George Martin - The Way of the Wizard

“He was going to cut me with this,” said Jam, holding up the obsidian blade.

She held out her hand for it. “That’s too dangerous for you to play with it.”

“Dangerous for me, Mama? Or you?”

“Come inside.”

“Are you the one who locked Gan inside his body? Are you the one that made him a vegetable?”

“A talky vegetable, judging from your attitude right now. Jamaica, don’t make me cross with you. We’re too close for such a spat between us.”

“You haven’t denied it yet.”

“Oh, how television of you. No, darling, I didn’t hurt Gan. But if I had hurt him, would I tell you? So why bother asking a question that has only one possible answer, whether it’s true or not?”

“Has it all been an act? All your tears for Gan?”

“An act? Gan is my son! Gan owns my heart. Do you think I could do this to him?”

“I don’t know,” said Jam. “I don’t know anything. Nobody’s who I thought they were. Nothing’s what it seemed like up to now.”

“My love for you is real.”

“Are you Laudon’s master?”

“Jam, I’m not anybody’s master.”

“You’ve got Gan on a bed where he can’t do anything, not even speak.”

“And that is the greatest tragedy of my life,” said Mother, starting to cry. “Are you going to find a way to blame me for that?”

Arms closed around Jam from behind. “I’ve got him now, Master,” said Laudon.

Jam fended him viciously, and abruptly he was free. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Laudon sprawled on the grass.

“Oh, very nice,” said Mother. “Is that how I taught you to treat company?”

“What I want to know is, does Father have any of this power? Are we all magicians?”

“You’re not, and your father isn’t, and Gan was but now he’s not,” said Mother.

“But if you have so much power, Mother, why don’t you heal Gan?”

“ Heal him? He chooses to be the way he is.”

“Chooses!”

“He was not a dutiful son,” said Mother.

“And what about me?” said Jam.

“There has never been a better boy than you.”

“Unless I refuse to give you the stone.”

Her face grew sad. “Ah, Jamaica, baby, are you going to be difficult too?”

“Was that what happened to Daddy? He got ‘difficult’?”

“Your father is an animal who doesn’t deserve to be around children. Or anybody, for that matter. Now come here and open your hand to me.”

“It doesn’t show,” said Jam.

“Then open your hand so I can see for myself that I can’t see it.”

Jam walked to her, his hand open.

“Don’t try to deceive me, Jamaica,” said Mother. “Where is it?”

“This is the hand it’s in,” said Jam.

“No, it’s not,” said Mother. Then she pressed her ear against Jam’s chest. “Oh, Jamaica, baby,” she said. “Why did you have to do that?”

“Do what?”

“Swallow it.”

“But I didn’t.”

“I’m going to get it from you,” said Mother. “One way or another.” She reached out a hand toward Laudon. In a moment, the obsidian knife was in her grasp and she was singing something so softly that Jam couldn’t catch a single word of it.

She reached out with the obsidian blade toward Jam’s bare chest. “It always hides in the heart,” she said. “I’ll have it now.”

“Are you going to kill me, now, Mother?” asked Jam.

“It’s not my fault,” she said. “You could give it to me freely, though — then I wouldn’t have to cut.”

“I don’t control the thing,” said Jam.

“No,” said Mother sadly. “I didn’t think so.”

The obsidian flashed forward and she drew it down sharply.

But there wasn’t a mark on Jam’s skin.

“Don’t try to outmagic me ,” she said. “Your father tried it, and look where he is.”

“He’s better off than Gan.”

“Because he’s not so dangerous to me. I trusted Gan before he turned against me. Now stop fending.”

“It’s a reflex,” said Jam. “I can’t help it.”

“That’s all right,” said Mother. “I can get inside your fending.”

“Not if don’t let you.”

“You’re part of me, Jam. You belong to me, like Gan.”

“As you told me growing up, if I can’t take care of my toys, I’m not entitled to have them.”

“You’re not my toy. You’re my son. If you serve me loyally, then I’ll be good to you. Haven’t I always been till now?”

“Till now I didn’t know what you did to Gan.”

“I must have that stone!” she said. “It’s mine!”

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

Mother and Jam both turned to see who had spoken — the voice certainly wasn’t Laudon’s.

In the middle of the back yard, standing on the lawn, was a slim, young-looking man with flashing eyes.

“Who are you?” asked Jam.

“I’m the one you called,” said the Emperor of the Air. “Now your mother has admitted that the stone is for her.”

“For me to give to you ,” she said, sinking to her knees.

“What would I do with it?” he asked.

“Why, how else do you get your vast powers?

“Virtue,” said The Emperor of the Air. “You hid your deeds for years, but you should have known you couldn’t hide forever.”

“I could have, if this boy hadn’t—”

“She’s not really your mother,” the Emperor of the Air said to Jam. “No more than Gan is your brother. She took you, as she took Gan, because you had the power. She tried to use Gan’s power as a wizard, but he rebelled and she punished him. You’re the substitute. She stole you when Gan was confined to bed.”

“She’s not my mother?”

The Emperor of the Air waved his hand and suddenly the dam inside Jam’s mind broke and he was flooded with memory. Of another family. Another home. “Oh, God,” he cried, thinking now of his real father and mother, of his sisters. “Do they think I’m dead?”

“That was not right,” said Mother — no, not Mother — she was Mrs. Fisher now. “We were so close.”

“Not so close you weren’t willing to tear his heart out to get at the stone. But you wouldn’t have found it,” said the Emperor of the Air. “Because you never knew what he was — and is.”

“What is he?” demanded mother.

“His whole body is a philosopher’s stone. He gathers power from everyone he touches. The stone flew to him the way magnets do. It went inside him because it was of the same substance. You can’t get it out of him. And that knife of yours can never cut him.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” she cried out from her heart.

“What am I doing to you?” asked the Emperor of the Air.

“Punishing me!”

“No, my love,” said the Emperor. “You only feel punished because you know you deserve it.” He held out a hand to Jam.

Wordlessly, Jam took his hand, and together they passed Mrs. Fisher by, entering the house without even glancing at her.

The Emperor led Jam to Gan’s bed. “Touch the lad, would you, Jamaica?”

Jam leaned down and touched Gan.

Gan’s eyes opened at once. “My lord,” he said to the Emperor of the Air.

“My good servant,” said the Emperor. “I’ve missed you.”

“I called out to you.”

“But you were weak, and I didn’t hear your voice, among so many. Only when your brother called did I hear — his voice is very loud.”

Jam wasn’t sure if he was being teased or not.

“Take me home,” said Gan.

“Ask your brother to heal you.”

Jam shook his head. “I can’t heal anybody.”

“Well, technically, that’s true. But if you let your brother draw on the power stored up inside you, he can heal himself.”