The Roaring Age (nWoD)

Page 49: Family Matters

Miriam's mother didn't comment on all of the commotion she must have made coming down the stairs in the morning to hurry to the bathroom. Instead she focused on making breakfast. There was a rhythm to it, and Miriam enjoyed watching it.

It felt like there was a lesson there, because her mother didn't waste a movement. She owned the space she inhabited, and she seemed to have Miriam's own ability to have two minds at once, considering the way she moved from burner to burner and bustled this way and that, her hair a little frazzled, but otherwise looking as together as ever. While also talking to her daughter.

Miriam, on the other hand, felt like she could use a few more hours of sleep, and there were plenty of times when it all just didn't work. It being dressing up and thinking about how she had to look good and all.

Her mother would have said she was something of a homebody, and that was mostly it. Miriam stretched a little. "So, you slept well?"

"Yes, hon. Surprised you didn't sneak downstairs. I had a little pound cake for you, but when I called up, you didn't answer," Eliza said, her voice rich and amused. "And you're not having it for breakfast."

Miriam frowned, disappointed. She liked sweets, and her Mom said that if she ever stopped running up and down everywhere, she'd put on a little weight. Of course, her mother hadn't disapproved of the idea, since she was pretty skinny, as far as it went. "Aww, Mom."

"Dont' Aww-Mom me," Eliza said. "Now, what's the plan for today. I know you ain't gonna spend all day with your momma. That much is obvious."

"Well, I could spend some of the morning with you, if you needed help out around the house," Miriam offered. "I want to see Sara later today, though. She's been having it rough."

"Sara. Sara?" Eliza frowned, "That Irish girl you're friends with?"

"It's probably who you're thinking about," Miriam said. "She's had it rough lately, that's all."

"It's nice of you to visit her, then," Eliza said, and Miriam knew she meant it. "But I hope her parents…"

And then there was that. The kitchen felt even smaller when Miriam tried to think about how to lie about the parents. Miriam wasn't a good liar, and while she definitely wanted to know more, the details she did know were pretty dire. "They're… fine. Distant, I guess. If they cared more I'd be more worried," Miriam said, and then winced.

The words were rude, mean, and perhaps even un-Christian of her. "I'm sure they're fine people, and Sara seems… pious enough," a bit of a lie, "but they're also busy. You know how it is. Work day in and day out?"

Her mother was watching her, and for a moment she felt the guilt of lying to her mother weigh her down. Actually, the number of lies that Miriam was juggling seemed only to be increasing, and from what she knew of the laws, it wasn't going to change. There were many, many things she couldn't tell anyone under any circumstances, and even talking to Sara like she was might be pushing it, though if there was another Mage okaying it, it couldn't be entirely wrong, right?

Either way, after a moment her mother nodded, "You know, I always wondered why you didn't get more involved with our church's outreach program."

Miriam had wondered that too, but she'd been so busy. She liked helping other people, and in small ways she had done it around the neighborhood and at school, but she'd never joined the charity work that was so central to a lot of church's missions, at least in the Negro parts of town. "I've been busy, but that's no excuse."

The guilt began to worm its way through her. She was a pastor's daughter, and so if anything she should be more attentive to helping people. It might be justifiable now, because the magic she was learning was so fascinating, and perhaps it could help the world, but just being reminded of it made her frown and feel as if she was being a bad person.

God was not cruel, but you didn't have to have a cruel father to want to impress Him. Or, rather, live up to the example his Son had given. Yet when she thought about it, other words popped into her head. What Isaac the Sacrificed had said to her about, well. About sacrifice.

At the same time, he was wrong. Giving more to help others wasn't some sort of folly, and she wasn't using herself up. The guilt, though? She wished it didn't feel so strong and palpable. It made her want to go out and do something now, and she didn't know what she'd do. Help to deliver food?

"No, it isn't, but don't beat yourself up too much, hon. I was just talking about it because I was thinking about people who don't have time or money. All those women who hang their clothes out the window, or can't keep a clean floor, it can't be because they don't want to have a clean floor or window," her Mom said, firmly, "because what woman wouldn't? They're just too busy and tired and overworked, and it's a shame, and so I was just thinking about that, when you talked about Sara's parents."

"Oh," Miriam said, thinking of the small rooms she'd seen, the poverty and cramped conditions. How did they manage when someone was sick? Throwing up everywhere in a trapped little room.

"Of course, when you get married," Eliza said, "it'll probably be to someone who can help you live in a style at least as good as what we have. If not more. So you don't have to worry about that. Maybe, honey, I could teach you a bit more about keeping a house clean." Eliza frowned, with a speculative air that made Miriam feel like a fraud. "Of course," Eliza said.

"Of course what?" Miriam asked.

"If I'd married the kind of man my parents wanted, I probably wouldn't be doing housework. I'd also not be as happy, dear. As long as you…" she trailed off, carefully, as if she was getting to something. "As long as you're happy."

And here she was, broken or something. She tried not to think about it, and it was usually pretty easy, at least so far, because what she wasn't thinking about was an absence she hadn't even noticed until someone pointed it out. But real women fell in love and she supposed were attracted to guys, or perhaps not but she didn't know how to feel about that, besides her Uncle's implication that she was going to have to learn to deal with people doing and being things she didn't approve of.

But either way, it explained how distant and entirely secondary getting married had seemed. She'd assumed she would, because that's what women did, they got married. Eve had been a partner and helpmeet to Adam, and without that bond, humanity wouldn't have existed and, for that matter, society wouldn't function either.

All of that was a very good set of reasons for her to accept it and just get married eventually, but now that she knew, to her eternal surprise, she found she didn't want to. "Maybe," Miriam said, after way too long standing around. Dad was coming down the stairs, and that meant things needed to get going.

Her split-minds had actually lapsed, and so she carefully thought about the way the minds divided, and then, when her mother wasn't looking, tapped her forehead, but then dragged the fingers left. It helped her remember it, remember how it felt for the mind to split and divide perfectly, and yet be united at the same time.

It was just as odd as it had been in the past week, which was to say it was perfectly normal. She had an hour before she'd have to apply it again, and it'd keep on going like that. But since it didn't take anything more than effort to cast it, it seemed like an obvious choice.

"Hey Dad," Miriam said. "You up to much today?"

"I'm going to work on some sermons, for Friday and Sunday, and then maybe do some research. How do you feel about helping me a little?" Dad asked, straightening his tie. He got dressed up sometimes even when he wasn't going out anywhere. It was just how he felt comfortable, and she understood that. She didn't know why, of course, but that didn't matter.

"I could help," Miriam offered.

"Oh, sure. I'd appreciate the help." Her father smiled and sat down. "Mmm, dear, that smells good."

"It does, doesn't it?" Eliza asked, with playful mock-pride. "Now, Miriam, you were saying?"

"Maybe, but I think that I should just focus on my schooling for now. For everything there is a time," Miriam said, firmly.

"Of course, of course. I wasn't meaning to pressure you, and if you're working with your father, I might just give you a few hints."

"Should I close my ears?" her father asked, as he picked up his fork at the same time as she put down the eggs.

"If you don't want to figure out all my secrets, then maybe," Eliza said.

"Of course, Jack says," Dad began, and then shook his head.

Miriam's smile slipped into a frown, and she saw the way Eliza was looking. She didn't like thinking or talking about Jack, and Dad usually knew not to bring him up unless he showed up. That he'd missed that probably meant something.

"Says what?" Eliza asked.

"Oh, just wild speculation on mechanical marvels," her father said in a breezy voice. "Nothing important."

"Well, the only marvel you need to start out, Miriam, and so many women miss this, is dedication, a good eye, and elbow grease. You have those three, and you've got everything except the technique down."

Miriam nodded, and listened all through breakfast as her mother explained the fine art of cleaning, though also mixed in admonitions never to stoop to cleaning some person's house for a living. Some women had to do that, but Miriam had never even considered it an option for herself, which was probably a result of all sorts of factors.

Still, she felt like she was learning something.

********

"The verse that this begins with is: The pride of your heart has deceived you, you who live in the clefts of the rocks and make your home on the heights, and you who say to yourself, 'Who can bring me down to the ground?' 'Though you soar like the eagle and make your nest among the stars, from there I will bring you down' declares the Lord," her father said, as he paced in his room, glancing down at the many notes he'd written.

It took Miriam a moment to remember the exact passage it was, which spoke to both its obscurity, and her own early-morning tiredness. "Obadiah?"

"Very good. What chapter and verse?"

"One, verses three and four. There isn't much to it," Miriam said. It was not one of the major books, far from it. A minor Prophet, but the language was beautiful. "What made you think about it? What's your theme?"

"My brother," Dad said, honestly. "He's always talked about the power that exists, and I think sometimes that he thinks all men should be Gods, or something."

Miriam opened her mouth, but he cut her off, "I don't want to know, Miriam."

Miriam was hurt, or rather, she wanted him to see, because unlike her mother, he could. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Dad said, shaking his head. "Perhaps it's just me. But I'm making a sermon on hubris. On those who take advantage of others, and think they are above God in doing so."

"There are those who would agree with you, you know," Miriam said. "I mean, among… those."

"Those?" Dad asked. "Ah. Well, it is good to hear, I would not have believed it from what little Jack said."

"Shadow… I mean, Uncle," Miriam said, cursing her slippery tongue, "is just one of many. It's very complicated, but fascinating in a way. A whole new thing to learn." Before he could reply, she pointed to the papers, "How much of that is done?"

"Not nearly enough."

Miriam stepped forward and began to read. Her father was a far better speaker than her. He also wrote with far more beauty. "Hmm."

"How is it?" Dad asked.

"It isn't Lincoln's Lost Speech," Miriam said, absently, but I like it. The end, though, you're going to cut off here and let your emotion take you?"

He'd been talking about the pride of those in power, of those who have authority, and it was hard to miss the implications, that he was talking about the future of the Race, that he was talking about the way those in power acted. He was speaking hard, and he was speaking true, but the words after were brief sketches, notes of a turn inward.

"Yes. I'm not sure what I'll specifically say, but I have power to. I am high too, in my own way," Dad said, "though I'm not among the stars."

"I…" Miriam began, and then paused as she picked up a pen and began to scribble a few words on a blank sheet. "What about the Tower of Babel?"

"That is a good comparison," Dad said, nodding sagely, and putting his hand in his face. "But Miriam, that's not what you were thinking of. I'm your father, I know these things."

"You didn't want to hear about it," Miriam said, and she couldn't keep at least a little of the regret out of her voice.

"Tell me."

"I'll try to be brief. There's a world of the mind out there. Everyone's dreams and thoughts. People's ideas of what God is like exist there, though apparently they're not real. Dad, Uncle actually found Lincoln's lost Speech in there somewhere--"

"He found what? You mean…" Dad frowned, then snapped his fingers, "that speech he gave that got lost? You told me about it, he gave it and everyone was so rapt…"

"Yes, for my birthday," Miriam admitted. "It's a very good speech. But beyond that, there's a world that's the… dreams of animals and the worlds, and you can apparently even visit other planets, given enough time. You really can nest among the stars." She paused, feeling her way towards the point that her second mind had made. She'd had an entire philosophical, if obvious, thought while she was talking to her father.

"But before that, there's the Anthropic Redoubts." She didn't have to explain, he knew latin and so would follow. "One of them is called the Swath, and apparently it's all of our pollution made manifest on the natural world. But the other is a tower. A huge tower, and when Jack was asked about it, he said that man made it. That it was a sign of what man could do. But it was broken, destroyed, as if the tower did not reach all the way up."

Dad was listening quietly, though she could almost feel the concern coming off of him.

"It reminded me,now that I think about it, of the Tower of Babel."

"Your Uncle would say that they simply weren't clever enough," Dad said, a little sourly.

"Perhaps. But it makes me wonder if the story reflects something else. Man built too high, and so God, or something, laid them low. Split them apart, somehow. And it made me think of this ocean I saw…"

She trailed off, because even the distant memory of the Ocean felt profane, as if by sharing it she was profaning the very world with its words.

"Wait. Miriam, how did you get there?" Dad asked.

"Well, alright. So, it's a world of the mind. So you enter it by meditating. Actually, most Mages apparently need to do it at a special location, and at cost to themselves, but I apparently have a natural talent. I can do it anywhere, as long as I meditate. Or pray until I focus enough. It takes an hour, and then I journey into my mind, and from there I can sort of… hop to the collective ideas of people, or to other minds?"

Dad was staring at me. It wasn't horror, not quite, but he hadn't really thought about what me being a Mage meant. "By God," he muttered to himself. "You… do this often?"

"Not quite. But I did it last night. Jack wanted me to reach the end of the universe. Or rather, the farthest point of the Astral. It's really far," she said, "I spent all night making the journey."

"Were you in any danger?"

"If I'd died in the dream, it would have hurt my mind for a while, but I would have healed," Miriam said, pretty sure that this was true. "It's risky, but Uncle brought along a Mage of… okay, this group of Mages known for being skilled at fighting, and defending other Mages from harm."

"A bodyguard, in other words?" Dad asked.

"Yes, Virginia told me that--"

"Told you what?" Dad asked.

"Okay, this is… you don't want to know. You said you don't," Miriam said. "I could explain a little, but it gets complicated. And there are terms that might make you attempt exorcisms, when I'm pretty sure it's not like that," Miriam said, awkwardly.

"What?"

"She's… apparently able to journey into the Astral, the realm I was talking to you about. It's something magic, but not related to Mages. It's more complicated than that, but I wound up accidentally helping her with that. Plus, if we're talking about everything…"

Dad held up a hand. "I actually do want to know."

"You do?"

"It's not polite to be too curious, and I don't want to be involved. It's just that I'm afraid that if I know, I'm involved."

"You… might be."

"But you had a thought, before we got into this, Miriam," Dad said.

"Well, God struck down the Tower of Babel. But Solomon built a Temple, and it survived. So God doesn't want us not to build. He just didn't want us to build a tower to take a single man upwards, rather than… a temple that all may visit?"

"That's interesting. I could certainly mention the Temple. In getting into the idea of how to not show pride and arrogance. You work for the glory of God, and thus the good of man." Dad nodded, smiling. "That's very clever."

"I'm cheating," Miriam admitted.

"Cheaitng?"

"I have this magic up that lets me think about two things at once. So the whole time, while I'm talking to you and focusing on it, I have a whole different mind that thinks about the meaning of things I hear. That does the philosophizing."

Dad was staring, and certainly she hadn't thought about just how odd it was. "Well, it seems to be effective, Miriam, though it seems strange."

"Strange is what you're used to," Miriam said. "Now, what else can I help you with?"

********

Strange was what you're used to. Sara was reading the bible, sitting in a chair, rocking back and forth.

"Oh!" she said, standing up to her full height. Miriam, who was taller than the average girl, did tower a bit over her. "Hello!"

"She's been reading it all day," Marco said. He towered over both of them, and his empty face seemed filled with sympathy as those brown eyes looked her over. "She says she might want to convert to Protestantism."

"If that's okay with you," Sara said.

"If it's… why wouldn't it be?" Miriam asked, a little confused.

"I mean, you know more about… what you have to do to believe in, I mean." Sara waved her hands slightly, and then bit her lip. "I mean, I don't know what sort of Protestant you are, specifically."

"Oh," Miriam said, and then glanced over at Marco.

He didn't offer any guidance. "Well, I'd be happy to teach you, but I was actually curious about a few other things. I know we've talked before about you, but it feels like I should know more than I do," Miriam confessed.

"Such as?"

It was a small living room, and Miriam stepped forward. "General details about… well. I've shared a little. Did you have any hobbies you want to get started back on?"

"I'm not feeling like… today." Sara flushed and turned away a little. "I don't feel… I don't feel entirely stable. You're helping, but I don't want to push it too hard."

"Oh," Miriam said, yet again.

"So… could we have another topic? Or at least one that doesn't involve me searching all of my memories. If you don't mind, Miriam? I hope I'm not being rude, or, or racist or… something."

Miriam did not know how that could be racist. She hadn't said anything involving race at all. "No, not at all."

Topics! (Choose 2)

[] What about asking about Marco?! Surely he should share too!
[] Her religion change. How serious is that?
[] Talk about political and local news.
[] Offer to use magic on her mind?
[] Sports. Surely nobody could be bored with those, Miriam thought earnestly.
[] Write-in.

*******

A/N: So! On the road to recover with Dad. Good, good.

Page 50: In Fact and In Name

Miriam turned, trying to use her embarassment to push the topic a little more towards something she could deal with.

"Marco, for instance. I haven't asked much about you," Miriam admitted. "And I probably should have."

"Me?" the tall white man said. "I'm nobody of consequences or interest. And among our kind, it is often thought unwise to pry."

"Your kind?" Sara asked, her voice skeptical and hard. Her features didn't change, but the set of her lips, and the way she was talking made her look different in some odd way. "You mean monsters?"

"No," Marco said. "It's best not to talk in front of you, especially since it is not even Sara."

"I'm Sara as much as that whining girl…"

"Sara," Miriam said, politely, taking a breath as she rose up and walked over towards her. "Marco hasn't done anything to you, really. I know that there are others that have hurt you, but please don't lash out. I apologize if I brought up anything too stressful, right now."

Her expression was almost puzzled, and Miriam felt as if she were in the cross-hairs of something. The room felt a little smaller, and a little warmer. "Okay…" Sara said. "Then I would like to know about this Marco. All this time, he has stalked us, watched us, schemed to control us, and yet I don't even know anything except his fake name."

Miriam could feel the hostility. "Some secrecy is needed…"

"Fu--" Sara began, and then she froze, shaking her head. "Fine."

Miriam, who had been shocked by what she assumed was some sort of curse, let out a breath. She wasn't used to people using blue language, and even the threat of it was enough to shock her. Whether out of innocence, or perhaps a respect for her presence, very few boys used blue language around her. Those that did soon learned not to, because she did lose her temper, and when she did, she didn't need to use obscene language in order to get her point across.

That was one thing she shared with mama.

"Well, I cannot provide details. It would be improper to say too much, and against the spirit, if not the exact law, of the Veils. You're a figure of interest, but… I do not know where you stand. But I Awakened six years ago, and have been… of the mysteries for almost that entire time. I've heard that you're interested in perhaps joining my Order, Miriam."

"She is?" Sara asked, suspiciously. Her every word reeked suspicion, it was hard for anything to come off as anything but an inquisition in this… personality?

Miriam understood the theory that a person's brain could split and break up into multiple personalities, and certainly her experience with how strange people's minds were meant that this seemed almost possible. But it was hard to square with the Sara she'd known, or the Sara she'd come to know.

"I'm considering my options," Miriam said. "I hope it is not too rude to ask, but… how old are you?"

"I am almost forty," Marco said.

Miriam gaped. He didn't look even close to it, honestly. If he had told her he was twenty-five, she would have believed him.

"One knows how to look good, if you know your business. I have a certain skill with Death, but a far greater skill with bit Matter and its intersection with Mind."

Miriam frowned, trying to parse all that. "Do you make your own clothes?"

"That I do," the tall man said, doffing his top-hat. "It is a hobby, and a minor interest. Truly, though, Marco is my name because finding things is a very interesting game of mine." He shrugged, "A man needs a hobby, and it is one that helps in my profession at times. At the moment, of course, I have this larger duty to unravel."

"A duty, am I?" Sara asked, archly.

"At times. If you really wish to know, I also enjoy travel, and once, before I Awakened, I went to London. It was an excellent city, but it was at the start of the war, you know?"

"I wouldn't know, truly," Miriam conceded, feeling drab and unworldly next to him. She also felt young, very, very young, and she shuffled her hands a little bit, nervous, awkward, and almost a little embarrassed at her ignorance.

"Well, it was both in high spirits, and also slowly starting to wake up to the magnitude of the Great War. Despite my name, I've never traveled to China, but truly I wish to do so one day."

"China?" Sara said, dismissively. "What's in China?"

"Chinese people, for one," Marco said, with an impressive dryness.

Sara's face was pale enough that her blush was positively radiant, and filled her entire face in a striking sort of way. "I-I mean besides that." Sara was looking away, her fury giving way to sheer embarrassment.

"What is in Chicago? People from Chicago. Why would anyone want to go there," Marco asked, rhetorically. "There is plenty of worth in China, even if one must step carefully."

"Step carefully?" Miriam asked, hoping that this changed the topic to something less likely to be stumbled across.

"In recent years, we have had to learn more respect for the places we visit. Think of all of those people who went to Egypt to raid their tombs. Such a thing is less possible now than it would have once been," Marco conceded. "And I am fine with that. Travel is its own lesson, and the truth lies buried everywhere if you dig deep enough. Have either of you traveled?"

Miriam shook her head. "No, I have not had time. I apologize."

"For what?" Marco asked, and there was the oddest smile on his face. "You are young, I know that. I just wondered whether you had perhaps come from down South."

"No," Miriam said, with what she hoped was a polite smile, her hands neatly clasped themselves so that she was occupied. "Born and raised in Chicago. And you?"

"I came from the east coast. Up in Boston, until I had to leave. It was before I became as I am now, though." Marco shrugged, his expression starting to stiffen up, as if he had been some clockwork figurine that, while wound up, had shown all the semblances of life, but would now retreat to cold silence.

"You don't need to mind me," Sara said, and her voice sounded no different in nature, but impossibly different in tone. Her eyes were a little wider, her forehead knit in concentration.

"I could talk in her mind. I could raise the vaults of heaven, and I could make a diamond to set off the eyes of a queen. It is not your fault that I do not wish to talk," Marco said, his formality a weapon and a shield all at once.

"You can make diamonds?"

"Now there is a question: yes. Wealth, it is not hard to come by, when one works with the substance of the cosmos. Wisdom, now there is a puzzle, and one worth unlocking. Anyone can get rich, given the right magic. Yet most of us are not so, and not merely because there are those who think that too much attention harms us." Marco shrugged, his watchful brown eyes looking around as if from some corner they would appear. She assumed he meant the Guardians.

"No. There are larger things at sake than physical wealth," Miriam said.

"B-but your wish to go to college…" Sara began.

"It's because I want to learn."

"Selfish in its own way, isn't it?" Marco asked.

"What do you mean?" Miriam asked, glancing at him keenly, wondering if she were being mocked.

"Nothing much. Merely that seeking knowledge for its own satisfaction is for its own satisfaction." Marco sighed. "The trick is to seek knowledge for the sake of the knowledge. Think of how much is forgotten and lost."

"And discovered," Sara added.

"Perhaps. But there is nothing new under the sun," Marco said, his voice darkening some with hidden implications and hints, before he shook his head, and the mood passed. "Does this make sense? What I mean."

"Then yes, I am selfish," Miriam admitted with a shrug, as she stood up, stretching a little. She was shorter than him, but probably not by as much as most girls her age were. "I don't pretend to be perfect."

"You're closer than many," Sara said.

Miriam shifted, again uncomfortable at being held up as an example. She was not so humble as to be unaware of her intelligence and the fact that she had a few other virtues, but it wasn't the same as everyone openly praising her.

It made her feel uncomfortable, as if there was a mirror up to her actions, reflecting a her that did not exist, and yet if she did not match it, others would notice. "I wouldn't say that," Miriam said. "I try my best to do well by my family and my race, nothing more."

But even those words seemed odd in her lips. Service: again it kept on coming back around to that concept, to that burden. It was not a burden she hated, but it was one that she was becoming increasingly aware of, like a heavy load after a long day carrying it, when finally you wish to set it down.

But she didn't!

That was the frustrating thing. There was no answer, and it was not as if she wished to be less competent and less moral than she was now, just to break the expectations. But Sara's expectations?

"S-sorry if I've worried you."

"You haven't. Why would you think that?"

"The look on your face," Sara said.

"It was pretty obvious," Marco said.

"Well," Miriam said. "It was not obvious to me," Miriam lied. "Sara, have you any interest in watching a ball game? Marco, would she be able to go? It would be interesting."

"Says you. I'm not so sure," Marco said.

"Still, the American Giants aren't doing so badly this year," Miriam said firmly. "They have a chance."

"And why not the white league games?"

Sara choked. "White league?"

Marco smiled, and doffed his cap in Miriam's direction. "Should I call it the Major Leagues, when it lacks a few people?"

"It seems polite," Miriam said.

"Yes, polite. But perhaps not accurate," Marco said. "Shadow has made this point before, and many others like it."

"He'd never," Miriam began, and then trailed off. It was true she'd never heard anything like that from him, but it sounded like Jack. Was he hiding that side of himself? Certainly, that was a radical statement, in a way. Yes, it was true that there were many good players who could enrich the Major Leagues if only they had a chance, but calling them the White Leagues seemed so deliberately hostile that Miriam felt as if there would be police, or… or something coming at any moment to break this up. Or that someone would comment.

It was a creeping feeling.

"He would, wouldn't he?" Miriam asked.

"Yes. Also, if you are ever looking to conceal your thoughts, or rather, your emotions, there are several tricks I could teach you."

"Oh?" Miriam asked, trying to keep calm. Obviously, she did want to learn more about whatever he would say.

"There are two tricks, one of body, and one of mind. If you can make your body show the hints of an emotion, then what could other people think except that you are feeling it. And if you can make another person feel an emotion, and you can, then you can also force yourself to feel one." Marco smiled. "For some reason people object to making themselves feel happy artificially."

"I wouldn't imagine why," Sara said.

Marco nodded. "But that will take time, and I know that you still have much to do. But consider it. Of course, many see no need for that sort of spell. I've heard that Guardians have something like that as a Rote, quite commonly."

"Rote? Guardians?" Sara asked, and her expression was different still. "What are you doing in my house, Miriam? Where am I…"

Oh, Miriam thought, and she tried a smile, glancing at Marco. "Well, that's a long story."

*********

"That must have been rough," Jack said, as he pushed through the door holding a large stack of papers that he slowly set down on Miriam's desk. He looked drawn, and a little harried, his dark eyes glancing in the same way that Marco's had at the four corners of the room. "You know, there is magic that allows you to see emotional auras. It can be useful. I might teach you it. Sometimes little details are what let you know when or when not to say something."

"I think I managed her alright," Miriam said. "But I don't think that I should be thinking that way. Managing people."

"You have a talent for leadership. Look at how you've managed to make Josiah and others actually do their homework. You have a leader's heart," Jack said. "It'll help you anywhere you go."

Miriam shook her head. "Thanks for the praise, Uncle, but--"

"One day you'll leave behind false humility," Jack said, jokingly. "It won't be today, but I'll note it. And yes, I know the humility is not falsely felt, but the underestimation is."

Miriam shook her head, not wanting to talk about that topic. "Are those papers the law?"

"A short summary of a few small salient points. The Lex Magica, and Consiliums in general, are both complex topics that could be discussed for years. They are, in fact, since most of the Silver Ladder is expected to know and adhere to the laws better than anyone else. The Guardians may choose to bend them, and other Orders have their own laws, but at least ideally, each member of the Ladder is supposed to obey the true law of Mages as an example to others."

"Ideally?" Miriam asked.

"Do all Christians follow the ways of Christ in peace, love, and righteousness?" Jack shrugged, adjusting his tie slightly. "There are three kinds of law. Four, actually. Gold, Silver, Bronze, and Iron Law. The last can be disposed of: it is merely any oath made. If a Mage makes a formal oath before the Consilium, they are held to it as if it were law. Gold, Silver, and Bronze are more interesting."

Miriam put herself into the proper mindset of the student, and nodded. "Are they in descending order of importance?"

"Yes. The Gold Laws are all but universal among Mages of the Diamond, and we tend to enforce them on all other Orders as well. In this Consilium, since the Folk have joined in, they are subject to all of the laws. These include the Precept of Secrecy, Protectorate, Hubris and War. These are not single laws, but an enumerated set of principles and related laws. Because we must be secret, we cannot openly write of magic if a Sleeper can see it, with a few exceptions. Nor can we show magic to Sleepers, and yet that also falls under the Precept of Hubris, in some cases, which protects against using magic to abuse Sleepers and others. Protectorate means that the Cabal is sancrosect. Think, I suppose, of the League of Nations. Each Nation has its own rights that cannot be violated. Cabals and Orders are what makes up the backbone of the world of Mages. Even Seers have their Ministries and Pylons, which is their own word for Cabals."

"So, these laws, are they publically available?" Miriam asked.

"Some are, but others are hidden. Still, everyone who has learned anything knows of the Right of Crossing, that Mages cannot prevent another Mage from passing through some important area, as long as they do not lay claim to that which is not theirs, or the unspoken Right of Emeritus. Respect your elders, or so it says. War means the Duel Arcane, it means that when one state, one cabal, violates the other, you have the right to strike back."

Miriam frowned, "So, if Cabals are the center of everything, do I need to join one?"

"Either a Cabal, an Order, or both. If you're without any of them, you're a stateless person," Jack said. "Maybe it shouldn't be, maybe we should be kind and generous to all Mages that are not our enemies, but we don't manage that at the best of times." He sighed, "We work with what, and who, we have."

"What's the Silver Law?"

"Any law an individual Consilium passes. Gold Laws are common, Silver laws change from place to place. And Bronze? Bronze is precedent. If a person who killed someone with a fireball in view of Sleepers was punished this way by the Consilium, then it's expected that the next person to do the same thing in the same circumstances… gets the same punishment. We keep our own records--"

"We?"

"The Silver Ladder. Everyone tries to have at least a few precedents or old, forgotten laws on their side, to back up whatever point they have. But we know most of them," Jack said with a grin. "And this is all a summary of it."

Miriam sat down and began flipping through, looking at the pages.

It was cruft. She knew what that was like, since she'd read all sorts of academic arguments that were covered in clauses and obscurities and references that you had to look throughout the rest of the work to understand. "What of its governance?"

"There are many positions, but the core if it is that there are a number of Councilors. Traditionally, there were four, and the Hierarch made five. But there have been other traditions that said five plus the Hierarch, and we adopted this to give the Folk a say a few years ago. Tradition also says that one should be from each Path. They vote on new members, and it is a station of great honor and difficulty, and it is the habit now, or might become it, that the cabals as a whole help select the Hierarch, or give their… advice and consent to the selection of the Councillors."

She knew the phrase, and nodded. "That seems… reasonable enough."

"Each Councilor has a Provost that helps screen them. Think an assistant, or a majordomo. The Consilium as a whole has an official Herald, who serves as an ambassador and messenger, and the Sentinels. The cops and troops of the Consilium government. It is all very complex, and there are enough roles that most people who seek higher office find something." Jack shrugged. "The Hierarch meeting you was rare, but important."

"He wants me to join the Mysterium," Miriam said, with a nod.

"Yes. Once a month, the whole Consilium gathers for a meeting. They deal with business, they trade favors, people beg boons or share news, and they all part. You missed the last one, and the next one isn't for two weeks. But when it comes time, perhaps you could present yourself."

"I could," Miriam said, glancing at the paperwork. "May I keep this?"

"Yes. You should. Let me say something first. The laws are imperfect, but they are also the creation of centuries. The Silver Ladder has labored all its life at this task. Against opposition, at times. Create a government that can allow Mages to not fall too far into bickering. It's difficult." Jack shrugged. "I'm the cynical fellow who doubts so many things, but there are things I believe."

"Like in minds," Miriam said, remembering what he'd said. How many Mastigos grew cynical about the human mind.

"And in the possibility that the Consilium can be something more. So if you see laws you disagree with, think on them. Think on all Mages can do, and just give it context. You might still disagree… you probably will in some cases, as would I, but do not assume nothing is done lightly."

"I won't, Uncle. I am not trifling."

Jack laughed, "That you are not, Miriam. Enjoy the extra reading. Is there anything else you wanted to know?"

"How do you sense auras?" Miriam asked.

"Ah, well, I can help you a little with that. You see, you…"

********

So, helping people out with the Folk?

[] [Mind] Dream visitations to help those who were hurt.
[] [Mind] Reading emotions and people's moods to record it so that they know who is in need of help. Going door to door.
[] [Matter] Working with the people who make tougher objects, or the like, for those who need them.
[] [Life] Visit the sick, and help them feel better.
[] [Spirit] Clean out untoward spirits and encourage helpful or less dangerous ones.
[] [Death] Ghost Casting-Out.
[] [Fate] How to create lucky charms?
[] Write-in an idea of how to use magic to help people. Miriam will be joining, or watching if it is something she can't do, and helping in non-magical ways.

******



A/N: And here we go, another chapter.