A Fortress of Pebbles

“Maybe it’s some kind of combination lock,” said Tassadu. As the hours had passed, he’d begun to get his claustrophobia under control. Or perhaps the feeling of starving to death had begun to overrule the fear of being confined.

“Like, ten steps down, eleven steps up, nine steps down?” said Aissaba.

“Or we need to spin in a circle, or something,” said Tassadu, stopping at a junction and shuffling in a sad circle, like a penguin. “Maybe multiple circles…”

Aissaba had always secretly hoped that, at the moment of her death, insanity might take her – turning pain into pleasure, panic into joy. From the laughter she heard coming from her own mouth, this seemed to be the case. Better to die laughing than crying, right?

“Any luck blinking Cassandra?” said Tassadu, shifting back and forth in a slow orbit.

“Yeah, but she’s sort of indisposed,” said Aissaba. “You’re not going to like this, but they're with the Master of Mind and, um, you-know-who.”

Tassadu froze, mid-turn. Was he exploding? But no: he merely changed direction, orbiting the other way, one shuffle at a time, jaw clenched tight.

“Sounds like they’ve managed to officially recruit them, which I suppose is good news,” said Aissaba. “The Master of Language basically said that learning magic was the key to rescuing us – but somehow I don’t think they’re on their way.”

Aissaba closed her eyes, reaching out for Cassandra.

***

Cassandra received her first pebble from the Master of Mind after taking an oath not to mention any of this to her parents. She hated that it felt good – both the receipt of the pebble and the idea of keeping secrets. To be fair, it served her parents right. They were the king and queen of secret keeping.

“Now,” said the Master of Language, “if you’ll both place a pebble to your forehead, I’d like to introduce the rules of the game we’ve created.”

Upon doing so, Cassandra saw what Orion had alluded to earlier – a display indicating that she was presently at “Level 1” and had acquired “Zero XP.” There were also slots, like an inventory straight out of one of Dad’s old Sega games. Presently, all were empty.

“Notice the spell slots on the right,” said the Master of Language, sounding genuinely excited. “As you gain levels, you’ll acquire new spells with which you can flash your pebbles. These will appear in your slots.”

In the corner of her eye, Orion was bouncing his legs in excitement, practically drooling. “How do we gain levels? What’s the highest level?” he said.

“I’m glad you like the game!” said the Master of Language. “I have an entire team of scribes dedicated to the design of this system. We’re calling it the Orion/Cassandra Project.”

Cassandra imagined a room full of robed scribes somewhere in the Spire of Masteries, all working day and night to create something just for them. It took effort to suppress the bouncing of her own legs.

“We ought to be thanking you,” said the Master of Language. “You’re helping us revolutionize the educational model of the Fortress. If you ask me, we’ve relied far too long on having a captive audience of students Fortress-side. As pioneers of the Earth-side model, you two can opt out at any time, so we’re committed to making the experience fun. If you have suggestions, I’ll be happy to pass them along to my Orion/Cassandra design team.”

Orion immediately had a million suggestions – from adding “cheat codes” to making it easier to “know how to gain levels.” “It’s just not intuitive,” he said.

Before either of the Masters could address his onslaught of commentary, Cassandra cut in with: “So do we get to decide what we learn?”

“Absolutely,” said the Master of Language, with a glance at the Master of Mind. “Within reason. We just need to make sure to maximize the cultivation of your knowledge and skills while keeping you safe from harm.”

“Can we learn fireballs?” said Orion. “Or–”

Cassandra cut him off again. “What do you know about spatial traps? And how did our parents set one?”

The Master of Language eyed her over his potato. “That’s something I was hoping you could tell us,” he said. “But I suppose this segues us to what we call the First Law of Pebble Magic – also known as the Law of Matter.” Again, Cassandra received no pebble for her segue. Orion toyed with the half dozen he’d already been given, like a dragon lording over his hoard. “Pebbles can affect and be affected by matter – and only matter.”

“What else is there?” asked Orion. The Master of Mind immediately awarded a seventh pebble for this “astute question.”

“Time,” said the Master of Language. “And space.”

“What about electricity?” said Orion. “Pebbles can make lightning and shock people. Stuff like that.”

For reasons Cassandra couldn’t fathom, this earned him two pebbles, even though the Master of Language had to patiently explain that electricity was the flow of electrons and that, with non-zero mass and volume, electrons were matter. It was all the more baffling because she received zero pebbles for her subsequent observation that a “spatial trap” must not be pebble magic because it violated the Law of Matter.

“You’re correct!” said the Master of Language, amicably enough, although no pebbles were forthcoming. “Pebble magic is given to us by the Master of Virtue. And he has chosen to reserve for himself the ability to bend space and dilate time. So it’s all the more perplexing that your parents seem to have done it.”

The Master of Language looked at them expectantly. The Master of Mind crossed his arms over his chest.