongue is cast in an initial area of three by three paces and has a duration of seven days, affected outward in space and time by the caster’s divining rank. Common Tongue allows the user to speak and recognize in all its forms the languages of the selected persons within the radius of the spell so long as their intent is to be understood by said caster. Anything said in secrecy or with the intent to deceive will not be understood and requires the use of the Greater Common Tongue spell (see next chapter). The components for this spell are a quill, a sheet of parchment, an ink pot and a lock of hair from each person with which the caster intends to speak, including one of the caster’s own. The hair should be taken from the vicinity of the ear and samples should be of roughly corresponding size.

What followed were instructions for casting the spell itself and a diagram for laying the components out. Altin didn’t like the secrecy thing, but a quick glance at the spell Greater Common Tongue showed that it was forty-three pages long. He didn’t think he had that kind of time or expertise, so he decided to stick with the six-page version for now. He realized that getting cuttings of their hair was likely going to be an interesting trick as well. And he needed his quill pen, parchment and pot of ink, which meant he had to go back to the tower. He wondered how they were going to take his making another trip into the waterfall-pot room so soon, but he had little other choice.

Once more he raised a gesture asking for them to wait, and again he locked himself in the tiny room. Roberto said something again, and Altin heard him laughing, apparently at his own joke. It only took Altin a moment to get the things he needed, and he was back in less time than it took to butter toast.

Orli grinned as Altin stepped out from the cramped little room with a large quill pen, rolled parchment and an ink pot in his hands. She giggled, nodding an I-told-you-so at Roberto as Altin came back up to the bed. Roberto made some comment in reply that made all three shipmates laugh out loud. Altin was perfectly happy to be the butt-end of a joke. He was about to join them in their mirth.

He set the parchment on the floor in the center of the room with the ink pot centered on it. Then he laid the feather quill next to the ink pot, turned precisely as the spell’s illustration showed. From there, he went to a metal tray where he’d seen Doctor Singh keep many of his instruments. Searching through the implements there, he took a finely made pair of scissors from the towel upon which many shiny objects lay. He returned to the parchment on the floor, and, making sure that all three of his observers were paying careful heed, he clipped a finger’s-breadth pinch of hair from a curl jutting out behind his ear. He set it beside the inkpot, opposite the feather just as the spell directions instructed that he should do. When he was done, he looked up at them and gave an audible sigh. This is where it might get interesting.

He took them all in with a gesture, then, holding up the scissors, he pulled taut another strand of his own hair and made as if to cut. He didn’t though, pointing to them instead.

They spoke back and forth as they watched him point them out. Judging by their voices, none of them seemed to be sensing any threat. Encouraged, and with his heart pounding like a trapped rabbit in a box, he took a step towards the beautiful woman and reached half the distance to her almost white-blonde hair. There he paused. “May I?” he said. She studied him for the briefest of moments and then smiled once again. She turned her face slightly and tipped her head away, exposing her ear and a length of exquisite neck as she offered her trust to him and her hair to the scissors in his hand.

He closed the distance and saw that his hand was trembling as he took a snip of hair from just behind her ear. It was soft like down and smooth as a unicorn’s mane. From this proximity he could smell her too: she smelled like flowers and moist earth—not perfume, but real, which seemed odd to him considering she lived in such a place as manmade as all of this—and there was something else too,
her
scent, the scent of her skin. She was intoxicating, alien and alive. Frightening even.

Embarrassed, having caught himself in this silent reverie, he hoped that he had not too obviously delayed or been flagrantly uncouth. He took her hair quickly to the parchment and set it atop the little pinch of his, finding the sight of the two mingled together very satisfying to see. He straightened and went to the others, taking clippings from them both, each of them more than willing to oblige. Soon the pile contained a lock of hair from all four people in the room.

Altin replaced the scissors on the tray and then went back to the magic book. He went over the spell carefully, page by page. He could hear the three of them talking in the background while the spell took him nearly twenty minutes to learn. Normally he would have spent another hour making sure he had it down, but he felt that he had the need for haste. They were indulging him, he knew, and growing impatient if his gauge of Roberto’s voice was any clue.

Finally ready to cast, he turned to them and smiled, once more giving them the hands-up gesture, asking them to wait just a moment longer. Then he began to cast. He was vaguely aware of them talking as he did, the sound of their voices rising, growing increasingly agitated in time with the rising cadence of his song. At last he reached the end of the incantation and released the magic with a short command. “Mar-du!” he said with hard emphasis on the second syllable. And with that, Common Tongues was cast.

Chapter
38

“
… he has rhythm,” Roberto was saying as Common Tongue’s effects came upon the room. “Not bad for a white boy.”

“Stop it,” Orli said, realizing as she spoke that Altin had finished his lovely chant.

“Hello,” Altin said unexpectedly. “Can you understand me now?”

All three crewmates stepped back in utter awe.

“Holy shit,” said Roberto, the first to find his tongue.

“See,” said Orli, regaining her composure as well. “I told you.” She turned back to Altin. “Yes, I understand you fine. Can you understand me too?”

Altin’s face-splitting grin was answer enough.

“What did you do?” She was looking around the air above them as she spoke, as if hearing words for the very first time. “It’s fantastic. Like magic.”

Altin’s face wrinkled a bit, his frown mixing with his smile. “Well,” he hesitated, not wanting to make her feel foolish. “It is.”

She giggled. “What did you do?”

“Yeah, man,” Roberto chimed in. “What did you do? This is insane.” He was looking around as Orli had, trying to locate the source of sound, to find the device stuck or floating somewhere that would explain what was going on.

Altin continued to regard them with furrowed brow. These people certainly were odd. Maybe they’d never seen a diviner before. That seemed unlikely.

“Well, the spell is called ‘Common Tongue,’” he said. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure that it would work; I’ve never cast this one before.” He didn’t want to admit that, but it seemed the right thing to do, honesty and all. What he really didn’t want to admit was that, at twenty-two, he’d only just recently made divination work. Saying so was like admitting he was seven years old again, so he decided to just leave that last part out. But apparently something he had said left them speechless anyway, and a few moments later Roberto was looking at him through narrowed eyes. Altin suspected Roberto was having a hard time believing a magician could cast such a complicated spell on the very first try, so he added, “I’ve had a lot of training, and it really wasn’t that complicated of a cast. The next one, well, that will be a bit more work I assure you. Forty-some-odd pages long.”

That didn’t seem to help. But, apparently whatever he’d said didn’t bother Orli or Doctor Singh, the latter of whom stepped forward and put a hand on Altin’s shoulder in a gesture that was warm. “Magic or no, that’s a nifty trick.” He clapped Altin on the arm as well. “Very impressive.”

“Thank you,” Altin replied, grateful for the praise. He finally had a chance to make a good impression on these people after sneaking in and out of their ship so many times.

“So where are you from?” Roberto asked, apparently past whatever had been troubling him, at least for the moment. “We don’t get a lot of towers floating around out here.”

“Oh, of course,” Altin said, “I suppose you don’t. I haven’t had time to build a nice ship like yours. A very good idea, this. And you’re quite right, we’ve not been properly introduced. I am Altin Meade of Calico Castle, in service to my master, Tytamon the Ancient, in turn in service to the Queen.” He saw their frowns and realized how silly that all must sound. “From planet Prosperion,” he added to make the matter clear.

Roberto studied him for several breaths then began to laugh, a long, deep laugh, from the belly, so hard he had to bend at the waist and put a hand on his thigh to brace himself.

“Roberto,” Orli scolded, “stop it right now. Stop. It’s not funny.” Doctor Singh echoed her remarks, equaling her tone.

After a moment, Roberto straightened, still struggling with an unruly grin that desperately wanted to play upon his lips. “I’m very sorry,” he muttered, barely keeping the smirk at bay. He bowed politely—although too deeply considering Altin had no royal blood—and the whole thing went awry when something of a nasal snort escaped near the bottom of the sweep. Orli kicked Roberto in the shins.

“Forgive him,” she said, stepping between Altin and Roberto and putting four soft fingers on Altin’s wrist. “Roberto is the ship’s idiot; just ignore him like I’m going to do for the rest of his life if he doesn’t stop acting like an ass.”

The heat of her anger towards her swarthy friend was no match for the fire burning up Altin’s arm, joyous energy thrilling through his body from where the gentle touch of her soft hand pressed against his flesh. He had to force himself to stay focused on the diplomacy at hand.

He wasn’t sure why she was so upset with Roberto, but he could tell that her wrath struck home, for the chuckling fellow stopped choking down guffaws a moment later and apologized again, this time sounding entirely sincere.

“Sorry, dude,” he said, looking Altin squarely in the face. There was no trace of mockery in his dark brown eyes. “That just came out. There’s been a lot of pressure around here, you know? And I wasn’t kidding about not seeing towers out here. Honestly, it’s just, you know. It seems so impossible that I had to laugh. Seriously, no offense?”

“None taken,” Altin readily agreed. “I should think, after seeing your powerful ships, that my dilapidated tower would be quite an unexpected sight.” Then, to move them all beyond the awkward moment, he added, “Although perhaps not so much a sight as the coconut beasts.” He knew as soon as he said it that this was not going to be what they called the monsters they had fought.

And of course they all immediately frowned, clearly trying to figure out what he meant, but Orli came up with it an instant later. “Hostiles. We call them ‘Hostiles,’ or simply just an orb. But they do kind of look like coconuts, now that you mention it. Except without the husk.”

A smile burst upon Altin’s face. “Yes, that’s what I thought too. No fur, but coconuts just the same. But you call them Hostiles. That does seem a more fitting term. It certainly suits their disposition.” There was a moment’s pause as he looked into her face. He caught his breath as she turned her eyes up and locked gazes with him, the depth of her stare sending what felt like lightning coursing through his flesh. She stunned the words right out of him. He felt the length of their silence, and it started something of a panic in his chest. He tried to blink out of her paralytic charm as tunnel vision threatened to close him out of thought. There was something diplomatic he should be saying, some words to facilitate an escape. Finally, like a rope dangled to a man that has fallen down a well, a thread of thought somehow wormed its way into his head. He spoke it slowly, trying to find his breath. “So what happened to make them so… hostile?”

Her eyes lingered in his for a moment, and he was almost willing to believe she was having the same kind of trouble that he was. He could only hope such an audacious thing. But then, that was absurd. He didn’t even know her. She was an alien woman, from some far off land, breathtaking, perhaps, but as foreign as any human could possibly be, perhaps more foreign even than an elf. And she was a warrior no less, lithe and sinuous, and with that red-light weapon slung across her hip. What use would a warrior have with a country bumpkin like him? A soft bookworm had no appeal for a woman such as this. He needed to collect himself. Besides, he had a role to play. He was, in a sense, an emissary of the Queen. His behavior would reflect heavily on his entire planet. He forced himself to composure. She seemed to sense his inward shift and took her hand away.

“We have no idea why they attacked,” answered Doctor Singh as the roar of confusion and desire finally faded from Altin’s ears. “They just appeared one day and the fight was on. They killed everyone on Andalia, or so it seems; but we have no idea what provoked them. It’s possible the Andalians did something to bring it on, but they were not forthcoming if they did. And there were hardly any messages to let us know that they were under attack at all. It appears we may never know what started all of this.”

“And your people are not from this Andalia, I take it?” Altin said, quickly catching up.

“No, we’re from Earth,” Roberto put in eagerly, perhaps trying to make up for his behavior from before. “We’re almost five light-years from Andalia. We’ve been out here awhile, but only just discovered the Hostiles a month or so ago.”

Altin didn’t want to appear ignorant, but he had no idea what most of Roberto’s statement meant. He was ecstatic, however, to discover that there were multiple worlds of humanity. This was remarkable and entirely as he’d hoped. “Well,” he said, carrying the energy of the revelation into his words, “we shall have to dispatch them quickly and be on with the celebration of our mutual discovery. I’m delighted to find others out among the stars.” He paused, then added, “If that’s not too bold to say.”

“Not at all,” Doctor Singh assured him. Altin had hoped Orli would be the one to react to his hospitable remark, but she seemed a little put off for some reason now. The doctor pressed on, “How far away is your planet? Which system are you in?”

A quizzical look consumed Altin’s face as he wrestled with the question. Common Tongues was not without its obvious communication gaps. It did nothing to fill in understanding where ignorance came in. “Well,” he began, “I’m only a blink of an eye away from home, but it took me several weeks to make it out this far. I’m not sure how I would quantify it though. The whole thing is terribly new to me; I’ve only just begun.”

It was their turn to be confused. “So your planet is only a few weeks from here?” Doctor Singh said after a brief delay.

“No, it took a few weeks to find… ‘here,’ wherever ‘here’ is exactly, but now it’s only a matter of a moment to get back and forth. Teleporting, you understand.”

“That’s what you’ve been doing in the can, right?” said Roberto. “Teleporting? That’s what you do?”

“The can?”

“You know. The bathroom, over there.” Roberto pointed to the tiny room with the waterfall pot and the flowing basin inside.

“Ah, yes, well, sorry about that. I figured you knew. Your captain—I’m assuming that was the man who shot me—seemed not to appreciate it so much the first time, so, to be safe, I thought it wise to be discreet.”

“Ok—and I mean this totally not to be an ass—but you’re really saying you’re using magic for all this stuff, seriously, is that what I’m getting here?” Roberto was doing little to hide the incredulity in his voice.

Orli sighed, but did not intervene. He hadn’t asked anything they weren’t all thinking, and his question was at least almost halfway polite.

Doctor Singh looked like he might say something in response to Roberto’s question as well, but Altin could tell the older man wanted the answer too. Asking about magic seemed like such a stupid question, though. If he hadn’t seen the doctor using the scrying mirror, Altin would have thought the entire ship was crewed by blanks, which was fine with him, if a bit risky given the Hostiles and the danger they could present. Heading out this far with no mage, or only just a few, seemed reckless; although it certainly would explain the poor maneuverability of their ships, not to mention the trouble they had in dealing with the orbs. However, a crew of blanks could not account for the red light beams, nor could it explain the glowing scales on the outside of the ships, the exploding pellets, or any number of other things. But, regardless of their obvious access to at least a few magicians, these three were clearly hoping he would answer the question and put some of their doubts finally to rest. He was happy to oblige.

“Yes, I do magic. I can get my Teleporters Guild card for you if you like. I have it back in my tower. I’m a Seven, though my card says I’m a Six: I have a teleporter home with a Z,R,Q,L, zero, K and, well, I don’t know what my divination is just yet…,” he blushed, realizing Orli was going to find out he was still a foundling when it came to that particular school. He tried to fudge past that part as vaguely as he could. “I’m sort of just figuring that school out—it’s a long story; I was a Six up until three days ago. Oh, and a Y.” He shrugged. Nothing to do about it now; the moon was up and the werewolves were about.

Once again the three of them were staring at him with vacant expressions. Roberto was the first to speak, blinking deliberately as if to clear his eyes. “Ok, so let’s say I buy it. What else can you do? Something we can see. So far we can’t see any of it. Not that I’m saying I’m not mostly convinced. Just, you know, it’s really hard to believe.”

“Well, what would you like to see?”

“I don’t know,” said Roberto, thinking. “Can you, what, maybe… how about turn me into a frog or something?”

“Roberto!” Orli gasped, flashing her tender blue orbs at Altin apologetically again as she punched Roberto in the arm. She turned on her friend. “What is wrong with you?”

“I am not offended,” said Altin, coming to Roberto’s defense. There was nothing wrong with the question that he had asked, and Altin had resigned himself to these people being at least somehow partly blank. Besides, he was an excellent transmuter, and polymorphing animal forms was easy enough to do, assuming he had the right spell memorized. “And yes, I could do that if you liked. I would have to go back and get a book, however, as the spell isn’t fresh in my memory just now.”

Roberto rubbed his arm as he flashed Orli a look that spoke of vindication. He turned to Altin with measured patience and said, “I can wait.”

He was serious, and Altin grimaced at that. It seemed rather a waste of time, given the newness of their acquaintance after all. And why would he want to be a frog? Why fool around with such silliness? But, he reminded himself that the customs of men from faraway places always seemed strange at first. “Very well,” he said. “I shall return in a moment.”

He started for the “bathroom” as they called it, but Doctor Singh stopped him before he could go in. “You don’t have to do that. We don’t mind if you… teleport from here.”

“All right,” said Altin. “Just don’t move, okay. You saw what happened to the cocon… to the Hostiles when they got put together in a teleporting merge. We don’t want that to happen to us.”

They all nodded politely, watching, waiting, none of them really gathering what Altin had said just yet. Altin began his spell and in a moment he was gone.

They all stood in silent awe as he disappeared with a hiss of rushing air—well, all except Roberto who immediately lost his mind. “Okay. Goddamn it, did you see that shit?” He crossed the room to where Altin was, and waved his hand in the air where the medieval man had disappeared. “Seriously, that’s it. What the hell is going on?” He walked around the area where Altin had been standing, looking for something, anything, to explain the inexplicable fact. “Well, it’s official. Doc, I need something, man, because it’s all coming apart up here.” He tapped his temple with a finger, rather brutally.