Author's Note: Technical difficulties are on-and-off, but they are off at the moment. I may post every two weeks rather than weekly until part of my time is no longer interfered with by said difficulties (I have a few work-arounds, but they are also obnoxious, so posting every other week will lead to less annoyance, and an annoyed me is not a creative me). Thank you all so much for your continued support, for all of you that have read, followed, favorited, and reviewed this work and spread the word to your friends. Follow me on Twitter RileyBergBooks for continued updates.
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It Began with a Goodbye
by Riley Berg
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Chapter Sixteen
"How can someone accidently use sorcery?" Stephen asks in exasperation as he observes the nervous youth that has seated himself in the corner of the common room as if he can disappear by so doing.
"They cannot," I reply with a sigh, handing Stephen the book I brought back with us. "He had this. Master Wong said several artifacts and books went missing in London, but they assumed them destroyed. It looks like some of them were thrown out on the street, though," I say, pointing to the book, "and at least one of them found their way across the pond."
I study the sorcerer-wannabe as Stephen opens the book. He is taller than me, but that is not difficult for most people to achieve. He is gangly as well, making him look younger than I suspect he is.
"How old are you?"
Our guest straightens a little. "Eighteen."
There is something in his tone of voice that makes me suspicious. I narrow my eyes at him.
"Next month."
I sigh. "Stephen, we should not have taken him from his home. He is still a child."
"Everyone is a child to you," Stephen replies astutely but distractedly as he skims through the book.
"Legally he is still a child," I clarify. "We need to take him home."
Stephen ignores me, so I kick a stool out from under the settee and stand on it behind Stephen so I can read over his shoulder.
"That it basic," I say with relief as I dismount the stool. "We are blessed he did not acquire something more dangerous, and that he is not quite as reckless as another student I once heard about."
Stephen turns his head to glare at me. I smile back.
"Are you two done? Can I have my book back now?"
"Have you read all the way to the end?" Stephen asks at the same time I say, "It is not your book."
"I bought it!" the teenager protests. "Legitimately and with my own money."
"That may be true, but it is still a stolen good. Even if you bought it in what you believed to be a legal transaction, it must be returned to its rightful place."
Doubt flashes in the youth's eyes, but he still sticks his chin out stubbornly.
"What is your name, child?" I try.
"I'm not a child! And you're only—what?—two years older than me?"
"More like two thousand," I mutter, but not low enough for Stephen to miss my words I notice as he turns his head back to me sharply.
"I apologize. What is your name?"
"Matthew," he replies hesitantly.
"Matthew," I smile up at him, missing the temporary height the stool afforded me. "Why do you have such an interest in this book?"
Stephen scoffs beside me and I fight the temptation to elbow him.
"It's…" Matthew hesitates.
"Yes?"
"You're going to think I'm crazy."
"No, I will not."
"It's… real," he finishes simply.
I raise an eyebrow at him.
"I told you it was crazy! But that—that book is real. That… magic is real. I really did it."
"Sorcery," I correct.
"What?"
"The proper term is 'sorcery,' not 'magic.'"
Matthew stares at me in a mix of confusion and disbelief.
"And we know you 'really did it.' That is how we found you."
"I think you broke him," Stephen comments idly as he observes the gaping youth.
"At least he is intelligent enough to realize the implications of my words. There is hope for this one. Do you think—?"
I tilt my head at the boy, wondering if he would make a good candidate for a novice. He has already proven himself capable of learning sorcery, and without blowing himself limb from limb, but technically anyone can learn sorcery.
"Stephen, can I talk to you in private?"
Stephen looks at Matthew doubtfully.
"Leave her to look after him," I suggest.
It takes Stephen a moment to understand, but then he shrugs the Cloak of Levitation from his shoulders and Matthew's stare is transferred from me to the independently floating Cloak as Stephen and I exit the room.
"I think we should send him to Kamar-Taj."
"You were just saying we should send him home. 'He is a child,' remember?"
"Send him home until he is of legal age and then take him to Kamar-Taj," I correct.
Stephen sighs.
"He has already experienced sorcery, Stephen. There is no erasing that fact. If we leave him alone, he will seek it out, possibly harming himself or others or destroying a whole city block in the process, or worse, discovering the darker sides of power, and not having the strength to use them wisely."
Stephen continues to remain silent.
"What did you do?"
"What?" Finally, Stephen speaks.
"When you first realized, accepted that this," I gesture around me, "was real, what did you do? What lengths were you willing to go through to learn it? And once you began learning it, what measures did you take to learn as much as you could as quickly as possible?"
"Wong told you," he accuses.
"He may have mentioned that you were an avid student, yes, but that is not the point. No, not everyone is you, Stephen, but it is only natural for him to seek power once he has been made aware not only of its existence but its accessibility."
"You have a point."
"Thank you," I drawl sarcastically.
Stephen shoots me a look of exasperation. "But there are still logistical issues involved."
"We should probably discuss those with him."
Stephen nods and I lead the way back to the common room.
"Matthew?"
Where did he—Oh!
That has to be the most amusing reaction to the Cloak I have witnessed in all my centuries among the Masters.
Matthew is curled in his chosen chair, staring at the Cloak in horror.
I laugh as I glide my hand along the deep red fabric and pick up a corner, curling it around my finger.
"Stephen, I think we will have to change our decision. If he is afraid of a little thing like this—" I release the Cloak and let my sentence hang as well.
"No!" Matthew interjects almost immediately, understanding the implications of my words at least enough to understand he wants to correct me. "I'm not afraid. It is just… weird."
"Get used to it, kid," Stephen sighs as he pulls the Cloak back around his shoulders.
"I fear we have forgotten our manners, Matthew. I am Master Sophy, and this is Doctor Strange."
"N—nice to meet you," the boy stutters doubtfully as he eyes the Cloak now hanging loosely at Stephen's back.
I ignore him. "Matthew, we have decided to give you a chance. No, do not get excited. It is only a chance. We will keep the book. You have to go back home, and promise not to use anything you have learned until we come back to get you. We have to wait for you to turn eighteen, and in addition, I think it would be good if you finished high school. It is only a few more months."
I glance at Stephen who nods his agreement.
"And then we will take you to a place where you will be given a chance to learn more sorcery. Whether or not you are given more opportunities from there is out of our hands at that point. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Matthew replies with more seriousness than I have yet seen him exhibit.
"If you can make good on that chance, you will be away from home for a while. You will need to arrange for that. I do not want your friends or family worrying about you, calling the police, or such."
"Okay."
"We can help you with that if needed."
"And now," Stephen announces, "it is time for you to go home."
He leads us into the entry hall, which is the most open place in the Sanctum and therefore our preferred location to portal, and opens a portal as Matthew stares wide-eyed.
"You were unconscious last time," I explain as I step toward the portal. "Be glad Stephen does not have to carry you this time. He was quite grumpy."
"Hey!"
"You were. Come, Matthew."
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