The Patient Mage (13)
In the dark before dawn, with the sky still unlit, Chris spared a glance for Mark heading out into the yard, then stepped into the dining hall. Juan was making breakfast. The day Alex had sensed mana, Juan had been crying.
Why had he cried?
The longer Chris turned it over, the more certain he became that he would have wept himself.
Thirty-five years of failure would bring tears to anyone.
Juan must have been young when he first came to Lion Pavilion.
A boy in his teens, most likely.
How many apprentices had he watched sense mana? While they grew into mages, he had gone on working as a dormitory servant. The self-loathing would have been impossible to avoid.
Juan, stirring the soup, turned and spoke.
"What are you looking at, you brat!"
"Senior, I heard you've worked at Lion Pavilion for a long time."
At the word senior, Juan faltered. Few apprentices could ever have called him that.
"So what?"
The words were blunt, but the set of his mouth softened a little.
"Is sensing mana within a month of entering the tower considered fast?"
"It's fast."
"Are they geniuses?"
"Not quite geniuses... You have to wait and see. The difficulty jumps at every stage. Thought Formulation over Spirit Awakening..."
He broke off mid-sentence and suddenly flew into a rage.
"You scheming little bastard! Buttering me up so you can squeeze information out of me!"
He hadn't given Chris a single scrap of information, and still he was furious. Chris could only stare, dumbfounded.
"If you're going to get angry, at least give me the information first."
"Shut up! You greenhorn!"
He brandished the ladle and raged, soup flying off it in every direction.
"Thirty-six years I spent swallowing every insult to scrape that information together, and you think you can pry it out with a cheap little trick! Not a chance in hell!"
He'd thought it was thirty-five years. It was thirty-six.
And when did I even try a trick?
Fighting a madman only left you the loser. Chris dodged Juan and bolted out of the dining hall—only for someone to step into the corridor. A person popping out of nowhere wrenched a scream out of him.
"Gah!"
"You're more of a coward than you look."
The voice was Alice's.
"That's what happens when you jump out of the dark at someone."
"Thought I was a ghost?"
"Yes."
"What's wrong with Juan?"
Juan was still bellowing at the top of his lungs.
"I asked him a few questions and he went off like that."
Chris set a finger to his temple and twirled it.
"He's not right in the head. What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to talk to you."
"Talk."
"Here?"
With Juan like that, conversation was impossible.
"Let's go outside."
They went to the rock where Faye meditated. Alice climbed up onto it, sat cross-legged, and spoke.
"You're going to do the laundry tomorrow, right?"
"Yeah."
"Doesn't look like Catherine's going to lend you the spatial bag anymore. Can you carry it all by yourself?"
"Why do you ask?"
"I'll help."
"For free?"
Alice smacked him on the shoulder.
"Where in the world is anything free? Give me a third."
Chris studied her with open suspicion.
"Why all of a sudden... What's the reason?"
"I've lost my confidence."
"Confidence in what?"
"In sensing mana."
She let out a sigh and went on.
"My family's poor."
"Most slaves are poor. The estate I lived on was the same, and on other estates a wealthy slave is vanishingly rare."
"Slaves who get into a magic tower are rarer still. When I passed the test, my whole family was overjoyed."
"Were they? I'm jealous. I don't have any family at all, so I wouldn't know."
Alice looked hurt.
"Why do you have to say it like that?"
"I don't have a family, so I said I don't."
"Haa... honestly."
She sighed.
"Anyway, I've got four younger siblings. The day I left home, they clung to me and told me to bring back something good to eat."
"So you're the hope of the house. The one they're counting on. That sort of thing."
"If I fail... I'll have trampled the family's hope. I can't go back like that."
"Then don't go."
"What?"
"Don't go. Fail and go home, and you're a slave again. Why would you go?"
That was how the contract worked. In exchange for taking the candidates who passed, the tower paid the lord three gold coins. If those candidates failed and returned to the estate, their status as slaves was restored. Go anywhere else, though, and they were free. The terms seemed written precisely so that failures would not go home.
"I can't abandon my family."
"You'd rather be a slave again?"
"That's why I have to make money."
"Ah. I see what you mean. Save up, buy your family's freedom. If there's anything left over, pick up a bit of farmland, open a little shop, give your siblings a way to get by."
"Yeah."
Chris answered her from the heart.
"That's a loser's way of thinking. Don't do it. You should be thinking about how to sense mana, no matter what it takes. Why assume you'll fail? Becoming a mage is the fastest, easiest road."
"I keep having pessimistic thoughts."
"What have you got that's worse than Catherine?"
"Looks."
"Ah, that... well, fair."
"Well?"
"...A lot. But aside from looks, you've got nothing to be ashamed of."
"Wealth, family, status, knowledge, the way she talks, her figure, her sense of fashion, her hair, her skin..."
The longer she went on, the darker her face became.
"Everything about her is better than me."
She finished on a note of bitter self-mockery.
Chris kicked himself for asking a useless question and tried to comfort her.
"No. There's definitely one thing about you that's good."
"One thing? What is it?"
Chris had no answer.
"I'm asking what."
He said it carefully.
"Your molars?"
"Molars?! You call that an answer!"
"Personality. Right—you've got a good personality."
"Tch."
She clicked her tongue.
"That is no comfort at all."
"A good personality is enough."
"So? My offer?"
"Sorry, but no. I don't like other people setting a spoon on my table. Alice, go find a table of your own."
"Fine."
Head bowed and shoulders slumped, she went back into Lion Pavilion. Juan came out as she passed. Watching his back as he headed off toward the village of the defeated, Chris recalled the man's rage.
What information did I even get out of him, for him to throw a fit like that?
Even now, it was absurd.
Then it struck him that he had come away with one thing after all. The rank after Spirit Awakening was called Thought Formulation.
Chris went into Stan General Store with a laundry bundle on his back, more clutched in both hands, and one balanced on his head.
Scott, minding the counter, laughed.
"Fleeing a disaster?"
"I don't have a spatial bag."
Chris set the bundles on the counter.
"As you can see, there's less than last time."
Scott leaned his upper body back, on the defensive.
"And what am I supposed to do about it?"
"Discount the washing fee."
"This kid. The only thing missing from his hand is a knife. A complete robber."
"The amount went down. That means less soap, less water, and less labor."
Scott held his ground.
"No discounts."
"Don't be so cold between us."
"What kind of relationship do we have? Kid, we've met twice."
"You do business with an eye on the future."
"What future?"
"Think about when I become a mage. Call it an investment in the future and give me a discount."
"There's no guarantee you'll become a mage."
"Keep treating me coldly and I'll take my business elsewhere."
"Elsewhere where?"
The look in his eyes supplied the rest: and where exactly do you have to go?
Smith tipped his chin up a little.
"Brian Magic Store."
Scott nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Not there."
"Why not?"
"That place is a den of swindlers. Blink, and they'll pluck out your eyes and cut off your nose."
"The old lady looked kind."
"Why do you think people fall for swindlers? It isn't because they're fools. They fall for them because the swindler looks simple. Because he looks like a good person. Because his eyes look kind. Because he looks decent."
"I trust my own eyes."
"No. Don't. Your eyes are crooked."
"Crooked? That's a bit harsh."
"I'm saying it because I feel bad for you. I feel bad. The Brian crowd really are swindlers."
"How about one and a half?"
"No. The owner will have my hide."
"Lose a customer to greed, and I think he'll have it worse."
Chris gathered the bundles and made to leave.
"Wait."
Scott caught him by the wrist.
"Better I catch hell from the owner than a kid gets taken for a ride. Fine. I'll do it for one and a half."
Chris smiled brightly.
"Thank you, mister. From the first time I saw you, I thought you were as big-hearted as you are big."
Scott shoved the pile of laundry in behind the counter.
"Dorm life is inconvenient, isn't it? There's nothing our shop doesn't have, so if you need something, say so."
He seemed eager to sell something and make up the day's loss.
"Next time. Next time."
Chris took the claim ticket and left the shop. Then he went straight into Brian Magic Store.
The bell on the door gave a bright ding. Donna, dozing face-down on the counter, lifted her head. She picked the sleep from her eyes, yawned, and looked at Chris.
"You're here?"
"Yes."
"The laundry?"
"..."
"Left it with that robber again."
"They said you're the swindler."
"Even the pot calling the kettle black has its limits."
Donna snorted, blowing her nose with a sharp hngh.
"I can breathe like this because I've got two nostrils. If I had one, my nose would clog and I'd be dead."
"That's quite an exaggeration."
Donna's expression turned serious.
"It is absolutely not an exaggeration. Watch out for the Stan crowd. They're like bandits. The kind who'd strip you to the skin, shake you dry, and sell you off as a slave."
"I'm being careful."
Chris was proud of himself for having haggled the washing fee down.
"Excuse me, ma'am. You know. That thing."
Donna pretended not to know, though she knew perfectly well.
"What thing?"
"The Mana Helmet."
"Ah. That."
"Has it sold?"
"Not yet."
Chris's face brightened.
"It's not selling because it's too expensive."
"You want a discount?"
"Yes."
"How much?"
"If it were around ten, I could scrape the price together by saving hard for seven or eight years."
Donna waved him off.
"I can't cut it by that much. And you're not even buying it now. Seven years from now? No."
"It's not going to sell anyway."
"It will."
"Who would buy that?"
Donna leaned in and dropped her voice to a whisper.
"Someone desperate."
Chris answered in the tone of a fox eyeing grapes it could not reach.
"I'll sense mana on my own. I don't need a tool like that."
"Juan used to say the same thing."
Donna set a hand above her brow.
"And how did that turn out? Aigo, thirty-six years have already flown by."
"Juan isn't normal. You shouldn't use him as an example."
"What's wrong with Juan?"
"He laughs, then suddenly gets angry. Talks calmly, then flies into a rage. His mind comes and goes."
"Live as a loser for thirty-six years, and you'll have a hard time holding on to your sanity too. In that spirit, I'll tell you a way to get the money."
Chris's ears pricked up.
"There's a way?"
"You remember the big building you saw when you first entered Mickclonia Magic Tower?"
"Mick Tower?"
"Yes. The mages have laboratories there. One of them researches organ transplants and organ replication. Go there and sell a kidney and an eye."
Chris doubted his own ears. For an instant he was sure he had misheard.
"Sorry? Sell what?"
"People have two kidneys. You can live just fine without one. Same with eyes. You can see with only one. If that isn't enough, cut out some liver and sell that too."
"But there's only one liver."
"The liver regenerates well. Taking about half should be fine."
Chris's eyes narrowed.
"You want me to sell a kidney, an eye, and a liver to buy your helmet?"
"Mm."
"You called Stan General Store a den of robbers, but the real robber was right here. I'm done."
Grumbling, Chris walked out of Brian Magic Store.