April 20

expertise, practical, school, imagine, comfort, studio, imposter, critic, dog, innovation

“Two questions,” I whispered though I didn’t need to. We’d made so much noise that I couldn’t imagine even the most ancient security guard or dog would have gotten to us by now. “Who could have gotten this much pure magic past the SGV…”

“And how do we get this all back,” Jasmine finished my sentence, waving her arms to take in the boxes. She began to entertain herself, showing her expertise by chucking her spear at our captives’ heads, each throw a very near miss.

“Jasmine,” I was about to call her off, but Poa distracted us both. “There’s another question. How many of the cursed shoes are already out there?” And with that, any comfort we’d gotten from finding the shoes vanished.

My inner critic picked that moment to show up. “Now you’ve done it, you great, puffy imposter. RowHaw and Associates, indeed! They’re about to find out you’re nobody’s leader; that’s a settled fact!”

As it happens, if you’re of the Veil and you are unlucky enough to have an inner critic, it’s not just a voice in your mind. Assigned by the SVG after leadership school is completed, they are the tiniest of real beings, like Abatwa, Aziza, or Duende.

I would have loved an Aziza, known for providing practical spiritual and tactical guidance. Instead, I wound up with the surliest, most useless Hob in creation. I called him “Yuk” because it rhymed with the Elven word describing all manner of excrement. And no one could see him but me.

Before I could utter a single inappropriate insult to Yuk, we heard Sidi and the Captain calling.

“Come upstairs! There’s an artists’ studio and it’s Code Red!”

Code Red meant pure magic at a dangerous level. We raced up and through double metal doors. The large room was filled with a rainbow of colored balloons and I could feel the power pulsating. How was that much magic being contained? I was as impressed by the innovation as I was terrified of it.