(Yes, Dear Reader, I too just realized the chapter-numbering is all boogered up. But at this point, better to leave the repairs to final editing. Sorry!)
12
It wasn’t until I saw Mother waiting to greet us outside Jurisprudence’s guest room that the true import of Bob and Eric’s petition sank in. We hardly ever saw Mother around Devard, though she was the Senior of our entire Guild. According to Guardian she was extraordinarily skilled in her chosen field of study, which was the magicking of mundane items so that the spells they contained could be accessed by anyone. It was a highly specialized field with but few adherents; most sorcerers preferred developing their own spells instead of repackaging those of others, and anyone else with her interests would’ve gone by the nickname “Charmer”. But her prime role was that of Matriarch of her Guild, and therefore it was for this that she was named.
“I greet you, Lord Seeker,” she said as the British sorcerer and Kimball and I approached the guesthouse. “And offer you our warmest hospitality.”
“Thank you, Mother,” the Englishman replied, bowing formally. “But for the nonce I’m Jurisprudence rather than Seeker, as you should well know.” Then he smiled. “Your famous hospitality is gratefully accepted either way.”
I blinked at the exchange. According to rumor, Mother had once been a radical Revolutionary and had shared council tables with the likes of Samuel Adams, George Washington and especially Ben Franklin. According to the history books, it was largely due to her personal efforts that the American Revolution had been declared a magic-free war by both sides and then fought accordingly. Supposedly she was still none too fond of the ‘Lobsterbacks’, as she was sometimes prone to call them. But if there were hard feelings between she and the nobleman, I certainly couldn’t see any evidence of them.
Lord Jurisprudence asked me to sit outside and wait a few minutes while his luggage was carried into his new quarters. It was practically all books and scrolls, which explained why he travelled so heavily. Most sorcerers weren’t particularly interested in material things, or at least they weren’t from what I’d seen. So they tended not to pack much when on the road. “These are all legal documents,” he explained after noticing how I was leaving eyetracks all over his library. “Case studies, precedents, written High Council decisions and dissents… Things like that. I’m sure I won’t need a tenth of it. But which tenth? That, young sir, is something that can’t yet be answered.” He shook his head. “Had my steamer sunk, the loss would’ve been irreparable. Someday we simply must find a better way of dealing with these matters.”
Finally all the boxes were neatly stacked in some important order that only milord seemed to fully grasp and the sorcerer’s personal luggage safely stashed under his bed. “There,” he muttered at last. “That’ll do for now.” Then he turned to me. “I know you’ve already answered several pages worth of questions, son. But I fear it’s necessary that you answer them all over again, this time alone with me in an atmosphere where you can be certain that the American Guild will not and cannot harm you. It’s tiresome, I know. But soonest begun, soonest finished.”
And that was pretty much how the next few days passed, except that sometimes I took breaks while Lord Jurisprudence did things like examine my sleeping quarters and stipend records. “Was it truly your own idea that so much go to this orphanage in Seattle?” he demanded at one point.
I nodded meekly; milord’s haughtiness was enough to cow even a bear my size. “I was raised there, mostly,” I explained.
His eyes narrowed again. “I see.”
Milord also spent a lot of time speaking to my fellow familiars, even including Kimball. Of course none of them could breathe a word about the matter to me; their testimony was supposed to be completely confidential and we all had to honor that, as annoying as it was in such a small, tight-knit community. I sort of couldn’t help but notice, however, that Bob and Eric came in for an undue amount of attention. Milord went back to see them again and again, and each time spent more and more time with them until once they conversed for almost an entire night. Mother noticed this too, it was hard not to see, and wasn’t happy at all about it. Sometimes she sat on her own front porch for hours, staring at Bob and Eric’s barn as the midnight oil burned. She hadn’t left Devard once since milord had arrived, and showed no signs of going anywhere soon.
Then more foreign sorcerers arrived, and all of us had to go through the same thing, over and over again! First Caster arrived from Spain, even haughtier and more ancient than Jurisprudence. Then Count Dreamer from Germany, Dowser from Austria-Hungary, the beautiful Eros from Italy, Communicator from Russia who spoke such perfectly accentless American English that I’d never have believed he was a foreigner if he hadn’t told me himself… and last but not least Healer from France!
I hadn’t expected to see Healer again so soon, partly because his home was so far away but also because his services were so much in demand. Everyone claimed I’d have died for certain if he hadn’t taken an interest in my case after the fight with the fire-elemental. Never one to stand on ceremony, he leapt like the young man he still was from the Johnstown taxi and embraced me in a huge, full-body hug the moment he picked me out of the crowd. “Christopher!” he cried in his heavy accent, face lit up in genuine happiness. “It’s so good to see you again!” His ran his eyes up and down my body, lingering at the points where I’d been most severely burned. “And so well-healed, too!”
“It still hurts a little sometimes,” I admitted. “Particularly if I get too close to the fire or stretch my skin too much. But mostly I’m okay!”
He nodded and grinned. “I knew you would be! And the rest of your symptoms with time will fade.” His smile faded. “Now, what’s this I hear about someone abusing you?”
My face fell, and I looked down at the ground. “I didn’t file the protest,” I replied. “You’ll hear all about it when you ask the standardized questions.”
“Of course you didn’t file it!” he answered, tousling my ears. “That’d be utterly unlike you. And yet…” His face degenerated into a scowl, then he gestured towards his favorite hiking path through the Pennsylvania forest. “The devil take standardized questions! Let us take a nice long walk, you and I, down to the river. On the way we shall talk, and I’ll see if I cannot begin to make at least some small sort of headway on this not-sense.”
It turned out that Healer was the last of the Council of Inquiry to arrive, though Shaper returned home as well in the middle of the night. He couldn’t have gotten much sleep before the Council began its formal deliberations in Devard’s Great Hall the next morning at eight sharp.
It was all super-secret stuff, of course, so private that Guardian and a few others stood formal sentry duty at the room’s entrance and windows. Again the pattern repeated itself-- one by one practically everyone who lived at Devard was called in to testify, Eric and Bob for much longer than anyone else. And then, of course, they finally called on me.
For the most part I tend to take the Guild’s rules on security seriously. I don’t ask questions unless I think it’s okay for me to know the answer, and if perchance I do learn something I suspect I’m not supposed to know, then I don’t ever talk to anyone about it. The Guild restricts the art of magicking for excellent reasons; imagine what might happen if everyone with the knack were allowed to cast any spell they wanted whenever they wanted and you can begin to see what a chaotic mess the world would be in without controls. Yet I admit that during the days before I was called to testify I strained my ears to the limit trying to pick up even a word or two of what was going on in the Great Hall. I also examined the faces of everyone even remotely associated with the matter in great detail. Despite everything, I was still totally in the dark right up until the moment I swore my oath and sat down on the nice soft pad provided for my comfort.
“Now, Christopher,” Jurisprudence began, a reassuring smile on his face. “As you’ve been told a dozen times before, no one’s even accused you of doing anything wrong and you have absolutely nothing to fear. Do you understand this?”
I nodded wordlessly, then realized speaking aloud for the record was probably better. “Yes.”
He smile widened, then he leaned back in his chair. It was notably larger and better-padded than the others, a clear sign of rank. “As you know, the purpose of this hearing is to determine whether or not you’ve suffered abuse at the hands of the American Guild.” His expression faded. “We sorcerers have always been of two minds regarding the creation and use of familiars, son. Some of us-- your American Guild-Chair included, it should be noted for the record-- have always felt that familiar magic is a form of abomination due to the fact that it must, by definition, involve a degree of human suffering and degradation. Others point out that many if not most of the thaumaturgical advances of recent decades have only been possible through the use of familiars due to the power-boost they offer our spells. According to this group, in fact, further progress will be impossible without incorporating yet more familiars into our castings, even though demand already well outstrips the natural supply.” He frowned for a moment, then shook his head. “That matter is to be deliberated by another body at another time. The point of all this, however, is that we sorcerers recognize the uncertainty of the moral ground upon which we tread and wish above all to behave responsibly towards those who have delivered themselves so fully into our trust.” He met my eyes again. “Are you certain, son, that you have no complaints at all?”
The room went silent, and suddenly I felt like a thousand pairs of eyes were boring through me. I licked my chops for a moment to gain time; on the one hand, for the most part I’d been treated well. But… Bob and Eric had a point too, I supposed. And how could I leave them flapping in the wind?"
“I… I…” Unbidden, my tongue darted out and moistened my lips again. “No one’s ever beaten me or anything like that,” I explained. “Everyone’s very kind. They feed me wonderfully, even though I understand that it isn’t easy, and I think everyone pretty much likes and respects me.”
Mother, seated at the far end of the table from Jurisprudence in an only slightly-lesser chair, relaxed visibly. Meanwhile Shaper, seated just behind and to the right of her, seemed to deflate a bit.
“But,” I continued, even as Jurisprudence was inhaling to say more. “I do feel like I’m being mistreated in one way.” Jurisprudence blinked. This was sort of the first time I’d brought the subject up, except during my long walk with Healer. It wasn’t on any of the forms, so no one had asked about it. “I don’t know how much I’m allowed to say about certain matters. Even here.”
Mother stood up. Though there was pain in her eyes, something else glowed even brighter. “You may speak freely in all things, Christopher,” she replied. “No Guild secret can ever be more important than our behavior towards our familiars.”
Count Dreamer from Germany raised his eyebrows at this, as did all the rest of the Europeans except Healer. Why were they all from Europe, I wondered suddenly. Weren’t there any Asian or South American or African Guilds? And if not, why not? Then Lord Jurisprudence nodded at Mother in acknowledgement. “This woman’s word is beyond question, son. It’s all the assurance you need. You heard her. Speak freely.”
So I explained most of the story of how I came to be turned into a bear when I really shouldn’t have, all except the part about Baron Attache’s attempt to steal Midnight and I. It had no relevance that I could see, nor was there any point in embarrassing Count Dreamer. “…and then Guardian found more marks on me,” I explained, pointing awkwardly with a forepaw. “Marks that only come out at a sorcerer’s touch, and I’m told mean I can do magic on my own if someone were to train me.” I looked down at the ground. “First they didn’t want to make me a familiar because I had so much potential to excel in normal society. I didn’t like that very much, but at least it made a certain kind of sense. Now that I’ve been Changed regardless, they still won’t use me as a familiar because I’m only good for war magic, which the American Guild rejects. Nor will they train me as a sorcerer in my own right. I’m not really sure why that is, but…”
“But?” Jurisprudence asked, his blue eyes piercing deep into my soul.
“Well, I suspect they’re sort of afraid. Familiars aren’t supposed to be able to do magic, they say. It’s against every theory, though I don’t understand anything about that, of course.” I lowered my head. “I… I’m full of mundane potential, they claim. Yet no ordinary college will accept me, and I can’t say that I blame them. Besides, looking like I do and as hard it is for me to interact with others, how can I ever succeed in the mundane world? If I’m ever to be anyone, I have to succeed as either a sorcerer or a familiar. The very things I can never be here in America. Because of the war-magic thing.”
Count Dreamer raised his hand. “You’d be most welcome in Germany. The Army would welcome a dozen of you!”
“Ja!” agreed Dowser. “Austria too!”
“Russia extends her hand,” Communicator declared.
“And Italy,” Eros agreed. “Probably Britain as well. Any European nation.”
Jurisprudence nodded, “Yes. Britain too.”
I sighed. “But sir… I’m an American. Not a German or Italian or Englishman or anything else.” I looked at Healer. “Not even a Frenchman, though I owe you more than I can ever repay.” My eyes sought the floor again. “If I were good for any other kind of magic, then perhaps I might be happy in foreign service. But… War magic kills. And I just can’t see myself killing for any nation other than the one I truly love. I doubt I’d exactly enjoy it even then.”
Jurisprudence nodded slowly. “I was told that this would be your position.”
“It does him credit,” Healer agreed.
“But does nothing to solve the problem at hand,” Dreamer added. Then the Count turned to face me. “The two who petitioned upon your behalf stated that you’re being abused in the sense that you’re not being allowed to develop your full potential.” He scowled. “This is a marginal claim at best. By your own admission you’re being well paid and are well treated. Furthermore, you have free access to the finest libraries and tutors your nation can offer. You can learn anything you wish. If you specifically wish to develop your magical abilities, you have overseas channels available for that as well, even if they don’t suit your perhaps overdeveloped sense of morality.” The count shook his head. “If indeed you’re being abused, the torment is far too subtle for me to detect. All that I believe has been accomplished here is to drag the name of a great Guild through the mud.”
Dowser murmured his agreement. Then Eros nodded, while Healer frowned and bit his knuckle. Eventually, it was he who next raised his hand. “The American Guild has not been dragged through the mud,” he declared. “Rather, it has done itself credit by allowing us to come here without hindering our investigation in any way.” He glared at his German counterpart. “Other Guilds have been known to be far less cooperative in investigative matters.” Then he turned to Jurisprudence. “I perhaps should not be sitting on this Council,” he said. “Because I’ve come to know Christopher so well. On the other hand, perhaps that also offers me a unique insight. The rest of you have merely read a dry written account of this remarkable young man’s accomplishments to date. I, however, have tended him after a terrible injury suffered in a most noble cause. I’ve smelled the stink of his burned flesh, and watched him writhe in the most terrible pain yet never, not even once, complain.” He turned to Shaper. “You were correct, sir. This one should never have been Changed. Not only is his mind too precious to remove from general society, but his character is nothing less than heroic. Yet he has been removed, for better or for worse. Not only that, but his stigmata-- and therefore his capabilities-- remain totally unknown.” He turned to Mother. “Your Guild rejects war magic. This is wonderful-- as I’ve said before I can only wish that my own fellows were in a position to do the same. Yet to my own personal knowledge you train Guardians. It was in the company of one that this young man was so badly hurt, no?”
“Yes,” Mother nodded. “But…”
Healer smiled. “But your Guardians are much like our own. Almost always female, and proficient at fire-fighting, rescue work and when possible warding off disasters entirely. Very different from the work of a soldier, I agree. And yet… Young as he is, Christopher has already killed a salamander without any outside assistance whatsoever.” His smile widened. “Perhaps you’re correct. It may well prove to be the case that he can wield only the purest sort of war-magic-- the dealing of widespread death and destruction. But… Does not the evidence to date suggest that in his case the more we learn the stranger his case grows?” He shrugged. “So… Why not give the young man a chance? Attempt to employ him as a Guardian if he so desires. Because a familiar’s Bonding is permanent, it’ll have to be as a sorcerer in the event the experiment should fail. And because he’s unavoidably so clumsy, he’ll have to be assigned a permanent partner.” Healer’s face fell. “In truth I myself doubt that he’ll ever advance very far, given his lack of hands and no clear natural indications pointing towards Guardianship. Yet…” He scowled. “Some of my colleagues claim they can find no real evidence of abuse here. I, however, disagree. While our familiars often take on many of the mental characteristics of their animal-selves, they’re far more human than feral. Despite his outward appearance Christopher is therefore a human boy. We make it a point to continually remind each other of this fact when working with familiars so as to keep it foremost in our minds, and rightly so, Yet… What about in our hearts?” He turned to me. “We swear to treat our familiars as if they were our own offspring when they’re Bonded to us. Yet, in this as in his mundane life, Christopher is something of an orphan. Therefore, we must all serve as his parents.” His eyes roved until they’d met those of every sorcerer in the room. “And who among us would permit our own child to be robbed of the joy of at least attempting to fulfill his potential?”
13
Three hours later Mother, Shaper, Guardian and I found ourselves sitting in Shaper’s office. The sun was all the way down and there wasn’t much twilight left, yet no one did anything about the looming darkness. It wouldn’t have taken much effort to dispel the gloom; Shaper in particular was proud as could be of our Edison lighting system. Still, none of us felt like getting up and walking over to the wall-switch. Instead we tolerated the gloom, broken only by the last remnants of the previous day and the ever-fluctuating green glow that always hovered just over Shaper’s desk. It was some sort of magical communications link, though I couldn’t even begin to grasp how it might work.
“They can’t be much longer,” Bob said through Shaper’s window. He and Eric were standing patiently outside. It said much about the strength of our magical pseudo-family that the leading advocates of both sides of the dispute had come to wait peaceably together in the same place. Yes, Mother and her horse-familiars were in strenuous disagreement regarding a key policy issue. But they cared enough about each other regardless not to want to be apart when the final ruling was announced. “I mean, the issue isn’t all that complex.”
Shaper looked at me and sighed. “Perhaps they’re fighting over who gets our favorite bear-child should he change his mind and decide to leave the USA after all.”
“Don’t worry yourself for a moment over that,” I replied, climbing wearily to my feet and shifting position before lying down again. The floor creaked in protest; Shaper was going to have to have it reinforced again soon. “I…” I shook my head. “There’s something fundamentally wrong with the idea of me going off to become a citizen of another country. Even France. I’m not really quite sure why, but I’m plenty sure of it regardless.”
Guardian nodded, then reached over to tousle my ear. “I feel exactly the same way.”
Mother frowned. “It was… unseemly, the way they were so eager to take you into their service.” She looked at me and frowned. “Don’t get me wrong, Christopher. You can’t help being what you are, and I’ve never once accused you of being evil. But… War magic is evil, of the deepest and purest sort.”
“Not the purest,” Shaper replied, his eyes closed in thought. I’d reckoned him asleep. “So far as I can see the deepest, purest root of evil in all it’s myriad forms is greed. Greed for riches, greed for land, greed for prestige, and especially greed for more and more and ever more power.” He looked at Mother. “One of my tasks is to look into the future, and try to imagine what effects our actions may have ten, twenty, a thousand years down the road. Therefore, I’ve thought enough about such things to have formed a firm opinion.” His eyes hardened. “It’s greed that’s the true enemy, all right. Or more correctly, the sense of self-importance that lies at greed’s root.”
Mother frowned again and appeared about to speak, but Guardian cut her off. “It’s sad but true that it takes only one side to make a fight.” She bowed her head. “I am but young, Mother. May I ask a question?”
The elderly woman smiled. “Ask away, now and always my child.”
Guardian smiled back. “I’ve always wondered… We didn’t use magic in the Revolution. That was partly because you and Ben Franklin worked out an understanding with the British and both sides were honorable enough to stand by it. Besides which… Magic was still new back then and not very effective. We made the same deal in 1812, then with the Mexicans and the Confederates as well. While the Indians employed a few low-level spells, unless some rather nasty rumors are true we didn’t use magic against them either. Most recently against Spain… They never stood a chance regardless. While the Spanish had an advantage in war-magic over us, it wasn’t nearly enough to be decisive given all their other weaknesses. They knew how much we hate the very idea of war-magic and how savage even a purely mundane response would’ve been. So it wasn’t a factor there, either.” Her eyes narrowed. “Mother, it’s my duty to contain catastrophes. What would happen if we were to go to war with, say, Russia? Or Germany? Do you suppose, after the way you saw them react to Chris, that they’d be so accommodating?”
The old woman sifted uncomfortably in her seat. “We have no quarrels with Russia or Germany,” she pointed out.
“We don’t today,” Shaper countered. “But what about ten years from now? Did we have any quarrels with Spain in 1888?”
Mother shook her head firmly. “We’ve been over this before, a thousand times. And–”
Just then there was a knock at the office door. “May we come in?” Jurisprudence’s voice asked from the other side. “We’ve reached a decision.”
It didn’t take five seconds for Mother to absorb the gist of whatever was written on the parchment that Jurisprudence handed her. First she turned chalk-white. Then she sighed and held it up for me to read. “Whereupon,” it began, then things degenerated rapidly from there as the highly formal legal wording combined with the fact that every paragraph was repeated over and over again in five different languages made the document practically unreadable. Almost immediately I realized that I was getting nowhere fast, so I did what Mother must’ve done and immediately skipped down to the second-of-last paragraph. “…hereby do find that Familiar Christopher Spiess has indeed suffered grievous abuse at the hands of the American Guild. We further determine that due to their failure to study the unique capabilities of said Famiiar the American Guild has thereby relinquished all rights to him. He shall be removed from their care and reassigned to another Guild for service at the earliest opportunity.”
I fear that my skin went white under the fur as well. “Mother?” I asked. “Can they do that?”
“They can,” she replied. “It’s the most severe rebuke our Guild has ever received. One of the most severe any Guild has ever received, I’ll add. Almost unprecedented. But, yes. They can do it all right.”
“Do what?” Bob demanded.
“They’re removing Christoher from our custody,” Mother explained. “Because we failed to study him. And, I suspect, because they perceive that we either can’t or won’t do much of anything about it.”
The big horse’s mouth dropped open, while his partner Eric’s ears folded flat. “I… They…” Bob stuttered.
Mother looked at Shaper. “No one predicted this!”
“No,” he agreed, looking thoughtful. Then he turned to Jurisprudence. “Sir…” he began. “I don’t know–”
“Please,” the Englishman interrupted. “There were two votes in opposition. One of them was my own. May I speak?”
Shaper’s mouth continued to work for a moment, then he forced a nod.
Jurisprudence looked at Bob and Eric. “You two deserved better, above all,” he said. “It’s not your fault that your strategy backfired so spectacularly. In my opinion at least, you behaved both bravely and correctly.” He bowed in respect, then turned to face Mother. “For years I’ve been warning you about the increasing militarization of the Art and how it’s undermining everything good and decent about the Art. I’ve also said over and over that I felt turning your back and hoping the problem would go away was an ineffective strategy. By the day, even by the hour, our powers are growing more quickly than our wisdom.” He sighed. “Always from the very beginning, even when we’ve disagreed, even when our nations have disagreed, you and I have always been able to trust and work with each other.” He sighed. “What just happened here is an example of everything that’s so wrong with our world today. Those others couldn’t care less about Christopher’s interests. For that matter, they concern themselves less and less about anyone’s interests except those of their own nation.”
“Each of them hopes they’re going to be the one to get him,” Shaper replied, nodding slowly. “And that his special markings and powerful form will lead to some kind of major breakthrough in military magic.”
“Or else they hope that they can gain something else of value in exchange for relinquishing their interest in him,” Jurisprudence agreed. Then he sighed. “Right and wrong never entered into the matter for a moment; having been present at the deliberations I’m quite certain of this. Under the circumstances I fear that my own country may well be forced to play the same game, though as I hope my vote makes clear this was very definitely not our hoped-for outcome. We simply cannot afford to let the Russians or Germans have him.”
“Nor was this of France’s making,” Healer declared, stepping through the door. He looked at me. “Christopher, I’m so terribly sorry.”
It still hadn’t sunk in, I guess. “But… I don’t have a choice? None at all?”
“You’ve been Transformed,” Healer explained, laying a gently hand on my head. “Under Guild law, you’re no longer human. It must be so, as I’m sure you’ve been told a million times, or else the spells won’t work. Whoever ends up with you will actually buy you with a token payment.” He sighed. “Normally yes, you’d have more in the way of rights. But you were declared an exceptional case, and therefore not subject to the normal rules.”
There was a long, long silence. “We did gain one concession,” Healer said after a long moment. “Small though it is.” He looked at Jurisprudence and smiled. “Though only by something very nearly approaching gross abuse of the power of the Chair.”
He smiled back. “It served them right, the jackals!” Then he turned back to me. “You can stay here in America until a decision is reached as to your ultimate home. This is more of a victory than it probably seems, because it’ll certainly require months and perhaps even years for the Council to decide who will receive such a tempting prize.”
I looked down at the floor-- it certainly didn’t feel like much of a concession.
Then Jurispridence shook his head one last time. “I can’t imagine what the world is coming to, when the Art stoops to the like of this.” Then he looked deep into Mother’s eyes. “Long ago when things were just beginning,” he said, “you made me very proud. As you have over and over again many times since, my dearest daughter, despite our many differences.” He glanced at me before continuing. “And I hope very much that you shall make me proud again. Think long and hard before you make your next move.”
Jurisprudence may’ve cautioned Mother to consider her next move carefully, but as things turned out others were prepared to be a little hastier.
“Chis?” Guardian declared the next morning from the doorway of Devard’s main dining hall. “Are you here?”
I was just finishing up a dozen blueberry muffins and took a moment to lick my muzzle extra-well. Would the food be as good in Germany? Somehow I doubted. Certainly not in Britain, according to everything I’d read. But maybe in France or Italy? There was always hope, I supposed… “Back here!” I answered, swaying to my feet and, as always, being super-careful not to step on anyone. It was habit, was all; though none were present at the moment I often dined with my fellow-familiars. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s someone here to see you,” she explained. “Right this instant!”
I bear-grumbled, then lumbered slowly towards the door. Just last night the Guild Judiciary Council had ruled that I had even fewer rights than the average run-of-the-mill familiar, as nearly as I could tell simply because it was expedient that they do so. I’d sort of cried myself to sleep over the matter, even though at seventeen I really should’ve been too old for that sort of thing. I’d given my whole life over to the sorcerers, more or less, and been repaid with slavery for my troubles. So somehow I didn’t feel in nearly so inclined anymore to run myself ragged every time the selfsame organization or one of its agents beckoned me away from my breakfast table. Even when it was Guardian doing the asking, I wasn’t about to rush.
“Hurry!” she pleaded. “It’s important!”
Then I frowned and picked up my pace a little, though it was for my friend’s sake and not that of the Guild. She’d never done anything to wrong me, after all. Not personally, at least.
Still, I was in a thoroughly ugly mood as I followed Guardian up into the Castle proper and down the main hall towards Shaper’s office. Then my nose wriggled and I stopped cold. “Who’s in there?” I demanded.
Guardian blinked-- it wasn’t like me to be so truculent. “Some… Men from the government.”
I sniffed again. “With at least two guns. I can smell their oil. Have they come to take me away already?”
Her jaw dropped. “I don’t… Uh…” Then she rolled her eyes. “Truthfully, I have no idea. They’re US Marshals, is all I know for sure.”
It was my turn to blink. “I thought Devard was extra-territorial? Like a foreign embassy.”
“It is,” she replied. “But…” Then she sighed. “As I said, I don’t understand myself. But they don’t look happy.”
I nodded, then looked up at my one-time sort-of mentor. “I don’t blame you,” I said eventually. “None of this mess is your fault. Not personally, I mean.”
Her face lightened a little. “Thank you.”
“Or Eric or Bob’s or Shaper’s or… Anyone’s, I guess.” I looked up at Guardian again. “If the Marshals are here to take me away… Tell everyone so for me?”
“Of course,” she agreed with a smile. Then she fozzled my ears and it was almost like the old days, during our fire-fighting expedition together. What a wonderful time that’d been! Would i ever know another like it? “Don’t give up hope yet, kiddo. It’s way too soon for that. Ten to one they’re not to arrest you.”
I frowned and made a decision. If so, they’re weren’t going to take me easily. I’d been pushed around long enough.
14
“Christopher Speiss?” one of the two badged men demanded as I stepped into Shaper’s office. Or at least he did once his eyes were done bugging halfway out of his head; I’m told that I’m well above average in size for my age even by Kodiak standards.
“You don’t have to say a word!” Mother said from the back of the room; I hadn’t noticed her presence. “You’re not under the jurisdiction of either of these men.”
I looked at the Marshals; one of them wore a cowboy hat adorned with turquoise and reeked of horses, while the other was short, portly and dressed in more traditionally Eastern attire. Both wore large sixguns on their hips and were extraorinarily confident in their bearing. “I’m Christopher,” I confirmed. “Sorry. I forgot to put on my nametag today.”
The Easterner smiled, if only barely. “Mr. Speiss,” he explained. “I’ve come here bearing a warrant for your arrest. Not due to any crime you’ve committed, mind you.” He half-bowed. “Rather, we’re here to offer you protective custody.”
“I… Uh….” I’d read a legal book once; now it came in handy. “On what grounds?”
“In order to protect an invaluable national asset,” he replied. Then, moving very slowly, he held out the document so I could read it.
“It’s signed by the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court,” the Westerner added. Then he smiled. “Teddy never does anything halfway, you see.”
I blinked and looked up from the paperwork. “You mean, the President?”
“Yep!” he replied, hooking his thumbs in his gunbelt. “I knew him back in the Dakotas, when he was a rancher. Hasn’t changed a bit.”
I felt the first smile of the day trying to form itself on my lips. “In other words… He doesn’t want me to leave the country.”
“Absolutely not,” the Easterner replied. “In fact… I’m authorized to inform the Guild leadership, as well as you yourself, that any attempt to remove Christopher Speiss from the territory of the United States will be considered either a criminal act or an act of war, as appropriate to the circumstances.” He turned and looked at Mother. “I also bear a private message for you from the President, ma’am. Mr. Roosevelt handed it to me in person.” He removed an envelope from his pocket and held it out to her. “He asked me to inform you that it’s an unofficial communication, but very sincere.”
She looked dazed for a moment, then sighed and turned to Shaper. “Read the thing out loud for us all,” she ordered. “This is all your doing anyway, isn’t it? I mean, who else could possibly have alerted Washington so quickly?”
Shaper colored, then bowed. “I am indeed guilty, my Lady. Under the circumstances… Well, if you want my wand for it I’ll not–”
“Just read the letter!” she ordered. “As always your insubordination is well-intended.” Her eyes flicked to me. “And likely justified as well, at least in this particular instance. Though I hate to admit it.”
He nodded and tore the note open. “Dearest Mother,” he began. "Of all the many letters, wires, signals and notes I’ve so far written during my time as President, this one is by far the most difficult. Not only has your Guild been one of the cornerstones of our nation, but once upon a time you and your fellows treated me personally with the utmost concern and caring. The art of magic and our great republic were born together, and I suspect you personally played a larger part in both events than the historians have so far guessed. For over a century magic has been America’s servant, and our success in the field has been a key economic advantage. Today America stands on the verge of true greatness, and you, Mother, have played no small part in this.
"And yet… Despite what either of us might personally wish and with terrible suddenness a new situation has arisen, one without precedent in the relationship between nation and Guild. As you probably guessed all along, the government has taken more than a passing interest in some of the Guild’s ideas and policies, particularly those relevant to national defense. So far, in no small part due to your personal reputation for honor and fair-dealing, America has escaped the necessity of fighting a magical war. But, as the man ultimately responsible for America’s defense, I must wonder how long this state of affairs can continue? All the other Great Powers of the world, and even some of the not-so-great, are advancing by leaps and bounds in the arts of martial magic. In Britain, our spies tell us, sorcerers are assigned to every fleet flagship in order to assist in predicting and even influencing the weather, as well as simplifying communications. In France, mages are said to be able to make the earth crack open and swallow invading armies. In Germany, the government openly boasts of how arcane influences are employed to increase the range and efficiency of their artillery. And so it goes, on and on and on. Each year magic becomes a larger, more important part of the arsenals of the world.
"Except, of course, in the United States.
"As a sincere and honest friend of the Guild, I might wish that matters had proceeded more slowly and less directly to the confrontation that we now face. As President, however, I find myself in a position to regret nothing. The world is evolving into a new balance, one in which our nation is destined to act as an ever-increasing weight. If we fail to accept the responsibilities that accompany our growing strength, no matter how unpleasant these responsibilities must be, we abdicate our role in helping set the agenda for mankind. To reduce our martial strength, under current world conditions, is in effect to negate the power of our ideals.
“Please, Mother, consider both the truth and the source of these words. For the present, only a handful need know that government and Guild are at odds. However, be aware that I cannot and will not tolerate the loss of Christopher Speiss and all he may represent to the future of our nation. Mother, your word is as always good. Offer me reasonable reassurance through the gentlemen who brought you this note (both are personal friends of long standing and can be trusted in all matters) that Christopher will be safe in your custody and I’ll refrain from pressing matters further. If you will not or perhaps cannot offer such assurances… Then matters will, I fear, have to take their inevitable course.”
"Yours,
“Theodore Roosevelt, President of the United States of America”
“Well!” Mother said into the long silence that followed the reading of the letter. Then she frowned. “Teddy’s a dear, of course. As always. But…” She shook her head. “It’s out of the question. We cannot reject a Guild Court ruling.”
The Marshals nodded, then the Easterner reached out and accepted the President’s note back. “He told us to expect that reply from you, ma’am.”
“Indeed?” she answered, clearly surprised.
“Yes, ma’am. He said that you’re an unbending woman of the highest courage and principle in an increasingly amoral age.” Then he looked at me. “Teddy has empowered us to compromise, given all the unique circumstances in play. We don’t have to arrest him. Instead, we can leave a guard.”
“It might be to everyone’s advantage,” Shaper added. “We can keep this… intervention secret, and see what the International Guild does next.”
“I’d rather stay here if I can,” I added. Somehow, all my anger at the Guild was suddenly gone. “I mean… No one else really knows how to take care of me. And all my friends are here.”
“Yes,” Mother agreed, though it sounded as if the word was torn from her throat. “Leave a guard or two for now; we’ll treat them as guests. It’s as good an intermediate solution as any. Until…” She sighed.
“Until?” Guardian asked.
“Until I’m replaced as head of the American Guild,” she replied primly. “Then it’ll be someone else’s problem. I’m retiring immediately. Teddy’s correct, I suppose. The world’s changing, and I find less and less room in it for a woman of honor.”
15
“…never imagined my guard would be anyone like you guys,” I said to my new friend Chester as we walked the long path down to the old Johnstown Pit. It’s sealing had been world news, and Chester was interested in magic. So interested, in fact, that he was virtually agog at having been given the chance to spend a few idle weeks at Castle Devard instead of shipping out aboard a Navy ship for the summer like most of his fellow cadets. In fact, he could hardly believe how lucky he was.
Chester’s mouth opened, but it was Doug who spoke next. “I’ve heard rumors you’ve been down inside that thing,” he said. “Way down deep. Before it was deactivated, I mean.”
I frowned; Doug wasn’t nearly as likeable as Chester. He was a bit of a prig, in fact, and so self-assured as to be annoying. “We all hear rumors. Like I hear that it was your mother who pulled strings so that you could spend the summer up here,” I retorted. “Instead of them sending an upperclassman, that is.”
Chester smiled wide at that, hidden safely behind Doug as he was. Meanwhile the Army cadet turned crimson. Chester had been chosen for this duty not only due to his high class standing, but also because he’d needed to come to Devard anyway to have a minor childhood Cursing cleansed. So in his case everything was all up front and out in the open; there was clearly no favoritism involved. Sadly, his Army counterpart couldn’t make the same claim. “We were both hand-picked,” Chester replied eventually, so as to smooth things over for his fellow officer-trainee. “I can’t speak for the Army, but the Undersecretary of the Navy came to see me personally at the Academy before I shipped out. He wanted to make sure that I learned as much as possible while I was here.”
I nodded. The whole thing was utterly transparent. Teddy had sent two boys at least somewhat close to my own age, Chester Nimitz and Douglas Mac Arthur, to act as my personal guards. While no one expected them to put up much of a fight in the event of somone suddenly apporting me away, no non-sorcerer could realistically expect to do any better. And in the meantime we three were becoming fast friends. Or at least Chester and I were; I got the feeling that no one ever got very close to Doug. On the one hand, I was amazed at the level of spit-and-polish and self-confident maturity the two cadets carried so easily everywhere they went. But on the other… There were all sorts of rumors going around about my having fought my way out of the Pit, and what’d happened at Baltimore was public knowledge. While I wasn’t part of the military family and now could never be, I was still enough of a narrow-gauge civilian-type hero to have earned a degree of their respect. But the biggest thing we had in common was, frankly, our minds. All three of us shared a deep love of books and knowledge for its own sake. I’d never met anyone my own age before who was, for lack of a better word, as bright as I was in the academic sense. But Chester was clearly my peer. And as for Doug… For all his nose-in-the-air attitude he was easily the smartest of us three. So, as Teddy had probably planned from the start, we spent endless hours educating each other about our respective spheres of knowledge and building a working relationship. I shared out what information the Guild would allow about how magical spells actually worked and what it was like to become a familiar, while Doug taught me about flanks and bases of supply and Chester explained primary and secondary armaments and why it was important for a large warship to have both. We also spent endless hours walking the paths around Devard as the other familiars delighted in sneaking up on our unwary guests and catching them unawares.
“…obvious that Teddy has no intention of giving you up,” Doug said a little later as we rounded the bend towards the closed Pit. The spat had become public knowledge, largely because a closed-door summit was to be held on the matter in London in three weeks to “settle the international crisis”. Once things escalated to that level, specifics become pretty difficult to conceal. Chester claimed the Navy had ordered extra colliers to sea and gone to a wartime footing, but the Army wasn’t ready yet.
And it was all over me!
“Of course the President won’t,” Chester agreed. “He’d be a fool to, just from what little I’ve seen here so far.”
“Teddy does nothing by accident,” Douglas pointed out. “We three… In all honesty I’m one of the most promising cadets at West Point. And you at the goat pen, Chester.” The Texan scowled, but didn’t protest further. “Plus you, Chris. All of about the same age. One from the army, one from the navy. And… One from the United States Magic Corps?”
My ears perked at that, and I bear-grunted. It was something I did when not wanting to commit myself.
“Or something like that,” Douglas reassured me. “You wait and see. It’ll happen for sure.” He smiled. “And here we all three are, young and hopeful and in on the ground floor!”
“Is your mother a genius to get you in on this so early, or what?” Chester asked.
Douglas colored. “It’s not right,” he began, “that you should–”
But then his words were cut off as we rounded the last corner and came face to face with the dead Pit that’d once poured such malevolence into the world. “Greed,” Shaper’s inscription-spell still read, as it would for as long as I lived and long beyond.
“Gracious!” Chester whispered. “I can still feel the evil coming from behind there.”
“Me too,” I said. “I’m glad you spoke up. I’d always thought it was my imagination.”
“No,” Doug agreed. “It’s not your imagination at all.” Then his stance stiffened. “Greed?” he asked. “Why greed?”
“Because ultimately it was greed that that caused the Great Flood to begin with,” I explained. “And it’s greed that to this day prevents the victims from receiving just recompense.” I explained about the wealthy landowners who’d maintained such a dangerous dam for their pretty yachts and then never been held accountable for the damages and lives lost when it inevitably and predictably failed.
Douglas frowned and looked like he’d bitten into something unpleasant. “I suppose,” he acknowledged finally. “I mean, it does sound pretty egregious.”
My eyes narrowed. “I saw the Demons it generated with my own eyes. The victims-- men, women and children alike-- were drowned, crushed, flayed to bits, burned alive…” I sighed and turned away. “Personally, I’d have confiscated every last dime from the owners and used it to right the wrongs insofar as that’s possible. But the courts won’t touch the ones responsible, and at this point probably never will. Shaper’s right. Greed, or the self-importance hiding behind it, in one form or another is the root of all evil. Or damned near all of it, at least.”
Doug frowned again, but when he spoke his words were a surprise. “Perhaps,” he allowed. “Fortunately for me, it’s not a soldier’s job to judge.”
“Or a sailor’s,” Chester agreed. Then he smiled at me. “Come on. We’ll have to hurry to make it back by suppertime.”
It’s one thing to read about an international crisis in the history books. However, I can state from personal experience that being the center of one takes a lot longer and is a lot less fun. Weeks and weeks went by, so many that Chester and Douglas were replaced first by Bill and George and then Jack and Charles. It was pretty wonderful getting to know them all, but it wasn’t worth all the other stress and strain. According to Shaper, Teddy’s ‘interference’ in the business of the Guild had messed up international relations six ways from Sunday. This was mostly because up until then the Guild’s status in the world had never really been set in stone, legally-speaking. In Germany, for example, sorcerers selected their own Guild-Father. But he swore a personal oath to the Kaiser and served in their equivalent of a Cabinet. Things in Britain worked pretty much the same informal way they did in the USA, except that all magic-users were considered to carry officer-level rank in either the army or navy and it was quietly understood that in peacetime and wartime alike a certain number of sorcerers would always be available for military experimentation and service. In Russia and Austria all sorcerers were automatically noblemen, the Guild was part of the government. Everyone did things their own way, in other words, under the loose international oversight of the Guild. Now the President was claiming sovereignty over his native magic-users for the first time, and there was no clear precedent regarding whether or not he had the right to take such action. Everything was up in the air…
…and there I was, caught right in the middle of it all. Practically every day, it seemed, some sorcerer from some foreign nation or another was showing up at Devard to physically verify that I hadn’t gone anywhere and ask me new and different stupid questions about how I was being treated and didn’t I really want to move to Italy/Germany/Russia wherever after all? The longer it went on the more I hated it, until my growls grew so threatening that Shaper had to take me aside and ask me to be more polite. As the weeks went by the foreign Guilds permanently stationed sorcerers in local hotels so as to keep a continuous eye on me. This in turn meant that poor Bob and Eric spent even more time than ever hitched up to their wagon and making hard pulls against invisible loads, as scry-attempts were turned back and other spy-spells discouraged. “For the first time ever,” Mother explained one day, “we Americans are having to waste our time playing the same children’s games that everyone else has been for decades and decades now.” She shook her head, looking at Bob’s quivering, sweat-lathered flank. “I fear we’re not nearly as good at them as we might be. Though that’ll change, given time.” I offered again and again to help with the wagon, it having been proved that I could. But both Mother and Shaper vetoed it, firstly on the grounds that Bob and Eric were holding pretty well and secondly because they felt it’d be good if my ability were held back as a surprise if and when it was really needed.
I blinked at that. Power-magic was an incredibly useful thing to have available. If I could produce more of it, then leaving me to spend my days aimlessly wandering the grounds in the company of various military cadets instead of hitching me to a wagon of my own was a terrible waste. Yet Douglas had taught me about the many uses of a “strategic reserve” in wartime and the importance of committing it only at the right time and place, preferably without the enemy finding out. Therefore it made sense to keep my ability secret from potential enemies, I supposed, though the cost in lost magic that might’ve otherwise been put to good use was staggering. Mother was right, I decided. Conflict was inherently wasteful and war-magic a perversion of everything good and decent in the world. The more time passed, the more I began to think she was right. There couldn’t possibly be anything worse in the world than war and everything that went with it. It was better that I laze my life away than to participate in such ridiculous and pointless horror.
So as the crisis and resulting London conference wended on and on I watched my good friends work extra-hard without being able to help, spent my days alternating between being annoyed and feeling useless, and in general fretted my life away. The only good news, besides the new cadet-friends I was making and the new books on military and naval history I was finding so fascinating despite their repulsive subject matter, was that the blueberry crop was an especially tasty one that year. Thank heaven for small favors!
Surprisingly, it was Frederick who finally broke me out of my rut. One day he came hopping up while I was rolling and stretching on the little lawn out in front of Shaper’s office, taking advantage of the first really hot day of the year to work the kinks out of my muscles. “Chris?” he asked aloud from a respectful distance, so as to make sure I didn’t make a sudden move and accidentally crush him.
I smiled and resumed a more conventional downside-down posture. Frederick had once been a young negro boy who’d been denied an education and the self-esteem that went along with it. I’d had to help him along for a while, but from what I was hearing these days my efforts had paid off in a big way. Though he supposedly wasn’t anything special in terms of his magical powers as a familiar, my friend was growing into something of a math whiz. Even more importantly he was appearing more and more often in the Negro newspapers, where he encouraged his Gifted fellows to give the Guild a chance instead of hiding themselves away until the Marks finally gave up and vanished. Our most recent pool of familiar-candidates had included two Negro children and, while neither had been Chosen, both came forward because heir parents had heard about Frederick. “Hi, yourself!” I replied. “What’s new?”
“Not much,” he answered. “'ceptin Guardian wants to see you. Business, she says. Not pleasure. She sent me to ask you to come to the main hall right away.”
I nodded. From time to time I was still asked to tutor or even help evaluate a new familiar or candidate. “Of course. Should I bring my reading-stand?”
“I doubt it,” Frederick replied, lowering his ears. “I’m not entirely sure, mind you. But I think maybe there’s a been settlement at that big conference everyone’s talking about. I just saw Shaper on the way over here, you see.”
I nodded. Shaper had been serving as an advisor to the American delegation; if he’d apported back home then it was a pretty sure bet that the talk-talk was finally over. “Did she… I mean…”
“She wasn’t smiling,” Frederick answered, tone mournful. “In fact, she didn’t look happy at all. Shaper wasn’t smiling either, now that I think about it.”
My guts had been churning for weeks; now they were in a tighter knot than ever. “I see,” I answered, keeping my tone light in order to mask the true feelings that lay beneath. Then I stood and gave myself a nice, massive shake to throw off all the leaves and forest litter and such that was probably caught in my fur. “In that case, I suppose I’d better hurry.”
14
All the auguries indicated the worst of news as I squeezed through the door into the Guild’s main conference room, just down the hall from all the VIP offices. Mother was waiting for me as well as Shaper, while Guardian’s own presence was a clear hint that very soon I might need comforting. Every one of them sported the longest of long faces. Plus, the US Marshals were back. I was only halfway through the entrance when I realized just how terrible things were going to be, and I fear that for a moment or two I hesitated. But there wasn’t any point in putting things off; I wasn’t ten anymore after all. So with all the dignity I could muster I wormed myself the rest of the way in and sat down in as mature and adult manner as the next Kodiak. “Yes?”
Mother looked at Shaper, who in turn looked at Guardian. “Christopher,” she began. “Something terrible has happened.”
I felt the lump in my throat go grow larger, but again did my best to let nothing show externally. “Indeed?”
She nodded. “The International Guild… It’s broken.”
My eyebrows rose. This was terrible, yes. But not the news I’d expected. “Excuse me?”
“It was the Conference,” Shaper explained. He looked at Mother, then lowered his eyes like a boy caught raiding a cookie jar. “It sort of… Spun out of control. The various nations represented there have all nationalized their magical assets. Which means that all the minor powers are going to be forced to do the same as well. I… We…”
“Teddy wouldn’t give an inch regarding turning you over,” the cowboy-hat wearing Marshal explained. I’d since learned that his name was Ted. “He refused to recognize the Guild’s authority to order an American citizen to be turned over to a foreign agency against their will. Even a familiar, which as he pointed out you officially still are not.”
“And the Brits and French backed him to the hilt, bless their hearts,” the Easterner added. His name was Nate.
“As a result,” Mother explained, her voice low and sad, “We of the American Guild were forced to choose between our loyalty to the United States government and our fellow magic users.” She sighed. “We chose Washington, of course. I mean, how could we go to war against our own people? For which we were kicked out of the World Guild…”
“…which then ceased for all practical purposes to exist when the British and French magic-users withdrew in protest as well,” Shaper explained, frowning. Then he looked me in the eye. “We’re letting you know first. So that you won’t feel like any of this was your fault.”
“It’s been brewing for ages,” Guardian added. “The stresses have been building ever since war-magic really began to take off.”
“In retrospect this has been coming for a very long time now,” Shaper agreed. “Though I think it was the 1870 war that really did it; nothing’s been quite right since. You can’t have such hatred and rivalry within a single Guild without ruining everything for everyone.”
“I blame no one,” Mother said softly. “And I also blame everyone.” Then she sighed again and looked at the Marshals. “At any rate, we’ve spent the afternoon negotiating with Teddy and the his friends at the State Department by telegram. As a result we’ve worked out a new arrangement. Similar agreements have been worked out in England and France. As of today we’re giving up our extraterritorial privileges and becoming an arm of the US government In exchange we’ve been promised a Cabinet-level seat in government with the right to choose our own Secretary of Magic, the right to continue to regulate ourselves, and a certain degree of autonomy.” She looked at Shaper-- there was no need to say out loud who the first to fill the Cabinet office would be. She smiled slightly. “We’ve many friends in the government-- not just Teddy, but many key Democrats as well. Overall the nation has been pleased with us and grateful for our services, or so we’re assured, and therefore things will go on much as before. We’ll even still structure ourselves internally as a Guild rather than a governmental department. In fact, we’ve been promised that the only difference we’ll notice day to day is that from now on our checks will be signed by the Secretary of the Treasury.”
Shaper nodded. “We’ve been promised a working partnership, not subordination. Except in that the President is now our Commander-in-Chief, that is. As the Kaiser apparently has long been for the German Guild.”
“That’s what really forced the matter,” Guardian observed. “Once one nation-state mobilized their magicians for military purposes, I suppose it was inevitable that all of them would have to.” She sighed and looked at me. “The Atlantic Ocean delayed matters for us, was all. But… Chris, don’t feel bad. If it hadn’t been you, then another issue would’ve gotten us all wrapped up in this same mess regardless.”
“Yes,” Mother agreed. A tear rolled down her cheek. “I can see now that it would’ve. Apparently everything I worked so hard for…” Then she shook her head and stared at the floor. “Those damned fools!”
Shaper reached out with one arm, and Mother stepped into his hug. “Anyway, Christopher. As I said, because you were at the focus of all this we wanted you to know first. We’re calling an open meeting at ten tomorrow morning, and Teddy will be holding a press conference at that very same moment. Until then, please keep all this to yourself.”