He was fighting. His enemies were pillows. Or clouds. Something that he couldn’t hit hard. It was very frustrating, but he didn’t quit. They were everywhere as he twisted and turned, not really convinced that he was having any effect since he wasn’t sure that he was doing anything at all. He panted and tried to catch his breath. It was all terribly annoying.

Tenthé found himself yelling as he flailed, which was something he never did. Yelling or flailing.

Slowly, he realized his efforts were futile. He was achieving nothing. With this realization, he spun down, trying to figure out what was going on.

It took a while, but he decided that he wasn’t really here. Or anywhere. What he saw was false and the same for what he felt. He remembered he had died, but this was different from any death he’d ever had before.

He thought that he didn’t want to die, but then, he had existed for so long that he might be one of the oldest beings around, except for the gods. And the Guard.

He concentrated. Roughly twenty years in the City, plus the time he spent in the Pools. He started adding up everything. Maybe close to five hundred years altogether?

Tenthé stopped in shock. Five hundred years? Really? My gods, he was old! But wait! Numbers! He was counting numbers, and it even made sense! Tenthé jumped and whooped. He got numbers!

With this, he realized he was standing and breathing. In addition to that, he could see!

And what a sight! He was high above the world. It stretched below him, off to the horizon in all directions. If he looked up, he was surrounded by stars, with their wings slowly flapping and their ethereal many-eyed faces he couldn’t understand gazing serenely across the heavens.

He returned to looking down. Rumor had it that everything went on forever and when you entered places like the Pools, you were just going to another part of the world. Maybe. This was a magical place, so it was perfectly fine for something to be flat and folded at the same time. Some things you simply had to accept.

He was so high up that the City Proper would only be a speck. On the other hand, some of the other cities he could see would swallow his and not even burp.

Tenthé giggled. Burp. Funny word.

“Enjoying this?” a voice he recognized came from beside him.

He glanced over at Magister Grenville. She looked the same as usual, so he grabbed one of the cookies she’d offered. He took a bite. Goodness! It was better than ever!

“Mmmmm, goodvth,” he said around a mouthful.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” she responded automatically.

They both stood and gazed at the panorama below.

“Aren’t you wondering what is going on?” asked the Magister.

“No. Not really. It’s all magic.”

“Well, there is usually some method behind it all.”

“Yeah.”

“You truly don’t care, do you?”

“Guess not.”

“Part of you being stuck at ten.”

“Suppose. Probably not, though.”

“Why?”

“Cause. My way is my way. I let everyone else do what they do, but I’m pretty sure most of them don’t have the control over what they do that they think they have. No sense worrying about it too much.”

“You know, almost everyone else doesn’t look at things that way.”

“Like I said. I don’t care. They are what they are, and when life happens, they’re stuck doing what they do. Most of them are sure they have a choice, but being them, they’ll always do the same thing.”

“That’s bleak.”

“No, it is what it is. You think it’s bleak.”

The Magister paused, then stated, “You know, my opinion has impact. Do you have any idea what I am?”

“Sort of.”

“What?”

“Well, right now, you’re not just a Magister. You aren’t a Sage either. I can tell. You could be a God, but probably not, nobody worships you. You aren’t faerie, or from the Wilds. Me, I guess you are one of the others. Maybe like the Guard, or you could be a grown-up god.”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Grown-up god?”

“Yeah. Our gods are all kids. Good at something, but not everything, and they throw temper tantrums and don’t think things through.”

The Magister laughed, then asked, “So, you’ve figured out that the gods are my kids and I love them all?”

“What? No! I grew up in the Mission District. There, you avoided your parents, more than anything else. Having a kid doesn’t mean you have to be any good at raising them.”

“If I’m not mistaken, I’ve just been insulted!”

“Maybe… if you’re a grown-up god.”

The Magister laughed so hard at this that she had to conjure a chair to sit in so she didn’t fall down.

When she had calmed down, she pulled out a handkerchief from somewhere, wiped off the tears and sat for a moment looking out at the world below.

“Well,” she said. “You are kind of right. I use this Magister to interface with beings such as yourself. Everything here is so small, it is very difficult for me to be here and not annihilate all you see.

“This way I have some way of getting my point across to you and you might be able to accomplish the same with me. A sort of byproduct is that the Magister can sense a bit more of what is happening, plus she really does have some prophetic abilities. Without using her as a link, you and I would have so little in common that neither of us could have any more than a very general idea of what the other was trying to say.”

She paused for a moment, then continued. “So, to that end, where do you think that you fit in?”

“Me? I’m an avatar.”

“For Turtle?”

“Well, yeah. But no. For you.”

“Oh, and how do you figure that?”

“I’m one of your tools to try and beat some sense into Turtle, and some of the others. Uh, you know, the mystery goddess, and the God of Toast. And some of the old gods. And a few more.

“Too many things had to come together to make me the way I am. A long time ago, I figured out that my life wasn’t normal. Mostly because my life wasn’t normal. I knew something like you might show up at some point. For a while, I thought it was the Guard, but he’s too sleepy. He doesn’t get involved that much.”

“Haha, I’ll have to tell him. If I were such a being, would you hate me? For using you in such a manner?”

“No. Why should I? Life is what it is. I don’t see that other people are any happier than me. And I said my life wasn’t normal, but I am.”

The Magister looked at him. “You think that in spite of everything, you turned out normal?”

“Uh, yeah.”

The Magister stared at him, then waved her arm at the World, below. “Okaaay. Um, do you want to go back? Down there? Did you expect to die for real this time? Actually, let me ask, do you want to? Die, I mean. For ever?”

Tenthé thought for a moment. “To tell the truth, I didn’t really expect… anything. But, I’d like to finish what I’m doing. And, after that, I suppose I’ll find something else to do. So yeah, I wouldn’t mind going back. But if this is the final death, then that’s okay too.”

“Well. Let me assure you of one thing. Your undying is tied to the power originating in the reality where you learned to recreate yourself. Quite an unexpected use of the magics you had access to, at the time.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You don’t know what I mean, do you?”

“Um… nope.”

“It means that you can’t die. What the mystery goddess did during the fight held you in place, but the instant you got out of her control, you went to one of your bodies. If there isn’t something available, you’ll end up somewhere else. But, you have so many bodies stashed in so many places, that isn’t likely to happen, uh, ever, until you learn to… well, never mind. Something to look forward to when you are older. Or at least, more mature. Do you have any questions?”

Tenthé knew what she meant. This was a test of sorts, so he kept to really important things.

“Um, okay. The Dreamer pretty much admitted he was the reason I never age, but he didn’t know why I couldn’t count. But right now, I could. Can you tell me why?”

“Yes.”

After a moment, Tenthé sighed. She was one of those kinds of gods.

The Magister laughed. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. As you know, a number of kids start out on the journey to be the tenth Hand. I won’t say much more about that, but it has to do with dealing with bad Dreamers, rather than anything else. It’s why so little information about your role is available to everyone, including the Dreamer. The forgetting is a major factor to keep you hidden until you are needed.”

She continued, “On the other hand, you are an exception. Most of the tenth Hands are normal kids, but you are different. If we let you alone, over time, you would have eventually figured most of this out, and that wouldn’t have worked out the way we wanted. We simulated many approaches, and keeping you young both physically and mentally worked best for our purposes. Overall, this City Proper variant yielded results that were quite interesting to us.”

“Uh… okay. Does that mean, I don’t know. Are you done with me? And Isabell?”

“I think I’ve said enough. You’ll just have to see.”

Dratted frigging crappy Hells! Tenthé hated being bounced around by things bigger than him! But, what can you do?

He quickly suppressed any further thoughts along that line.

The best thing she’d told him was that he couldn’t die and might be able to get back to the fight.

“So, can go?”

“You aren’t going to ask what the price to leave is?”

Tenthé laughed and disappeared.

The Magister harrumphed. “That boy is just too smart,” she muttered.

She decided to let him have his little victory. After some internal debate, she also decided to let him keep the ability to count and read. He was experienced and tough enough now that these, and other restrictions she had placed on him, weren’t necessary anymore. Probably. If he couldn’t handle it, then she had no use for him.

She might let him age, but slowly. Him having the morals and maturity of a ten-year-old had been important before now, since an adult would balk at some of the things she needed him to do. Yes, aging slowly would probably be for the best. She would allow him to keep the forgetting, though. It kept him from being pestered by the other little lives who were too lazy to find their own ways to cheat death.

To be completely honest, she was merely guiding him in directions that he would most likely figure out on his own. But, this way, she could get some small leverage by appearing to be sympathetic. He was exceeding his parameters, though. After some thought, she resolved to take some precautions. You know, just in case.

With that, she decided that everything was progressing adequately, and, for now, she’d spent enough time on this situation. The bulk of her withdrew, leaving the vessel behind to carry on. She would check in again later, as events dictated.