Lorrie

"Tell me about your life. Tell me..." The Voice paused, a rare occurrence.
"Tell me what it is to be human."

* * *
Beep! Beep! Beep!
It was the worst noise ever. The little black alarm clock bounced as Lorrie's hand smashed into the "alarm off" button. It never broke no matter how hard she hit it. It was a good alarm clock that way, the same way some dungeon masters are good at making their victims scream. It was a good alarm clock, but she would never use it again, after today.
There was a dull thud as Lorrie rolled off the couch. She stretched out on the floor and let out a yawn. Lorrie was nearly eight and a half feet tall; the floor was one of the few places she could stretch out. She scratched a head of short spiky black hair. A decade or so earlier, many people had paid good money for gels or even enchantments to spike their hair in the same fashion. As absurd as it seemed, Lorrie's hair grew that way naturally. Not that she had any spare money for beauty products, or had any interest in them at all. Lorrie continued to lie looking at the ceiling with unfocused green eyes for several more minutes, remembering whom she was and what she had to do today.
She rose and dressed from a pile of neatly stacked clothes in the corner, putting on a warm sweater, cap and boots. Walking softly, Lorrie stepped over a particularly squeaky board into the kitchen. If she woke her father at this hour she would be in for a world of pain. The floor groaned traitorously under her feet. Finally, she reached the food cabinet. Lorrie held her breath in anticipation and lifted the door off - it's hinges had rusted away years ago. The inside was entirely bare except for a half empty bottle of cheap beer and a small rat, which chittered at her menacingly.
With a sigh, Lorrie reached into the cabinet and grabbed the little rodent. With a quick twist, she neatly snapped its neck. She tossed it in the trash bin on the way out. She had just finished undoing the second deadbolt on the front door when realization hit her like a mental two by four. Today was the day she had waited two years for.
Shaking, Lorrie got on her knees and crawled back to the couch. She felt around the couch with one hand until she found the edge of a loose board. Carefully, she removed the board and withdrew a small metal box from the hole beneath. This was the only place Lorrie had found that she could successfully hide anything from her father.
The box was completely unremarkable save for an eldritch symbol painted on its lid. Using both hands, Lorrie attempted to remove the lid from the box. She grunted with the effort, but the box didn't budge. She set the box down, satisfied. She pressed her thumb against the symbol, and it disappeared with a brief flash of light.
Lorrie gently removed the box's lid, lowering it as quietly as possible onto the dusty wooden floor. Lorrie withdrew a wad of paper money. She quickly flipped through the bills, counting them, though she already knew exactly how much it was. With her other hand, she removed her cap, reached into a hidden pocket, and withdrew a few more bills to add to the stack. She finished counting, then counted a second time, and a third.
Shaking with excitement, she tucked the money away in various pockets on her person. She returned the box to its hiding spot, replaced the board, and grabbed the alarm clock. Finding it hard not to burst into a run, she tiptoed back across the cold living room and out the front door.
* * *
"You had a hidden hoard of money? Do all humans have hidden hoards of valuables?"
"...Just me."
* * *

The light of a full moon illuminated a familiar street, covered in snow-slush at the moment. Houses in such ruin it would be easier to demolish and rebuild than repair lined a narrow street on either side. Pristine snowflakes swirled gently around Lorrie as she sprinted down the street, coming to rest in the same muddy puddles her worn boots splashed through. Running through the chilly night air was exhilarating. She took the long route, knowing that she had a few minutes to spare.
A sharp piercing whine interrupted the rhythm of her heavy breathing and boots splashing through water. She was holding the alarm clock, though she didn't remember bringing it with her. It was the second morning alarm, which always went off in case she had rolled off the couch and fallen back asleep on the floor. She turned the little black box over in her hands. It blinked:
3:55
3:55
3:55
Her run had ground to a halt. NUTRITIOUS MUFFINS, her favorite bakery, shone brightly in the moonlight to her left. The alarm clock was still blaring; it would be another full minute before it shut itself off automatically. She had a strong urge to toss it through the bakery window, but settled for hurling it into the darkness on her right, which she knew to be the entrance to a particularly filthy alley. She was rewarded with a satisfying crack and the outraged screech of a cat.
Lorrie winced and hurried away down the street. She ran another block before turning down an alley. Three old men lay asleep, propped up against the alley's brick wall, sharing a single blanket. They stirred as she passed, and one of them shouted after her
"Issa four already, Lore?" He giggled, and was snoring again in seconds.
Lorrie splashed through a few more filthy puddles before emerging onto Snyder st., one of the town's main roads. Even at this hour, a few wagons trundled up and down the street at a leisurely pace. A few pedestrians hurried past, bundled in heavy fur coats with their hoods up. They glanced up at her suspiciously as they passed, not trusting anyone who could look comfortable wearing only a light sweater in this weather.
"Lore! Hey, over here!" A man's voice called out to her. Someone across the street was waving. She checked to make sure the street was clear before sprinting across to meet him.
He was Mr.Grungoss, a short, thick muscular man whose glasses seemed to be perpetually broken. Today the right lens was cracked, but the last time she had seen him it had been missing completely. She wasn't sure if this could be considered an improvement or not.
"Hey, Lore, hey!" He greeted her enthusiastically, "You wanna help me out real quick-like? I could really use the help you know!" Great puffs of frost accompanied every word.
Lorrie spoke as if she were out of breath, or was afraid someone would actually hear what she was saying. Her sentences came out slowly, and were often missing words, as if speaking took great effort.
"But I have...work...Mr. Guru-"
"-will not mind such a devoted employee being five minutes late for work given the accompanying circumstances," He finished for her. "Now I've got the pieces to several beautiful bed frames here I'm going to need you to help me lift into the wagon." He turned to point out a wagon which could be best described as a "very well maintained piece of junk." He turned back to make sure Lorrie had seen it, but she was already moving towards it with one of the boxes over her shoulder.
"Lore! That isn't fair at all now. This is supposed to be a two-person job, and you're doing it all by yourself. You could have at least let me pretend to help!" he teased.
"Sorry."
He ignored her apology, and launched into a lengthy monologue about the current state of his business, marriage, and life in general while Lorrie loaded the wagon. Business was steadily improving, to the point that he would soon have to hire an assistant to keep up with all the orders. His marriage was being put under strain because Mrs. Grungoss couldn't keep up with their four young children, though the twin girls were just more adorable every day. He had just finished building the new bedroom addition to their house, though it had cost more than he would have liked, and he wanted to know how Lorrie's younger sister was doing.
"I-I don't have...a sister," she stuttered, surprised.
"Of course you don't! I was just making sure you were paying attention, because now I'm going to ask you a real question." He looked over his shoulder then said, in a voice slightly quieter than his usual shout, "These rumors going around, are they true? Did you really show Tivo's thugs what for?"
She looked at her feet and said in a whisper, "...There were only two."
"Two?!" he bellowed, causing all the passengers of a nearby wagon to look their way. He coughed self-consciously, and Lorrie blushed as they stared. Once they passed, he continued in a fervent whisper:
"You're telling me you took two of Tivo's guys to the lake at the same time?" he asked, getting excited.
Lorrie said nothing, but nodded slightly.
"Oh man, oh man. Here, come here real quick," he said, grabbing her arm. She flinched and let out an involuntary squeak. He stared at her for a moment, then carefully pushed back the arm on her sweater to reveal a deep purple bruise.
"What's this, Lore? Is this all you got from Tivo's?" he asked, grinning. His grin faded when Lorrie's face showed guilt and worry, and she failed to answer for several moments.
"I don't...I mean...he just...little too much to drink. It-it's not...bruise easily." she pulled her arm away from him, and didn't meet his gaze while she stuttered and tripped over her words.
"Like hell you do! I don't believe this!" He was yelling again, angry, "Lore, look at me now Lore, I'm serious!" She looked down at him.
"You're an adult now, Lore. I've watched you grow from a little squeaky thing about yea high-" he gestured a few feet off the ground "-into a beautiful young woman." He tried to gesture at her current height, but couldn't reach. Lorrie's back bumped into the wagon. Mr. Grungoss had inadvertently backed her into wagon while he spoke. He continued: "You've got a job, an education, and you're practically a city hero now! The point is: you don't have to put up with this anymore. You don't deserve it, you never did! Why, I bet you could wipe the walls with that bastard!" he snarled.
Beads of sweat ran down Lorrie's forehead, though there were snowflakes settling on her cap.
"Don't...I..." She edged her way around the wagon and sprinted away.
* * *
"You fled? Could not you have killed him instead?"
"Killed?"
"Yes. You should have destroyed him. He was clearly weaker than you, and quite an annoyance."
"I don't...murder."
"Not even if you are angered?"
"I'm not...angry."
"You are not? Aren't you angry at me? Do you experience anger, ever?"
"I did...once."

* * *

She didn't have far to run. Her destination was only a block away and Mr.Grungoss wasn't chasing her anyway. Still on Snyder St., it was a huge two-story brick building. A large sign, which would have been flashing different colors if it had been daytime, read: "Ellis and Magic". Beneath that in smaller letters it said "We don't need a motto, now go clean the kitchen you silly girl!"
As she approached the imposing antique wooden doors, a tiny dagger appeared in her hands. With a quick jerk, she shoved the dagger into the door up to its hilt. Using the dagger hilt as a door handle, she opened the door. She removed the dagger from the door and entered the building. The door swung shut behind her.
It was too dark to see inside. Lorrie snapped her fingers and light flooded the room, though there was no obvious source. Metal shelves hovered throughout the room, lining the walls, and floating in scattered clusters. Signs hovered over each of the shelves with the name, price, and brief description of each of the items on the shelf.
The nearest sign read "Bottle of a dozen beers - Though this may appear to be a normal bottle of beer, it is far more. Inside this bottle is not one beer, but twelve! Once the entire bottle has been drunk, it will immediately refill itself. This bottle is capable of refilling itself twelve times each day. Great for parties!"
Lorrie grabbed the edge of the floating shelf and switched with a shelf in the back so it was harder to see. The new shelf's sign read "Battle Bread - CAREFUL! Slaughter your enemies and enjoy a tasty meal AT THE SAME TIME with this incredible item! That's right, on command, this otherwise ordinary loaf of bread hardens into the shape of a fully functional war hammer. So whether you need to defend yourself in a dark alley, or just need a decent meal, battle bread has you covered!" Lorrie carefully maneuvered the shelf into position, making sure it lined up perfectly with the rest of the shelves in the row.
"Lore! In the back room, my girl!" An old man's voice rang out from the back room, startling Lorrie.
In stark contrast to the store's main room, the storage room was completely mundane. Lorrie felt in the darkness for a candle. The flickering light of the candle revealed row upon row of neatly stacked wooden crates. A small workbench with an uncomfortable looking wooden chair sat in the corner.
"You're late," said a voice at her elbow. Lorrie jumped, nearly dropping the candle. A tall bald old man stood nearby, arms folded with an unlit cigarette clenched in his teeth.
"...sorry." Lorrie studied her boots intently.
"I had to unload the wagon all by my lonesome, you sorry about that too?" He gestured at her with the cigarette as he spoke. Lorrie winced.
"Yes."
He grinned.
"Come here," he said, placing the cigarette back in his mouth, "I've got something I want to show you."
He led her deeper in the storage room. The light from Lorrie's candle seemed feebler, and she had a hard time seeing, but it didn't seem to bother Mr.Guru. He stopped in front of one of the stacks of crates. They were unlabeled and unremarkable, like every other stack in the room.
"Second one from the top, just set it down any old place," he said, indicating the stack of crates. Lorrie tugged the crate free and set it down between them.
Mr.Guru moved his hands in a complex gesture and uttered a few words in an eldritch tongue. The crate's lid swung open slowly and dramatically to reveal colored glass jars, all wrapped in heavy cloth to prevent them from shattering when the crate was jostled.
A single jar floated upwards out of the crate. It stopped, hovering in midair between the two of them.
"Take it," said Mr.Guru, nodding at her. Lorrie reached for the jar, but her hand struck an invisible barrier. She looked to Mr.Guru for direction, but he just smiled at her. Reaching out again, she lightly tapped the unseen wall. It made no sound.
Gently setting the candle aside, Lorrie began to move her hands in the same pattern Mr.Guru had made few moments earlier. It took her a little longer to get through the motions, but she completed them successfully and the jar floated smoothly into her waiting hands.
"Good, good. Now open it."
Opening the jar didn't require any magic, just strong hands. Lorrie peered inside the jar, then carefully tipped it into her other hand. A small glass rose slid out into her open palm. She moved over to the light of the candle and held the rose up for inspection. It sparkled brilliantly, shining even brighter than the candle.
"Beautiful." Lorrie only mouthed the word.
"It is, but this place isn't called Ellis and magic for nothing. What makes it magic?"
Lorrie turned the rose around slowly, and closed her eyes. After a bit, she whispered hesitantly.
"Creation...destruction…linked" She watched him carefully ask she spoke, like a student trying to guess if she was giving the teacher the right answer.
"They're linked, but by what? Tell you what, here's a hint: It's something physical, not abstract." He twirled his cigarette around in his hands as he spoke.
She closed her eyes again. It took her longer to answer to answer this time.
"Pure..." she opened her eyes again before answering. "Water?" she ventured.
"Wonderful! I guess I won't fire you after all! Only kidding," he added, after seeing her alarmed expression.
"So we know that the rose's creation and its destruction are linked by water. Let's destroy it then!"
Lorrie's eyes widened and she clutched the rose defensively to her chest.
"Oh come on! Gimme that, you big baby!" said an exasperated Mr.Guru as he snatched the rose out of her hand. He moved over to a cluttered desk and began clearing a space.
"Alright, go get me a pitcher of water. Oh wait, I've already got one here...right next to the hammer." He turned back just in time to see her horrified expression.
"Well, Here goes!" He said gleefully. With that, he set the rose carefully on the wooden surface. Using left hand, he held the rose steady, and with his right, he picked up the hammer and brought it down sharply on the rose.
It was a perfect, satisfying shatter. The tiny shards of glass littering the desk still shined brilliantly, lighting the desk like stars on a dark night. He paused, giving them both time to appreciate the magnificent scene. Lorrie reached out to poke one of the tiny glowing shards. A loud cracking noise, like two large rocks being slammed together, sounded when Lorrie touched it. Lorrie flinched away with an almost inaudible squeak.
"I wonder if I could put something on the sign about self-defense. You could use these like caltrops if you were being chased," mused Mr.Guru while Lorrie sucked on her finger.
"All right, here goes nothing," he said with a grin. Mr.Guru always seemed happy when experimenting with potentially dangerous magic. He dumped the pitcher of water all across the desk, soaking all the glowing shards. They hissed and cracked as the water washed over them. Then they dimmed and winked out one at a time, even though the water had washed over all of them at basically the same time. Lorrie moved closer with the candle to provide light.
Click! Two of the dim shards in the center of the desk were drawn together, like magnets. Clack! Crack! All over the desk the shards were connecting into larger shards, which in turn connected with other large shards until...a beautiful yellow daffodil lay on the desk. And then, like a switch had been flipped, the daffodil began to glow brilliantly, as the rose had.
"Eh, I liked the rose better," said Mr.Guru, ruining the moment. Lorrie was already reaching for the flower again. Mr.Guru swatted her hand away.
"That's enough playtime! Now go clean the kitchen you silly girl!"

* * *

"This man, Ellis Guru, you would not kill him for his cache of magical possessions?"
"Wouldn't."
"Then perhaps you could steal them while he was away?"
"N-No. They are his."
"Not if you took them, then they would be yours."
"I wouldn't...steal."
"What would you have to lose?"
"A friend."

* * *
"Tired of being hungry? Tired of being not getting enough sleep? Tired of being tired? This is the magic item for you! With the ring of sustenance, those tiring days are over! The ring of sustenance allows you to function normally without the need for any food, only a quarter as much sleep! Crafted by the some of the most skilled artificers, using only the purest elements, the ring of sustenance is the pinnacle-"
"Next!"
Lorrie looked up from the label on the box she was holding. Mr.Guru was sitting at a desk a short distance away, focused entirely on some paperwork. Lorrie checked to make sure she was next in line before moving forward. She was literally shaking in anticipation. Mr.Guru didn't look up as she set the box down on the desk next to him.
"Give me just a moment to finish this up and I'll be right with you."
Lorrie read the paper he was working on upside down from her side of the desk. To her horror, she found herself automatically pointing to a badly scrawled math equation. She froze, panicked. Mr.Guru examined the accusatory finger in the center of his paper.
"Well? Aren't you going to tell me what's wrong with it?" he demanded.
"...should be 6.125, not 6.122...sorry," she mumbled softly.
Mr.Guru flipped the paper upside down without making the correction.
"What are you doing out here? You're supposed to be doing inventory," he scolded her.
"It's eight," she pointed to a clock on the wall. Mr.Guru gave the clock an angry glance for siding with her. Lorrie handed him the little box.
"What's this? Is it broken?" he asked.
"N-No. I wanted...b-buy it." Her stuttering grew worse under his incredulous stare. Lorrie could feel a trickle of sweat down the back of her neck.
"Lorrie, do you know how much this costs?"
"Y-Yes,"
"How could you possibly afford this? Remember, I know how much you make."
"...saving,"
"What? Lorrie, tell me you didn't steal something to pay for this."
"No! I saved...look," She began to write on the back of the paper on his desk. "...saved 30 percent...two years...104 weeks..."
"You've been saving for two years?"
"Yes."
Mr.Guru studied the figures on the paper for a moment before he said, in what was a gentle voice for him,
"Lorrie, this still isn't enough."
Her face fell.
"B-But the...discount.”
"That only applies to certain items...this isn't one of them."
Mr.Guru was watching her carefully. Lorrie thought back to her first day at work. She had asked for a manual. Mr.Guru had laughed, but he had given her one. It had said, in bad handwriting:

Rules (not guidelines) for Ellis and Magic Employees:
1) Shut up.
2) Do what you are told.
3) Don't break anything.

Compensation: You will be paid sometime each week, when it is convenient for me. We'll discuss specifics if I don't fire you after the first day. And if you want to buy something, you can have 10% off, since I'm just that swell of a guy.

There were a few moments of silence before Lorrie spoke again.
"T-That's not...manual." she tried to sound confident, but she had never been able to, and this wasn't going to be an exception.
"Hah! You're absolutely right! You've found me out, my girl!" He grinned apologetically.
Relief washed over Lorrie, and she released a lungful of air she hadn't realized she had been holding. She reached over the table and engulfed Mr.Guru in a massive hug, lifting him off the ground.
"Put me down you overgrown lump!" he protested.
She gently set him back down on his feet, and started to laugh.
"What's so funny?" he demanded, trying to sound grumpy, but unable to stop smiling.
"Everything."

* * *

"This creature, Ellis Guru, why does he slur your name?"
"What?"
"Your name, Lore. Is he incapable of pronouncing it properly?"
"M-My father...named me Lorrie."
"Yet you have introduced yourself to me as Lore, why is that?"
"Most people...It's a...They..." She paused, sorting her words out. "People c-call me Lore...I know...I've learned a lot."
"And yet you appear quite stupid to me. Don't fret, if you have any useful knowledge, I will take it from you."

* * *

The mug was old, chipped, and stained. Still visible though, was the word "Lorrie" followed by a big red heart and then "Dad.” A hair-thin, jagged line shot across the surface. It was intersected by another, and another. The tiny cracks blossomed into a spider web, and finally the mug shattered.
Gideon was startled out of his thoughts by an acute wet pain in his right hand. A sharp glass fragment was digging into his palm. He forced his hand to unclench. Wet and sticky glass littered the table. He took a moment to remove carefully remove the piece of glass in his hand before brushing the rest of the mug's shattered remains into a trash bin.
"I've done a terrible thing." His voice was deep and encompassing; it seemed to come from all around. It was like listening to a mountain talk, which was no surprise, given his size. At nine feet tall, with the thick body of a blacksmith to go with it, Gideon moved with the kind of assurance only seen in those who are not familiar with defeat.
He moved to the sound of complaining floorboards into the living room, and retrieved a chunk of wood and a carving knife from a decrepit dresser. The couch sagged and groaned as he sat and began to whittle away at the wood. Little wood flakes flew left and right, forming a pile on the ground.
After an hour, he had a small wooden sword. He would give it to the little boy who lived next door. If he had something to paint it with, he might have been able to sell it for a bit of money, but that wasn't the case.
The sound of the door unlocking caused him to stand. Lorrie opened the door. She began to take a step into the room, spotted Gideon, pulled her foot back, and shut the door.
"Lorrie! Get back in here!" Gideon shouted. He grabbed the little wooden sword and hurled it. It spun end over end in the air before burying itself point first in the wall next to the door, emphasizing his demand.
The door opened again, slower this time. Lorrie cautiously entered the room, avoiding her dad's stare. She frowned at the sword, and it freed itself from the wall, floating down into her hands.
"Lorrie, No magic in the house, I'm not going to tell you again." He radiated authority.
"Sorry..." Lorrie handed him the wooden sword. Gideon sat back down on the couch.
"Come here," he gestured for her to sit down on the couch next to him.
"'ave shcule." she protested, chewing her fingers.
"Come here," he repeated in a sterner tone.
She sat down.
"I wanted to say I'm sorry...about last night." He waited a few moments, then added, "It won't happen again."
He waited again. Finally he broke the silence, "Aren't you going to say anything?"
"Okay dad..." she leaned in and gave him a hug. He returned it awkwardly, thick tree trunk arms wrapping around her comparatively thin body. She almost immediately wriggled free.
"How are you doing in school?" he asked.
"Well." She was already packing a backpack with thick textbooks.
"Well?"
She nodded. Now that they were reconciled, Gideon couldn't help but immediately ruin it.
"You really should consider a different profession. This obsession with magic, it's unhealthy. Unnatural."
Again, he waited in vain for a reply.
"Lorrie, I'm waiting for an answer," he told her as she zipped her backpack shut.
"I..." she paused at the door.
"I'm unnatural," she announced, and shut the door behind her.

* * *

She shouldn't have said that. Lorrie bit her thumb nervously. Her father was probably mad now. She had said it for a reason, even if it wasn't a good reason. She had imagined herself feeling proud afterwards.
Snakes twisted inside her stomach as she rubbed her sweaty palms together. She shouldn't have opened her mouth.
"Lovely day isn't it?" remarked a nearby voice. Lorrie turned, afraid it was addressing her. The young man who had spoken was taking the hand of a beautiful young lady with long flowing hair. They kissed briefly before striding off. Lorrie watched them until they disappeared around the corner, imagining them walking confidently to their beautiful cottage with a brick path and a garden full of...plants.
Lorrie didn't know very much about plants. In her mind, they were divided into two categories: Those with thorns and those without. She liked only one of those two categories.
The young man with a garden of thornless plants was right. It was a lovely day.
The sun was shining. The air was clear. Snow melted and dripped off roofs and trees and lampposts into puddles all over the road.
The streets were packed with humans and elves. A sea of humanoids surged back and forth and around each other. An elven woman stood on a barrel behind a snack stand and served coffee to a steady stream of customers, while nearby a dwarf and an elf haggled over the price of a set of wooden chairs. The bakery shop, Nutritious Muffins, had a line stretching out the door.
And for the first time, Lorrie's stomach didn't rumble as she passed the bakery on her way to school. It was just a little silver band; no large gems shined brilliantly, no intricate engravings graced its surface. That was one of the reasons she had chosen it. She didn't want it to stand out, to draw attention to her. If it looked expensive, she was likely to be mugged for it, or have it stolen while she slept.
She stood a head and shoulders taller than anyone in the crowd of people she waded through. Even so, most people didn't give pay her any more notice than they did anyone else. Either they had lived in the town long enough that she was a familiar face, or they came from a place where being a few extra feet tall wasn't anything special.
Someone on her left tugged on her sweater. Someone on her right tugged on her sweater. One of the three old men she had passed sleeping in the alley earlier that day stood in front of her, blocking her path. He grinned at her and tugged her sweater.
"She's lost weight again, I'd say," came the voice of the other old men at her left.
"It aint healthy, I say" came the voice of the man on her right.
"You should be eatin' better. Steak and mashed potatoes and carrots, I say, none of this prissy food they like to serve these days," affirmed the man in front of her.
"Morning...Meshif,” she hadn’t planned out her words well enough and had to take a moment to catch her breath before continuing “Hratli, Ormus.”
"Good morning!" they responded in unison.
"Whats it you got for us this fine morning Lore?" asked Meshif.
"Your...choice."
"A story, a my-" started Hratli.
"A mystery! A mystery! You always want a mystery story!" griped Meshif.
"We aint had one fer a week!"
"What about a riddle? Thos're kind of mysterious," proposed Ormus.
"Aint nearly as mysterious as a mystery," he complained.
"Of course they aren't! Nothing is as mysterious as a mystery! But they're still mysterious. Just not AS mysterious."
"I guess so,"
"Right. So it's a compromise." Their deliberation finished, they all turned back to Lorrie.
"Riddle?"
They nodded in response.
* * *
"All these creatures. Is it like this all the time?"
"What?"
"Your life. I would not tolerate such constant demands. Such a miserable life is below my appreciation."
"And...your wast-way...is better?"
"I do not spend my life slaving for others."
"Spend it...enslaving others."

* * *

"Did the sandwich remind him of his wife?"
"Yes."
"What did it taste like?"
"Yes or no...only."
"Did it taste like seagull?"
"Yes."
There was a long silence while the three men pondered.
"Well, wait, what about the sandwich he had on the island. Did it taste the same?"
"No."
"So, he then he knew! Right?"
"Knew what? You lost me." Hratli glanced from Ormus to Meshif as if he might have found the explanation written on one of their faces.
"He knew that he hadn't eaten seagull sandwich on the island. That other guy had lied to him, so he had actually eaten his wife. Is that why he killed himself?"
"Yes."
"Excellent. Well done." Meshif congratulated Ormus while Hratli tried to work out what had happened, using his fingers as visual aids.
"This story has a morale. Stay away from all this airship foolishness. One moment you'll be flying through clouds without a care in the world and the next - Bam! Eaten by seagulls!" Meshif punched his hand for emphasis.
"Not..." Lorrie began, but the three men were already nodding in agreement.
"This is our stop," Ormus declared, though they had already left the city and were a mile into the surrounding forest. He tossed a copper coin to Lorrie. She spent a dramatic three seconds fumbling the catch until the coin slipped from her hands for good, landing on the dirt path. Ormus patted her on the back as she bent over to pick up the coin.
"Take care of yourself Lorrie. There are plenty of other people in the world, but none of them like you."
The compliment caught Lorrie off guard. She froze, bent over, trying to figure out the appropriate response. By the time she had straightened, cheeks red, the three old men were already walking away.
Lorrie brushed off the copper piece, then licked a finger and rubbed it as clean as she could. She couldn't remember exactly how their tradition with the coin had started, or why they exchanged it every meeting, but it was too late to stop now. It was tradition, and unlike the Mr.Guru's magic flower, it was not meant to be broken.
Lorrie winced, thinking of the flower. She hated breaking things. Something designed to be broken over and over was an agonizing thought.
The path through the forest wasn't maintained by any sort of magic enchantment or even through physical labor. Its maintenance consisted solely of the few students who walked on it to school, trampling any plants foolish enough to grow there.
Lorrie did her part lost in thought, while her feet trampled anonymous plants under foot. The branches and spider webs made only half-hearted attempts to grab her, knowing she had perfected the skill of evading them to an art.
Lorrie's stroll jerked to a sudden halt, boots scraping a gash in the soft dirt floor, as cold metal pressed against her throat. A thick arm pinned her left arm against her side, while its mate held the knife against her throat. She was forced to lean backwards to accommodate her assailant's shorter height. A male voice spoke.
"Don't speak, Don't Shout, Don't scream. Just walk with me."
And she did, an awkward walk, leaning backwards, taking little half-steps. Lorrie could tell he had never done this before. He didn't have the blade pressed against her throat hard enough, obviously afraid of hurting her. His breath came in faster, shorter breaths, a sure sign he was nervous.
He wasn't alone. Lorrie had to make a conscious effort to keep from shaking, and the compulsion to chew her fingers was strong, even with a knife at her throat. If she was going to make an escape attempt, she had better make it now, before he took her away from familiar surroundings.
Lorrie took a slightly larger step than she had been taking, hoping her assailant would overcompensate and take an even larger step forward. He did, clearly reluctant to press the knife any tighter against her throat to hold her back. His overstep brought him too far forward, and the knife against her throat moved forward an inch.
Before he could adjust and press the knife back against her throat, Lorrie's hand shot up to fill the gap. He was going to have to cut through her fingers if he wanted to get to her throat now.
"Hey-" his exclamation was cut off as Lorrie threw herself backwards. Even if she had lost weight as the three old men had said, he still couldn't support it thrown at him. They topped over backwards. He hit the ground first, with Lorrie on top of him. She rolled off, her hands already moving in arcs around each other, leaving faint traces of green light. Roots swelled up from the ground, wrapping around his wrists and ankles, pinning him to the ground.
She rose to her feet, towering over him as he tried to suck some air into his lungs. She said nothing; only bit her nails and waited for him to catch his breath.
“H-H-H…Holy…” he started, and tried to sit up. Lorrie held her hand out palm up in front of her, then slowly closed it into a fist. As it closed, green light shown through the cracks in her fingers. More roots sprouted from the ground, crawling over his chest, holding him completely immobile. The man didn’t protest. She watched his eyes move all the way up her body, inspecting her from head to toe.
“Amazing,” he said, and began to laugh. A spade lay on the ground next to him. The knife, Lorrie realized, had been a spade. He really hadn’t wanted to hurt her, and he was laughing…
“Eyes.” She pointed at her own emerald green eyes, while staring intently into his dull gray ones. He stopped laughing and returned her stare. The forest was silent. They were still.
His iris turned purple.
“Quin…” Lorrie sighed, and sank to her feet in relief. Her roots withered and disintegrated. The man changed, hair fading to brown, body stretching so he was over six feet tall, growing a mustache and losing a beard. He was extremely handsome, though his sharp purple eyes were disconcerting to most. Lorrie engulfed him in a hug.
“Most Ch-Changelings pick one form…avoid changing.” Lorrie said. She leaned up against a tree, still holding Quin as if he might try to escape at any moment.
“Well most giants can’t stand magic, Ms. Magical prodigy. It’s ‘devil-spawned’ they say,” he retorted.
“D-Demon…not devil…only quarter giant.” She mumbled.
“Hah! I don’t believe it for a second. You’re even bigger than last time. What are you, nine feet now?”
“Eight and…H-half.”
“Boy you sure make every inch count, don’t ya? You’ll never be any good at limbo, you know that? You can’t bend backwards to save your life, or my poor aching arm. Thanks for falling on me, as well. You know, I was ready for you to throw me over your shoulder, but you had to pull that stunt instead. Yes, I may have deserved it.”
Lorrie just smiled, content to let Quin do all the talking.
“Alright, hands off, let go of me. Were you sniffing? Were you smelling me? That’s hardly polite. I can’t help it if I sweat cinnamon spice.” He spent an unnecessary amount of time brushing himself off.
“So tell me what you did,” demanded Quin, wiping the smile off Lorrie’s face. “Come on, You’re the talk of the town, or at least the taverns. You’re getting a little too big for your britches, in more ways than one. Why did you think I jumped you?”
“Y-Y-Y-You-“ Lorrie was hardly trying; she knew she would be cut off.
“-Actually, don’t answer that. Y-Y-You’d t-t-take too long and I already know what you would say. I wanted to see if you were really as good as they say.”
Lorrie waited expectantly.
“What? I have to say it out loud? It wasn’t enough for you to flatten me in less than five seconds? Okay, fine, you’re pretty good. Now tell me what you did.”
“…was attacked…defended myself,” she whispered.
“Uh huh. How many? The first time I heard the story, it was three guys, but the tenth time I heard it, you took out a dozen of ‘em.”
“T-Two.”
“Well not as many as the tavern stories would have you believe, but it makes sense. All they saw was a mage student by herself, and everyone knows mages are loaded.”
Lorrie twisted her ring unconsciously. The action did not go by unnoticed.
“Holy…That’s it! Isn’t it? You got the ring. That’s amazing! That’s incredible. That’s-“ He couldn’t contain himself, and kissed her straight on the lips. Lorrie pushed him away in surprise, but it didn’t seem to bother him.
“You got it, just like you said, what, two years ago?” he continued.
Lorrie opened her mouth, but was unable to speak.
“You really are one of a kind, Lore. I’d never have been able to pull that off. Alright, I’ve got some people to beat senseless. You’re out of the academy…seven hours from now? I’ll catch you then, we’ll do something, like old times, eh?” And with that, he disappeared into the forest.
Lorrie forced herself to breathe.

* * *

“Lying rat! You’re not human, you miserable wretch! The pact is broken, shattered by your insolence.” The Voice’s rage rumbled through Lore.
“I’m human!”
“Liar! Miserable worm! Giant filth!”
“Giant and human…both!” Lore’s voice cracked as she shouted.
The voice growled, shaking its way through Lore.
“Outrageous! Deceitful corrupted mongrel!” The Voice continued to rage.
“I am…human.”
“Cease your pitiful mewling. On what basis do you claim humanity?”
“…lived as h-human, with humans.”
“Dogs live with humans.”
“…not as human.”
There was silence for several moments.
“Very well. You spoke of anger. Tell me of your wrath.” The voice chuckled.
“It’s coming.”

* * *

“You’re late…again,” said Mr. Young before Lorrie could make any attempt at sliding to her seat. Mr. Young was a small, stick-thin scarecrow of a man. He wore ornate robes, huge gaudy things adorned with sequins and gems. Today’s robe had colorful wooden cubes that hung by a string a few inches off his sleeves and kept knocking into whatever he reached for.
“…sorry.”
“I’m sure. Well it looks like I’ve found my victim, I mean, volunteer, for today’s study assistant,” quipped Mr. Young, looking smug.
Lorrie paled.
“You stand here,” he pointed to a spot next to him, in front of the class. Lorrie, neck burning, took her place next to Mr. Young. She dwarfed him, nearly twice his size, causing suppressed laughter throughout the class. She looked out over the class, trying not to stare at any one person for too long.
There were nearly a hundred and fifty students sitting in row after row of tables. A lot of them were rich upper class men looking for a quick way to increase their power. Nearly all of them would drop out after they failed the first test, Lorrie knew from experience. Most of the rest of the students were young men forced into the school by their wealthy families. These would stay throughout the whole year, sleeping in the back of the room, failing test after test. Only a handful of them would return for a second year. Only about two- dozen of the students present would pass any of the tests. Most of them, like Lorrie, had been here several years. A couple of them were sponsored were wealthy, or were sponsored by wealthy families. The rest, like Lorrie, had proved their magical aptitude, and were being taught free by Mr. Young, provided they kept their test scores high.
“Tomorrow is the first test of the year. Most of you are going to fail, and then it will be a lot less crowded in here. For those of you who plan on putting forth the effort necessary to succeed in this classroom, today is for you. There will be no new material introduced today. Instead, we will spend the day reviewing all the material that will be on the test.”
Mr. Young had written the book himself, and Lorrie knew all of its eight hundred and fifty seven pages by heart. The book had been her most valuable possession until she bought the ring of sustenance this morning.
Mr. Young rapped on his desk.
“Is there magic in this desk?” he asked. There were a few scattered ‘Yes’ and general nodding throughout the classroom.
“How about this cup? This paper? Lore’s hair? Yes, there is magic in everything. Not just everything in this classroom, but everything in this world, this universe. Now, to say that the magic is inside everything is a poor way to put it. Our language really lacks the vocabulary to convey what I’m trying to. The best I can do is this: magic is the foundation for everything in the universe. The universe was built with magic.”
“The laws of the universe, things like gravity and inertia, are enforced by magic. If you can change magic, you can change the laws of the universe. Magic defines objects as well. Because of magic, Lore’s hair is black. Now, because I know a thing or two about manipulating magic, I can manipulate the color of Lore’s hair.”
“Wh-Wait-“
Mr. Young spoke, but his voice made no sound. A cloud of blue color fired toward Lorrie. It stopped a mere inch from Lorrie, rebounding back to Mr. Young, turning him blue. The class burst into laughter.
“Lore, are you using a passive reflective ward?” he asked in disbelief when the class had quieted down enough for him to speak.
Lorrie swallowed, nodding slightly.
“It seems I have underestimated my student. What I have fallen victim to is a spell advanced enough that very few of you will ever be able to comprehend its mechanics, let alone actually cast it.”
“This brings us to our next topic: Spells. Spells are how we influence and change the magic around us. Every spell can be broken down into two components. First, you have to lay the framework. That is, you must define precisely what you want the spell to do. This can be done using your voice, sending the right vibrations in the right order, or with your hands, actually shaping the magic, or through a few other ways that I won’t bother describing. I find it easier to use my voice in most cases, but I am capable of casting with my hands. Almost all of you will be the same. Lore, however, has never cast a single spell by voice, using her hands exclusively. A few of you may be the same, or at least prefer casting by hand.”
While he spoke, Mr. Young gestured extravagantly, nearly hitting Lorrie several times with the colorful cubes hanging from his sleeves. For her part, Lorrie stood straight, hands clenched at her sides, frozen in place, too nervous to move. This only served to emphasize the difference between her and the short man gesturing wildly next to her. Snickering abounded throughout the class as sweat dripped down Lorrie’s blushing face.
“The second part of a spell is simply manipulating the magic energy around us into the spell’s framework to power it. The amount of magical energy around us at all times is near infinite, but our ability to control it is not. We manipulate magical energy the same way we create the framework for our spell. What’s more, we do it at the same time. As each piece of the framework is created, we must provide it with enough energy to maintain itself while we build the next piece of the framework until the spell is complete.”
“Manipulating magic to create spells is not easy. You are working with an amount of magic, larger depending on how powerful the spell is, but always small when compared to the amount of surrounding magic you are not working with. The magic you are not working with is actually working against you, attempting to re-establish equilibrium. I’m quite fond of the water and milk analogy, which goes like this: If the magic around you is like a glass of water, then a spell is like a drop of milk trying to diffuse throughout the water. You must hold your spell together even as you create it.”
“During tomorrow’s test, you will be required to cast a single spell. Any spell. Today, you will spend the class practicing and mastering the spell of your choice. You may take turns using today’s study assistant, Lore, as a target for your spells. Normally I would warn you not to use the assistant as a target for any harmful or potentially dangerous spells, but quite frankly, if you can finish casting that sort of spell before Lore counters you, I’ll let you skip the test tomorrow.”