A Fortress of Pebbles

Cassandra fidgeted with Orion at one of the library tables while the principal introduced a man he called the “special education instructor.” The potato of a nose was instantly recognizable, however. The Master of Language.

Seeing this new man standing next to the principal, Cassandra finally managed to identify what had been bugging her about the principal since this morning – same triangular mustache, same blue eyes, but an ancient consciousness behind it. Both of them had it, and Cassandra would bet her pebble that the principal was, somehow, the Master of Mind.

“Do you recognize me?” said the Master of Language.

Cassandra shrugged. Her instinct was to play dumb for as long as possible.

Probably didn’t matter, though. Odds were Orion would say something stupid and blow the cover.

“Fascinating,” said the potato to the triangle. They were both dressed impeccably, clearly professionals at the art of blending in on Earth, wearing the kind of clothes that Dad only took out of the attic for funerals and weddings. “You’re right. The Styxx protocol has left their memories intact.”

“We didn’t say anything,” Orion pointed out. “You don’t know what we know.”

“You don’t know what we know!” said the Master of Language, delighted. “I love this turn of phrase. In six one-syllable words, you’ve captured what I call the ‘fundamental epistemological divide between non-communicating minds.’” He reached into his pocket, and to Cassandra’s shock, took out a pebble.

She looked around. The library was empty. The doors were closed.

There was a scrape as the Master of Mind silently slid the pebble across the table to Orion. I glowed blue in front of him – the same color as the one currently hidden in Cassandra’s shoe. The light of it glinted in Orion’s eyes, but he didn’t touch it yet.

“You’ve earned yourself a pebble,” explained the Master of Language. “It’s for you and you alone.” He gave a pleasant glance at Cassandra as he spoke to Orion, as if reminding her that she had not yet earned herself a pebble. Her blush betrayed exactly how annoying this was.

(Blink: Aissaba and Tassadu were walking again. Trudging up, up, up, as if they had been climbing for years. Aissaba was covered with sweat and her mouth was parched. Tassadu’s wings drooped and his scales were a dull gray, glinting orange in the utilitarian light.)

“Where’s Aissaba?” Cassandra asked.

“Good question,” said the Master of Language. Turning to the Master of Mind, he said, “Would you like to explain this one?” But he didn’t wait, launching into an explanation himself: “We haven’t been able to reach her since she entered your residence. We think she’s been caught in a kind of spatial trap set by your parents. Do you know what that means?”

“Like, the way gravity can bend space?” said Orion. “Like, wormholes and stuff?” He was in his overly-helpful mode – the way he got when he was trying to reduce punishment or, in this case, increase reward. The kid was an addict.

Cassandra felt a sick feeling in her stomach as another pebble slid across the table, propelled toward Orion by the Master of Mind’s bony finger.

“Very good!” exclaimed the Master of Language. “I can already see that you’ll be an excellent student. Might even become a Master one day!”

Finally, Orion touched the pebbles, picking one up, holding it to the light, and doing his magic trick where he stuffed it into a fist and made it vanish. To this, both of the Masters produced enthusiastic applause. Cassandra suppressed a groan. Encouragement would only make Orion even more insufferable.

“I don’t like the blue ones,” said Orion. “Can I trade them for the brown?”

“As a matter of fact,” said the Master of Language, “you most certainly can.”

Cassandra watched as the two of them enacted the trade. Two blues for two browns. Then, Orion immediately shoved one of them to his forehead and, reacting to something he alone could see, exclaimed, “Woah! Sick! What does level one mean?”

“It’s a game we’ve devised,” explained the Master of Language. “I think you can agree that learning magic would be a lot more fun if it were a game, right?”

Orion took the pebble away, momentarily distrustful, “Wait… we’re not going to the Fortress, okay? We already said no.”

Cassandra clenched her hand into a fist inside her pocket as yet another pebble slid its way into Orion’s possession – another brown one.

“A fantastic segue!” said the Master of Language. “We’ve also devised a way for you to learn everything you need to know without ever needing to leave your home. Just get on the bus in the morning and come to school as usual.”

The principal cleared his throat and gave the Master of Language a look.

“Ah, yes,” said the Master of Language, “we do need your permission, of course. The Master of Mind and I would like to extend you both an invitation to join the ranks of Fortress guardians. You can opt out at any time. All I ask is that you do not tell your parents.”

Thankfully, Orion hesitated and looked at Cassandra.

She took a deep breath and said, “I already told Aissaba I wanted to learn magic.” The Masters of Language and Mind nodded encouragingly. “But I want to learn it from her and Tassadu.”

“Naturally. And so we’ve heard,” said the Master of Language. He seemed amicable enough, but Cassandra thought she saw a fuzzing at his edges, as if he had momentarily begun to disintegrate. But he was back in high res almost immediately. So quickly, in fact, that Cassandra figured her eyes had just needed to refocus. “That is a fantastic segue to another very important topic…” He paused just long enough for Cassandra to notice that no pebble slid in her direction to reward her for her “fantastic segue.”

“Although you may opt out at any time,” the Master of Language went on, “you should know that the two of you are special. Very special. What I mean is that learning the magic of the Fortress is not only the key to saving Aissaba and Tassadu. It’s also the key to saving the world.”

The Masters looked at her expectantly. So did Orion. Cassandra fidgeted with the pebble between her toes as she said, “Fine. We accept. Or whatever.”