The Fear of Life and Contact

Miata watched Ferio toddling around the dance floor and smiled. The boy had just barely learned to walk, and was earning coos of adoration from all the guests. She didn’t have must time to watch, though, before she was urged to continue playing.

She began a lively dance, her Byrde magic giving her guitar a range and warmth of sound that resembled an orchestra. Miata attended as many of these gatherings as she could—they provided a chance to be around people, and prove to herself she wasn’t like her mother. Her mother had gone insane because she was alone—so Miata was never alone, so much as she could help it.

This was a larger festival than most—perhaps the largest in the ten years she had been at the Palace. A new head magician of Cephiro was to be named tonight, and many prestigious Cephirans were present for the ceremonies. She finished her song and looked up towards the podium, where the induction would take place, but first saw little Ferio pulling on the leg of a refreshment table. The punch bowl balanced precariously over his head—she ran forward to right it before it fell on him, but someone beat her to it.

"Thank you," she began, but froze as she recognized who she was speaking to. He also seemed to freeze, stuttering but no real words seemed to be coming out of his mouth.

"Is…he…yours?" Clef finally managed.

"Serve you right if I said yes," Miata replied. "But no, he’s Emeraude’s younger brother."

Guru Clef held back a sigh of relief, twisting his hands behind his back so she wouldn’t see how they were shaking. "What are you doing her, Guru Clef?" she asked him.

"I’m here because Prism and Lincoln are graduating," he replied, "and I’m being promoted. Not due to my own merit, it seems, but with the way magicians are dropping like flies the position is vacant."

"Has anyone tried to kill you yet?"

"No, but that’s no assurance that they won’t. Especially after I take this new job, I’ll make an especially easy target."

"Then why the hell did you accept it?" Her look ridiculed him, but she was too mature now to call him stupid.

"I’m sorry! I didn’t have a choice," he replied defensively. "I’m the only one left who can take care of the job—everyone else is either dead or so deep in hiding there’s no telling the difference. So there—what are you doing here?"

"My job." Miata shrugged. "I’m the Byrde of Cephiro, this is what I was born to do. Pay music. And look after this little brat." She looked down at Ferio. "With all the time Emeraude’s stuck me looking after him, even studying with you again was starting to look favorable."

"He doesn’t look that bad," Clef replied. Other than trying to pull a table over on himself, Ferio had been pretty well behaved.

"Oh, he’s a good boy, I guess, but I’m not that good with children. I guess I was never cut out to be a mother."

"I think you’d make a wonderful mother," Clef replied without thinking. "Well, um, I mean, well…"

Miata laughed. "You think so?" The Guru didn’t know what to say. "Well, you’d better get into place. The ceremony’s starting."

She gave Ferio back to Emeraude before taking her place with her guitar. Her fingers moved unconsciously, playing a soft, brooding melody while she watched the ceremony. She assumed Clef would be staying here, now. Emeraude spoke to the Guru as if she knew him well—that was another surprise, there. Miata hated to admit it, but no matter what he said, there was more than simple availability to account for Clef’s promotion to Head Magician of Cephiro.

It was still a wonder that no one noticed Ferio’s strong resemblance to Cressida—it was almost as if the former Pillar had never existed. And Emeraude was being more secretive than usual on that one topic-—s if Miata couldn’t figure it out for herself. Cressida would have explained, but Emeraude did not see fit to trust the Byrde.

Understandable, her only prior experience with us being my mother. And only after she had…lost her mind. Miata clenched her fist in anger, trying to remind heself that she was not that crazy old woman and didn’t have to be. Not ever.

But then…no one exactly plans upon going insane. It wasn’t a very pleasant thought.

*

Though Clef now resided at the Palace, he and Miata saw little of each other. Though they occasionally exchanged words at social functions, they avoided each other much more often—and with much more success.

Miata took care of Ferio as he grew from a baby into a young man, but when he begged Emeraude to erase all his memories of her, Miata used her magic to make him forget herself as well. So he was gone, and Miata found herself becoming lonelier and lonelier. To combat this loneliness, she threw herself into the parties that Emeraude held. These parties were becoming rougher and rougher, though, as Emeraude’s skills as Pillar deteriorated, and began to be regarded as quite dangerous affairs. Clef was far too ascetic to make appearances at occasions such as those, devoting himself instead to studying magic more and more deeply.

Miata accidentally came across him in the library, sitting at a table stacked with books, his head resting on his folded arms. She had walked up to him and put her hand on his shoulder. Clef didn’t move. He was asleep.

She looked at the mess of books on the table and began to straighten them into neater piles, organizing his notes into a more sensible configuration. At the time she didn’t know why she did it—it wasn’t until much later that she understood.

*

During Cressida’s day there had never been occasions like this in the Palace, but in many ways Emeraude was an incompetent Pillar. Miata wondered if Emeraude had made everyone forget Cressida simply so they would not see how miserably she paled in comparison to her predecessor.

But things are always going to change, and there’s not much that I can do about it. Miata just tried to stay out of the way of those who had too much to drink—or those who were simply of cruel dispositions in the first place. Miata didn’t know where Emeraude found the rougher types that now populated the Palace, but things had definitely gone down from Cressida’s days. Things could be much worse, though, she decided, and put up with the Pillar’s new "friends".

Miata was torn out of her thinking by the sound of a table meeting its untimely demise somewhere in her vicinity, and looked up to see a familiar figure picking himself up, wobbling and clutching against the ruins of the table to try to salvage his balance.

Her jaw dropped, and she blinked repeatedly, hoping something would deny what she saw. That could not be who she thought it was.

He didn’t notice that one of his robes was caught on the destroyed table, and when he tried to walk he fell over forward again. This time he didn’t get up. Miata hurried over to inspect the body.

"Go away," it muttered. The voice, though slurred, was indeed that of Guru Clef.

"You’re certainly making a fool out of yourself," Miata admonished.

"I’m fine. I think I’m just going to take a nap. Good night."

"Guru Clef!" She slapped his face, then held up three fingers and thrust them in front of his face. "How many fingers am I holding up?" She forced him to look.

"The square root of nine," he replied drowsily. Miata looked at her hand and shrugged.

"Lucky guess," she muttered. Clef laughed. "I never thought I’d see you like this," she added.

"You never thought you’d see me again, period," Clef replied. "Does it mean so much to you? I didn’t drink much."

"It doesn’t take much to get a little guy like you," Miata muttered. "Especially when you’re so strict. You don’t have any tolerance."

"I assure you, I’m fine," Clef replied, trying to stand up.

"Look, I am not going to let you make any more of a fool of yourself than you already have. You are now the chief magician of Cephiro, who should not be drunk on his ass!"

"All the more an excuse. The pressure was killing me," Clef replied, grinning. "And right now, I don’t really give a damn."

"Well, you’d better give a damn, you’ve got a frickin’ reputation to uphold! Keep acting like this, and no one will trust you. Plus, whatever it is that’s killing the magicians will be waiting to catch you with your guard down."

"Why the sudden concern?" Clef replied sarcastically. "You, Miata, expending herself for another’s well being? I never thought I’d see the day."

"Miata blushed, fumbling for an answer. "Well…I just couldn’t stand to watch you make a fool out of yourself. It’s embarrassing."

"I appreciate your concern, but I was beginning to lose my sanity. And my guard is not down. If I were in trouble, I could still cast a spell—"

"Uh-huh. And take out half the place. Or maybe, if you’re lucky, it just won’t work. Or have you forgotten? Alcohol twists magic. With magic like yours, I wouldn’t trust you to cast a spell for the next few days, until the alcohol is completely out of your system."

"So practice what you preach, Miata! You were certainly getting drunk while I was teaching you, and casting spells the next day!"

"Well, my magic is different," Miata replied.

"How so?"

"I can’t—really—tell you," she replied hastily, wishing she hadn’t mentioned the difference in their magic. Hopefully when he was sober, he would forget that she’d said anything about it…

Surprisingly, Clef didn’t push her on it. "You’ve always had your secrets. I won’t steal them from you." He grinned. "So long as you promise to let me in on them someday."

"I might," she replied, somewhat relieved. It wasn’t quite a lie—there was a chance that she would be able to explain everything, that the chain would come to an end during her lifetime—

Either that, or die like her mother. She preferred the first option and tried to force the second from her mind. She was not going to turn into that crazy old woman…

Something caught her attention. She jerked, looking around—another thing Cressida had taught her was a way to sense danger, and she could feel it thick around her now. The danger, however, was not aimed at her, but at Clef. Whatever it was that had been killing the magic users of Cephiro, it had caught Clef with his guard down, and was making arrangements for his demise. They were good, whoever they were—Miata could not discern the source. And Clef, in his current state of inebriation, was still blissfully unaware of any threat.

"Look, Clef, if you’re so intent upon making a fool out of yourself, you shouldn’t do it in front of people who trust you," Miata said, thinking quickly—trying to formulate a plan that would get him out of danger the fastest.

"What, haven’t I done enough?" Clef replied. He giggled, and Miata grimaced.

"Well, I, for one, would like some fresh air, and I would appreciate the honor of your company," she said, getting up and walking and practically dragging him along with her.

If whoever it is tries to come after us, he’ll come alone and I’ll know who it is, Miata thought, giving murmured instructions to the bricks of the palace to inform her if anyone followed them. If necessary, she could get Clef to a safe place and deal with the threat herself. Clef might have been able to handle a challenge on a normal day, but he currently did not seem up to handling much of anything. If Miata were not dragging him along, he might have been walking into walls.

"You know, this is extremely humiliating," he said.

"Any more so than knocking over tables in a crowded room?" Miata replied. She tried to weave a trail that would be difficult to follow without making it obvious that she was in flight. They finally came to one of the many gardens of the Palace, this one unenclosed and surprisingly well-illuminated by the softly glowing rocks that lined its paths. They were intended to have a soothing effect, but Miata’s every nerve was on edge. She sat down, trying to get herself calmed enough so she could at least stop shaking. She listened intently for any sign of pursuit—and slowly began to relax when she found none.

And was able to notice other things around her. Like how Clef’s face no longer looked so much drunk as sleepy. The crisp air might have sobered him up a bit, but—

She nodded to herself, wondering why she hadn’t noticed before. His wine had probably been drugged—and he’d been to anxious to get drunk to care enough to check. To her own surprise, though, she wanted more to berate herself for not taking care of better care of him, than to admonish him for his foolishness. But since when did the most powerful magician in Cephiro need someone to take care of him?

Cressida knew, she told me, Miata thought, and sighed. I should have listened. "You are, indeed, a fool," she told Clef. "You’re being watched! Someone could have killed you!"

"I don’t give a damn," Clef replied. "Death would provide me with a much-needed rest."

"Damn you! I don’t care if you’re drunk or not, but you must force yourself to think! I don’t care if your life means nothing to you, it means something to me, Emeraude, and the rest of Cephiro! There is trouble brewing in Cephiro, Clef, and you must be one of the foremost in putting it to rights. Do you hear me? You’re the best magician we have left, and we absolutely cannot afford to lose you!" I absolutely cannot afford to lose you, she added silently, but did not voice this aloud. The fact that she thought it was frightening enough.

"Where do you get your information?" Clef wondered.

"That’s another one of my secrets. Suffice to say that it’s reliable."

"I am beginning to despair of ever understanding you, Miata," Clef sighed. "Look at us. It’s like our positions have been reversed."

Miata stared at him. He was right—but she doubted that he would’ve made that admission if he were sober.

Perhaps she should get him drunk more often.

"I haven’t changed," Miata said quickly—but knew that it was a lie.

"Yes you have—you’ve matured, you actually care about people other than yourself. You said you even cared about me."

"Well, of course I do! You’re important to Cephiro!" Miata replied hastily. "The world depends on you, and I’m a part of that world!"

"We both know this, Miata, so I’m going to stop denying it. I’m extremely attracted to you, Miata. I think I’m in love with you."

Miata froze. "You’re drunk, Clef. You shouldn’t say things without thinking, you may regret them later."

"I am thinking, just like you told me to. Thinking about what’s important to me." He looked to her hopefully, but she shook her head vehemently.

"This just isn’t the time for this! Please, don’t say that, Clef, don’t…it will never work, Clef, please," she begged, struggling to hold back her tears. "I can’t let you. I have to protect you…" The circle of fear played in her mind—she would become her mother, the fate she had struggled so many times to escape. Here it was, to drive her to insanity…to her death.

"Why? What do you mean?" Clef asked.

"Someone is trying to get rid of you, Clef. When…when…" as she tried to tell him that Cressida had asked her to protect him, the former Pillar’s name would not come out. "I was told to protect you, and I will, Clef. I will protect you to the death, and if it comes to that I will not hesitate."

"What makes me worthy of that?" Clef cried. "I’m not—"

"Cephiro should be a land of peace, but people are being killed. Emeraude is an inferior Pillar, but no one can compare her to anyone else! And she shows up with Ferio, her supposed little brother! Am I the only one who sees how much he looks like…like…" Once again, she could not say "Cressida"—the world simply would not come out. "How little he looks like her," she let out in a heavy breath.

"You are the one who needs to calm down. There are problems, but this is no Legendary Battle—"

"Yet," Miata replied softly, her face growing pale. She hadn’t realized it before, but the Legendary Battle could be right around the corner. Then another sense of impending doom assailed her, and Clef saw her stiffen. The spell she had worked on the way to the garden showed her a face, and she gasped at what she saw.

"We’ve been followed," she said. "I need to get you out of here."

"Who?"

"It’s—it’s—" The name would not come out! She could not say "Zagato", no matter how she tried. Miata tried to use her magic to bring the stones of the corridor down on the approaching attacker, but they resisted. That could only mean a power greater than hers was protecting this man.

But—the only one with that much power was Emeraude herself—

"We must go. I must get you somewhere safe—"

"No," Clef replied. "When he comes for us, we fight."

"Are you crazy? You’re in no shape to fight! My magic is—"

"I will not abandon you, nor will I not let you die protecting me."

"You don’t understand," Miata said. "For one thing, I do not intend to die. I am still sane—though how much longer that will last is anyone’s guess. My magic is simple another expression of the power of will—"

Things listen to me, second only to Emeraude herself. But if Emeraude is protecting this man, I simply cannot win. I knew she was no Cressida, but this…

"Either we run together, or we fight together," Clef declared. "I will not leave you here alone."

"This fight is beyond me," Miata said softly. "You could, if you were at full strength, defeat this enemy, were he on his own. As it is, we would struggle to hold onto our lives, if there were a fight. I will protect you as best as I can. She cares for you, but if she must choose between you, she will choose to protect him. I just have to keep you alive." Memories of someone telling her about the Legendary Battle were filtering back to her, the truth not even those closest to the Pillar knew. Was it Cressida who had taught her these things—or was it her mother?

The more imminent trouble arrested this idle train of thought.

"There is a safer place we can go," Miata said. "There are…consequences, but certain provisions will be made, considering the necessity of your survival."

"What sort of consequences?"

"You’ll find out. It will not make a great difference for you—"

Her most powerful magic jerked into motion.