The tea was hot and fragrant. How did he learn to make a perfect cup? When hed been a junior boy, had he too carried luggage, lit fires, and cooked for senior boys?
She refused to ask him any personal questions. They drank their tea in silence. He finished first and inspected her, while she pretended not to notice it.
Good, he said. Except for the cuff links.
He showed her what cuff links were on his own sleeves. Pesky things: shed thought them part of the previous days shirt.
When she looked up from her cuffs, he was still studying her. What is it?
Nothing.
You are to always tell me the truth.
The truth as it relates to our mission. I am not obliged to inform you of my every thought, just because you happen to ask.
You snake, she said.
What can I say? Prince Charming only exists in fairy tales. And speaking of fairy tales
From a bookshelf next to the window, he lifted a small stone bust, pulled out the volume beneath, and set it on his desk. The book looked very old. The leather binding, once probably a brilliant scarlet, had faded to a reddish brown. The gold embossing on the title had smudged away almost entirely, but she managed to make out the words A Book of Instructional Tales .
This is the Crucible, he said.
What is a Crucible?
I will show you. Sit down.
She did. He took a seat on the other side of the desk and placed his hand on the book.
Now put your hand on the book.
She followed his direction, half-reluctant, half-curious.
He was silent for more than a minutemust be quite the long password. Then he tapped the book with his wand. Her hand was suddenly numb to the elbow. Something yanked her forward. She opened her mouth to shout as the desk rose to meet her forehead with alarming speed.
She landed on her knees in tall grass. The prince offered her his hand, but she ignored him and pulled herself to her feet. All about her was a large meadow bathed in early morning light. At one end of the meadow, the beginning of rolling hills covered in a dense forest. At the other end, a good several miles away, a castle on a high knoll, its white walls tinted rose and gold by the sunrise.
So its a portal, the Crucible.
That is not how it is used. Everything you see is an illusion.
What do you mean, illusion?
It could not be. She scooped her hand into the tall grass. Small, white, five-petaled flowers nodded in the morning breeze. The blades of grass were rough against her skin. And when she broke a blade and brought it to her nose, the smell was the fresh and mildly acrid scent of plant sap.
It means none of this is real.
A pair of long-tailed birds flew overhead, their feathers iridescent. A herd of cattle masticated near the edge of the meadow. Her hand was wet with dew. She shook her head: she could not accept that all this was make-believe.
If you walk ten miles in any direction, you will find you can go no fartheras if this world is but a terrarium under a giant bell jar. Since we do not have time to walk ten miles . . .
He led her a hundred yards to the north and pointed toward the eastern horizon. That is Sleeping Beautys castleyou will battle dragons there someday. Do you see the second sun?
The castle obscured most of the second sun, but an edge of it was visible, a pale circle in the sky, the same size and elevation as the sun, but two degrees farther southno doubt put there to remind bumpkins like her that the Crucible was not real, after all.
Think about it. Dreams are not real; but when you are inside a dream, it is real to you. The Crucible operates the same way. Except unlike dreams, it follows the physical and magical principles of the real world. Whatever works out there, works in here, and vice versa.
She touched her face. Her skin felt no different than it did in the real world. Where is my person then?
Our bodies are in my room, probably looking as if we are taking a nap, our heads down on the desk.
This was extraordinary magic. How did you get this book?
It is a family heirloom.
He turned toward the castle, pointed his own wand at it, then tossed her a wand. At the ready.
What
did you just do?
Nothing.
You pointed your wand at the castle.
Oh, that. I cast a spell to break a window.
Why?
Habit. I used to have trouble getting into the castle because of the dragons. So I broke windows from outside to annoy them.
But that castle is three miles away. How can you break a window from this far?
Distance spell-casting. Use a far-seeing spell if you do not believe me.
She did. With the far-seeing spell, the castle was almost close enough to touchand all its windows perfectly intact. She was about to call him on his bluff when a window blew apart in a shower of glass shards. A low roar rumbled, followed by a huge plume of fire that came from somewhere near the castle gate.
She scowled. Are you training to be an assassin? Who uses such spells?
My mother had a vision in which she saw me practicing them. So I learned them.
You should have your psyche examined. Most sixteen-year-old boys dont follow Mamas directions so slavishly.