• Drawing and the Art of Magical Engineering

    “Roooooomie? Where aaaare you?”

    “I’m right in here, Jenny,” I responded patiently. “There’s only the two rooms.”

    “But I can’t move! Come help me,” she implored.

    “Fine,” I sighed, and put down my book to go help her. It was probably just another bag of clothes; Jenny had been taking advantage of the fact that Orientation Week events were optional and had essentially moved into the town’s shopping mall. If there was anything left in her size, I would be legitimately amazed.

    I was half right. She’d been shopping, but not for clothes. She had at least four bags worth of schoolbooks, and was struggling to stand upright.

    “Jeez, Jenny, how many classes are you taking?” I asked incredulously as I relieved her of two of her bags. “Fifteen?”

    “Just four,” she panted. “All humanities, though- craploads of reading.”

    “No kidding,” I agreed, staring at the pile. I’d bought my books a couple days ago, but I hadn’t been nearly so overloaded. Like Jenny, I was taking four classes; unlike her, they were mostly in the School of Engineering, and loaded us more with textbooks then with novels. My curiosity kicked in, and I took a peek into the bag to see what they were reading (and if it was any good).

    “There’s totally nothing interesting in there,” Jenny told me, seeing what I was doing. “Just some weird contemporary stuff that reads like the writers are on crack, or something.”

    I had to laugh at that, since she had just accurately summarized the assigned summer reading as well. “I gotta say, I don’t envy you. This one’s not too bad, though,” I said jokingly, pulling out the book they’d assigned for the required Introduction to College Writing class. “It might assume we never graduated sixth grade and can’t speak English, but hey, on the bright side, the writer wasn’t on drugs…”

    “I know, seriously,” Jenny said with a huff. “At least it’s just the one book. Look at this; Gender and Equality In Asian History has seven books, The Ethics and Politics of Magical Warfare has six, and Understanding the Evolution of Religions has four!”

    “At least you won’t be short on reading material,” I offered. Then the names of her classes sank in. “You’re taking all your cross-disciplinary requirements your first semester?”

    “They’re all cross-disciplinary?” Jenny asked, sounding surprised. “I just thought they sounded cool. Particularly the Ethics and Politics of Magical Warfare one, cause our school’s science department was terrible, and I don’t really know anything about it.”

    “Me neither,” I confessed. “I mean, our science department was fabulous, but it was all biology and chemistry. I never really got into the hardcore tech stuff; electrical engineering, magical engineering, that kind of thing.”

  • Share Your Mind

    “You’re too young, Marazel.”

    “I am not! I have my headdress already!” Marazel patted the floral adornment with pride. “I’m old enough for a contract if I want one.”

    Her sister put her head in her hands. “Marazel. You got your headdress barely a moon ago. You only just approached Dialazel, for Di’s sake! Pull yourself together, tell Faraden you need some time, and wait a moon or six.”

    Marazel made the godsign at Dialazel’s name, but otherwise showed no change in expression besides setting her jaw more firmly. “Faraden and I are meant to be. The contract is only a formality. You can’t stop us.”

    Her sister’s head came up instantly. “Mara, if you even think for one—”

    “—Marazel,” she corrected impatiently. “I approached Dialazel, so I’m Marazel now.” She made the godsign again without thinking and without ceasing to glare at her sister.

    “I’m your own blood and I’ll call you whatever I want to,” her sister snapped. “I had the raising of you and I think not even the High Ones would blame me for calling you by your little name when you’re acting like a spoiled little.”

    “I am not a little!” Marazel nearly screamed. “I’m an adorned follower of Dialazel now, and Faraden is an adorned of Jerikaden, and we can contract if we want to!” She raised one foot as though to stomp it, hesitated , then ran out of the room even as she made her third godsign.

    Did you not realize she was this headstrong? A dry voice echoed in her mind. She has been in your charge for years.

    I’m sorry you had to hear that, Marinae replied ruefully. She’s always been a handful, but I suppose I was just so shocked… I reacted, without trying to handle her.

    I cannot be your Guide if I do not know your problems,     Elizadrinae pointed out. You admitted as much when you approached me all those moons ago.

    Her Guide was right, so Marinae just let it drop.  Briefly, she thought she felt amusement at her capitulation, but it was gone as quickly as it had come; her Guide was simply dormant again, as usual.  Remembering some of their own past conversations, she wondered once more how often Marazel’s Guide chimed in.  Dialazel was one of the gentler High Ones, but Marazel was so uncharacteristically dutiful about  the godsign that there must have been sharp words from her Guide in days past.

    Marazel’s Guide could also be one of the stricter aspects of Dialazel, her Guide piped up unexpectedly, intruding on her thoughts.  Just because I am a Guide of Elizadrinae does not mean I am identical to the others.

    “Really?” In her surprise she spoke aloud.  “I didn’t know you were all different!”

    You never asked, Elizandrinae pointed out primly.  What use would I be if I did not adapt to suit my followers’ needs?

    No one was around to eavesdrop, so Marinae simply continued speaking aloud.  “I guess I never really thought about it,” she admitted.

    Child, if your kind had solved all the riddles of our creation, we would not need to Guide you, Elizadrinae reminded her.  I am here for you; leave your sister to mine.  They must make their own mistakes.