Dinner went well. Hannah's cooking skill has greatly improved. Nick figured out how to use utensils somewhere and doesn't embarrass himself or anyone else. There wasn't as much wine as the previous few days, but my liver could use the break. I let Trish drive us back. She uses the back way, using Baseline Road instead of the Queensway. It's really for the best for my poor little abused Honda.
I turned in before it got too late. The sleep felt good, except for the waking up with the alarm part. I've never liked that aspect of Mondays, even when I have the day off. I get through the morning ritual without a hassle. Showered, clothed, caffeinated, even got in a bite of toast before I ran out for the bus.
Trish needs the car again today. She's aware of the need to take it easy with the wee beastie and won't tax it. Seems odd having to treat a mass of metal as if it was as fragile as a coffee mug. The problem isn't major, according to Uncle Larry, just potentially expensive. I should be able to coax my car along until the new year.
I arrive at Carleton and dash up to my classroom. There are no eyes in windows watching me as I run up the stairs. Always a good thing. Normally, I'd have stopped at one of the Tim Hortons in the Unicentre. Today, though, I want to see if I can catch Lance before class and arrange a tutoring schedule. It never occurred to me to figure one out on Saturday when I was with him. In fact, it only occurred to me on the bus ride in to school.
I get my laptop started up and connected to the university's wireless network. I log into my instant messenger and send Lance a note. For good measure, I send an email from Jacinda's Hotmail account. Redundancy, it's not just for backing up data and schoolwork. I open a window to write down notes from the class and keep my email and IM available in case Lance replies.
The class is fifteen minutes from ending when I get an email back from him. He explains he's too busy at work to chat, and asks when I'm available. I reply with my schedule, just detailing everything after the last class each day this week. The class ends before Lance sends anything else to me. I pack up and go to my next class where I set up my laptop once again.
Lunch comes and goes without an answer from Lance. I know he said he's busy and he could be in a meeting. Still, I thought we were getting along, even when I was completely in denial. Maybe he thinks I still am. I admit, getting used to the idea that magic is real still needs some work, even after everything I've done. It's hard to believe my eyes after all the science classes I've taken. Physics just tends to stay with a person.
I find a place to park for a bit. It's still some time before my last class and the more homework I get done here, the less last minute work I have to do later. I keep an eye on my email in case Lance does finally reply. Ten minutes before my last class, a message from him arrives. I jump on it. Lance apologizes again for the delay and would like to meet me tonight once my classes are done. He suggests that we meet at the Bridgehead again. I send a quick email back saying that everything is good and I'll see him there half an hour after class ends. That should give me enough time to get downtown to meet Lance, barring accidents and derailments.
Class feels long. I leave my laptop off; I've run down its battery and there's usually nothing that can be typed easily during the lecture. It's back to the more primitive pen and paper methods, which doesn't help with making the class go faster. At long last, the prof is done and lets us go. I pack up my notes and leave.
It's gotten warmer outside over the course of the day. I still need my jacket, but I can unzip it a bit and still be warm. The O-Train's bell rings. I pick up my pace, breaking into a jog. Right now, it's the southbound train, but the northward one should be here soon. Carleton is the only place along the line where the trains can pass each other. The northbound train's bell rings when I enter the small tunnel underneath the rails. I turn my jog into a sprint and arrive on the platform as the train squeals to a stop.
I get on after the evening class folk are off and get a seat alone. I watch the scenery, mainly the rockface that was left when the tracks were first laid down. Nothing exciting, not even in the tunnel under Dow's Lake. The O-Train is not the most scene route. I make my transfer to downtown and get to the coffee shop ahead of schedule. I get a green tea and settle in to wait for Lance.
I'm done the tea by quarter past and Lance still hasn't arrived. We're going to have to exchange phone numbers just for times like this. I return the teacup to the barista and hit the washroom to freshen up. He's late because of work, that's all. Or maybe some newbie like me turned the Rideau Centre plaid by accident and he and his group are there fixing it. Or I'm grasping at straws. There's always a reasonable explanation.
When I return to the coffee shop, Lance is here and looking around for me. I wave to him as I walk over. He smiles at me, but his eyes aren't reflecting it. "Something wrong?" I ask him when I join him.
Lance looks around the shop. "Not here. I'm parked over on Laurier. I'll explain in the car. Do you want anything before we go?"
"I'm good. Does this have anything with that hiccup yesterday?"
"Not here," he repeats. Lance leads me out of the Bridgehead and to his car. He doesn't say anything until we're both in his car with the doors shut. He looks around again at the vehicles parked near him. "You felt the bump yesterday morning?"
"When Trish managed to get up off the couch twice without sitting down in between? Yeah, I noticed it. Trish didn't. What about it?"
"That's why I couldn't chat today. We've been trying to track down the cause of it."
"I didn't do it, did I?"
Lance starts his car's engine. "No. That takes a lot of power to do. You would have felt that much magical energy passing through you." He winds his car through the parking garage and on to the street. "This was something else."
"Someone wanted to make the world repeat a few seconds?"
"The hiccup as you put it was a side effect of something bigger."
"What was it?"
Lance shrugged while steering. "We still haven't figured it out."
At least I know I wasn't hallucinating yesterday. "Does this mean that there's another magician in Ottawa that isn't working with you?"
"Several." Lance's mouth forms a grim line. "Not everyone with the ability uses it responsibly. There are those who would prefer to set themselves up as the ultimate powers in the world. The group I'm with exists to moderate the extremes and prevent new witch hunts."
"I see." The car comes to a stop at a red light. "So, if I decided to go crazy with all the power I have to change colours, you'd have to stop me?"
"Only if you caused enough of a ruckus to make it dangerous for the rest of us. If you started making stop signs green, I'd have to slap your wrist."
"And the people responsible for yesterday?"
"I don't know. The Circle is thinking it over still." The light turns green. Lance accelerates, keeping pace with the rest of the traffic. "Termination is still a possibility."
I look over at Lance. "Termination, as in . . .?"
"Yeah, as in killing them."
"That's insane!"
"I know, yet how do we stop someone who is playing with that much power? We're not dealing with Peter Parker here. In this case, with great power comes great temptation. Can someone who affects the world as a side effect be trusted to not repeat whatever was done?"
I sit back in my seat. I've never believed in capital punishment. Mistakes happen. I also don't like vigilantes outside of movies and TV shows. "What about the police?"
"And tell them what? There's a mystery person or persons playing around with the fundamental nature of the world up to no good? There's no laws on the books that deal with magic, at least here. In places that do have laws, just working with magic gets you a death sentence. The Dark Ages aren't over everywhere."
"What about laws against terrorists?"
"How do you feel about being a weapon of mass destruction? Again, we're back to preventing hysteria and keeping magicians safe from the world."
"So much for keeping the world safe from magicians."
"Jackie, it's not a simple question. That's why the Circle was formed, to help police the likes of you and me. There are guidelines to be followed on how magic can be used, but we can only enforce it on those who agreed to them."
"And when someone who doesn't agree breaks them?"
"We have a crisis." Lance sighs. "The Circle's never had to deal with something this big before."
"Whatever it is."
"I can tell you, Jackie, that the ley lines through the city are ablaze. What we felt yesterday is only the start."
"Ley lines?"
Lance switches to professorial mode, something I can tell he enjoys. "A ley line is a flow of magical energy, what we tap when we cast spells. Simpler spells, like changing colours, can use whatever ambient magic is available. For more complex spells, it helps to gain access to the flow from a ley line. It reduces the amount of energy passing through you and gives the magic a place to go once your done with it." He should have gone into teaching. His voice is wonderful to listen to when he explains.
"They're like power cables, then," I say, trying to understand the concept.
"Similar. Instead of being laid down, the ley lines are closer to rivers, though they're known to cross. The crossing points tend to become pools of magic. Several important sites have ley line crossings in or near by them."
"But there's not that much important in terms of the world here. I mean, there's Parliament and a few embassies, but nothing world shattering."
"You'd be surprised, Jackie. The main ley lines here follow the Ottawa and the Rideau Rivers. There's a minor crossing under the Peace Tower at Parliament, and there's a larger one under the Nicholas Street Youth Hostel."
"Okay, that I can see. I've heard about the spooky things that have happened there." The hostel used to be a gaol and the site of the last public execution. The ghost of the condemned man has been seen on the top floor there so often that the hostel's owners shut down the floor.
"That pool has been corrupted."
I cock my head to one side. My hair falls down on my shoulder. "Corrupted?"
"Magic also takes on the overall emotional effect of its surroundings. A ley pool in a place where people have enjoyed themselves, like, say, a concert hall over time, becomes a postive place, one where people can feel comfortable, whether they have the affinity for magic or not. The pool at the Youth Hostel picked up the misery of the prisoners and became negative."
"Thus why the kids staying on the top floor felt odd."
"I'm simplifying this a lot, but you've got the general idea."
"And you're saying the ley lines are hot."
Lance nods. "More like electrified, but yeah."
"What about the ley pools? Are they electrified, too?"
"No, which is another oddity. Some are showing depletion, but it's hard to tell. Can you tell if a bowl has had water removed from it when you first see it?"
"Depends when I find it. If I can see the edges are wet, then sure."
"And if they aren't?"
I nod. "There's that many pools of magic around?"
"Most of them could be called puddles or ponds. There are a few that are bigger here, but not many."
Lance parks his Toyota in front of the warehouse we practiced at Saturday. "Something is happening in the city, Jackie."
"Could this be related to the eyes that were following me?"
Lance shrugs. "I hope not." He turns away from me and walks to the warehouse's main door.
I follow him. "So it's possible."
"I never said that." He keeps his attention on the door as he works his key into the lock.
"You're not denying it, either."
Lance stands aside, letting me enter first. "Anything is possible."
I stop at the door and look him eye to eye. If I knew him better, I'd say he was trying to hide something from me. "You have an idea, though."
"Nothing I can prove." He's the first to break off. "After you."
I walk into the entry way. Lance flips the light switch behind me, adding fluorescent light to the waning evening sunlight. "We're going to try something other than colouring tonight," he says.
I force the questions about his theory to the back of my mind. If he doesn't want to tell me, he doesn't have to. None of my business, really. "What do you have planned?" I ask, trying to achieve a pleasant tone with my voice.
"I few things." Lance leads me to the large room and to one of the tables. "First is to try to move the table."
I blink. "What's the catch?"
"You can't touch it at all." He stands back. "It's a similar concept to changing colours. Try to visualize it."
Move the table without touching it. Well, if I can pull it off, rearranging the living room will be much easier. Okay, start with what I know. First, let's see what options the table itself gives me. I air type to call up its menu in my mind. Scrolling through the options, I don't find a Move. Not even a Cut or a Copy. Nothing that will let me pick up the table at all. I dismiss the menu. Makes sense to me; few inanimate objects move under their own power.
I think about the problem. Lance hovers behind me, waiting, but letting me work the problem out on my own. If the table can't move, then something has to move it. Usually, tables are moved by movers or, for those of us on a student budget and trying hard not to depend on Mom and Dad, very good friends. I doubt I'll be able to get any of them here quick enough. I keep looking at the table. It's standing on the bare concrete floor, which also isn't known for moving anything.
Aha! Concrete might not move things, by air has been known to. I've been blown about in enough blustery days here to know that. This is a much more difficult problem; I'll have to create a boundary of air so I don't wind up shifting the wind patterns hundreds of metres out of whack. A small batch program should do. I set up the limits, the variables, the distances to what I hope will be enough to move the table without sending it into the wall or into orbit. I close my eyes and mentally press the Enter key.
The table scrapes along the ground briefly. I open my eyes and see the table floating in the air with a wobble. I did it! I look over at Lance. He smiles and nods. "That's it, Jackie. You can set it down now."
Down. I never allowed for that in my batch file, just the slight move. If this was a computer, I'd just hit Control-Break to kill the program. What's the magical equivalent? "Um, Lance?"
"Yes, Jackie?"
"I don't know how to get it down. I never included that in the spell."
"That's okay, Jackie. This is why you're being taught, to learn how to cast and remove spells. Treat the spell just like everything else."
Right, the spell is an object just like the table. It may have different inheritances, but it should have its own options. I magically right-click the spell keeping the table in the air and look to see what I can do with it. The Cancel option is at the top of the short list, ahead of Repeat and Reverse. Good to know the other two. I select the first option. The table falls back to the ground.
"That's it, Jackie." Lance beams. "Good first effort. It took me several days to figure out how to get the table moving."
"Thanks."
Lance grabs a cushion from a nearby chair and tosses it on the table. "Try it again with this, but this time, move it from the table back to the chair."
A bigger challenge. I figure if I do the same thing as I did with the table and the air around it, I should get the cushion up. Moving it is the bigger problem. I tried moving the table and only got it a few centimetres. That means one of my variables is off. Too bad I can't save the magical programs somewhere. It'd beat having to recreate them each time I want to do anything.
After a few minutes, I have the new spell ready. If I've done it right, the cushion should float up from the table, fly over to the chair, then drop. I cross my fingers, hoping I don't become the person who sent the first cushion into space, then start the spell. The cushion shakes a little before lifting up from the table. So far, so good, exactly what I wanted. The pillow then inches away, moving towards the chair. I watch with excitement. My spell's working.
The cushion hurtles across the room, hitting the wall with a loud thud. So not what I was trying to do. Lance is as surprised as I am at the speed the cushion reached. Good thing no one was in the way. That would have hurt, despite the cushion's softness. I start walking over to retrieve the cushion.
"Jackie, where are you going?" Lance asks.
"To pick it up?"
"Bring it back the way you sent it."
I look at Lance, then to the cushion. "Are you sure?"
"You have to learn to control your spells. How will you do that if you walk over there?"
I shrug. "Alright, I'll try again. Find someplace safe."
Lance smiles. "I trust you to figure it out."
That makes only one of us, but I don't tell him that I don't share his confidence in me. I recreate the spell, making sure that I have everything worked out. I even double-check it the best I can. "Here goes nothing," I say before launching the spell.
The cushion is not graceful as it floats into the air. The levitating wasn't an issue last time, though. It's the moving. I keep an eye on the cushion so I can duck if I have to. Lance remains standing, unconcerned about the potentially deadly missile in the air across the room.
The cushion flies towards the chair in fits and starts. It doesn't have the speed it did during my last attempt, though, and it does reach the chair. The spell cuts out, dropping the cushion. I exhale a breath I didn't know I was holding. "There."
"See?" Lance says. "You're getting it. Keep practicing. I'll go get us something to drink." He walks to the mini-kitchen.
I try moving different objects around me, trying to make sure that I can get the speed steady without sending anything out of control. Each item has its own preferred velocity, I discover. Cushions prefer to move faster than chairs. Tables are the slowest while the orange Lance set out on the counter naturally hits a sine wave while floating.
On his way back with two cans of cola, Lance grabs the fruit out of the air. "Getting fancy, I see."
"You told me to practice. I'm getting the hang of it. It's not easy."
"I never said it was." He sets the orange down on the table. "We only have the generic brand of cola." He sits at the table and puts the cans down.
"That's fine."
He opens both cans and invites me to join him. "You're doing well. I've never seen anyone move things like that."
"That's how they wanted to go." I shrug. "Part of the problem seemed to be that I wanted to control the path. Once I just set the direction and distance and got it into the air, the rest happened on its own."
Lance takes a swig of his cola. "We'll rest up and then I'll drive you home."
"Already?"
"You're making great progress already, Jackie. You can keep practicing tonight, both here and at home, but I want you ready for tomorrow's work. Assuming you're available tomorrow."
"Definitely. I'll try to get my car so I don't put you out of your way driving me around all the time."
Lance smiles. "It's no bother, honest. I've enjoyed tonight."
"You weren't the one flinging cushions and chairs around."
"You never hit me. Not even close."
I laugh. "Want me to try next time?"
Lance joins me with his own deep chickle. "We'll save that for later this week. Tonight, just think over what you've done. That'll prepare you for tomorrow."
"What do you have planned for tomorrow?"
Lance leans in over the table towards me. "It's a surprise."
We finish our soft drinks and toss the cans into the recycling bin before we leave. I show Lance how to get to my place. It'll help him on Friday for our night out. He stops in front of my building. "Here you go."
"Thanks, Lance." I open my door. "See you tomorrow."
He gives me one of his cute smiles. I get out and close the car door behind me. Lance waits for me to go into the apartment before he drives away. I watch as he turns around and leaves.
The apartment is empty when I get in. Trish is still at work. I set down my backpack and go into the kitchen to make dinner, a Caeser salad. Working out hasn't been a major concern for me this past week with all the bizarre happenings going on. A salad will suffice until tomorrow; I'll hit the gym between classes if I can break away.
With dinner eaten and cleaned up, I turn on the television so I have background noise while I finish off a couple more assignments. It never hurts to be on top of homework; that way, I can keep practicing with Lance. I wonder what he'll have me doing tomorrow. Maybe he'll get me to juggle three oranges without touching them. Or maybe making the table dance the jig.
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