09 - A family reunion

* The path you walk is dangerous.

On one side is endless fire, ever ready to consume you in an instant of burning, perfect brilliance.

On the other side is chaos, trying to change you, unmake the threads of your mind, until you are gone, your body an empty vessel for the things beyond.

Even if you keep a perfect balance, even if you follow the narrow path between fire and madness, you won’t be unscathed.

Because every step will lead you away from humanity. One day you will look back, searching for your friends and family, and you’ll see nothing but the Else.

- From The Art of the Veil, introduction

After the mess with the gang, Dara and I spend the whole day in a rented room, to lay low and calm our nerves. I check the news, and there’s only a side-piece about a magical robbery ending in blood, where the journalist casts us as both the robbers and the mages. It feels incredibly unfair, but I half-expected public broadcasts, our faces everywhere in the city, and people with pitchforks combing the street. So, I’m relieved.

But I also have no illusions - ThauCon knows my face, and by now they’d know Daravoi’s, too. Big sister is right, of course. I can’t keep doing whatever I feel like and apologizing later. I still have time to go back and have a kinda-normal life - maybe. I didn’t hurt the gangsters in the subway, but would a judge believe it? And to be considered cooperative, I’d have to tell them everything about Daravoi.

“I’ll be hanged for sure. I should have just let that idiot stab me. Would’ve saved the Alliance the money for the rope,” Daravoi mumbles, lying face down on the bed, in our shitty rented room. Which is still much cleaner than my nest in the tunnels.

“Don’t be stupid,” I say. “They haven’t caught us, and if we don’t use magic, they have no way to do so. We have money for some weeks. We’ll find a solution.”

“There are cameras everywhere in the station,” he says. “If they want to, they can find and identify us from the footage. Especially if the fucking gangsters cooperate. And then we’re fucked. There’s a big bounty on rogue mages, you know.”

The situation is bad. But after escaping the gang and ThauCon, laying on a much softer bed than I usually get, with my own shower and toilet close by, I feel too good to be worried.

“The gangsters escaped alive, so at the very worst, ThauCon catches us, we do a few shitty years in re-ed, we get our tattoos, and we’re free. We didn’t kill anyone.”

I always said I’d never risk re-ed, but right now, it doesn’t sound like the end of the world. I mean, it has to be better than execution, right?

“Kore, sometimes I want to strangle you,” Daravoi says, sitting up so he faces me. “People die in the re-ed camps. I’ve seen the forced labor they do in Kalester - it’s horrible. And even if I made it out alive, I’d get sent back to Kalester, where no one will ever hire me for a legit job - the few there are anyway. People with silver tattoos on their faces are lynched, there, Korentis. At least the hangman’s noose is a clean death.”

He blurts it all without taking a breath. And for once, I don’t know what to say.

Fuck, I’m the worst. He hinted that he couldn’t get the tattoos, but I never really asked why. And I honestly have no idea what’s going on in Kalester, except there was some war sixty-ish years ago, but I suspect it’s not a good time to ask for a history lesson.

We’ll never be caught. We’re powerful mages, remember?

I could say that, and I could brush the Veil a little bit, to make it sound true. But I shouldn’t lie to friends, that’s bad.

“Maybe I could help?” I say instead, “If we get caught. My family is pretty rich, and they always humor me in the end. You could come stay with us.”

“And do what, serve you dinner and make your beds? Not that I’d get a working visa anyway, with the tattoos,” he grumbles. “But if you want to help, you could send money to me in Kalester, so I can be rich and shunned instead of poor and shunned.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I say, “Getting money from my moms is a pain. Best I can offer is middle class and shunned.”

Finally, he gives a short laugh.

“Ok, I whined enough, I guess,” he says. “And thanks for the offer. Even if it wouldn’t work. So, how do we stay criminal and free?”

“If ThauCon is on us, we’re in real danger,” I say, making my face serious. “But we have options. Terrible options, at a terrible price.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, very serious.

I fish the stolen phone out of my bag.

“Time to do what I always do in a bad situation,” I say, “I call my big sister for help.”

***

Big Sis wasn’t happy about my choice to go rogue, but when I told her, she didn’t call ThauCon on me. She gave me the Council book, and said to call her on a secure line when I was ready to crawl back home begging for forgiveness.

So, she’s not super happy when I ask her to meet at a cafè. She calls me a few names, but she always does that before helping. And in the end, we have an appointment and the promise she won’t send minions to grab me and take me home.

We meet at a student cafe near the university. I get there twenty minutes late, because I couldn’t take the metro and I forgot how long it takes to walk everywhere. The place is noisy, full of people my age who chat and study, and I can almost picture a world where I belong here.

I scan the tables and easily find Big Sis - she stands out like a sore thumb, if a very fancy one. In her early thirties, she’s older than most of the customers, and wears a spotless gray tunic which would fit a corporate boardroom better than a student bar. She looks disgusted by the customers, the food, and the furniture.

When she notices me, she gives me a big, warm smile - which means she’s absolutely furious.

“Hey, sis,” I say, with my most cheerful, shit-eating grin, as I sit in front of her. Because no matter the situation, I can’t stop myself from annoying her. I’m supposed to be the irresponsible, carefree younger sibling, after all.

In a sudden flash of insight, I realize the way I mold myself into a persona before talking to her is the same mental operation of making a Lie, just without the magic. I file that away for later, though, because she’s leaning forward, and I’d better listen.

“What the fuck are you doing, you little shit? I had a call from ThauCon three days ago, asking about you.”

I freeze.

“What did you tell them?”

She looks at me like I’m a decomposing rat.

“What do you think?” She snaps. “I said you left home, claimed I’ve no idea why, said I’ve no idea where you are, but probably very far. Moms accidentally corroborated it, since you were smart enough not to tell them anything. And before you throw a fit, yes, I’m very sure the Agency didn’t follow or track me in any way.”

“But how did they know who I am?” I ask, forcing myself to whisper and not shout. It was before the gang – it must have been the jewelry fuckup, but how did they trace it to me?

“You’re asking me?” Sis says, and she laughs, genuinely. “You’re unbelievable, sib. But I happen to know. Apparently, you left DNA evidence at a magical crime scene.”

She stares at me, and I feel my ears turning red. The fact that ThauCon knows my name should worry me more than my sister giving me the death glare, but she’s so good at it.

“I got carried away a bit,” I say.

“Robbery, Kore?” She asks, stern. “So base.”

“Isn't that what you do for a job, too?” I retort.

“I work in finance,” she says, rolling her eyes, but I see she’s suppressing laughter.

“Well, I asked you to give me some money when I left, but you wouldn’t, so I had to eat,” I point out.

“Sorry for not bankrolling your self-destructive crime spree,” she says. “I already feel bad enough for giving you that book. Anyway, are you done now? It will be messy, but I think I can get you home with a slap on the wrist, if you turn yourself in. You didn’t do anything violent, right?”

I look away.

“Kore?” She asks, and for the first time, she sounds worried.

“I didn’t hurt anyone,” I say, quickly. “But… I’m not sure ThauCon will believe that. Shit happened.”

She closes her eyes, and I notice worry lines on her forehead - did she have those before I left?

“Sib, this isn’t a game,” she says, “I know you’re not stupid, whatever you like people to believe. But you don’t think things through. This will only get harder, the longer you wait. I… did some work. The ThauCon captain for our district is corrupt as fuck, and I set aside some dark funds to grease her palm. But the more shit happens, the less likely I can get you home without re-ed. Or at all.”

I don’t have a good answer, so I do one of my favorite tricks: change topic at random.

“What do you know about the way ThauCons tracks mages? I could really use some more information on that.” I say. Big Sis always knows things.

“The only thing I know is that they’ll catch you, sooner or later,” she snorts, but she looks away.

“And I know you, sis.” I say, “You research everything. And I need to know, for real. How do they do it?”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Of course I… gave the issue some consideration,” she says. “But why should I tell you? You’ll think you can outsmart them all. This has gone on long enough. Just come home, Korentis.”

I roll my eyes. “I have enough moms, thank you. If I want someone to tell me what to do, I’ll ask them directly.”

Big Sis winces. She tries hard not to be like our mothers.

“You’re a manipulative little shit, sib,” she says. She looks at me, her eyes hard, now. “I always thought I knew you. But I start to wonder, now. Did you play me too? Your magic… makes people believe things, right? Is that why I always end up helping you?”

“I’d never use it like that!” I say, honestly surprised. Even if I feel a thread of creeping guilt - there is something about the way I deal with people that is similar to the Lies, even when I don’t use magic. But it’s not about manipulating them, it’s about manipulating myself. But it’s so hard to explain.

Big Sis looks at me for long, long seconds. She looks like she’s trying to recognize a stranger. Sweat runs down my neck – I can deal with sis being furious, patronizing and dismissive - but I’ve no idea what I’ll do if she won’t trust me. Like, really won’t trust me. That’s just not supposed to happen.

“You’d better not use magic on me,” she finally says, totally serious. “I’m quite confident I can still kick your weak, scrawny ass if I need to.”

We share a smile, and some tension dissipates between us.

“I’m not sure I should tell you what I know.” She whispers, “but your choices are yours, and they might as well be informed.”

“ThauCon,” she goes on, “can detect the use of magic by the perturbation of the theta field. If a significant amount of power is used, they can identify a pattern in the theta signal that is unique to every mage. It’s called a signature, and knowing it makes it much easier to track a specific mage. I don’t know if they got your signature last week, but it’s a very real possibility. Anyway, if you keep using magic, they will get it at some point. And you’ll have no way to hide from them anymore.”

That’s similar to what Daravoi had heard, except Big Sis probably questioned three world-class experts, and keeps a fourth one tied up in her basement just in case.

It’s discouraging. But I had some time to think about it, and know there’s more to the whole picture.

“So how do the Syndicates exist?” I ask. “The Hidden Schools are supposed to be, well, hidden by powerful magic. The Exiled and her crowd stay on the moon. But the Syndicates are just magical criminals, right? How can they avoid being caught, if ThauCon can detect magic?”

“Are you thinking of joining the Syndicates, Korentis?” She asks, cold. But she’s not actually angry, she’s faking it. But why?

Oh. She’s trying to change the topic. So, she knows the answer, and doesn’t want to tell me.

“Of course I’m not going to join the Syndicates, come on,” I say, faking outrage. I don’t know shit about them, but both Sis and Daravoi say they suck. She’s smart, and he’s good, and I’m neither, so I should definitely trust them on this.

“But that’s not the point, and you know,” I add. “The point is that they must have some way to prevent ThauCon from tracking their magic.”

She sighs, leaning back against her chair.

“So, you do have half a brain. That’s always the problem with you, you’re just smart enough to make everything worse,” she says, reluctant. “Yes. I dug a bit deeper than what any idiot can find on the datasphere, and there are ways for a mage to touch the Else while avoiding detection. But those techniques are difficult to learn, and of course, not taught by the Council.”

“How does it work?” I ask, excitement welling up in my chest. “Could you find an explanation?”

“I’m a lot of things, but not a mage,” she says, “and I seem to understand magic is hard to explain with words.”

“You’ve no idea,” I say. Touching the Introduction to Thaumatology gives you visions of the Else - I couldn’t explain even the simplest spell with words a non-mage would understand. Language was made to describe the world most people live in, after all - constrained by three dimensions, by time flowing only one way, by minds and shapes and colors being different things. None of that is true in the Else.

“I can tell you there’s at least one book teaching those techniques,” Big Sis concedes. “The Art of the Veil. Master Keidesek’s own guide to magic, written before the breaking of the moon, or so my sources claim. I seem to understand there are still copies being made, but ThauCon hunts them ferociously. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t find you one.”

“You’re the best, sis,” I grin. ”You’re great at enabling my terrible, self-destructive choices.”

“That’s what siblings are for,” she says. “But it's my turn to ask you something, now.”

“I swear, I didn’t do anything violent, and I don’t want…” I start, blabbering a bit.

“I don’t care about your petty crimes,” she stops me. “Actually, don’t say anything about them, I like plausible deniability. Just tell me one thing. Why are you doing this? You know the risks. You know they will only increase. What are the benefits?”

My mouth goes dry. I may know how to get my sister to do me favors, but she knows how to cut through my bullshit screen just as well.

The problem is, I’ve been dancing around this question from the moment I left home. I distracted myself with survival, and learning magic, and not getting caught.

“Would you believe me if I said I don’t know what else to do with my life?” I ask. “You know I’m the useless sibling. I don’t have your smarts, or Joli’s talents.”

“Jolien is an idiot who lucked out because people like his corny songs,” she says, quick and harsh. One of the tragedies of my life - both my elder siblings get along with me, but they hate each other.

“But if that’s all,” she continues, “this is not a good time to have a twenty-per-cent-of-life crisis, sib. Take a sabbatical like every confused rich kid does after high school. Then go study Precursor history, we both know you want to do that. Six months to two years of extremely unpleasant re-ed won’t make anything better, and your window to avoid those is closing.”

I wince. I’m good at pretty lies. She’s the one with the ugly truths.

“And you think I can just come back and enlist to university?” I blurt out. “With silver tattoos on my face? Who do you think will want an else-touched researcher, or professor? Or friend?”

She doesn’t look at me. “Redeemed mages have the same legal standing as any other Vorokan citizen. If anyone disagrees, I’ll sue them for discrimination.”

“And will anyone actually want to work with me, when you’re not there to intimidate them?” I ask.

She doesn’t answer.

“Look, I know those tattoos will close some doors,” she says. “But I think I… have a fair shot at getting you tattooed on the arms only, as if you had turned yourself in immediately. Anyway, since when did you care about a career? We have enough money. You can still go to university, get an easy job or no job at all, and live a peaceful life.”

It was always my plan, sort of. I meant to go to university, but I never expected to finish it, let alone make a career as a scholar, no matter what I said out loud. I barely got passing grades in high school. My real plan was to try, then quietly give up and coast on my family’s money.

The silver tattoos make it worse - I’d be an outcast even if I were a decent student. But that’s not the real point.

The point is, I’d be giving up something better, now.

“I see possible worlds, I see timelines break and spin away from reality,” I tell Big Sis, quietly. “Causality is green, did you know? And I see worlds that aren’t, that could have been, that couldn’t, but… could. This doesn’t make sense, in words. I could never explain it. But it’s not so easy to give that up for a peaceful life.”

She doesn’t speak, but after a few seconds she nods, gravely. As if what I said made perfect sense to her - which is fun, because to me, it doesn’t.

“This is the first time I feel good at something, in my life,” I add. “And I want to learn more. About the Veil, the Else. I always wanted to learn about the Precursors, you know? Well, they could see the Else. It’s no coincidence the old Council of Mages made the only significant discoveries about Relics. What’s the point of giving up my power, if I want to study them? I could learn so much more, with magic.”

“You are aware, I assume,” she says, “that you won’t ever be able to attend university as a rogue mage, let alone study relics. Even with a fake chip, you’d be identified by DNA.”

I shrug.

“I don’t know. I don’t have real plans,” I say. “I mean… I’m sorry, sis. The situation is shittier than you know. I can’t come home that easily. But I don’t want to anyway, not before I try to do something with my life.”

She grimaces, but doesn’t rebuke me. Instead she says, somber: “I can’t keep our line active. It’s too dangerous now, for both of us. From here, you’re on your own, unless you want to come home.” Her expression softens. “I’m sorry.”

I nod, even if I feel like I stepped past a cliff. I hadn’t really left home, as long as I had that phone line with my sister.

“I know. Thank you, sis. For everything. And… don’t tell moms anything, ok? They’ll just get angrier, and probably tell ThauCon something they shouldn’t.”

“They’re worried,” she says. “They care about you, you know. They’re just not great at showing it.”

We don’t hug - she’s not the hugging type, and I hate being touched.

“Goodbye, sib,” she says, and if it wasn’t her, I’d say her voice is catching a little. “We’ll meet again when you’re caught and need a very costly lawyer. Or when you’re a mage so powerful you’re not afraid of ThauCon anymore. Come visit me, then.”

“I will,” I say. “Keep robbing poor people. Or whoever you rob in finance. You’ll need a lot of bribes to save my ass.”

I have a lump in my throat, as I walk away. But it’s fine, because I have what I needed: the name of a book on magic.

Every mage needs a quest.

***

I find Dara still asleep. I elbow him in the ribs until he wakes up, and tell him about the book, but he barely acknowledges me. He eats some food and goes back to sleep. Much as I want to pick his brain, I don’t push him. I remember how exhausted I was, after overusing my own magic.

I hate waiting when I want to talk about something. I’ve nothing to do – I left most of my comics back in the tube – and if I try thinking about my sister’s words, I just end up getting anxious.

I could draw, I suddenly think. I haven’t done that in years, after my art teacher saw me sketch and told me I lack basic technique. It sounds surprisingly appealing - what if I tried to draw the Else? Maybe it could help me learn magic? I should steal some art supplies. Or well, buy them with my stolen money.

Right now, however, I don’t even own a single pencil, so I’m left with my least favorite activity: think.

Am I doing something stupid?

Of course seeking a forbidden book of illegal magic is a stupid idea, but how stupid?

If I can still choose - do I really want to learn magic, or would it be better to get back to a normal life? I told myself I’d become a powerful mage, but I expected to fail, shrug and slink back to moms’ home in a couple of days at most.

Which one was the Lie, in the end?

On the other hand, even if sis can take me back – what about Daravoi? Does he still have a choice?

I’m just thinking in circles. I need to discuss this with Dara, but my oh-so-boring accomplice is still asleep. Tomorrow I’ll kick him awake after lunch, though, if necessary. I can’t wait another day.

What to do until he wakes, though?

Well, we’re going to have an important talk. We can’t do that in a hotel room, sober.

I let Daravoi sleep through the morning, leave him a bag of food and scribble him a note to wait for me and don’t do more shit, and then go buy some useful stuff. I even remember to get a pencil and a sketchbook on the way.

When I return to the rented room, I find Daravoi eating the grasshopper sandwiches I left in a bag, making a face. He looks sickly, with dark shadows under his eyes.

“I never felt this bad after using magic,” he says. “You didn’t look this bad, and you almost died.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure our wannabe robber feels much worse,” I say.

Daravoi winces. “Not sure how I feel about that. He totally had it coming. But…”

He leaves it hanging, as if he didn’t know how to end the sentence.

“Yes, it’s time we ask ourselves some really awkward questions,” I say. “The usual stuff. What do we do when we run out of money? Can you lick your own elbow? How do you feel about nearly killing a bad guy, and risk getting lynched for it?”

He doesn’t laugh, and I think it’s one of those times I shouldn’t have gone for humor. But people are so weird about when you should and you shouldn’t laugh about stuff, I’ve given up trying to get it right.

“Not sure I feel good enough for hard talks and life decisions now,” Dara mumbles. “Did you bring more food? Maybe something that is not fucking bugs?”

“Grasshoppers are a delicacy, you barbarian,” I say, wiggling my finger. I know people mostly eat algae and soy for meat outside Vorok, but insects are so much better. “And I brought something better than food, when it comes to making life decisions. A good selection of drugs.”

“How would that help?” he asks, as if trying to decide if I’m kidding.

“Do you really want to talk about your regrets and sad stories while sober?” I ask. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Dara sighs. “I can see how I need to be high to have any kind of talk with you. Not here, though. Having the cops called on us for intoxication would be extremely stupid.”

“Of course not here,” I answer. Not that I thought about the cops, honestly, but a cheap room just lacks the right atmosphere. “Remember that broken dome where you took me after I robbed the jewelry store? It’s out of sight. And it feels right to have this talk under the broken moon.”