James Lowder - Realms of Infamy

A full-grown opossum clung with the stubbornness of a burr to the shoulder of his loosely fit tunic, its queer pink eyes seeming to review anyone passing near the boy. Sil spoke to it, not as one speaks to a pet, but as to an equal. And, clearly, it responded. I could see the animation of its features. The ratlike animal gestured with a free paw and seemed to scratch a rear foot occasionally for emphasis. It certainly looked as if the creature was born of stronger magic than the callow boy could possibly possess. It was because of the opossum that I felt sure Renek would want to be extra cautious with this one.

I found myself liking the boy, yet it was easy to see why others might not. He was not shy about his intelligence, and he exuded the kind of grating self-righteousness that only the truly naive can muster. No doubt the tale he wished to share with the sorcerers' council would be told in a tone of awe, as if he could not imagine how his fellow apprentice could possibly have strayed so far from the teachings of his master.

"A young man like yourself could use a stone like this," I said, flashing the gemstone again in the bright sunshine of early summer.

Sil was tall, nearly my equal in height, and he met my eyes. He tipped his head, waiting for me to say more, but before I could, a gnome, gnarled by decades or likely even centuries of harsh living, pushed his way in front of Sil. "You flashing that thing to get attention, or you planning to sell it?"

"Both," I said, trying to keep a casual eye on Sil as I spoke with the old one.

The gnome extended a deformed hand with two hook-like, reptilian fingers. "May I see it?" he asked.

I must have hesitated. He thrust his stumpy hand up toward me. "I know how to handle it!" he insisted.

I leaned down and held the stone out on the flat of my palm. I tried not to shudder when he touched me.

"Ahhh," he sighed, clearly relishing the cool feel of the cerulean in his fingers. "This will work well, yes?"

I nodded.

Sil moved even closer, looking down at the gnome's contorted fingers and at the smooth, perfect stone. The opossum looked on with the same intensity.

"What do you use it for?" Sil asked.

"Ice magic," the gnome and I responded in unison.

Clearly the boy wanted to ask something more, but the gnome plunked the gemstone back on my small stand and spit a question of his own: "How much?"

I ignored him and attempted to finish my response to Sil. "Surely, a young man like yourself has considered making snow fall out of season?"

"I've tried, but I haven't mastered the spell," said the boy.

"How much?" the gnome asked again, pulling his shoulders back and speaking loudly to make himself more visible between the two of us.

"Your choker should settle it," I said, pointing to the wide gold band around the gnome's thick neck.

I expected him to scoff, but he reached his stunted hands under his wild gray beard to unclip the choker.

"Wait. Will you take this?" The apprentice pulled a large midnight blue cloth from his belt. He fluttered it gently over the crystal, and where the lump should have been, the surface was smooth.

"A parlor trick-or thievery!" The gnome yanked the cloth off the table, but the crystal was where he had set it.

"Rest your hand on the table," said Sil. He motioned to the gnome, who eyed him skeptically but thrust an arm forward. The boy laid the cloth lightly over the gnome's reptilian hand, and again the plush blue material lay smooth on the small table. The gnome's arm appeared to end at the table's edge. "Only works on a flat surface," Sil said, almost apologetically. "But it's handy. And quite valuable."

The gnome jerked his arm out from under the cloth.

Sil looked at me expectantly. "How about it?"

"A parlor trick," the gnome repeated. "This is valuable," he said, flopping his gold choker down on the cloth.

"But it's a parlor trick I haven't seen," I countered quickly. I had the choice of angering the gnome or doing what I had intended, which was to use the crystal to learn more about the boy. "And I've seen a good deal of magic in my time."

"Humans!" the gnome harrumphed in disgust. "Your time's so short you don't know the difference between a child's toy and real magic. What'll a boy like him be doing with a stone like that?"

I shrugged. "Making snowstorms?"

"A waste! A bloody waste!" The gnome flailed a twisted arm toward the apprentice.

The opossum hissed, and its fur bristled. I've no idea what sort of sound an opossum generally makes, if any, but this sound was almost human, and filled with malice.

The gnome recoiled and seemed instantly shorter. "Keep it away!"

The boy put a calming hand on the animal, and it immediately quieted. "She'll do you no harm if you do me none," he said matter-of-factly.

"She'll do me no harm on any count!" The gnome gave the animal a hateful gaze.

"Touch her and you'll die," the apprentice hissed back with an edge I found startling. I didn't think he had that kind of venom in him.

The gnome remained withdrawn, seeming especially small, but rage stirred in his gray eyes. He turned, as if he would leave. And then he lunged my way. I reached, but he seized the crystal and thrust it toward the opossum. He sputtered hasty words, arcane and guttural. Instantly, white light shot from the crystal and connected with the animal.

The opossum leapt, jolted. It landed clutching the gnome's face, clawing and scrabbling for purchase. The gnome flailed at his own head, trying to dislodge the opossum, but his arms were too short.

People pressed in, drawn to the spectacle. But those closest pressed back, perhaps sensing the fury in the young apprentice's eyes. Brilliant light refracted from the crystal still in the gnome's crude hand. The gnome screamed. The opossum screamed. The stone fell from the gnome's hand. And the gnome stood, stiff as a statue, dusted with hoarfrost.

The apprentice gathered up the opossum. In fact, I was quite sure he whispered "Thank you" to it. I expect my mouth was still gaping when the boy picked up the crystal and turned back toward me. "Will you take the cloth for it?"

"How did you do that?" I asked.

"Parlor trick," he said. A hint of a bashful smile flickered across his face, but then he was serious again.

He set the stone on the cloth. "Well?"

"But… you're so young. I thought… I assumed you were an apprentice," I ventured.

"I am. But Pocket here's had a lot of practice." He patted the ratlike animal affectionately.

'"Possum," he filled in for me. "My father gave her to me before he died. He was a pretty impressive wizard, I guess. I never saw much of him. When he died, I got all his trap-Pings but not much of his talent."

"Really? Isn't he -?" I nodded toward the frost-covered gnome.

"Dead? Most likely. You heard me warn him not to touch her, so I'm not at all concerned about what the local garrison might say…" His actions belied his bold words: He Prattled on about the frozen gnome in the market, trying to make it sound like an ordinary event in his young life.

And that's when he volunteered more information…" I didn't kill the gnome. It was Pocket. Casting a spell on her is like shining light on a mirror; it reflects back on the caster."

I'd heard tales of such magic, but this seemed unusual in its force. Sil apparently thought so, too.

"But I've never seen it come out so powerful," he said. "I mean, it's a reflection, not the real thing. Do you think maybe it's because of the crystal or something?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Gosh, that old one would have killed me with the same spell for sure," he continued.

I wondered myself at the force of the reflected magic. More than that, I worried about what other unexpected powers the opossum might possess. I mentioned the way it gestured when Sil spoke to it. I was relieved when he blubbered on as I've seen other pet owners do about the special qualities of the animal. None were out of the ordinary. The opossum was smart the way a monkey is smart, or a rat.