2 A.L.: IRENE

“If you teach me how you imbue fire into your spear, I will show you how I throw a fireball,” Irene offered. She had been with the group for almost three weeks. She could gut a rat, skin it, tan its hide and cut the carcass into smaller pieces that were easier to cook. She could start a fire using wood debris and a spell. She knew how to secure a room for a night or a week. She could identify the eight main plants the residents consumed and how to cook them.

Mary refused to tell her how she made her repair hammer work. She guarded this bit of knowledge jealously. She was worried the group would abandon her if she wasn’t needed. Irene recorded the woman repairing the pins several times and left it at that.

“I don’t know if I can teach you,” Greg responded. “I have tried to show it to the others and they can never get it to work.” The two of them were at the water feature on the floor above the rest. This was the water source Irene killed the badger at when she was searching for The Heights. The stream of water appeared from above and fell through a hole in the ceiling. It spilled over a pile of steel beams, chunks of concrete and stone, where it watered pockets of soil. Plants grew from these soil patches. The residents of The Heights harvested them in a set pattern to maximize the yield.

Greg and Irene were filling the settlement's water bags. Constructed from leather, the bags were three times larger than the water flask Irene carried. They were purchased from Chicago. They were filled once every four days by the strongest members of the group and carried back to the rest. The worst part of the task was how long you waited for the trickle of water to fill the bags.

“Walk me through it while we wait for the bags to fill,” Irene responded. “At the worst it should help pass the time.” She considered this choice for a while. This group impressed her with how they worked together. She was still worried that if she taught one of them to cast fireball they would leave the group. They were very kind to her, teaching her how to survive inside the structure. She felt she owed them. She decided to try teaching it to Greg because he already knew his own magic and chose to stay and help the rest. Hopefully a bit more magic would just make him more effective at protecting the others and not give him dreams of conquest.

She decided to approach him today because he was planning a trip to Chicago to trade their materials and prize coins for integrated goods. They used their prize altar to produce physical coins, which they pooled together. She was surprised at how few coins they possessed. Irene added a donation of her own, to pay for her stay among them. She gave them the same number of coins it would have cost her to stay in the inn at Londontown.

She planned to head back in the direction of the Speedwell while he was gone. It may be a little selfish of her, but she didn’t really want to know how magic changed the dynamic in the group. It was a little early from her plan. There were a couple things she saw on the way in, that she wanted to get a better look at. She would use the extra days to do that.

“Sure, why not,” Greg said. From his point of view, Irene as a wizard already possessed a far superior magic to his own. He didn’t even know why she wanted to learn imbuing. If there was a chance she could teach him a wizard spell, he was going to grab it.

Greg stepped out into the middle of the hallway leading to the water source. He shifted his feet, getting them set into a position of strength. “First set your stance,” he commented. “Next breath in fire magic from the air.” He took a couple deep breaths. “When you can feel it building in your belly, push it into the weapon.” He shifted the grip of his rear hand slightly on the spear shaft. “Fix your intent on a target.” Greg glowered at a spot of empty air just in front of him.

“Now, set your grip and thrust.” Greg flexed his main hand again before plunging his spear forward into the targeted area of open space. A ripple of flame shot along the weapon. It reached the tip of the spear making it appear sharper for just a second. The flame jumped from the tip looking for a target to burn. When it found nothing to take hold of it sizzled out into a puff of flame.

“Hmm…” Irene murmured. She compared Greg’s serious demonstration of imbuing a weapon with the performance she put on for Darien. They had a lot in common. Unfortunately Irene suspected that was because they were both full of performance. “I have questions.”

“Of course you do,” Greg responded.

“You set your grip, but it seemed like your grip was already set.” Irene stood next to Greg and held her staff like it was a spear. She set her off hand forward and main hand back. “I didn’t see you move this hand at all,” she said, indicating her off hand.

The two of them went back and forth, as Greg really thought about that single step. The sound of the water changed as the water bag they were filling began to overflow. Greg went over to close it and set up the next bag. Irene thought about everything Greg said. His last words were, “You need to launch the fire through the spear.” Irene decided he was squeezing his fingers. ‘Launch through’ made her think of pushing something forward. If she squeezed her fingers in order, pinky to thumb it would give her the feeling of squeezing something out of a tube.

That idea seemed similar to tapping out five to get tap water to warm. That was done by tapping each finger along the rim of a basin or pool, pinky to thumb.

Greg finished setting the next bag to fill and came back over to stand beside her. “Ok, I think I have that part,” Irene said. “Now can we go over the earlier part where you said I needed to push the fire into the weapon. Do you also do that with your grip?”

This conversation was shorter since Greg already thought about the set your grip stage. He said, “It is similar to launching the magic, but instead you are drawing it in and fixing it into the weapon.” When he said the part ‘fixing it’ he made a fist with his main hand. Since he just picked his spear up from where it was leaning against the wall, he wasn’t holding it in the thrust position.

Irene had an epiphany. This was the start symbol. The start symbol in casting was spread your fingers, make a fist. Greg’s fist was done with his hand on the weapon's grip. He squeezed with all his fingers at once. So if the start symbol was like the ‘set your grip’ it was to squeeze your fingers in order, pinky to thumb, followed by squeeze all your fingers at once. The fire symbol was a repeat of squeeze your fingers in order. That left only the end or casting move.

“Ok,” Irene said. She set her feet and squeezed the start symbol. She followed that by squeezing just each finger in order. “What was after launching the fire through the spear?”

“Make your strike,” Greg responded. Irene struck forward at an empty piece of air. Nothing happened, but she expected that. She thought learning imbuing would have the same limitations on it that learning casting did. Namely, you needed to try multiple times against a real threatening target.

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Greg wasn’t expecting any result either, since Irene clearly did not follow all the steps. He saw people try a lot harder to follow every step for hours and not get anywhere.

The current water bag reached capacity and started to splash. This time Irene went over and switched it out with the next one. Greg was leaning against the wall when Irene came back.

“Ok,” she said. “A deal is a deal. Let's talk fireball.”

“Really?” Greg asked.

“Yes,” Irene responded. She held up her hand with all her fingers spread in front of her. She thought for a moment and put her hand down. “The first thing you need to know is that the fireball goes where you are looking, not where you aim. When Darien was making me cast fireball like some kind of trained performer, I shifted the focus of my vision from the target to the couch behind and set the couch on fire.”

Greg snorted. “Uncomfortable,” he murmured aloud, remembering the wording Irene used that first day. He noticed Irene did not claim it was an accident. He could hear the anger in her voice when she described Darien making her perform.

Irene sighed. “Yeah, I may have overreacted. That man always rubbed me wrong. We worked in the same department on the Speedwell. Whenever we were assigned a job together I always ended up doing all the work. He would offer to help me with something and the next thing I know he managed to leave before the shift was even over and I still have the entire task left to do. I have no idea how he ended up so high up in Chicago. He only left the Speedwell a couple months before me,” Irene observed. Irene shook off her negative thoughts and returned to the subject of magic.

“To learn fireball you have to aim at a live target, although Darien taught me that once you know it you can throw it at anything.” Greg nodded in understanding. A couch didn’t qualify as a live target. “The second thing you need to know is that it doesn’t work the first time. I have a friend who told me it took about twenty tries. I think it takes less than that, but they have to be ‘perfect’ tries. In the heat of the moment it is easy to screw it up, so it can end up being even more than twenty.

“After it does work, there is a period of hit and miss until it settles down into reliability. All I can say is make sure you always have a back up plan, but you probably already know that.” Irene commented. Greg nodded his head in agreement.

“All the casting magic I know has three parts, a starting gesture, the symbol for the specific spell and then an end or casting gesture.” Irene looked back at the water feature. She picked up a slight flicker of movement from the jumble of fallen I beams. She thought the rat would make a good example. “This is fireball,” she spread her fingers, rolled them leftward into a fist, opened her hand and made an empty throwing gesture. A ball of fire formed in the air just past her extended hand. It flew down the hall to land squarely on the rat. The rat managed a squeal before dropping dead.

Greg’s whole body jerked in shock. A wisp of smoke rose from the surface of the carcass. Greg and Sharl were part of one of the official exploration teams. He’d seen people around him do all kinds of magic. What struck him about this demonstration was how easily, almost carelessly, Irene threw the fireball. She didn’t even take a breath, he thought stupidly.

“That’s it?” Greg asked.

“Yep,” Irene responded. “You can dress it up a lot if you want. You should have been there for the performance I gave Darien, it was a masterpiece.”

“I knew a guy who yelled ‘fireball’ every time he threw one. He swore it made the spell stronger,” Greg commented.

“Oh that is awesome!” Irene exclaimed. “I’ll add that the next time I am asked to perform. Let me walk you through the individual parts.”

Irene led Greg through a run of the spell. His hand wasn’t flexible enough for him to roll his fingers to the left into a fist like Irene did. Irene assured him that wasn’t necessary, it was just a habit of hers. He just needed to spread his fingers then make a fist, spread them wide and throw.

Irene gutted the rat and set it aside so they could carry it back. Greg slumped against the wall and thought about what Irene told him. “You really believe,” he said to Irene when she returned, “that if I make this simple gesture while looking at a rat twenty times, I will learn fireball.”

“Yep,” Irene responded. “It might take you twenty-five. How do you think I learned it?” Greg thought about what questions Irene has asked about how he imbued fire. She concentrated on only two parts. Those parts both possessed a physical component. They weren’t all thought and feeling. Three parts, he corrected himself. She asked about the strike at the end.

“You think that most of what I do for burning spear is…” he searched for the right word and fell back to what she called her demonstration to Darien, “performance.”

“Well, yes,” Irene responded, trying to sound apologetic.

“What parts do you think are required?” Greg asked her.

Irene flipped her staff around so she held it like a spear. “Using my main hand I squeeze my fingers in order from pinky to thumb, then all at once. Then I squeeze my fingers in order again and strike.” She demoed those moves as she spoke, ending with a quick strike forward. Again, nothing happened. “I figure I need to do that twenty or so times targeting a rat before it will actually work.”

Curious Greg stepped away from the wall. He intentionally stood very casually. He held his spear at the ready and copied Irene’s actions, ending with a strike. He didn’t even look at his imaginary target. He kept his eyes on the spear looking for any sign of fire.

A ripple of flame shot along the weapon. It reached the tip of the spear making it appear sharper for just a second. The flame jumped from the tip looking for a target to burn. When it found nothing to take hold of it sizzled out into a puff of flame. It was the identical result he got after all that breathing, visualizing and psyching himself up. His jaw dropped open.

“Can you try that again with my stick?” Irene asked. “A bad thought just occurred to me. That spear of yours looks like a crafter made it. I want to make sure it still works with something not crafted.” Greg exchanged her walking staff for his spear and quickly ran through the exercise again. Once more fire ran down the weapon. The sharpening effect on the tip made the stick actually look like a spear for a moment.

“That’s a relief,” Irene commented. Looking down at the weapon Greg realized with some surprise what it was. The irony of it broke him out of his shock.

“Is this a broomstick?” Greg asked suddenly.

“Not anymore,” Irene responded. “Now it is a wizard's staff.” Greg nodded his acknowledgement and traded the wizard’s staff back for his spear.

“When I get back from Chicago, we will have to go hunting,” Greg observed.

“I am afraid I won’t be here when you get back,” Irene explained.

“What do you mean?” Greg asked.

“Well, like I said I may have overreacted to Darien. Sneaking out in the middle of the night probably didn’t help. You have all been so nice to me, I don’t want to bring any trouble to you. When you leave for Chicago, I plan to move on. One of my brothers is in Londontown.” Irene planned this little speech for a while. She was afraid it came off a bit stilted. She wanted Greg to tell Darien she went back to Londontown. She hoped that would be the end of the entire incident.

“We will miss you,” Greg said.

“Now that I know where you are, I will try to come back for a visit when I think Darien has forgotten all about me,” Irene responded.