“I’ve got it!” I squealed into the phone.
“Hello, this is Lieutenant O’Brien,” he said, with a significantly heavier dose of dryness to his tone than usual.
“I know how to move in!” I said.
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “Can you give me more specifics?”
“How do you feel about adopting a pet dog?” I asked.
There was a moment of silence while I grinned like a crazy person.
“I’m open to discussing the option, though I’m not entirely sure how it relates to the issue at hand,” he said after a minute.
I giggled and said, “I’d just have to update the enchantment I already made, to make sure it holds all the details of my normal biology, rather than superficial ones. And then, I could find a dog - a big one, since I need a decently large skull for my brain. Then, I could copy its biology into an enchantment, so I could shapeshift into it!”
I could almost hear him rubbing at the bridge of his nose, as I heard a faint sound that was definitely the sound of him sighing.
“While I appreciate your enthusiasm, I believe a little more clarity into how this addresses the issue would be useful,” he said.
“The human me could quite simply never be seen around you again!” I said happily. “Really, it’s quite convenient for traveling around the city, since I can run and no one would think it’s weird. I can change appearance with incredible ease, since fur length and color are as simple as it comes, and that’s the biggest identifier for dogs. I could temporarily remove things like the stomach, liver, and so forth, and have room inside my abdomen for things like groceries. I could make the back wall of your apartment a sort of magical door, so I could slip in and out without anyone seeing. The human me could disappear entirely, so no one would have any idea!”
“That… actually is fairly solid,” he said, sounding impressed.
I giggled again.
“So you agree, then?” I asked.
“One or two more things, first,” he said. “Are there any risks to consider?”
“Um… sort of,” I said. “I’ve never done this before, and there will be a bit of work involving the brain, so technically I could make a mistake and die.”
“That’s a rather significant issue,” he said dryly.
“You drive to work every day in a metal box powered by explosions,” I said. “Those things kill people all the time.”
“Granted,” he said, chuckling lightly. “I suppose a better question is, how likely is this risk?”
“I’d be extremely careful, naturally,” I said. “I wouldn’t suggest it if I weren’t confident in my success. Or… rather, confident in the precautions I’ve thought of. But there’s just no getting around the fact that I’ve never done this before, have no one to talk to about problems I don’t know enough about to predict, and have no one to help fix things if something goes wrong. So… honestly, I don’t know. But I’m confident enough that the prospect doesn’t frighten me, for what it’s worth.”
“That’s worth quite a bit,” he said. “Is there anything I could do to help lower the risk?”
“Maybe,” I said. “After I get the first things done - finding a dog, copying it, and so on - then maybe I could talk over my plan and precautions, and see if you can maybe think of anything that could go wrong.”
“I can try,” he said. “How long would you expect this to take?”
“At least a week, if everything goes perfectly,” I said. “Probably more, though by how much is anyone’s guess.”
“That’s reasonable,” he said. “And I feel it must be asked: does this plan cause you any concerns, personal or otherwise?”
“It sounds like fun!” I said. “I’ve heard of spellcasters who were able to do this sort of thing, and I’ve always liked the idea. I just never wanted to invest the work into making it happen, when I was younger.”
“I think that covers everything,” he said. “As long as you’re sure and you’re careful, I think you can go ahead and get started.”
“Yes!” I said and giggled again. “I’ll go find a dog! Any preferences?”
“Nope,” he said, and laughed. “Good luck.”
“Thanks!” I said. “You, too! Go get all the crazy drunks!”
“That’s not what good luck looks like,” he said dryly.
“Well… whatever is good for you, then,” I said. “Solve everything!”
He laughed.
“Thanks, and goodbye,” he said, hanging up the phone.
I hung up quickly and spun in an excited circle before running out the door.
Then I ran back inside because I realized I should probably call a taxi, as I had no idea where to go.
The taxi driver was a bit confused when I told him I was interested in adopting an adult dog, but he knew about a place called the Animal Rescue League of Boston. They took in homeless, lost, and abandoned cats and dogs, and would return them to the owners or let new people adopt them. They were focused on trying to be nice to the animals, which I thought was wonderfully sweet, so I told the taxi driver to take me there right away.
When we arrived, I was pleased to note that the building was older. They’d been working on their vision for some years. Inside, the smell of animals was a bit overpowering, but I didn’t mind. It reminded me a little of the forest.
Since my needs were a little unusual, I decided to look around with mage sense rather than asking awkward questions. It wasn’t long before I found a surprisingly perfect candidate.
In one of the back rooms was a large dog that was seriously injured. From what I could tell, it had been given some remarkably subpar medical attention and was in wretched straits. It pleased me that my efforts would result in making the poor thing’s life better, too.
I went up to the counter to speak to the receptionist. I told her that I was interested in a charity case - I wanted to take in a dog, ideally a large one, since I liked those. I wanted to feel like I was saving an otherwise condemned creature - one that was injured, like with a missing leg. One with whom I could share the benefit of my husband’s wealth, by giving it excellent care.
Minutes later, they brought me to see the dog I had “accidentally” described perfectly.
“Poor thing,” I said as I knelt beside the pathetic creature.
My heart ached with sympathy as I stroked the dirty fur on the top of its head. He really was not having good luck with life. Infested with some sort of skin disease - mange, they told me, he also had fleas and other parasites, a missing foreleg, and a few chunks missing from his ear.
“This creature is long overdue for kindness,” I said. “I will take him home immediately and clean him up, then give him medical attention. How much will you charge me for him?”
It was a bit expensive, but they wanted to recoup their medical costs, which I thought was entirely reasonable. As I paid them, they told me a few details they felt would be helpful to know. I purchased a collar, leash, and some dog food, then called for another taxi. The taxi driver was not even slightly pleased at taking the mangy mutt in his car, but it only cost a few dollars to change his mind.
As soon as I got home and brought him carefully inside, I used a spot of Aeros to put him to sleep. He was suffering too much for my tastes. The extent of his trouble was enough to actually make me put in a solid amount of effort. Cleaning him, alone, was a five minute process - and that was just external cleaning!
Biology, fortunately, operates by mirroring, so I was able to regrow his missing leg by making a mirror copy of the healthy foreleg. I was able to fix the rest of his missing bits with the same principle. The dog food and some water included all the raw material I needed to grow and repair everything on his body. I did have to be careful, since I wasn’t as sure of the various systems dogs had, by comparison to humans, but they really did seem to line up quite well to each other.
Getting the dog’s health and hygiene to perfection took hours and nearly exhausted me of my magic. I decided to just pretend it was my actual pet for a little while. I woke him up and he came to with wide eyes and a shake. It was adorable seeing a stunned expression on a dog, of all things, but it was quickly followed with delight. His tail started wagging with remarkable speed and he jumped up to lick my face.
“Aren’t you a sweetie!” I cooed as I scratched him behind the ears.
He made a happy whimper to tell me that, yes, he was a sweetie, and then decided to explore the house with quite a bit of excitement.
He really was a beautiful animal, now that he was in pristine health. They’d mentioned at the shelter that they thought he was part border collie and part shepherd, with possibly some other bloodlines included. He may have been unlucky in some ways, but his bloodline inheritance was not one of them.
His luxurious mane of brown, black, and white fur moved in patterns that reminded me of the wind on fields of tall grass. His sharp face with bright blue eyes made him look intelligent - and indeed, he really did seem fairly clever, from my brief interaction with his mind. Long legs were full of boundless energy as he flew around the house in a delighted blur.
I shifted some plates into shallow bowls for him and set out some food and water. I glanced back at the blur now racing in the opposite direction around the house and realized I ought to give him a name. After all, we’d be working together for at least a little while.
“What should I name you?” I asked him.
The sound of my voice sent him running to me. He stopped and I couldn’t help but see his mouth hanging open with his tongue lolling out as a grin.
“Woof,” he suggested.
“That won’t do at all,” I said. “Let’s see… what do you remind me of? Your eyes shine like the stars, but you certainly don’t hold still enough to be one. But a shooting star… that’s perfect!”
I reached out and gave him a nice rub behind the ears again.
“Your name is Comet,” I said, and he made another woofing sound of agreement.
“I’m glad you like it,” I said. “Are you hungry, Comet?”
With that, I offered the dog bowl. He sniffed at it warily, and seemed to be watching me for some sign of aggression. I frowned a little at the implication, but he didn’t hesitate too long. Soon he was chomping down the food with the same reckless abandon that had defined his exploration of my home.
“You do realize that your stomach has a limited capacity, don’t you?” I asked him, as he showed no sign of stopping. “You were starving before, silly thing, but you have fat reserves and everything now. You can stop eating.”
I extended my senses into his abdomen and saw his stomach begin to distend from the internal pressure. I rolled my eyes.
“You are literally harming yourself, you foolish thing,” I said, as I pulled the food dish away.
Apparently this cued him to realize he wasn’t hungry anymore, as he didn’t push to keep his food. He started to bound off, but his stomach wasn’t having any of that. Instead he yawned then jumped up onto the couch and made himself comfortable. From his perch, he watched me curiously.
“A nap is an excellent idea,” I said. “Thank you for the suggestion. Goodnight, Comet.”
He cocked his head at me as I made my way to the kitchen for a quick snack. I decided a simple can of beans would do, and ate it straight out of the can, heating it on the way to my mouth with each bite.
The next morning, I awoke to a pile of fur beside my bed, from which curious eyes watched me again.
The sweet furball was really charming. I found myself occasionally stopping my work to just give him affection. He was also quite insistent on going for runs, so I made a quick tracking enchantment on his collar, put it on him, and took him out. His love of life was infectious, and he seemed to understand on some level that I had saved him. That, or he was simply a naturally kind creature who would have loved me either way.
I had a lovely time with Comet. Sometimes, he’d just snuggle up to me while I worked on copying over all my biological details to the enchanted necklace. It made the whole process ever so much more peaceful and relaxing.
By the end of the first week, I found myself contemplating whether it’d be possible to actually keep Comet as a pet. The fact was, though, that I couldn’t expect to care for him long term, with my uncertain future, and Liam’s hours simply weren’t compatible with Comet’s boundless energy.
My work progressed without any issues, and Liam’s sessions were also going well. He didn’t suffer again like he had the first night, to the relief of us both. He had always been gentle, but he grew subtly more content with life as the aches and pains that had burdened him all these years were soothed away. And for my part, I no longer suffered with boredom or loneliness. At least, not much.
It was also nice that Comet didn’t care at all about the war. Lately, it seemed Finland was getting a lot of attention from Soviet Russia, which had something or other to do with Germany’s advance. The Soviets had signed some sort of non aggression pact with Germany, and it seemed like they were coordinating their invasions. At least, that’s what I’d been able to glean. It often felt like even buying groceries held extra tension from each new dastardly thing Hitler or the Soviets did. It was just inescapable.
A week’s time found the starting preparations for my shapeshifting venture complete. I had my own biology meticulously memorized, as well as Comet’s. I had studied his brain and figured out which sections were responsible for basic instincts, and which sections were more or less for thinking. I’d need to keep some aspects of dog brain function, and I figured copying those parts wholesale should work.
I had a sort of tracking enchantment on Comet’s brain, monitoring all the things it did to keep him functioning. I didn’t want to miss anything important, though it really looked like it worked just the same as a human’s brain. The only difference was size and prioritization - the part involved in processing smells, for instance, was dramatically larger than the human equivalent.
My precautions to ensure the process didn’t kill me, however, required a bit more care and precision before I was willing to move forward. I ended up crafting those parts over the course of nearly two weeks.
There wasn’t enough room in the skull for the dog instinctual bits and the human thinking bits to both fit, unfortunately. I decided my plan would be to put the human thinking bits in his skull, and to reduce lung capacity a little to fit the dog brain parts next to his heart. I’d have to keep an enchanted string of sorts inside my body at all times, to give a properly fast connection for the brain parts, but that wouldn’t compromise either my human or dog forms.
That was longer term, though. Better to have a disgustingly oversized dog head at first, to make sure the basic process worked without any issue.
I’d built a perfect copy of the merged brain I needed to make, and as far as I could tell, it was perfectly functional. Well, not on my first try, naturally, but I’d finally managed an approach that worked.
It was a copy of the entire final body I planned on, not just the brain. I’d further adjusted it to be the same weight as I was, so I wouldn’t have limitations with needing to find materials to turn back to normal. Comet was several pounds lighter than I was, even with giving him some fat reserves.
I also made a pseudo organ to hold the excess raw material that didn’t align properly to Comet’s form, and tucked it in just underneath the spine. I then realized I’d need more space for things like enchanted jewelry or money, so I made the organ more involved. It had compartments for different things I’d need to store, had an internal texture not too unlike leather, and could stretch easily, as needed.
The middle of March found me finally ready to attempt shapeshifting. Liam still wasn’t awakened, though he’d finally grown comfortable with the feeling of his own soul. His biggest issue became letting go of the feelings, once they’d started. His mind was cooperative, but his heart just didn’t want to let go.
I decided to tie Comet out in the dead garden while I attempted the spell. I imagined the poor creature would be terrified at the process. I went down to the lab and wrapped myself up in all the protective enchantments I’d made. Liam had offered to be there when I tried for the first time, but I thought there was no sense in wounding him further if things went wrong. And it was likely to be a highly disturbing process, even if everything went well.
I started with the easy parts, first. A massive dog head emerged from around my otherwise unchanging skull, and everything below the brain stem shifted to match Comet’s biology. It was amusingly challenging for my brain to handle the sensation. My body felt weirdly wrong in ways that my human brain simply wasn’t equipped to handle. Since I knew it was coming, I wasn’t bothered at all, but it was nonetheless interesting.
I allowed one of my protective enchantments to take over all of the automatic parts of brain activity. It would, hopefully, let me transition from one biological type of brain to another without interruption of function. As tested, it took over without any issues.
Next, I slowly began to shift over parts of my brain, one section at a time, with the aid of one of my new enchantments to guide the process. Automatic breathing - which I assumed was no issue if it went wrong - went first. My heart was pounding with my anxiety, which seemed like a good sign, since that meant the dog body was responding to my human brain’s signalling of fear.
Slowly, cautiously, I switched over each part of the brain that needed changing. It felt incredibly strange, and somehow incredibly natural. As though, on some level, it made perfect sense that my limbs were now responding to my control on an intuitive level, and that my conscious mind was the strange part, thinking something was odd about this.
It made me a little uncomfortable, wondering if my brain was keeping other things from me, too, that I might want to be aware of. But that was for another time.
I pushed the next change, and…
I blinked in confusion, awake and fully human. I sighed and checked on my enchantments. Apparently, the part of the brain I changed that last time made my consciousness go out of control, demonstrating a wild insanity. As planned, one of the enchantments monitored my consciousness, knocked me out when it detected the abnormality, and forcibly shifted me back to normal.
Now I’d have to make a new approach to switching my brain functions over and recharge the enchantments before trying again. It took enough power - due to my hopefully excessive degree of caution - that I couldn’t reasonably get more than one attempt per day.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
That is, one attempt on my own person, per day. I was able to run through a few simulations, of a sort, with a “dead” version of my shapeshifted self that I kept in the basement. I was certain I’d figured out the problem, and my next attempt would be flawless.
Eight attempts later, I was about ready to murder everything that dared to even have a brain. Liam was worried about the fact that I’d died nine times, in a manner of speaking, and thought I might want to give up this attempt as beyond my skill level.
I refused.
I did have to admit to needing a new approach. I couldn’t seem to integrate dog brain functions and human brain functions without issues cropping up. The final merged version looked functional, but I didn’t want to make it completely active, because then there’d be another intelligent mind in there that I’d have to kill, over and over again.
It was Liam who realized that if my enchantments could replace the dog’s instinctual parts for the transition anyway, I could just use them instead.
It grated on me as inefficient - magical things were never as efficient as biological things - but I had to admit, it should work. It’d just limit my time in dog form according to my ability to keep the shapeshifting enchantment charged. Else I’d be shortly dead.
It also grated on me to know the vulnerability of the process - if anyone disrupted the magic while I was in dog form, I’d be unable to function until I restored it. But it wasn’t like anyone could disrupt it anyway.
I begrudgingly decided to go along with his idea and set about building a more efficient, more permanent enchantment to mimic all the autonomous functions of Comet’s brain.
And I wouldn’t even need to have the awkward extra brain bits in my chest. I’d be able to fit everything I needed in Comet’s skull.
While I was finishing preparing for my new plan, Lou brought some people into the house. It had something to do with a case, and they needed a place temporarily. I didn’t ask about the details. I was just happy that someone could keep Comet company while I figured out what to do with him on a more permanent basis.
Early April found me finally bounding along the city in my new form. With a full charge, I expected the enchantment to last me a long time, perhaps even weeks. My shapeshifting enchantment was put in a crystal and permanently kept safely tucked away above and behind my heart. The language spell was now the only one on a necklace, which I kept in the storage organ in my abdomen, along with the enchanted rings and other items I needed on my person.
A lot of random people petted me and commented on how beautiful I was as I tested out the form. I thanked them with doggie smiles and a wagging tail. It was a surprising amount of fun. Sometimes other dogs tried to give me some trouble, but I still had full ability with magic, so that proved nothing more than another source of amusement. Considering the speed limit inside the city was twenty miles per hour, and they had limits like traffic lights and pedestrians, I was dramatically faster than anyone driving.
Liam was surprised to find a dog hanging around his cruiser, and he figured out it was me before I even had any fun messing with him. It was only mildly disappointing, though, since the look on his face when he realized it was me gave me something to giggle about for days.
I moved in shortly after, and Liam quickly gave up any sense of territorialism over his apartment. It was soon full of pots that were bursting with greenery, had aesthetically matched furniture which I designed according to his tastes, and was in immaculate condition.
Liam found himself appreciating the nearly complete lack of chores. He still had to take care of his car, since I didn’t know anything about it, but he continuously expressed gratitude over things like laundry, dishes, and ironing.
All that was left was getting him past these last few humps in the process of learning magic, and then… well, I had no idea. But I was sure I’d think of something.
“Just claim it as your reality,” I said, laughing.
“It still feels strange,” Liam said.
“Tell it it’s not strange,” I suggested. “Tell it that it belongs to you.”
“Oh, mighty magic that’s inside me, I declare that you belong to me,” he said, peeking open an eye and smiling at my explosion of giggles.
“You know what I mean!” I said, trying to resume concentration on pouring magic into him.
“See, Aera, that’s just it,” he said. “I don’t actually know what you mean.”
“You’re a Lum caster!” I said. “How can you not know what I mean by making it your reality? That’s supposed to be confusing for me, not you.”
“Well, try telling me the Aquas way, and we’ll see if I can get it by comparison,” he said.
“The Aquas way?” I asked and blinked. The answer came to me in an instant. “Make love to it. Like we did the first night I showed you your spirit.”
He paused at that and looked at me for a long moment.
“You mean to accept this... feeling, this magic of yours,” he said softly. “To accept it the way you accepted me.”
I nodded.
“Magic is intimate,” I said. “It is to caress and command your very soul.”
“It feels so soft,” he said. “Does that even make sense?”
“It probably is a bit soft for you,” I said wryly. “Lum is… well, not rigid exactly, but…”
“But more tangible,” he said, frowning in concentration. “It’s hard to get a good grip on this. Do you think you could try to make it more Lum like?”
I grumbled internally at the prospect, and then sighed. At least it wasn’t Grath.
As my focus shifted, my heart moved with it, and I felt sort of stuffed up. Lum just felt so awkward, like slime was in my veins instead of blood. I also needed to make sure it was as pure and unattached to me as possible, so that he could take it from me. It took a bit of wrangling before I thought it felt right, and then I pushed it into his soul.
“Ohh,” he said, taking a deep breath. “That feels incredible.”
“Hmph,” I said. “Damned Lum caster not appreciating Aquas properly.”
He peeked open an eye again and caught me giving him a mischievous grin. He flashed a smile back.
“This feels like it makes sense,” he said. “Like it’s actually there, for once, and definitely not my imagination.”
“Stop insulting Aquas,” I grumbled and he laughed.
“I’m serious, though,” he said, and reached his hand out, palm up, looking at it intently. “It’s right there.”
Light began shining from his hand and he yelped in surprise, making it go out.
“Did I just…?” he said.
I giggled as I stopped pouring magic into him. He didn’t need mine, now.
“Yes, you ‘just,’” I said.
He held out his hand cautiously, with an expectant look. Nothing happened. He frowned.
“You’re asking,” I said. “You don’t ask Lum to do things. It just does. Or doesn’t.”
“It’s a wrench,” he said, still looking at his hand. “You need it to do things, but you don’t think about the wrench. It just exists, and it works.”
“Maybe?” I said. “I don’t use wrenches.”
He smiled. He took a breath to relax himself, and steadied his focus. A second later, his hand began to glow gently.
“Perfect,” I said.
“This is incredible,” he said, staring at the light coming off of his hand. “I don’t just feel it, I can kind of see it. Beyond… I don’t mean the light, I -”
“I know what you mean,” I interrupted with a laugh. “That’s something I’ve attempted to translate as ‘mage sense.’”
“Mage, spellcaster, sorcerer - you keep using different words,” he said, smirking at me.
“You would, too, if your society depended on spellcasters in order to function,” I said. “I’m trying to sort of translate the various dedicated words to English ones that match at least decently. It’s a pain.”
“I can imagine. So what is mage sense?” he asked.
“You’re pushing forward your spirit to examine your target,” I said. “It comes as part of the process, when you can directly control your soul. You can examine all sorts of things with it. Try looking at me.”
I moved closer to him on the couch, so he wouldn’t have to extend his senses far.
“This is incredible,” he said again, his eyes closed as he looked at me. “What am I seeing, exactly?”
“My soul,” I said. “Well, my soul is that Lum-like rigid blob in the middle, and the spirit is the more fluffy-like bits around it. Looking at my spirit, you can see my surface emotions and my intentions. Looking at the surface of my soul, you’ll see the pressure behind those emotions and intentions - kind of, why I feel that way. If you push all the way into the soul, you can begin to understand its core structure. Who a person fundamentally is.”
“Pride,” he said slowly. “That’s what you’re feeling? Pride? Joy? A sort of giddy delight?”
“Very good!” I said, grinning hugely at him.
“It’s that easy?” he said, sounding stunned.
“You thought it was hard?” I asked.
He shook his head and opened his eyes.
“I thought it was a spell, something that would take a lot of time to get,” he said. “Why don’t you use this sense on people all the time?”
“It’s rude,” I said.
“I can see refusing to use this randomly, but if the situation is important, that’s useful information,” he said. “Like Pash. Have you used this on him?”
“No,” I said. “I used it accidentally on you because I was half asleep and your red hair caught me off guard. It’s how I knew you were trustworthy. But I try to never use it without direct permission.”
I felt his spirit still probing mine. It was impressive that he didn’t feel the need to close his eyes, new as he was.
“It’s not much different from reading body language, though,” he said. “If you just look at the spirit, not the soul.”
“That’s true,” I said.
“You have no idea how useful this is for me,” he said. “Would it upset you if I used this on the job, when interrogating people?”
“Not at all,” I said. “My father never really cared about that, either, but my mother was quite insistent. She made all of us go along with her on that point.”
“You’re not with them anymore,” he said. “What do you think about it?”
“I don’t know, I guess,” I said. “It’s incredibly useful, but a lot of people would be uncomfortable with someone looking at who they are.”
“A lot of people would be uncomfortable with you even existing, as powerful as you are,” he said. “Maybe when more people have magic, there should be precautions in place, but right now, knowing who you can trust could make a massive difference for the world. You could be sure that you’re not being taken advantage of.”
I paused briefly before answering and his expression shifted.
“You’re reconsidering,” he said slowly. “That’s what I’m looking at? It’s... tangled, but I think… on the surface of your soul, those heavy things, is that what you’re weighing, to try to decide?”
“You’re going to be dangerous with this,” I said wryly. “Lum casters have always been known to be generally more talented with mage sense, but you’re good at this.”
“It’s weirdly similar to reading body language,” he said. “And I’ve got years of experience at that. This just feels more… more…”
He frowned.
“It’s annoying, isn’t it?” I said with a chuckle. “Having experiences for which your language just has absolutely no words for?”
“A little,” he agreed. “This is incredible. I think this mage sense will be more useful to me than your enchantments, to be honest.”
“I don’t mind that,” I said. “I’m just glad you achieved it.”
“You really are,” he said, frowning. “Why is it that much of a relief?”
“Slick isn’t really a spellcaster. I mean, he has magic, but…” I frowned, trying to think of the right words. “See, where I’m from, we have a word for people like Slick. People that have awakened to magic, have some limited spellcasting ability, but in application are just the same as mundanes with more skill, or mundanes with enchantments.”
“I’m sorry, Aera, but I’m not hearing anything that matches the feeling of significance I’m picking up in you,” he said.
“There are people with magic, and people without magic,” I said. “We are different. We live different lives. The world looks different. Choices have different meanings. An enhanced mundane is still a mundane, in the end, if that makes sense?”
“I think it does,” he said quietly. “The mundanes matter less to you than spellcasters, and you wanted me to join you in your status.”
“That sounds about right,” I said, glad he seemed to understand.
“I think there’s some more clarification that would be helpful,” he said, seeming reserved. “In what way do mundanes matter less, to you?”
“Those with power shape the world, and those without just live in it,” I said, shrugging. “It’s just the way it is.”
“Let’s use a hypothetical situation for a moment here,” he said. “If there were a spellcaster and a mundane that both needed saving, would you think the spellcaster’s life mattered more?”
“Of course it does,” I said. “But likewise, if there were both a spellcaster and a mundane that had committed some crime, and were generally bad people, I would be inclined to give the mundane grace, whereas the spellcaster might need to be killed, or maybe bound.”
“Bound?” he said. “What do you mean?”
“It is the worst punishment imaginable,” I said. “My brothers and I would do anything to avoid it. It’s where the spirit is held back by an enchantment, to prevent it from reaching out. If that happens, it’s impossible to use magic, so long as the enchantment holds.”
His eyes lit up in a way that made me uncomfortable.
“How hard is that to do?” he asked.
“Depends,” I said. “If you mean doing it in the heat of the moment against another spellcaster who’s resisting you, it’s nearly impossible. If you mean attaching a pre-made enchantment on a spellcaster who isn’t resisting, anyone can do it. Why do you ask?”
“I think that’s a solution,” he said.
“To what problem?” I asked.
“Of magic being too powerful,” he said. “If you’re going to be bringing magic into the world, it’ll be important for spellcasters to be subject to the law. Having a system in place to use this sort of binding as a way of keeping them in line will be necessary.”
“But our world doesn’t have that,” I said, the first words of protest I could think of.
“You’ve told me quite a bit about your world, Aera,” he said quietly. “Do you want this one to be like that?”
“No!” I said. “But…”
I hesitated. The entire point of my parents’ life work was to have a better world for people to live in, especially mundanes.
But surely that couldn’t mean being actually forced to abide by the laws of some nation, did it?
“There must be another way,” I said.
“Another way for what?” he asked.
My mouth worked.
“Is it really necessary to constrain spellcasters?” I asked.
“You mean, to ask people with magic to do things like obey the laws of the land?” he asked pointedly.
“But some nations are awful,” I said. “Some nations have stupid laws. You can’t really expect a spellcaster to obey those, can you?”
“But regular people should,” he said. “People like Lou. Slick. Like me.”
“It’s different,” I said.
“How?” he asked.
My mouth worked for another minute.
“Do you think that people who have power - whether it’s money, political power, or magic - shouldn’t have to obey laws?” he asked.
These words hurt me. Stories flashed by in my mind - stories I’d never told them, since they were horrible. Stories of spellcasters who, unlike my parents, did not have kind intentions at heart. I knew the depth of evil that people could fall to. Everyone knew those casters had to be stopped.
But that was just stopping the great evils. Murder, rape, twisting others into abominations, slavery of the sort this world had never conceived of, and dozens of other unspeakable evils.
Short of things that would bring other spellcasters to wipe you from the face of the world, though, if people were powerful enough to ignore the laws, then they did. That’s just how life worked. I couldn’t imagine my parents obeying laws. Just the thought of suggesting it to my mother seemed ludicrous.
“Maybe there’s somewhere in the middle?” I said. “Some balance short of forcing powerful people to obey laws and still allowing for ways of stopping great evils?”
“So you do believe that, then,” he said, seeming disappointed. “That regular people should obey laws, but powerful people shouldn’t.”
“I…” I hesitated.
His disappointment in me was lashing at my heart. We were silent for another long minute.
“To me, the more important question is whether you think powerful people’s lives matter more,” he said. “Not out of a sense of utility or function. But as people. Morally. Do I matter, Aera? Does my life have meaning, compared to someone more capable?”
“You matter,” I said. “You’re talking about things that I’ve just never thought about before. Laws just don’t exist for people like me. They’re nuisances, at most. But… you matter. That is something I know.”
“Do I matter as much?” he asked. “And is it because I’m human, or because you care about me personally?”
“I care about you,” I said, looking down as I tried to make sense of conflicting thoughts. “But with strangers… it’s hard, Liam. It’s hard to try to separate the ability to shape the world from the idea of an inherent moral value. Utility does matter.”
“All men are created equal,” he said, and his words had the weight of a quote. “That’s an idea that our entire country is founded on.”
“That idea is nonsense,” I said. “Some men are born brilliant, and others are born too disabled to even feed themselves. By what measure are people equal?”
He shook his head.
“It’s not saying that everyone is born with exactly the same intelligence, or health,” he said. “It’s about the worth of a person, as a person.”
“Which means what?” I asked. “What sense is it to ascribe value to something that cannot be measured in some fashion?”
“Morality can’t be measured, Aera,” he said. “Does that mean it has no value?”
I frowned at him.
“You’ve stumbled into another major belief of our society,” he said. “We have a strong belief that humans have a value much higher than their ability to provide some use.”
“I… we…” I hesitated. “I never thought about this sort of thing, Liam. Human lives matter… I know that. You know that I know that.”
“If lives matter because they’re human lives, then why does it make a difference if they have magic?” he asked.
“Maybe it doesn’t,” I said. “But… Liam, you have to understand, constraining a person’s magic is… it’s terrible!”
“So is prison,” he said. “A solid portion of my job is sending people there. If people with magic don’t matter more, then why should they have even more privilege?”
“You’re talking about giving mundanes, governments, the ability to bind spellcasters,” I said.
“Yes, I am,” he said.
“And making me follow the law,” I said.
His lip twitched, as though torn between trying to smirk and trying to frown.
“That would be correct,” he said.
“This is insanity,” I said.
“It’s insane to ask you to follow the law?” he asked.
“Yes!” I said.
“So you break it, then?” he asked.
“I don’t have the faintest idea,” I said. “Part of not having to follow the law means not having to bother learning what it is in the first place.”
He sighed heavily.
“Do you at least see the irony in the fact that you found yourself in a relationship with a police officer?” he asked after a second.
“I guess it’s kind of ironic,” I said. “But I really didn’t think about the subject. It’s not like you could arrest me or anything.”
He made a sound that was somewhere between a chuckle and a groan.
“I think we ought to let the conversation drop,” he said. “I can see that you’re overwhelmed, and that you’re honestly wanting to do what’s right. I’m pretty sure you do understand, at some level, that things can’t operate the way they did in your world. So you can take some time to think about it.”
I looked at my feet. We were quiet for several minutes. I thought, and he watched my soul wrestle with priorities.
“I guess I just don’t want to be afraid of someone being able to do that to me,” I said quietly.
“Most people have to fear the government’s power, Aera,” he said, taking my hand in a comforting way.
I glanced up at him.
“That’s normal…?” I said. “And… and you think that’s right? For people to live their entire lives in fear of what others might do?”
“If it’s not the government, it’d be something else,” he said. “In your world, it was spellcasters and monsters, mostly, if I understand.”
He was right about that. But… I didn’t want him to be right about this. And yet, I knew for a fact that the reason I wanted him to be wrong wasn’t because I was convinced of the moral superiority of my position, but that I was afraid of the consequences of his position.
An accursed truth of spellcasters is that we can’t hide from such things like mundanes can. Once it was brought to light, there was no ignoring a conflict in my own soul. The only way for conflicting views to exist in a person without causing conflict is for that person to be ignorant of them.
Which meant that this was going to diminish my ability with magic until I came to some sort of resolution, some form of peace. I had to have an answer, understand what that answer meant about myself, and accept myself entirely.
I wanted to kick something.
“Besides,” Liam continued, “People don’t generally have to fear the government, because most people aren’t doing anything wrong.”
“But doesn’t that mean people have to trust the government?” I said.
“Yes,” he said, amused. “People do trust the government. If they didn’t, there’d be another revolution.”
“Right,” I said, sagging against him.
I did not like this. I either had to accept my original views, and understand that it meant placing myself consciously above others, on a moral level, or… or…
I shuddered and he hugged me close. His disappointment had faded almost entirely. I supposed it was due to the fact that his mage sense was still probing me and he must have been satisfied with what he perceived.
I did technically have the option of being a hypocrite, where I decided all other spellcasters that emerged ought to live by these restraints, but I didn’t have to. Or that I should have to, as well, but simply chose not to.
So to voluntarily accept a choice that was more evil, for a reason I clearly identified as rooting itself in cowardice, or to accept the basic premise of what he was saying.
“I hate being a coward,” I muttered as I pulled myself to my feet and stomped over to the kitchen.
“You’re sulking,” he said, surprised.
“This is hard,” I said. “I don’t want to be a coward, I am a coward, and this is… ugh.”
He chuckled.
“I don’t think you’re taking this seriously enough,” I grumbled.
He upgraded to full laughter.
“You’re making fun of me!” I said.
“Not at all, Aera,” he said, getting up to stand next to me. “I want you to know that I very much appreciate that you’re taking the matter seriously. It’s an important issue.”
“Then why are you laughing?” I asked.
“Because you’re adorable when you’re sulking,” he said, stroking my cheek affectionately.
“Hmph,” I grumbled. “You just don’t appreciate how hard this is on me.”