Spinspace: The Space of Spins (The Metaspace Chronicles Book 2) (25 page)

Chapter 62

Xander
: structures and surprises

“It is a mistake to look too far ahead.  Only one link of the chain of destiny can be handled at a time.”

– Winston Churchill

The old wizard plodded down the endless stairwell.  His feet were on the steps, his hand on his staff, but his mind, as usual dwelt in another place entirely: the future of the School. 

All of the students could go invisible at a moment's notice now, which meant he ought to be giving Lester another lesson in spinspace.    After his visual demonstration, Carolyn and Esteban had finally passed the swizzle test, and he was sure that Kareef would be fast on their heels; the lad from the Emirates gave every evidence of being a perceptive and serious student.

That, however, did not change the fact that Kareef would be returning to the Emirates eventually.  No matter how well the young Muslim learned, he could not be counted on to join the school permanently as a teacher.  Which left Lester, Carolyn (their first student and a resident of Rado), and maybe Esteban. 

Kaleb he was not so sure of.  The young Librarian from Angeles seemed harder to get to know than the others.  Perhaps it was deliberate.  For all Xander knew, the boy might be hoping to go back to Californ someday.  But if he did, would it be to see his family again...or to challenge the Queen who had killed his father?

That was a troubling thought.
I wanted the school to help spread enlightenment, not revolution.
  It also opened up a slew of related questions.  If he does go back to challenge her, how do we tell other rulers that there is nothing to fear from sending us students?

Should they require graduates to swear an oath not to misuse their abilities?  He remembered that medical students used to swear the Hippocratic Oath upon graduation: “...and above all, to do no harm.”  Maybe he should start thinking of something similar for graduating wizards.

So many other questions to ponder.  Just how much would a student have to master in order to graduate?  For all he knew, they might discover new kinds of psionic engineering, new aspects of
metaspace
, while the students were still in school. Should the curriculum be expanded and lengthened every time that happened?  Or should they have different levels of mastery?

Guilds structure offered a potential solution.  Most artisans belonged to one or another of the guilds.  They would join as an apprentice.  The apprentice was often a son of an existing artisan, but not always. 

Take blacksmithing.  Most blacksmiths had a striker or apprentice to help them with their work in return for lodging, meals, and learning the trade.  Once an apprentice acquired enough skill to work by himself credibly, he became a journeyman smith.  The term came from the fact that they often traveled from town to town picking up small commissions which their teacher had no time for.

After a journeyman became very skilled and experienced, he would create a challenging piece of work called a
masterpiece
.  When it was completed and adjudged to show sufficient quality, the journeyman then became a
master smith
, and had the right to take on his own apprentices.

Xander was not entirely certain that the guild model was a perfect fit for his psionic engineers.  Lester, in that model, was only a journeyman, but he was acting as a teacher already as if he were a master engineer.  Also, the guild model worked best for crafts that changed little over the years.  Psionic engineering, however,  was still in its infancy as far as humans were concerned.  There was so much more to be learned, and that required something the guild model did not allow for: researchers.

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed to fit his original idea of a college for wizards.  In the days of the Ancients, colleges and universities had a different approach to the three levels.  College students, upon graduation, could qualify to become graduate students.  If the graduate students were not considered good enough to conduct independent research and advance the state of the art, they could acquires a Master's degree and assist the others in teaching.  The ones who were considered ex
ceptionally promising and accomplished became
Doctors of Philosophy
and became the researcher-professors. The term came from the fact that
doctor
was an old word for teacher.

Somehow, though, he didn't like the idea of calling senior wizards 'Doctors' of anything.  It was misleading, especially if they never learned how to heal.  He much preferred the Guild terminology.

All right, he thought.  Let's go with that for now, and call all of the new students apprentices.  If Kareef went back to his people it would be as a Journeyman Wizard.  He, Xander, would be the Senior Wizard until Lester surpassed him and took over the school.  All of the senior teachers who would be running the classes would be Master wizards.

He grimaced, thinking of the kind of trivia these titles would spawn: graduations, ceremonies, diplomas, curriculum requirements.  Part of him was already longing for the days when it was just him and his robe standing in the shadows behind the General.

All of these considerations so distracted him that he actually descended an extra floor and had to stop, turn around, and climb back up to the level of Kristana's audience chambers.  He hurried down the hallway and pulled open the door.  Kristana's voice beckoned him in.

“...is sure to come in useful in the future.  Ah, there you are!  So good of you to join us.  Isaac, have you met Xander, my court Wizard and founder of the new School?  Xander, this is Isaac Silverman, our new ambassador from New Israel.”

As he shook hands with the man, Xander reached out to embrace pathspace and felt at once a strong echo.  Yes, Lester was right, this man was an experienced wizard of some kind.  He had expected that from Lester's report.  What he had
not
expected was the weak but clear
second
echo from somewhere behind the man. 

“...and this is my son Nathan, who came along to keep me company and see some of the world outside our borders.  Your apprentice Lester presented us when we arrived but now that we have settled in I thought it was time, Excellency,” Isaac said, turning back to Kristana, “to formally present my credentials and our proposals for normalized trade relations and,” gesturing at the new map spread out on the Governor's desk, “a few tokens of our respect.”

“A school?  What kind of school?” asked Nathan.

A look of annoyance flitted across Isaac's features at the interruption, but Xander just smiled at the boy.  “A school for wizards,” he said.  “It's open to anyone with the ability to learn what the masses call magic or wizardry.”

The boy's eyes became wider.  “What do
you
call it?”

“Well, I prefer to call it
psionic engineering
, which means 'engineering done with the mind', said Xander.  “But I'm afraid that's too much of a mouthful for most people, so I guess it will end up being called a school of wizardry.”

“I must confess, Excellency,” said Isaac, clearly making an effort to put a stop to his son's interruptions, “that news of Xander's School has reached us in the East.  It has occasioned much comment among my associates in New Israel, especially when one considers your country's new alliance with the Lone Star Empire...where the Catholics have made great efforts to, shall we say, reduce interest in such things.”

“There will always be those who fear what they do not understand,” Kristana said.  “Is it different in your own country?”

“We have...different arrangements,” Isaac said vaguely.

Xander was certain the vagueness was deliberate.  “I suppose you've heard about the attempted invasion,” he said.   “If things had gone differently for the Honcho, I might have had to start my school somewhere else.  Fortunately, we prevailed.”

“Fortunate, indeed,” Isaac agreed.  “I'm sure it will not surprise you to hear that we in the East have been concerned about the Honcho's ambitions.  However, on my way here I also heard of your new alliance with Texas.”

“Actually,” Kristana said, “we prefer to think of it as the beginning of a new Union.”  She gestured to the wall behind her, where the new flag had been nailed up: a rectangle with a red border.  Inside that was a inner border of white, then a blue interior with two large white five-pointed stars in the middle.  “We have hopes that Texas can abandon their dreams of empire and accept the idea of a new Union organized as a representative democracy.”  She smiled at Isaac.  “As you can see, there are room for more stars on the flag.”

“Are you hoping that new Israel will join?”

“Please don't interrupt,” Isaac said to his son.  “I'm sorry, Excellency, but my wife had to remain back East with our other children, and I haven't found a tutor yet to keep him occupied.”

“I could show him the School, if you like, while you talk with the Governor,” Xander suggested. 

“Can I, Papa?”  The boy's eyes pleaded.

Isaac looked at him and sighed, then turned back to Xander.  “If you don't mind, perhaps that would be best.  He can be a handful, though.  Nathan has always been a curious one.”  He regarded  his son again.  “You stay with Xander and don't touch anything.”

As he led Nathan from the audience chamber, Xander shook his head mentally. 
That was too easy. 
Obviously Isaac must know his son had the talent. 
Is he deliberately dangling him in front of me to get him into the school?
  He could have left the boy in their quarters with a book or something.  But he had elected to bring him along to an audience with the Governor. 

Chapter 63

Kaleb
: following orders

“The Tao is like a well – used but never used up.

It is like the eternal void: filled with infinite possibilities.”

– Tao Te Ching, the Book of the Way, by Lao Tse

He waited there, lying on his bed, until Esteban finally began to snore.  No use putting it off any longer.  Kaleb reached under the mattress for the ring and slipped it on his finger. 
I'm here.

The reply, when it came, carried such a strong undercurrent of anger that he cringed. 
Where have you been?  It's been three days!

Kaleb swallowed with a mouth gone suddenly dry. 
It's not my fault!  They put me in a room with another student.  They must be expecting more to come, because all of the student rooms have two beds now.  I had to wait until the other student fell asleep.

Now suspicion blended with her anger.
  For three days?

He grimaced in the darkness of the room. 
My body is still adjusting to the altitude.  The first two days I was too tired and I fell asleep while I was waiting.

Some of the anger lifted, but he could still feel her sharpness. 
What's been happening the last three days?

Esteban's snoring paused.  The older student rolled over on his other side.  Presently the snoring resumed. 
Some new arrivals.  A couple of days ago a new student showed up from the Dixie Emirates, along with an ambassador.

He could feel her thinking about that, processing it. 
You said arrivals, plural.  Who else?

He glanced over at Esteban. 
I heard today another ambassador showed up, from new Israel.  He rolled over on his side and faced the wall.  He had a son with him.  Xander was showing the kid around the school floors.

Was that worry he felt from her, bleeding through the communication link. 
Why so many ambassadors?

How should I know?  Maybe they heard about the School.  Maybe they heard about the new Union and are worried about being a target unless they join.

Another surge of emotion from the Queen told him she was not happy about these developments. 
We'll have to step it up a notch, then.   Listen carefully.

A few minutes later he slipped out of bed and pushed open the door.  Seeing no one, he slipped out into the main room and made his way to a box of artifacts.  Finding what he needed took only moments.

Steeling himself to use it would have taken a little longer.  But the voice droned on, weaving a path that made anything possible.

Chapter 64

Kurt
: chance meeting in moonlight

He stood there, one hand on the railing watching Denver fade into the night.  Many of the other buildings still held the lights of flickering candles.  Kurt lifted the cigarette to his lips again and sucked the precious smoke into his lungs, thinking about how funny life was.

Two years ago I was slopping hogs back at my Dad's farm, and look at me now: on the roof of the Governor's 'scraper.  Should have left them years ago. 

There was no changing the past.  But it didn't stop him from fantasizing about it.  If only he had accepted the inevitable, that his older brother would inherit the farm someday.  Not him.   But no. he had to hang around, being useful, thinking that somehow they would split the land, that Helmut would see his way clear to letting him in for a share of his inheritance. 

Well, fat chance of that.  He blew out smoke and watched it whirl away in the evening breeze.  Like his future: dust in the wind.

Xander had told him there was still a chance he could become a wizard.  Had the old man really meant it?  Or had he just used Kurt's hopes to recruit him as a guard and general errand boy for the School?

The wizard had said that exposure to the Gifts might still increase Kurt's chances of becoming trainable.  It had seemed plausible at the time.  But when would he get that exposure?   Hopping up and down the stairs carrying messages?   Strolling around the floors while the students busied themselves practicing their magic?  Or would it be when he was smoking up here on the roof feeling sorry for himself?

He coughed and spat into the wind. 
That's me, nothin' but a gob of spit in the wind
.  But isn't everyone?  A hundred years from now, none of this would matter.  The buildings and the wind would still be here, but he would be gone.  Xander would be gone.  The students would be gone.  Even the school might be gone.

Didn't keep him from wishing he was part of it.

The sound of the stairwell door opening interrupted his musings.  Turning, he saw it was Kaleb.  So he wasn't the only one not sleeping tonight.  Kurt flicked the cigarette butt out into the arms of the wind and turned.  “You can't sleep either?”

“Not yet.  You got another one of those?”

“Yeah.”  Kurt just looked at him.  “I didn't know you smoked.”

Kaleb pulled a sour face.  “The caravan boss Trent introduced me to it.  I've been trying to quit but you know how it is.  Sometimes you just have to have one to quiet the nerves.  Can you spare one?  Dunno if I can sleep unless I get a fix.”

“Sure.”  Turning his back to the wind, Kurt dug out his pouch of tobacco and a couple of rolling papers.  “But you'll have to find someone for a light.  I brought the one I was smoking up here already lit.”  Deftly, he rolled them each a cancer stick.

Kaleb cracked an easy smile.  “Well that's where we're in luck.  I lifted an everflame from school supplies.  They'll never miss it.”  He pulled a coin out of a pocket and stroked the side of it, making the little mote of light and heat appear an inch off the side of it bearing the General's silhouette.   They both ignited their smokes and said nothing for a minute or two, savoring the flavor of them.

“So how'd you get the job of guarding the school?” Kaleb asked him, clearly curious.  “Was it some kind of punishment?”

“No,” Kurt told him.  “I asked for it.”  He explained about what Xander had told him about exposure to the Gifts.  “Don't know that it's doing me any good, though.”

The student took another drag on his cigarette.  “You never know.  If it works, it'll probably take time, be a gradual thing.”  he paused, as if an idea had only then occurred to him. “You know, maybe I could help you, when I'm not busy.  Unofficially.”

Kurt eyed him.  “How?”

“Well, I could hang out with you, let you play with the artifacts they let me handle.  You know, increase your exposure.”

Kurt felt a surge of hope, then cursed himself for a fool.  Xander and Lester, they'd never let the magic stuff out of their sight for long.  But it was a chance.  Another slim chance.

“In return for what?  I got nothing to share with you in return.”

Kaleb took another drag before answering.  “Oh come on, you know better than that.  Unless I'm mistaken you've got a hip flask in your back pocket.  Am I right?  Saw it when I came out here, before you turned around.”

Kurt glanced around the rooftop, but the one guy watching for light-shutter messages on the opposite corner of the roof seemed to be ignoring them.  “Well, I'm off duty.”

“Our robes are easier for hiding things than those leather trousers of yours.  But they can be draftier, too, in a breeze like this.  How about a swig for the cold?”

Kurt surrendered the flask and watched the younger man tilt it up for a swallow of the firewater.  “I thought you wizards had ways of keeping warm.”

“Who, me?  I'm just a beginner, just a student.” 

Yeah right.  The student must not have taken much of a swallow, because when he thrust the flask back at Kurt a little of the whiskey sloshed and wet the front of Kurt's shirt.  “Shit, man, be careful with that!  It's four dollars of my pay I'll never see again.”

“Sorry.”

Kurt realized he was still holding his cig with his other hand.  He cursed and stubbed it out on the railing, then slipped the flask back into his pocket.  “Perfect.  Now I have to go down to the laundry and change this shirt before anyone smells the booze on it.”

Kaleb's face was a study in penitence.  “I said I was sorry.  Look, here, you can keep the everflame, okay?  I'll tell them I lost it.  It'll give you something to increase your exposure.”

“Yeah, whatever.”  He pocketed it. “See you later.”

Kaleb was looking at him strangely.  “Maybe.”

What was that about?
thought Kurt.  Never mind, he needed to change the shirt before he forgot.  He strode over to the stairwell and yanked open the door.   As he turned to hurry down the steps he saw Kaleb kicking a rock toward the door, but there was no time to ask why.

Pounding down the stairs, he was actually glad the guy had done it.  The air rising up the stairwell to escape through the roof door was warm, but it kept him from sweating. 

By the time he realized his clothes were on fire, it was already too late.