Inyanga's Star and Other Constellations

Part II. Yue's Star

"Hold on, what? They don't have to charge so much for magic?"

"Well, no . . ." said Dawn, trailing off, and the conversation passed silently between their eyes from there. A spell bound their tongues and prevented them from talking about Constellation's secret. If magic could not run out, because its source was sustainable and unlimited, then . . . could the company charge whatever it wanted?

Yue had never thought about it.

She never asked why. She couldn't ask why, because students couldn't have a conversation about it. No debates, no late night philosophical pondering, no devil's advocate sparring, no passionate duels that might turn violent over who was right, the way the students carried on about every other question worth talking about. Yue never wondered why, it just seemed like if everybody knew it was without limit, everyone would want all the magic in the world, and she could see how that could be dangerous.

Telling the public the public that magic could run out, they had every excuse to limit how many students became magicians, limit the spread of magic, slow progress that might have scary consequences, and — now what Dawn said echoed in her head, "They can charge anything they want."

The company pretended there was only so much to go around so those who wanted it most would have to work hard and pay for it.

Now Yue repeated the words Dawn said, quietly first, "They can charge anything they want," then wide eyed, leaning back away from the counter, exclaiming louder, "They can charge anything they want!"

Dawn the oddball joined in too, turning it into a chant.

"They can charge anything they want!"

"They can charge anything they want?"

"They can charge anything they want!"

That killed them and they both pulled a stitch in the bellies laughing, and only when they stopped did Yue say, "That . . . never occurred to me." Her hands went to her hips. "Do you have any idea how much is coming out of my pocket to conjure delicacies for the poor?"

#

"I'm not doing it anymore, not unless they reimburse me. The company has infinite resources to make the world a better place — they should be feeding coq au vin to the poor, not me."

Of course the day Yue had her interview, and her live broadcast orphan feeding benefit program, Constellation cut her off from magic.

Didn't matter what spell Yue tried to cast up there, her gnomon was out of juice, cut from the power, and it was a feeling she knew well because it happened to her all the time. A little sheet of sweat formed on her forehead as she held the useless rod high, aware that she maybe could be seen on link screens watched by millions.

Maybe no one was watching but . . . it was prime time and dinner time, and the cooking show slash benefit crowd to whom they had promoted the event for ages could be tuning in . . . Yue didn't want to think about how many. Testing, she tried a light spell, a darkness spell, a voice amplification spell, a silence spell to mute the murmurs starting up and the questions the reporter was bound to start asking for Channel 7. "Is anything wrong?"

The little urchins crept up to the chef's counter, lured by the wafting scent of bacon fat, and sniffed, drooled, and stared with moon eyes as if they hadn't just feasted on chipotle adobo sliders, masala chickpeas, piri piri potatoes, and mole enchiladas en miniatura. Yue imagined their bellies rumbling even though that couldn't possibly be the case. Could she cut one sweet baconyam into two thousand morsels? There was a story of a miracle worker, perhaps the first magician, who had carved a boar into piece after piece and didn't run out until he fed an entire army.