The next several days were an exhausting grind for Christian as he struggled to get back into the rhythm of classes, a daunting task under the best of circumstances but made more challenging by the non-stop light show that threatened to give him a headache within five minutes of leaving his room. Most of his professors were quite understanding if he seemed less than focused in class, and they were all pleased that he had made an effort to catch up on assignments. Even Dr. McMillan begrudgingly admitted that Christian's paper on Coleridge was quite adequate by the end of the week. Despite the kind words and sympathy, it was a relief for Friday afternoon to arrive.
He had not seen any of his friends during the week except for classes and meals, and had tentative plans with Sebastian for Saturday, but he had very deliberately left Friday evening open. Shivering against the wind that whipped down the hill from campus, Christian made his way to Red House. He hoped that Sean would be able to help him learn some wards, anything to turn down the sound and light of the thoughts and feelings of those around him.
The place was bustling. Christian gritted his teeth as he walked in. A chalkboard easel by the door boasted of Open Mic Night. He saw the usual group of bad poets in one corner, the pretense palpable even without magical ability. He picked his way past guitar cases, bongo drums, backpacks, and even a double bass violin, and slipped up to the counter. He didn't see Sean in amongst the bustle of the servers and baristas. He was about to ask someone for help when he felt a hand on his elbow.
"I'm glad you're here," Sean muttered in his ear. "This nonsense wasn't my idea. I don't know who had the bright idea to advertise."
"I think I know who," Christian said under his breath, glancing at the poets. A disarrayed mop of curly black hair bobbed energetically around them, shrill giggling cutting like a dentist's drill through the noise. "She gets even a whisper of a venue, and she lets the entire English and Art departments know about it."
"I'm glad to see you and your gentleman have better sense than to preen in public for a little herd of sycophants." Sean had a grim smile that was trying to look pleasant but failing spectacularly. "I haven't much choice but to help out tonight, but otherwise I would very much like to talk."
"Could you use an extra set of hands?" Christian offered. "I can wash dishes, make coffee, bus tables, whatever you need."
"I don't want you to tire yourself, but I would be glad of the help." Sean guided him to the kitchen. "If it gets to be too much, let me know and I'll send you upstairs to rest." He caught the attention of a small blonde woman. "Rebekkah, Christian is going to give us a hand tonight. Set him to things that aren't too physically tasking." He gave Christian a small pat on the shoulder and forced his way back through the crowd.
"Glad to have you," Rebekkah said cheerfully. "I've seen you around campus. You're dating that Viking of a football player. Lucky. All the good ones, like my mom says." She laughed. "Can you mind the ovens and wash some dishes? I can't keep up on making cookies and muffins while I'm trying to make sandwiches." She handed him an apron. "Don't stress too much if you need a break. I heard that you were just out of the hospital. Audrey Werner is in my physics class and she was getting your homework while you were sick. Pneumonia is a real serious business." Christian decided to let it alone. He considered emailing June later with a list of all the things from which he had reportedly nearly died. "You have a band, right? Oh my Gawd, your bass player...where on earth do you keep finding all these sexy guys?" It was impressive, how efficiently she could chatter and work at the same time. "Sidereal Messenger...I like the name. I'm an astronomy major, and I think I may be the only person in my dorm who got the reference. You're a pretty serious geek, and that's just awesome. Do you know Sean plays the guitar too, and he sings? I think he might be a retired metal-head. He's got the look for it."
It continued that way for several hours. Rebekkah popped in and out of the kitchen like a jack-in-the-box, taking every opportunity to talk to him. There was nothing flirtatious or nosy about it. She just liked to talk and genuinely found every topic to be fascinating. Christian was glad of it. Her pleasant enthusiasm drowned out mediocre poetry, half-stoned musicians, and warbling singers. Sean came in once or twice to check on him and to drag in a spare seat for Christian. He looked cross and harassed, his hair slipping out of its knot in frazzled tendrils. The noise inside the cafe slowly began to lessen, and at last Sean came into the kitchen. He waited for Rebekkah to finish what she was saying (a rather long explanation as to why she couldn't manage to eat cantaloupe), and cleared his throat.
"Things are winding down, so I'm leaving Brian in charge. Christian, if you could come with me." Sean scooped up Christian's book bag and coat and led him to a small hallway off of the kitchen. There was a narrow staircase that turned onto a small landing. Sean took the stairs two at a time and quickly unlocked the door. He waited for Christian to finish climbing up, then led him inside. "Have a seat. I'm going to take a quick shower, but I'll be with you in a minute."
The place was packed with books from wall to wall. Christian settled in on the battered sofa and squinted to make out the titles. They ranged through almost every conceivable subject, and in a variety of languages. There were even several shelves of manga and graphic novels, much to Christian's delighted surprise. It made sense, in a way, he supposed. It must be pretty tedious at times to be so ancient. His stomach knotted sickeningly as he realized that he might someday be as old as that. How much does the world change in just one decade? How much in endless centuries? Christian scrambled for the kitchen and vomited violently into the trash can. He started to straighten back up, thought of the enormity of eternity, and gagged again. He was still kneeling against the wall when Sean came out of the bathroom.
"Are you okay?" he asked with worry as he helped Christian back to the sofa. "Did you over-do it tonight? I should have let it alone, made you rest." He went to the kitchen and came back with a glass of water. "What happened?"
"Time. All the time. How can you stand it?" Christian was shivering. Sean pulled a blanket off the back of the sofa and draped it over Christian. "I dont even know how to contemplate it, it's so humongous. Centuries..." He felt himself growing close to throwing up again, and shut his mouth tightly. Sean looked weary and sad as he went back out to the kitchen. He came back with a bottle of vodka and two glasses. Without a word he uncorked it and poured a substantial splash into both glasses, then handed one to Christian as he drained the other in one swallow. He poured himself another half-glass, and pulled a pillow off the sofa to use as a seat on the floor.
"You find a way or you go insane. It's as simple as that." He took a smaller swallow of vodka. "I found a way. Mengde went mad. I wouldn't wish this life on anyone. But we're stuck with it. Right now the best thing to do is not think about it too hard."
"How can I not?" Christian said weakly. Sean nudged his arm, encouraging him to take a drink. "It's all-encompassing." He sipped at the vodka and winced. "That burns."
"Your gullet's raw. Drink up, it'll calm your nerves." Sean watched him for a minute, then settled back more comfortably. "If you prefer, we can just drink all night. Or, if you would like, you could tell me what brings you here tonight?"
"I need to learn wards. The mage in town can't do them well, and he doesn't know the ones I need to block the auras." He drank more of his vodka. It burned a little less that time. "Can you help me?"
"I can try. How good of an artist are you?" Sean went to the desk and brought back a fountain pen and paper and spread them on the coffee table, which he then pushed closer to the sofa. "You must understand that magic is a loosening of scientific principle and redirecting energy flow. The magic-user loosens the boundaries of the natural world through precise motions and harmonic resonances, that is to say spoken or chanted spells. Now, most people cannot grasp just how precise these movements or resonances must be to actually work. The slightest miscalculation or misstep, and the spell fails." He picked up the pen and started drawing. "Wards, however, are a bit simpler. They still require a great deal of precision, and that can start to get problematic the more complex the ward, but they can be done even by a non-magic user. The two keys are precision and speed. If, for example, I wanted a ward against unlawful intrusion, I would start with these symbols, but if I pause even for a moment to remember the next symbol or the correct direction in which to make it, the ward fails and offers no protection. You must know them perfectly and execute them with swiftness."
"I can learn to do that." Christian said. The vodka was making him feel a bit more relaxed and less anxious. Sean splashed more into his glass. "Will you teach me?"
"I will. Shall we begin?"
"The sooner, the better."
Wards, as it turned out, were relatively simple to decipher. There were different components related to several different magical traditions, and the array and orientation of the symbols were critically important, but Christian was able to create a simple ward of holding by morning. As the sky started to fade up into a flat dark gray that warned of snow, Christian felt more peace than he had in several weeks. While the aura around Sean was not completely gone, it was now a much fainter glow. Christian had a feeling that most people would not have much more than a dim outline. Sean rubbed his chin with an ink-smudged hand, looking pleased.
"You will have to reset this ward every few days until I can teach you a more complicated one, but it should damper most of the average auras and voices around you. Better yet, for you at least, it should keep you a bit harder to read. Here," and he handed Christian the paper he had been writing while Christian had been practicing making wards. "These are common symbols and symbol-series used in wards and what they do. I recommend that you study them and the more common ward patterns. We can meet next week and work on them more, if that suits you."
"It does, thank you," Christian said, stifling a jaw-popping yawn. "I'm supposed to meet Sebastian for breakfast. I'll do my best to learn these by next week." He gathered up his things and made his way to the door. "Thank you, Sean. I'll see you later."
It was a tremendous relief to not have the constant background noise in his mind. He made his way through the thick-falling snow toward Sebastian's dorm. His roommate was gone for the weekend, so there was no reason to head all the way back to Clarke Hall. He sent a badly-misspelled text to Sebastian, letting him know to let him in through the west door. By the time Christian had picked his way across the yard, Sebastian was waiting for him. Better yet, his icy blue aura had dropped to a near-unnoticeable sharpness in his outline. Christian half-collapsed against him, giggling in exhausted relief.
"Have you been up all night again?" Sebastian demanded as he half-carried Christian down the hall to his room. "What the hell is with you, do you want to be back in the hospital?"
"I lost track of time. I'll be okay now. I just need to sleep for a bit, and then I am all yours today." Christian gently nibbled Sebastian's earlobe. "And I do mean all."
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