Stars Rise

VIII. Frost and Fog

Never in a million years did Malyssa and Dianthea expect to take classes in wine cellars — except perhaps on a trip to Napa when a sommelier told them about her tasting certification. Sipping and swiveling reds Aunt Sophia claimed a gift card had paid for, but now seemed more likely her new job footed the bill, their aunt had said, "That would not be a bad life. I would not discourage either of you from an education and career in wine tasting."

Now the two magic pupils learned while sitting atop antique upholstery and sometimes an empty barrel. Surrounded by jammy-smelling casks, they practiced the telekinetics of sending empties flying with Inspector Qui Gon, inflicted wounds on each other to heal with instruction from Inspector Glinda, and read each other's minds with Flamel.

Disguises were taught by Ursula and served as another measure of anonymity — the teachers all went around in impersonations of Gandalf and Dumbledore, Draco and Melisandre, which put anyone's appearances in doubt. The students could request glammers: lilac hair or glitter skin, scales or rabbit fur, a smaller nose (or a larger one), thinner eyebrows (or thicker ones), a height lift, a total makeover or a celebrity impersonation. The school gained a culture of anonymity. Code names could be changed along with a magician's height, weight, and face, allowing for a new identity whenever needed.

No pupil of Oz's magic school was likely to meet another on the street.

Except for the newbies. Fog and Frost were slow to change appearance, to melt into someone else. Since they were identical, they drew attention — the opposite of anonymity. One chose pale blue hair, the other deep purple; one played with cat's eyes, the other diamond eyes; yet their faces remained close enough to identical.

Everyone's favorite teacher was Prospero. His class taught a concept called magic discovery, the practice of expanding magic's capabilities. Stalking about through the wine casks, swirling fresh grape juice, he explained that since magic is innate — you either have it or you don't — it need not be taught at all, but discovered. Every spell must be discovered anew by the magician, and any practitioner can be the one to expand the frontier of magic.

"Everything we know, we learned from our ancestors. They would experiment like mad scientists, and they passed their findings down. Unfortunately, we've had many dark ages. 'Witches' have always been persecuted, and enough wiped out in certain periods to restrict the passing on of knowledge."

A student behind Frost, on a barrel slightly higher than her armchair perch, leaned forward and whispered, "He gives this speech every time there's new students. Watch this." Between Frost's right ear and Fog's left, the boy spoke the same words as Prospero verbatim.

"We're a minority," Prospero said, and the boy chorused in a whisper. "A tiny one — a teensy percentage of the population. We're outliers, and although we exist all over the planet, nothing connects us. We have no network. We cannot have one, or we would be more easily found and prosecuted. Magic is illegal in one hundred and eleven countries."

At the end of that line, the boy leaned back, straightened up, and raised his voice high to ask a question. "Instructor Prospero, shouldn't we have the power to fight back? Why don't we rise up?"

"You see, Kudzu—" As if in reaction to a script, Prospero launched into a speech he must have given dozens of times, because Kudzu leaned back in and continued to mouth along with his every word. "The instinct to rise up is natural, but various problems arise. We must build up our arsenal of capabilities in secret because we must not, under any circumstances, provoke an arm's race. If they knew of our efforts to advance magical possibility, the government would draw from its vast resources of incarcerated magicians and use them to counter us. One has to imagine that there are magicians within their ranks — but we have been divided for centuries, and so, too, have they been isolated and unable to collaborate — tamped down by their own restrictions."

At the end of the class, Frost turned around to expose Kudzu's trick. He regarded her with a pleased expression as if he had administered a test to a protege and had confidence she would pass. "You didn't memorize this speech from Instructor Prospero's million recitations. You read his mind, didn't you? No one could possibly know exactly what he was going to say."

Fog weighed in, "A good speaker and thought leader must expand his ideas each time he delivers a speech. The speech must evolve and change."

"Invasion of privacy, much?" Frost concluded.

Kudzu stood from the barrel and clasped his hands innocently. "Our teacher is an open book." The students moved together toward the cellar door. "Open source. Public domain. If he weren't open to having his thoughts eavesdropped, he knows how to block unwanted intruders. Just like everyone here."

He paused before the queue streaming out of the classroom. "Everyone, with the exception oooooof," he drew the words out as if thinking, wracking his brain for the answer, then turned a wolf-like grin on them, "newcomers."

The twins turned away from him and both thought the same thing — both intending her sister to overhear: "We need to learn to conceal our thoughts."

Kudzu came around and extended his hand to each to shake. "Don't worry, grasshoppers. My freedom ends at the beginnings of each of your noses, remember? I'll even teach you. And I swear, I didn't eavesdrop in your minds. I didn't need to to know what you are thinking."

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