Slumrat Rising

Chapter 68: Hey Kid, Wanna Learn A Magic Trick

Chapter 68: Hey Kid, Wanna Learn A Magic Trick

“Tommy Wells, meet Jember,” Merkovah nodded at the sunny man, “And Etenesh, his cousin.”

Truth waved at them and smiled. They smiled back, looking a little overwhelmed. No idea what that was about.

“Young man…” Truth just looked at him. “Betrayals all around. Everyone in. Dinner time, then we have to make a bed for Tommy.” Merkovah didn’t quite hide his eye roll when he said, “Tommy.”

They piled into the house and started throwing together a salad. Truth could not be said to be a salad person. He was, however, honestly walking the path of the foodie and resolved to eat the loose vegetation they had lubricated, then salted and vinegared.

“Wine, Tommy?” Jember asked.

“No, thank you, I don’t drink.”

“Of course he doesn’t.” Etenesh hissed at Jember. “Sorry, he’s not usually a clod. Don’t worry; the food is totally vegetarian.”

“Thank you?” Truth said.

Merkovah came into the little kitchen, having shed his respectable teaching clothes, and traded them for deeply ratty loungewear. “She thinks you are Desrin. Which, are you?”

“I don’t think so. What’s Desrin?”

This was met with awkward silence.

“What… is Desrin? It’s the second-largest religion on the planet? How…” Jember was trying to puzzle out how this level of ignorance could be possible.

“Ah. We weren’t very religious. We were Pragerites for… a month, maybe? At least we were going to the services.” Truth shrugged.

This was met with more silence. Merkovah coughed. “Young man-” Truth smiled warmly at the youthful-looking exorcist. “Tommy, am I understanding correctly that your entire religious education consists of going to once-a-week services at a” Merkovah's mouth twisted like he was forced to regurgitate a lemon, “Pragerite church?”

“Basically. We were disfellowshiped pretty quickly, but about a month, I think.” Disfellowshiped was in Jeongo, as he had not encountered that word here.

The cousins looked at each other in complete bewilderment. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. You?” Asked Jember.

Etenesh shook her head, joyful hair flying in perplexity. “No, but I can guess the meaning. I didn’t even know you could get excommunicated from a Pragerite church.”

“You can’t. That word means “kicked out of the congregation,” not “kicked out of the religion.” Merkovah looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “They usually impose it for not keeping up with your tithing.”

“Ah. Is that where we were expected to give them money every week?”

“Yes.” Merkovah nodded.

“Yeah, that was never going to happen.” Truth had some vague memories of Dad stealing cash from a basket and Mom arguing with the staff that she should get a weekly stipend for dealing with Dad and her “brats.”

Merkovah opted for laughter, chuckling darkly. “So fair to say that you have no religious education beyond what you learned dealing with angels and demons professionally.”

Truth shrugged and nodded. He was starting to get hungry. Maybe they could pair the greenery with some bread or something?

“So why the Zeph? And the no drinking?” Etenesh pointed at his hat.

“Oh. I didn’t have a hat, and it was cheap. And I don’t drink in memory of my father.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. My condolences on your loss.” Jember patted Truth’s arm. Truth had to control his instinct to jerk away.

“Thank you?” There may have been a breakdown in communication there, but Truth wasn’t inclined to correct the cheerful man.

They pressed on to dinner. There was bread and a sort of spiced clarified butter to spread on it. The salad was regrettable, but the spiced butter thing was extremely good.

After dinner, the cousins retreated to the living room to watch some scry. Merkovah steered Truth towards his study.

“So. Mr. Definitely-Not-An-Assumed-Name-Wells. Knowing what you now know about me and my goals, is there anything else you would like to share with me?”

“No. Not to be a dick about it, but no. I would be shocked if even one survivor remained on any side of the operation that… resulted in my….”

“Involuntary separation?”

“Yes. I thought I was up for making a joke about it, but apparently not.” He was surprised by how raw the betrayal still felt. Then he was surprised by his being surprised. Starbrite had been his whole life. But the second corporate interests were weighed against that life, and whatever future benefits he might bring to the company-

“Still worried that someone will hunt and kill us all if you leak something?” Merkovah looked sardonic.

“That… would actually be the least bad outcome. But it’s still a bad outcome, so… let's just say my name is Tommy Wells, and I am a certified talisman maintenance technician.”

Merkovah looked at him for a long moment and shrugged. “Sure, why not. Ok. So. You don’t know religion, and you don’t know magic, but you know how to fight and how to repair talismans. You have some familiarity working with demons. Does that about sum it up?”

“I have been trained on some angelic magic as well. I can construct an almandel, for example.”

“Really? Well, let’s put that to the side for a moment, as it’s something I will be teaching you from the ground down.”

“You mean ground up?”

“No, I do not. You’ll see.” Merkovah’s cheek twitched. It might have been confused for a smile. “I will start at the very, very beginning. God.”

Truth kept his poker face up. Merkovah was pretty easygoing, but he got intense when talking about God.

“God exists. As a verifiable fact, God exists. This is the sole point upon which the universe agrees. The nature of God is much debated, and it doesn't help that spiritual beings are giving us contradictory information. What is even more confusing is that you have spiritual beings that could pass for “a” God, as well as strong evidence for there being multiple “the” God. Gods. The grammar gets incoherent fast.”

Truth was trying to hang in there. “God is real, but there may be multiple versions of “God,” as well as beings that could be Gods, and nobody agrees about any of this, including the angels and demons.”

“Mostly yes, but you are missing the key point- it is an article of both faith and reason that there is a singular deity from which the universe and all its parts come. However, based on eyewitness testimony and some pretty impressive scholarship, there is reason to believe that multiple versions of this one singular god exist simultaneously. Imagine that you are you. And imagine that you are Tommy Wells, who never got into bodyguarding and is just a maintenance tech. And imagine that you are a you who never got into talismans and instead painted as a hobby.”

Merkovah took a deep breath.

“Now. Imagine all three are in the same room together. All three of “you,” individually, are the real, true, singular, and exclusive “you.”

Truth was starting to be concerned that the beardy exorcist might be possessed himself. Or suffering brain damage. Could this be a cry for help?

“Sure. That makes complete sense, and I totally understand it.” Truth nodded decisively.

“Me neither. Let’s move on. Just… remember that theory is out there, and there is some pretty persuasive evidence for it when things start getting really weird.” Merkovah shook himself and pressed on. “So descending from God, or possibly ascending, or, most likely, simply universally emanating from God is the Universe. Everything is “real,” but things closer to God are more real. Entire tiers of existence we cannot interact with absent the right magical technology. And even then, it is only for the very strongest.”

This lined up with what Truth remembered.

“So that’s why I will teach you the Sharp spell attuned to Botis, Incisive.”

“Wait, what?”

“There are a hundred generic versions of Sharp because it can be made very simple. Because it can be simplified for uneducated people, almost anyone can use it. The original spells all invoke aspects of great powers inhabiting the stars. Botis is a demon whose domain includes foresight.”

Merkovah’s smiled nastily. “Your armor will resist scrying, your instincts will verge on precognition, and yes, you can cut things like you would not believe. It is a top-quality spell that comes to you only a few steps from the chariot of God. Layered on top of the Meditations of Valentinian, you will be significantly more “real” than the people you will inevitably fight. So let’s get to studying.”

Truth only managed an hour before he had to call it quits for the night. His head pounded. It was like reading a secret message. He knew what all the individual words meant but could not comprehend why someone would have put them in that order. Merkovah shrugged and assured him that was perfectly normal. It was also how “Spirits of Intellect” could scam mages so easily.

Learning spells was hard.

Truth staggered into the living room. The cousins were sitting on a sofa and enjoying some beer while watching the scry. There was room for him. His instinct was to sit almost anywhere else, including in a different room. He, therefore, forced himself to sit on the sofa. Nothing changes unless you make it change, right? Well, maybe. He felt like he was breaking out in hives.

“Oh, hey, Tommy!” Jember snapped out of the light trance and looked over at him. “We are watching the game.” He dropped his voice to a loud whisper. “Etenesh is a huge Toluca fan. It’s tragic.”

“Hush you!” Etenesh sucked her teeth and tisked at Jember. “Toluca is the Best in the West. They have Manny Guerin up front this year, and the whole team is stacked.” She looked over at Truth. “Who do you follow?”

Truth laughed. “I’m not even sure what sport you are talking about.”

“Pitz! It’s an early season match, Division Two, so it’s strictly court invasion, and obviously, no calling for the hoops.” Etenesh rattled out the words with authority. It didn’t help Truth know what she was talking about even a little bit. He turned towards the scry ball and slipped into a trance.

Two small teams of four faced each other on a long narrow court. The goal was, apparently, to drive the other side back into their side of the court. They did this by passing a head-sized rubber ball between themselves, moving to intercept the passes where possible. You couldn’t move with the ball, just position yourself and pass to the next person when the ball reached you. A game of strategy. And of immense physicality.

Truth started chuckling. Then laughing. He upgraded to cheering. He peaked at slapping his leg and cheering and laughing even harder. They passed by flinging their hips at the ball to make it bounce around. They dove if it was on the ground, sliding along the ground to knock it up with their hips. Eight people, a mix of men and women, launched themselves along a court and flung their hips everywhere they moved.

They looked totally serious the whole time! They were really focused! He watched a fit young man fling himself up into the air and smash his pelvis into the ball, driving it across the court to a teammate. He landed on his ass, fist-pumping like he did something great. Truth laughed himself sick. “Go Toluca! Best in the West! Go! Go! Go!”