The Children
Chapter 3: Holes and Magic Lessons
Poor Piper! He did not know there were other ways to make friends than to create them out of Nothing. He tried and tried what the Denizens of 5-17 taught him, but nothing came of his efforts, except holes into Nothing which he struggled, and often failed, to close. Nithlings would escape into the House and wreak havoc upon the Denizens, until a Day, with a Noon or a Dusk arrived to send them back into Nothing and close the hole.
News of the incidents quickly made their way to the Architect, who seemed to instinctively know the identity of the culprit. She knew her House to be of perfect make, unlikely to dissolve into Nothing, save in places set aside for that particular reason. She was certain it was none of the Days, for each knew how to properly close a hole into Nothing, and none wished to jeopardize their standing in the house by undermining its foundations and terrifying its inhabitants. This left her young sons, and since Tom was sailing in the Secondary Realms at the time, the Piper was the likeliest suspect. He was just the person with enough magic, lack of education, and abundance of unengaged time to foster such a catastrophe.
The Piper was soon summoned to her office, where the Architect wasted no time to broach the subject.
"Are you opening holes into the Void within my House?"
Understandably, the young boy was terrified of his mother. He hooted at her, dumbly.
The Architect's eyes narrowed at her youngest son. She knew, with little doubt, that it was the Piper who was endangering her House, and his refusal to admit did nothing to help his case.
"If you cannot find a better use of your time," she said, "I will assign you to a Denizen." She watched his eyes enlarge at the thought. "Yes... In fact, I will do it. I will order him up right now." Mother pulled the phone towards her and continued to talk as she dialed and waited for a person to pick up. "I will instruct him to teach you how to use magic properly. It is about time you learn, if you are opening holes into Nothing. Without an understanding of the consequences, no doubt."
He was going to be given magic lessons! Never mind the nuisance of a Denizen bodyguard, he would soon learn what he was doing wro—
"And no, it will not be fun," continued Mother, with hardly a pause. "It will be a punishment, Piper, and you will know it. If I hear that you are opening holes into Nothing once more… No, if I even hear that you are causing trouble of any kind, I will send you to the Pit. Working there for a hundred years would surely cure you of this foolishness." Someone finally answered on the other end of the line. "Yes," she said, her voice booming in the other room. "Send Goodfellow to my office."
They waited. The Architect made to inspect her perpetually perfect nails while counting the seconds to Goodfellow's appearance. The Piper remained in his spot, chewing quietly on his pipe. Who was this Goodfellow he was being strapped to? And how could learning magic be a punishment?
The Denizen was late in coming. He looked to be perfectly normal, neither too tall nor too short, nor particular handsome: a testament, indeed, to his modest rank within the House. Goodfellow tripped on his way through the door, laughing. "Sorry 'bout that," he said. Then he composed himself with a well-placed cough, situated himself beside the Piper, and accepted his new orders.
It became obvious why Mother assigned Goodfellow to his charge (or the Piper to Goodfellow's.) Though being amicable enough to be worthy of his name, Goodfellow was an utter failure as a Denizen, too clumsy and far too attached to the Secondary Realm drink known as tea. They spent the bulk of lessons drinking and spilling various teas from across the Secondary Realms (the Piper could hardly believe the number of different teas available, though it tasted to him as though they had the same kind every day). Only occasionally did Goodfellow remember that they met to discuss magic. He would then attempt to place the tea cup on the table daintily, only to have it slip from his grasp at the last moment and splash tea on the table cloth, his uniform, and, when he wasn't fast enough, the little Piper. Slapping his table napkin at all the wet spots, Goodfellow would finally speak of magic.
There was much to say about the subject. Most of it theory and therefore incredibly dull. It was almost as bad as endlessly drinking tea, except that Goodfellow would become even more animated and get tea everywhere. The Piper invariably emerged from magic lessons soaking wet and knowing no more than when he first arrived.
These lessons continued for a healthy year of House time. Goodfellow dithered on about tea and magic theory while the Piper would occupy himself with anything other than the Denizen's talk. Sometimes he made up songs on his pipe. Goodfellow actually enjoyed these interjecting melodies, pausing in his speech to conduct the Piper with the sugar spoon or to relate how a particular ditty reminded him of the first time he tasted earl grey tea. Every now and then, he dithered straight through it—the Piper wondered if Goodfellow was paying any attention to him during these moments and thought perhaps it was an opportune time to leave. But they never were: as soon as he stepped away from the table or stopped off the music, the Denizen would ask where he was going, and put on an expression characteristic of puppy faces. The Piper could not leave.
Other times, the Piper thought of Tom and wondered if his magic lessons had been just as dreadful as these. He wondered what his brother would say if he ever had the misfortune of meeting Goodfellow, then wondered, further, what Tom was doing at that moment. Was he off on big adventures, busting pirates and wild sea creatures on the Border Sea? Or taking inventory of all the gold and booty acquired by Lady Wednesday's fleet? Surely he was doing something more exciting and lively than having tea parties would Goodfellow everyday.
More than ever, the Piper pined for a friend. Goodfellow, in his dullness and narrow-mindedness, thinking of nothing but tea and magic theory, seemed to epitomize all of what the Piper disliked of his Mother's Denizens. As the Architect of the Universe, couldn't she have done better?
What he would do to run around the House right now, disrupting all the other stuffy Denizens in their likewise stuffy work…Better yet, with a friend that was his very own, someone who wouldn't go away like Tom. Someone who would always be willing to go on adventures with him, not just sit on him or drag him off to see ink bottles. He began to muse and plan on these grand adventures he would have with this friend.
"Well, would you like to give it a try?"
Huh? "Give what a try?" asked the Piper. It was still magic lessons, and he was just calculating the logistics for camping in the Great Maze as Goodfellow had prattled on about… whatever he prattled on about. But the Denizen had stopped, and was now gazing at his student inquiringly.
"Magic, of course," said Goodfellow.
"Really?" said the Piper, hardly able to believe it.
"Yes," said the Denizen, with a laugh. "Did you think we were going to drink tea all the time? Really, Piper Sir, best not get addicted…"
"I-I mean," said the Piper, "we really get to do some magic? We really get to poke a hole into the Void, and create Something out of Nothing?"
Goodfellow laughed. "Really, Piper Sir, you have a most advanced imagination. No, we won't be doing that for years! Small and simple things first, sir, small and simple things…"
Note: TT I despise this chapter. But I've written it several times now and then let it sit for months on end. I'll just go with it. I have no idea when I'll manage to put together a Chapter 4.