The Unskillful Thaumaturge

XIV

A tissue box hovered in the center of the room, spinning slightly. Daria sat on her bed at one end of the room and Leslie in her chair at the other; they appeared to be having a telekinesis contest. Daria squinted, concentrating hard, and the tissue box shot toward Leslie, but only about an inch before it shot back, nearly hitting Daria in the head. One of the few items in the dorm room that didn't have a barrier on it, the tissue box was easy to practice with.

The lock clicked in the door and Daria glanced up briefly; this distraction was enough for Leslie to rip all the tissues out of the box and surround her opponent triumphantly before returning them to their prior state and dropping the box on her desk. Lillian entered the room just as Leslie was informing Daria that she had won (again, apparently) and Daria was very subtly moving Lillian's cloth pencil case towards Leslie's head. Lillian laughed, breaking Daria's concentration again, and the case fell to the floor, where Lillian leaned over to pick it up.

"What are you two doing?" she wondered aloud, shaking the pencil box in Leslie's face with a smile. "You don't get good grades by being better than other people. You get good grades by doing it well." She set the pencil case down on her desk and shook her head. "I can attest to that."

"We were just having fun," Leslie answered.

"You know, can you have fun without bonking my stuff into each other's heads? Honestly, I'm gone for three classes and this is what I find when I come back?"

Just then, her phone rang; she pulled it out of her pocket to answer it.

"Hey, Lillian, what time are you going to come in today?" Galena's voice sounded scratchy and staticky over the phone.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't go to class today, you know, and I kind of forgot- I'll come in right now-"

"No, don't. We went on a little trip today to get some evidence- we won't be back at the facility for another fifteen minutes or so. You should wait a bit. Whatever time is good."

"Okay, cool. Sounds good." Lillian took the phone from her ear and hung up.

☙❧

Dakota gazed at the key sitting on his desk. Such a small, harmless thing, despite all the trouble he had gone through to retrieve it. Now he could easily walk right over and open the file cabinet. To his surprise, he didn't feel like doing it just now.

Instead, he took an afternoon nap.

A boy, seemingly only seventeen, sitting in the corner of the dank cell. Drops of water fall from the ceiling and land on the floor with quiet plinking sounds. His hands are chained to the wall, a small piece of spider silk wrapped around one of the manacles.

He is not alone.

In the other corners of the pentagonal room, four more prisoners are locked in the exact same way. A pair of twins, with shining dark hair and gleaming amber eyes. He's shivering, she's looking around the room, seemingly trying to find a way out. They both look no older than sixteen. And, of course, the parents. Him with a hopeless expression, her with those despondent eyes.

The boy faces the door; he is the first to see them coming in.

One of them walks to him first, lifting his chin. He wears robes of a deep purple, hitching them above the floor so as not to touch the grime. He tilts the boy's head from side to side, examining his face.

"Keep him. He may be of use."

"Those eyes are a disgrace," the other complains, but contents himself with examining one of the twins, the girl. She jerks her chin out of his grasp and shoots him a venomous look.