“This isn’t an interrogation,” she said, looking at Marci with an expression so extraordinarily patient and polite, it had to be practiced. “We’re not here to make demands, Miss Novalli. I had Raven ask you—”
“Wait,” Marci said, confused. “Youtold Raven? Not…”
She glanced at Myron, and Raven squawked with laughter. “Surely you don’t think I listen tohim,” the spirit said, hopping off the back of Marci’s padded bench seat to land on the table in front of the general. “Mr. Labyrinth’s razzle-dazzle might be enough to impress some spirits, but I’ve been playing with mages since before your kind learned to write. I’m not so easily won over.”
“So you’re a mage?” Marci asked the general.
“Not exactly,” she said. “I—”
“She’s my special project,” Raven said, fluffing out his chest in pride. “I found her on a battlefield ages ago. My children have always been carrion eaters, and I’d meant to let them have a little fun, but despite all cause to the contrary, this one wasn’t quite dead yet. I found that interesting, so I patched her up and we made a deal.”
“Don’t make it sound so sinister,” General Jackson said, giving the bird a stern look before turning back to Marci. “Raven and I aren’t tied by the usual links because I’m not a mage. There’s no spell binding us or anything like that. It’s more of a mutually beneficial partnership. He helps me, I help him.”
“Do you have to be so practical?” Raven croaked, irritated. “Now it doesn’t sound interesting at all.”
Marci thought it soundedquiteinteresting. She’d never even heard of a link between a spirit and a normal human. Sir Myron, on the other hand, looked put out by the whole conversation.
“Interesting or not, none of this is fit to be discussed in public,” he said crisply. “Let me get us some privacy, and then we’ll get down to business.”
He removed his gloves as he finished, revealing a set of wide metal rings carved with an intricate geometric line pattern, like the turnings of a maze. Marci was trying to get a better look when he flicked his fingers, and magic exploded into the room.
The blast sent Marci flat back in her seat. There was no circle, no spellwork, nothing to channel the power or tell it what to do. The undersecretary was simplymovingmagic through the labyrinth of his rings, tweaking the power on the fly like an artist manipulating clay. But where shamans made this sort of on-the-fly casting look reckless at best, every one of Sir Myron’s movements felt like a natural extension of the power he was shaping. This, she realized with a start, was Labyrinth Magic, the school Sir Myron had created himself that was so complicated, no one had ever been able to copy it properly.
Watching it live herself for the first time, Marci could see why. He didn’t throw the magic around like shamans did or run it through a Thaumaturgical equation full of variables like Marci. He simply pointed, and the spell followed, weaving itself through the maze he traced in the air until the table was surrounded by a Gordian knot of magic so perfect and precise, she could have studied it for hours.
“There,” he said proudly, tying the ward off with a flourish. “That should stop anything short of a full attack from the Heartstriker herself. Now.” He turned his glare on Marci. “Would you care to explain why you’re letting the first Mortal Spirit to rise since the return of magic waste away?”
“What are you talking about?” she asked. “He’s just asleep.”
“Spirits don’t sleep unless they are critically low on magic,” Sir Myron said authoritatively, staring critically at her snoozing, transparent cat. “They are the sentient embodiment of magic, not biological—”
“Wait,” she said, eyes going wide. “You know spirits are sentient magic?!”
“Of course I know,” Sir Myron scoffed. “It’s the central conceit of my latest book,New Spirit Theories.”
Marci slumped down in the booth, defeated. So much for her Nobel Prize in magic. She’d thought for sure she was the first modern human to know when Amelia had explained it on the beach, but apparently she was a day late and a whole textbook short.
“Don’t feel down,” General Jackson said, giving Marci what was probably supposed to be a kind smile. “Not to downplay Myron’s accomplishments, but our office has access to a wealth of information that we’ve kept secret from the larger academic community.”
“Why?” Marci asked. “This is huge! If spirits truly are sentient magic, then we’ve been thinking about them all wrong for decades.”
“Notallwrong,” Raven said. “The current prevailing magical theory is that spirits are great, mysterious powers to be respected and honored, and that’s true. It’salsotrue we’re basically giant walking, talking bags of magic, and that’s where things get trickier. If humans start seeing us less as terrifying supernatural forces and more as untapped magical wells, it’s only a matter of time before you start sucking us dry like you do every other resource on this planet. That’s why I’ve been corrupting Myron’s final publication draft file every chance I get for the last few weeks. I’m not sure if the world is ready for this yet.”
Sir Myron’s look turned murderous. “That wasyou?”
The spirit shrugged, and the mage raised his fist before General Jackson grabbed his arm with a firm gloved hand. “We’ll discuss this later,” she said in an iron voice. “For now, I’m more curious as to howyoulearned about sentient magic theory, Miss Novalli. Myron figured it out through years of top-level research with some of our greatest spirit allies, including Raven, but how did you learn the truth?” Her eyes flicked to Ghost. “Did he tell you?”
Marci shook her head. “Ghost is a pretty new spirit. He says he doesn’t know this stuff, and I believe him. I learned about Mortal Spirits and the sentient magic from Amelia.”
Everyone at the table jumped. “Amelia?” Sir Myron demanded. “Amelia? As in the Planeswalker, heir to the Heartstrikers?”
Marci nodded, and the UN officials shared a look. Raven, on the other hand, started to laugh. “That sounds just like her! Greedy snake never could resist a power play. She was trying to recruit you, wasn’t she?” When Marci nodded, he cackled again, his beak open in the closest thing a bird could get to a grin. “So did she mention me? Huh? Huh? Did she?”
“No,” Marci said, trying not to wince when the bird looked crushed.
“I didn’t even think the Planeswalker was in this reality at this moment,” Sir Myron said, stroking his beard as he gazed at Marci. “Though an alliance with Amelia would explain the car you arrived in.”
“I don’t have an alliance with Amelia,” Marci said. “I don’t belong to any dragon, actually. I’m just here to help Julius. He’s my partner.”
