Chapter 5

I wished that they didn’t have windows at airports. If they were going to stuff too many of us in there and shuffle us around like cattle off to the slaughter, they didn’t need to give us a glimpse of our fate. What fate, you might ask? Having to board one of those massive, flying-wing monstrosities that Boeing had brought into the world. Passenger planes of all makes and models were taxiing or landing every which way I looked, filling me with dread.

I know it will sound strange coming from a devil, but had the Enemy wanted humans to fly, He would have given them wings. I’d survived one flight over the north pole, but my guts told me that I had merely been lucky. The Horde had no need of air travel; Hell, we had numerous spells and fabricata designed to keep things on the ground, where Our Father Below and His great Enemy, the Creator, wanted them. If they both agreed, then who were these humans to launch themselves into the air, and worse, force me to go with them?

I shuddered as I arrived at gate 7G, the narrow hallway finally opening up to a larger space. It was filled with islands of four of identical plastic chairs that looked just comfortable enough that the passengers wouldn’t complain. People from a dozen nations milled about, making small talk with their neighbors, or fully absorbed in an electronic screen. I was tempted to put my head down and play with my GoSato portable game console, but Mr. Maki had mentioned he would be on the flight. I wasn’t about to leave him an opening to berate me, after what he’d said the day before.

I could almost hear him in my mind.

“Pay attention, Cadet! This isn’t a pleasure cruise!”

I blinked. “Hold on a tic, that wasn’t my imagination.”

A quick scan of the partially filled seats showed Kowalski bowing apologetically to Mr. Maki at the far end of the room. I couldn’t make out the poor boy’s reply over the din of the crowd. Mr. Maki’s voice always carried: a side effect of his sound-based magical affinity, helped along by a set of lungs that would make an orc envious.

I decided there was no sense drawing attention to myself just yet. Mr. Maki had said there would be other familiar faces around, so I inspected the waiting travelers.

I’m a bit embarrassed to say that it wasn’t Mariko Yamada’s face that I recognized first, but can you blame a red-blooded young devil’s eyes for wandering? The bespectacled woman had the sort of bust that many of the devilmaids back home used cosmetic magic to achieve, though I was sure she had come by hers honestly. I don’t think that humans had developed those spells (they were rather busy trying to fight off monsters like me), and besides, she didn’t like the attention. That put us at loggerheads, since I liked giving it. I forced my eyes up, though, just in case she caught me looking. No sense spoiling my reunion with my classmate.

Mariko’s ensemble seemed designed to discourage attention. Her red sweater hung a little loosely on her frame, and her blue skirt went down near her ankles. As always, her brown hair was tied in a braid slung over her shoulder, and her eyes were partially hidden by thick-framed glasses. The woman was only twenty-one, but when given the choice, she liked to dress like a grandmother.

I needn’t have worried about her spotting me; she was busy with a set of knitting needles and a spool of blue yarn, and her ears were covered with a set of headphones. She sat a good distance from Kowalski and Mr. Maki, which seemed like a good place to be.

I sat behind her in the opposite set of chairs, which proved to be as uncomfortable as I’d expected. One does hate to be right sometimes. I turned around and considered my line of attack. How best to announce myself? Those black needles looked awfully sharper than I’d expected for knitting needles, so I wouldn’t want to startle her too badly. Yet, my mischievous streak wouldn’t be satisfied with a simple hello. I wanted to make an entrance.

I settled on a personalized greeting. Yukiko hadn’t been my only tutor, and there was one spell Mariko had specifically taught me for the War Games. I twisted my fingers about into the proper casting position, sending glowing runes spinning around my hands. “Svalinn’s Mercy,” I intoned, the spell collapsing as it stamped my will onto reality. A red disc of energy popped into place above her head, and a mental order sent it drifting into her field of view.

I twisted in my chair, ready for her to gasp, or look around. Her complete lack of a reaction was unexpected. Were her eyes closed? I couldn’t tell from my vantage point, but it wasn’t impossible. She had been the president of our sewing club; perhaps she could knit without looking? Or, had she recognized my calling card, and was counter-teasing me? That would mean the winning move would be to play it just as coy and wait her out.

Forget that. I didn’t have the patience for mind games. I willed the Svalinn’s Mercy back to my side of the aisle; it had cost good magic to cast, and I might just find another use for it. “Good morning, Ms. Yamada!”

“Hello, Soren,” she said, removing her headphones and turning to face me.

“You certainly spoiled my fun there,” I said. “Not so much as a twitch.”

“Oh, did I ruin your fun?” she asked, smiling mischievously. “I do not get to tease you back very often, so I thought I would take the chance now.”

“What gave me away?” I asked.

She traced a circle in the air with her finger. “You make the most regular Svalinn’s Mercies I’ve ever seen.”

“I simply had a skilled teacher, ma’am,” I said.

“Kasasagi, how many times have I told you not to call me that?” She fussed with her braided hair nervously. “You make me feel seventy when you call me ma’am!”

Kasasagi? Oh, right, the Japanese word for Magpie. “Your favorite hobbies are reading romance novels, baking, and knitting. What part of that doesn’t sound like someone I should call ma’am?”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

She crossed her arms under her ample chest, her cheeks puffing out as she pouted. “I believed it was a mistake before, but now I know you are making fun of me!”

“Guilty, but you make it so much enjoyable. You know, you sound different without the school’s translation magic. It’s nice seeing your lips in sync for a change.”

“That was always disconcerting, wasn’t it? Like one of Dad’s martial arts movies.” Her pleasant smile was disarming. “I had not heard you were coming with us.”

“I think they kept us all in the dark,” I said.

“Ah, in case there were any moles among us,” she said with a knowing nod. “It sounds like the League. It makes sense, after…” She trailed off, averting her eyes for a moment.

So much for my sunny mood. I pressed on, regardless. “It is a pleasure seeing you again. I thought it was going to be Kowalski, Mr. Maki, and I alone in the far north,” I said. “What a relief! I don’t know that I would have survived being alone with him for that long.”

“Rafal’s a good boy,” she said. “He means well.”

“I don’t doubt his intent, it’s a matter of execution,” I said, sparing a glance at our traveling companions. He might have been out of earshot, but why take a chance? I changed topics again, before I said something unpolitic. “How have you been since… the recent unpleasantness?”

“I’ve been well enough, though it is such a relief to not be at that base in the mountains anymore,” she said. “I felt like a prisoner!”

“And you didn’t have Yukiko keeping you occupied like I did,” I said. “I was almost too annoyed to be bored.”

“She mentioned the Japanese lessons.” Her impish little smirk gave me a sense of foreboding. “I will be happy to continue—”

“Hey, you!” shouted an unexpected voice behind us, making us both jump in our seats. A bald man in a security uniform stepped towards us warily as he drew a baton. “I heard you speaking English, right? Do you understand?”

“Of course we do,” I spat. “What’s your problem?”

“Put that weapon down. Slowly.”

“Weapon?” I remembered my floating red disc and nodded with understanding. A snap of my fingers dispelled the magic structure, scattering glittering fragments every which way. They evaporated in an instant as I cut off the energy to them. “Sir, I assure you, I’m a Wizard Corpsman, and that was simply a defensive spell. It’s no risk to anybody.”

“Not you; I recognize the uniform.” He pointed the baton at Mariko. “How’d you get those knives in?”

“Huh? I would never…” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Ara!” Hopping to her feet, she bowed deeply to the security guard. “I apologize for the misunderstanding, sir! Those are knitting needles, not knives.”

“Knitting needles?” His expression hardened. “They’re classified as weapons. How’d you smuggle those past security?”

A frown crossed her face. “Oh, I did not sneak those in.” She snapped the fingers on her left hand, making the black implements vanish in a hail of sparks just like mine. “My real ones are in my checked bag, and I wanted to continue my sweater while I waited for my flight. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Put your hands up, Miss,” he said, being sure to stay at arm’s length. “You’ll be coming with me for questioning.”

“What?” she asked in a quiet voice.

“Now see here,” I said. “She isn’t in uniform, but I vouch for her! She’s in the Wizard Corps too. Mariko, you have your ID on you, right?”

“Of course,” she said, reaching for her purse.

“Stop right there!” he barked. “I want those hands where I can see them. I won’t ask nicely again.”

“Is there a problem over here?” The deep, bass voice was unmistakable, and the guard’s eyes went wide as he realized who was in his midst.

“Asahi Maki?” he managed.

“Oh, you recognize me?” said Mr. Maki, his voice full of false modesty.

“Who wouldn’t?” asked the guard. “You’re the Divine Blade!”

Mr. Maki held up his hands. “Please, I’m only a wizard doing his part, like my students here. Let me ask again: is there a problem?”

He shook his head. “If they’re your students? Of course not!” Fumbling with his pocket, he brought out a sheet of paper, a receipt if I didn’t miss my guess. He hadn’t been ready to meet a celebrity, of course. “Could I get an autograph? Please?”

“Of course. Can I see your phone a moment?” The guard nodded, and Mr. Maki tossed it my way. “Marlowe, go ahead and take a picture of me with my new friend while I’m at it.” He had a pen in his uniform pocket; of course he did, the big showboat. “What’s your name?”

“Charles, sir,” he said.

After he’d dashed off a signature on the scrap with the practiced flair of a celebrity, he wrapped a muscular arm around Charles’ shoulder. His face broke into a well-practiced grin, while Charles looked simultaneously overjoyed and befuddled. “Well, Marlowe? What’s the holdup?”

“I-I haven’t used this sort of phone before,” I said. I hadn’t even been aware there was more than one type. Everything was located in an entirely different spot than on my own. Why did human technology have to be so overcomplicated?

Mariko leaned over the chairs, her chest pressing against my arm in a rather distracting way as she reached over and pulled up the camera app. “Here you go, Kasasagi.” She straightened back up, seemingly unaware of the effect she’d had on me.

If she wasn’t aware, I surely was, and my face burned. “Th-thank you,” I managed, forcing myself to stay on point and not think about the soft sensation. She couldn’t have possibly done that on purpose. It was simply my randy imagination, like always.

Clearing my throat, I pointed the camera at them. “Ready?”

“When you are,” said Mr. Maki. “My pal Charles here should be out looking for real security threats. We shouldn’t delay him.”

I snapped the photo, and soon Charles was on his way with a story to tell. Mr. Maki waved goodbye before turning towards us. “What lesson did we learn there?”

“Don’t cast spells in an airport?” I ventured.

“Precisely,” he said. “Security is paid to be paranoid, not reasonable. Good of you to join us, Mr. Marlowe. I’d worried you might miss your flight.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” I said. Would a salute be going too far? Probably, but I added one anyway, which earned me a nod of approval from Mr. Maki.

Mr. Maki turned to Mariko next. “Ms. Yamada, if I can ask a question?” She nodded. “I don’t recall teaching you a spell to make fake knitting needles. What was that?”

“Oh, it is a variant of Kasasagi’s Svalinn’s Wrath spell,” she said, doing a familiar casting gesture with her hands as she spoke. “I simply reshaped them into a smaller, longer form, and blunted the tips.”

“Oh?” Mr. Maki raised an eyebrow. “Are you willing to learn combat spells now?” His question carried a hopeful tone.

“Of course not,” she said, taking hold of her right wrist to fight off some shivers. “I haven’t changed my position. Svalinn’s Wrath is derived from Svalinn’s Mercy, a defensive spell I already knew. Soren’s reworking of the spell was an easier starting place to make a knitting needle.”

Mr. Maki let out a disappointed sigh. “You know something’s got to give someday, right? I can’t protect you forever; the League is going to want you to fight eventually.”

She let out her own sigh, and I could see her right hand quiver. “I will figure something out.”

“You’d better think quickly,” he replied, turning to take a seat near Kowalski, who was pretending to read a book, but had been looking on the whole time. “This is a combat posting; occupied Britain isn’t as far away as we might like to think. We can’t be caught off guard like they were. No offense, Mr. Marlowe.”

“None taken, sir.” At the risk of bragging, I’d done fine work during the Calamity of 2049 when we’d sacked the United Kingdom. Bringing down Big Ben was a point of pride. One does like to leave a mark.

At least, I felt that swelling of pride until I remembered that unfortunate woman in the news story. Damn conscience.