Published: 18 Jul 2019

Sanctuary

Ulee woke to see an old woman’s face. Her eyes looked intently into his.

“Who are you?” the boy asked. “Are you the Sorter? Please, don’t send me back yet. I don’t want to be a mage!”

“Hush, boy,” a soft and sibilant voice said. “I’m not the Sorter … you didn’t die. I’m Ian’s grandmother.” She saw Ulee was puzzled. “Ian is the boy who found you in the barn. He told me you were a mage. You were about to die from hunger and cold. We brought you into the house. You need to eat, now.”

She lifted Ulee to a sitting position. It was only then the boy realized that he was in a bed made with soft woolen blankets. The old woman took a bowl from a table, and offered Ulee a spoon. “Can you feed yourself? I’ll hold the bowl for now.”

The bowl held soup that smelled of sweet turnips, crisp herbs, and earthy potatoes. “Thank you, Mistress,” Ulee said. “But you should not try to save me. I would rather die than become an apprentice, again, and I would rather die than be a mage!”

The woman put the bowl back on the table. “What has been done to you, that you say those things?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed as Ulee spoke. He told of beatings and of drudgery among vats of stinking tanning solutions. He told of bare feet stumbling through rotting flesh scraped from hides, of picking maggots from bread, and of closing his eyes before drinking water so not to see what might be floating or swimming in it. He told also of children discovered to be magic users dragged from their homes in chains by men in rust-colored robes backed up by soldiers whose eyes were sunk deep into their sockets. He told of his own decision to die and his wish that he would be allowed to do so. The tale came flatly from Ulee’s mouth; there was no emotion in his words or on his face. There was no need for emotion, if, indeed, there were any left in the boy.

When he had said all he had to say, the woman looked into his eyes. “Boy, I swear that before I let anyone take you back to that, I will kill you, myself.”

Ulee felt the force of the woman’s oath and gasped.

“But that will not be today.” She smiled and then asked, “Will you eat?”

When Ulee next awoke, he saw Ian asleep in a chair beside his bed. Ulee reached out and touched him. “Ian,” he whispered urgently. “Ian, I’ve got to piss!”

Ulee climbed back into the bed and pulled the covers around himself. “Ian,” he asked, “who bathed me? Where are my clothes? And please, may I have some more soup?”

Ian laughed softly, “I knew you wouldn’t remember. You were very sleepy. I bathed you. In the women’s bath, too! Nana made sure we weren’t discovered.”

“Who?” Ulee asked.

“Nana,” Ian replied, “my grandmother. She fed you soup.”

“Oh,” Ulee said.

“And she took your clothes and burned them. She’s the only one except me who knows you’re here. This room is in her suite. It’s a birthing room. She’s a midwife. And she’ll bring you some broth soon. Here, she said you were to eat this pudding … but slowly! And you are to drink all this water, too.”

Ulee fell asleep after eating the pudding. When he woke, both Ian and the woman called Nana were sitting beside the bed. Ulee was able to hold a bowl of broth and feed himself. While he ate, Nana answered his questions about the Red Robes.

“Things were different in the old days. Before Gower became Prince of Eblis, magic users weren’t forced to serve the state. Now, as soon as a child is discovered to have the talent, he’s taken to Herten, the prince’s city. The stories, well, they say boys are not just trained in magic, they’re spelled to be loyal servants to the prince.” Nana’s voice was brittle.

“Who are the men in robes?” Ulee asked.

“They came here, about ten years ago, and about ten years before that,” Nana said. “This was before I knew Ian had a talent. One was a mage … a Finder of some kind. He looked hard at all the boys. He looked at me, too, but he didn’t bother me. For all they know, I’m just an old midwife. My herbs and potions don’t interest them. But you two boys? They’ll take you in an instant when they come back. And they will come back.”

“Can’t we just hide when they come?” Ian said. “We could live in the woods…”

“When they asked us if we were all here, would they know we were lying? And what would they do if they did?” Nana shook her head. “No, that would never do.”

“I’m sorry I brought this on you,” Ulee said. “I should not have come here. You’re in danger because of me.”

“No, boy,” Nana said. “You brought no new danger to this house. Ian was in danger the instant his talent bloomed in him. As were you.”

“But I’m a runaway, and keeping me—”

“These men won’t care if you’re a runaway, and I’m not concerned about anyone else who might be looking for you,” Nana said. “Now, you two, off to bed.”

The horse was lame and the man riding it was crippled. His left leg ended in a stump. The stump was wrapped in a leather boot to which was attached a wooden shaft. An iron tip at the bottom of the shaft protected it from wear much like a horse’s iron shoes. His left eye was disconcerting. The normally white sclera was yellow, and the eye did not move as he looked about, but remained fixed, pointing across his nose to the right.

One of Ian’s uncles greeted the man. He did not return the greeting but announced his mission. “I’m looking for runaways. There’s a reward, too.”

“We harbor no runaways,” the farmer said.

“Didn’t mean you, of course,” the visitor said, staring hard with his good eye at the farmer. “But if you knew of any, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

The farmer averted his gaze. “Your horse threw a shoe, did he? My brother’s the smith. He could put it back on for you. You did save it, didn’t you?”

The smith sent word by one of the boys: the stranger would stay the night; there would be an extra place at supper.

Voices from the next room, not loud, but sharp with anger, awakened Ulee.

“By what right dare you enter a woman’s room?” That was Nana.

“By what right do you hide a runaway?” That was a new voice, one Ulee had not heard before. I’m not here, I’m not here. His conscience interrupted the mantra. I can’t hide. She may be in danger. I must do something. The boy jumped from the bed. Where’s the knife?

Ulee picked up the knife from among the tools of the midwife, and silently opened the door to Nana’s room. Nana stood with her back to him. Facing her was a strange man with an even stranger look on his face. He saw Ulee. “There he is!” The man raised his hands above his head. Ulee stood, fascinated, as the man’s hands filled with red light. The man swept his hands down as if to throw the light at Ulee. The boy gasped as Nana raised her own hands. The light from the man’s hands struck not Ulee, but Nana. It did not harm her. Rather, it bounced off her hands. As it did, it changed color from red to yellow. The ball of yellow light struck the man in the chest. His good eye rolled up in his head, and he fell to the floor.

“Back to your room, Ulee,” Nana said. “Be silent and invisible!”

“He was in Nana’s room,” Ian explained the next morning. “Father could have killed him for that, alone. And a guest who abuses hospitality to steal? Edgar could have killed him. Edgar’s my uncle and it was he who invited the man to stay the night. Anyway, Nana said he was going through her chest when she woke, and that he died from fright when she accosted him. She said he had a weak heart, and shouldn’t have been a Thief, anyway.”

Ulee was silent. The man may have died of fright, but surely, the fright was caused by magic. This did not comfort Ulee; rather, he became more afraid. Is this something I can do? It is a terrible power. I do not want to be a mage!

Nana knew the events of the previous night troubled Ulee. While the boy ate lunch, she tried to explain. “Magic users, some of them, anyway, can wield a great power. You’ve seen how magic can heal, and you must know some of the magic of the Curriers Guild since you said you worked in a tannery,” Nana said.

“I never learned any magic,” Ulee replied, “but I was sworn not to reveal whatever I might learn. They did things, the older ones did; they did things when the younger apprentices weren’t allowed in. I think it was magic.”

“Any person working a trade or a craft – whether he or she be a Currier or a Smith, a Weaver, a Seamstress, or a Midwife – everyone uses a little magic to do their tasks. Some people, a very few, are much better than others at using magic. Even fewer people can use magic to do great tasks: to call storms, to bring down mountains, to kill. The men who took the children from your village? They were looking for those who could do the great magic, not for those who could do a little craft magic. Ulee, you will grow to be a person who can do great magic. I think that is why the man was looking for you.”

Nana and Ulee sat silently for a moment. Then, Ulee spoke, “I want to say you cannot be right. I want to say I cannot be a mage. I want not to be a mage. But that’s not to be, is it?”

Nana shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

She continued, “You know I am Midwife and Healer. My magic is the magic of life. When the man tried to kill me with his magic, I defended myself with my own magic. His power bounced off of mine. What might have stunned you or me, killed him. He really did have a weak heart, you see.

“There is the Great Magic, such as he used, and there is craft magic, such as a tanner or a farmer uses. And, of course, you know about boy magic,” Nana said. She would have continued but for the look on Ulee’s face. “Do you not know? Were you not initiated into the Mysteries?”

Ulee shook his head.

“Do you have any idea what I’m talking about?” Nana asked.

“I know what the older boys and tweens do – and how they use the magic they make. I know that someday I will be able to make magic. One of the Journeymen said something, just before I ran away, about me being a boy, now, and how he would take my magic. I didn’t like the way he said it, and told him to leave me alone.” Ulee paused. “I was beaten, that night, by the Master. That’s when I decided to leave.”

“Ian,” Nana looked deeply into her grandson’s eyes as she spoke. “I have two questions. First, think about when you bathed Ulee. Had his testicles descended? Second, do you remember everything your brother taught you when he initiated you into the Mysteries?”

“That’s boy stuff, Nana,” Ian replied, indignant and a little frightened. “I’m not supposed to talk to any woman about it … and you’re not supposed to know…”

“Just like you’re not supposed to know any of the Smith magic Uncle Edgar taught you? And the things Uncle Druyen taught you about breeding horses? That is considered secret by the Hyperians Guild. And I know that your uncles have taught you how to make beer.” Nana smiled. “As you grow older, you’ll find that many people on a farm know many of each other’s craft secrets … the magic of the crafts. If you live as many centuries as I have, you’ll learn a lot more about girl magic … just as I’ve learned a lot about boy magic. There’s nothing wicked about it.”

Nana paused. Ian’s face lit up, as he grasped what she was saying. Of course, he thought, all the magic of weaving that Mother taught me: that’s a guild secret; everything that Nana taught me about herbs: that’s Healer secrets. But…

Nana interrupted the boy’s thoughts. “I see you understand. That is good. But know what you’ve learned are only the small secrets; there are many more, and there are deeper secrets. The deepest secrets are held by the mages.

“I, and your mother and father, and your uncles and brothers have taught you to control magic by spells and potions. You know to control magic only in certain ways to do certain things. You know magic works because you see what happens when you do things in the ways you have been taught. When you move your hands in a certain way, and say the words I’ve taught you, you can see a cut begin to heal or a broken bone straighten. Hmmm?”

When Ian nodded his understanding, Nana continued, “Magic is like the threads of a loom. Like the warp thread, magic is fixed in place. It runs throughout the world, although it is invisible. When you move your hands as I’ve taught you, it is as if you were lifting certain warp threads and pulling the weft thread through the warp. Making magic work for you is very much like weaving. You create patterns in magic using your hands and sometimes your voice.

“That’s how a craftsman uses magic. What Ulee does is different. When Ulee wants you to think he’s a hedgehog, all he does is wish it. He thinks that he’s a hedgehog. His thoughts, alone, weave the magic. That is great magic. It’s not powerful, but he’s just a boy. He’s only two decades old, you see. When you saw the hedgehog from inside the house when Ulee was in the barn, you were using great magic, too. It’s not powerful, but even though you’re a tween, you’re still very young. You’ve just seen your first three-quarter-century, have you not?”

Ian nodded again, and Nana continued. “When you healed your brother’s broken leg last Harvest, did you not tell me that you could see the magic as it left your fingers?”

“Yes, and you told me never to speak of it with anyone. You frightened me then, Nana, and you’re frightening me, now,” Ian replied.

“Seeing magic is a talent that marks a great magic-user, Ian, and you know what our prince does with boys who will become great magic-users. That’s why I told you not to speak of it, and that’s why you must leave here. And you must take Ulee with you.”

Ian sat silently before he spoke. “I knew someday this would happen. I think I knew it the day I saw magic, and told you about it. I didn’t want to think about it, so I didn’t. But, Nana, where will we go?”

“I will think on that, and tell you in due time. Now, however, Ulee hasn’t been initiated into the Mysteries, and he must be. None of your brothers or uncles can do it. They must not know he is here. He must be initiated before you and he leave. You both must leave soon. Your Aunt Mildred will give birth in less than two tendays and Ulee must be gone before then. Ian, you must initiate Ulee.”

The boy sat quietly for a moment, and then nodded.

Ulee lay in Ian’s embrace. The younger boy was glowing from exertion and from Ian’s magic. Ulee had been afraid, but Ian had been gentle when for the first time Ulee had given his magic to another boy. Ulee had been awkward, but Ian had been patient when for the first time Ulee had received another boy’s magic.

Before Ulee could drift off to sleep, Ian stirred. “Ulee, I made this dagger at Uncle Edgar’s forge. I’ve been saving it. I thought some day I might exchange daggers with my Best Friend. But if we are to travel together, we’re going to have to be friends. I want you to have it, if you will accept it from me.”

Ulee hugged Ian tightly. He had heard boys wishing for a Best Friend, for a tween who would take them away from the drudgery of their apprenticeships. He had silently scoffed at those boys, and cursed his own fate. He had never believed in all that stuff. Ian wasn’t offering to be his Best Friend, but Ian was offering a dagger. Ian was offering to be a friend. That was enough for now, and so much more than Ulee ever thought he would find.

“Thank you, Ian, thank you for showing me about boy magic, and thank you for giving me a dagger.” The boy paused. “I have no gift for you…”

“Then will you give me another kiss?” Ian asked.

Translators’ Notes: Pending publication of the glossary, these definitions are provided.

boy magic: n Energy that is captured by a boy as he moves through the magical field that permeates World. While the capture mechanism is unclear, it is believed that this energy is stored in the Schwann cells and the oligodendrocytes that insulate the neurons of the peripheral nervous system and the central nervous system, respectively. Various passages in The Book of Heroes make it clear that the capture operates in much the same way that electrical energy is captured in a copper wire passing through a magnetic field on this Earth-analogue. The Schwann cells and the oligodendrocytes strongly resemble a liquid capacitor that might have been used in the early 20th century.

A boy or tween cannot access or use his own boy magic. One of the physiological changes that occur upon adulthood provides a path for releasing this magic, and an adult can use the magic he captures. A boy or tween can pass his magic to another boy or tween through orgasm during sexual intercourse. This act is called “sharing boy magic” or—since it is usually reciprocal—“swapping” boy magic.

Sorter, the: n A figure or being (not thought of or worshiped as a deity) who “sorts” people after death to determine what they will be in their next life (e.g., noble or common, farmer or craftsman, etc.). The existence of the Sorter is not proven, and he or she is thought to be a myth by most clerics of the Light. (Those same clerics will, however, usually admit that they don’t know how this determination is made.)

Let David know that you are reading his story. Email him at: David dot McLeod at CastleRoland dot Net

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