Rural Fantasy

The first thing to understand is that there are four types of magic. Mundanes will talk about Black, White, Stage and other sorts of magic, but they really don't know the truth. In the real Magical Community there are four types. Weavers, those that can shape magical energies into spell are what most Mundanes think of when they think of magic. Shifters can, well, shift their bodies into other forms or otherwise change their own bodies. Shapers can change other things in various ways. And finally there are the Psi's, people with psionic abilities such as telepathy, telekinesis and such.

There are some folks who can use more than one type of magic and a long time ago some bright guy decided to assign names to the combinations. Shortly after that some fool with more book learning than actual experience came up with what he called the Hierarchy of Power. He put those with access to only one type at the bottom of the pyramid, those who could use two above them, three types got you the tier above them and at the top were those rare few that could use all four. For the record those few are known as Arch Mages. Pretty impressive sounding I know, but as with all things the reality doesn't really measure up to the hype. I've met Weavers that, in terms of how much power they had at their disposal could out match a couple of Arch Mages I know. As with most situations, those general categories may make paperwork easier, but once in the field they don't mean all that much.

To complicate things still further, when bright boy came up with those names he didn't worry about matching the names to what role they would play within the Community. From a social stand point witches are the counselors, therapists and other supportive positions. The term Witch however just means someone that is both a Weaver and a Shifter. Even more than in Mundane society, proper spelling can be very important in the magical Community. When people register with the Clave as part of the Community they list their official classification, not relative power or day job. For agents of the Clave that can be just a bit frustrating.

I suppose that at this juncture I should explain my own part in this world. My name is Dante Alexander and I am an Arch Mage. The Clave employs me as what they call a freelance investigative consultant. Basically that means when they feel that things are about to go very bad they send me in to try and stop things from going from crisis to disaster. Sometimes the council members that monitor magical issues overestimate the problem, not very often but it happens. More often they miss the mark on the low side and what they think could be a possible breach of the secrecy surrounding the Community turns out to be some major threat to both our world as well as the mundane world. One thing for certain it makes my life interesting.

On that particular day I was on my way into Missouri to meet up with the Commissioner of Special Operations for the Ozark Clave. Claire Fontane should have been exactly the person for the job. She is, as she will endlessly remind you, a third generation Arch Mage. Her mother is the Liaison Officer dealing with relations between the Claves. Her Grandmother recently retired after having served as Claven for longer than any other leader in the history of the Ozark Clave. Claire herself is extremely knowledgeable concerning magical law as well as the nature of possible threats the Community might face, from within as well as without. So, yes she should be exactly the person you'd want to work with in theory. In practice however, she has let her family history go to her head a bit apparently. Topping her sense of self-importance, she's so status conscious that I'd lay odds the stick up her ass is mahogany.

Reaching Branson, I started towards the building that housed the Clave's offices. Before making the final turn I glanced up the street towards a little Greek restaurant I knew about. Maybe I'd have time to stop off and get a bite to eat before heading out to whatever horrific doom the Commissioner found for me this time. Not that I minded the nature of my assignments, it was what I had signed up for after all. It was just that lately it seemed as if I was only called in when there was a hurry to accomplish the mission. Just once I'd like to get a task that required a few days of investigating. Or maybe even called for a bit of bar-hopping, I hadn't done that in a while.

Reaching my destination I parked my truck in the last open spot, on the far side of the lot from the front doors, naturally. As I stepped into the lobby a kid wearing a suit that looked so well pressed my neck started itching in sympathy approached me. “They are waiting for you in the conference room, Mr. Alexander. If you will follow me.”

As I trailed behind him towards the elevators I was thinking that didn't sound good. Usually for assignments an assistant would meet me in the coffee shop with a briefing packet. Sometimes it was an assistant in an office with a detailed briefing. On a few occasions Commissioner Fontane actually delivered the briefing herself in her office. Meeting with a “they” in a conference room set off multiple alarms in my head. It couldn't be something so big that the entire council was called in. Even if they managed to keep it out of the Mundane news, keeping an event that big from spreading through the magical Community just doesn't happen.

Getting off the elevator and heading for the conference room, I spotted a familiar face. Meghan looked up and smiled at me as she rose from her desk. Her blonde hair was pulled back into an almost professional looking pony-tail, the pink tips really completed the look. Her bright eyes sparkled just like her mother's used to back in the day. Just as the suit and I reached the door to the conference room, she was at my side holding a steaming cup of coffee. “Here you go, Uncle Dante.” I took the cup and could smell how strong she had made it, just the way I liked my coffee. “Thank you little one, you are my angel.”

Meghan laughed and went back to her desk, from the corner of my eyes I caught the suit watching her walk back. “Eyes front, kid..” Maybe it was the tone of my voice, or perhaps the “Uncle” had finally registered. Either way the distracted look left his face and he swallowed hard. Opening the door he leaned in and said, “He's here Ma'am.” I stepped in and he closed the door behind me as quickly as he could without slamming it.

Glancing at the head of the table only served to add to the confusion of the day. Marla Fontane, Liaison Officer of the Clave sat at the head. Standing to her left was Commissioner Fontane, looking as serious and professional as ever. Standing next to her was some guy in a suit that I didn't recognize. His whole look screamed prep school graduate, or maybe that was just my own bias showing through. Both Claire and the pretty boy gave me a look as if to say my denim long coat did not meet their standards. Considering it was made out of some of my old jeans, I can't really blame them. Then again, judgmental looks will not get anyone acknowledgment from me.

Pulling out a chair halfway up the table I sat and gave Marla a nod. “Ms. Fontane, always a pleasure.” I slid my eyes towards Claire and gave a slightly smaller nod, “Commissioner.” Ignoring the pretty boy I turned back to Marla and waited, taking a sip from my coffee to let her know I was done talking for the moment. Marla in turn ignored the offended looks on the other two's faces and gave a brief smile. Putting on her business face she transformed from my old friend Marla right into Liaison Officer Fontane. “We have a situation.” Her tone could have indicated anything from an rouge Shifter pranking drunk college kids, to another dragon on the loose.

Pointing to pretty boy she continued. “This is agent Mather from the Salem Clave. He's here looking for a fugitive.” She gestured to him to give me something. After hesitating a moment Mather slid a suspiciously thin folder across the table to me. Almost as if he was worried that my fashion sense was contagious. I could have told him I would have to have for that to be true. Stepping back to where he had been standing he addressed the wall behind me. “The fugitive is a member of an unauthorized Coven. He and several others fled from Clave justice and we have reason to believe he is in the jurisdiction of this Clave.”

I took a pull of coffee and looked at him before glancing down at the folder in front of me. The cover only bore the symbol of the Salem Clave and the title “Fugitive Report”. Short and to the point, usually a good thing, but something wasn't adding up. Why send an agent this far to recover someone whose crime was joining a Coven without permission? And since when do Covens need permission from the Clave to get together in the first place? One way or another there was more to this than pretty boy Mather was letting on.

I started to realize why Meghan had felt I would need to be armed with coffee. “So what exactly was this Coven up to in order to be listed as unauthorized? Perhaps knowing what our fugitive had been up to back home would point me to who he might try to contact here. Still addressing the wall over my shoulder Mather said, “They did not pursue proper channels to gain authorization.” I waited for a few beats watching him. When he didn't continue I prompted, “So other than being an informal gathering, what were they up to?” He finally looked at me with a look that was a mixture of condescending and loathing. “Their rhetoric was deemed to be hateful.”

Well that cleared everything up. I raised an eyebrow at him waiting once more for him to elaborate. When, instead he returned to inspecting the wall behind me, I started to get the feeling I was missing one hell of a show back there. I shot a glance at Marla to see if she had any actual usable information. She must have been sensing my growing impatience towards Agent Mather because she sent a quick telepathic message – If you kill him, you'll have to do the paperwork- . That was just cold, she knows how much I dislike paperwork. Aloud she said, “Perhaps the briefing folder will have the information you need.” If Mather had any inkling that her remark meant he hadn't provided useful information, he managed to hide it behind a smug look, as if I should have read the file before asking him. I was beginning to think one cup of coffee wasn't going to cut it for this meeting.

Taking a drink, I opened the folder to find a single page. In the upper right corner was a photo of the subject, average looking with a blue collar feel to him. His name was listed as Edgars, Thomas Q. Height and weight, six feet one inch, two hundred forty pounds, so yeah, most likely blue collar. By his birth-date I saw he just turned thirty five. His magical category was listed as Shaper, and under charges was “Member of unauthorized Coven”.

Nothing else on the front of the sheet, so I turned it over. The only thing on the back was a note saying “This side intentionally left blank.” Thinking I must have missed something, I flipped the page back over, then looked in the folder for any additional pages. Finding a whole lot of nothing, I asked, “So what are Mr. Edgars' capabilities?” Mather shot me a pitying look before turning towards Marla. “He is familiar with Nelson's categorizations, is he not?” Oh yeah, his face was looking more punch-able by the moment. Marla's look told me to be patient before she turned to look at Mather. “Yes, Wizard Mather, Arch Mage Alexander is quite familiar with the categorization list.”

A quick look of surprise crossed Mather's face, whether from the frost in Marla's voice or because he couldn't believe I was an Arch Mage I'm not sure. Turning back to me with some of the superior look back on his face he addressed a spot just over my head. “In that case you should know what a Shaper is capable of doing” I silently counted to ten before answering. “The various classifications are rather general in nature, the abilities of each individual within those categories vary from one to the other.” I managed not to say “As anyone with an ounce of common sense would know” out loud. A slight crease appeared between his eyes as the tried to process what I was saying. “In the case of Mr. Edgars,” I continued, “what are his limits? Does he affect inorganic matter? Organic tissue? Both? Does he need to touch his subject or can act at range? And if so what is his range?”

The puzzled look was replaced with one of amusement while I was talking. In a rather smug voice he said, “Since Edgars is simply a Shaper, obviously he would only be capable of basic manipulations.” Wait, what? A quick look let me know Marla and Claire were just as surprised to hear him say that as I was. Counting to ten again, this time in Japanese, I settled my mind before asking, “Why would you think that would be the case?” His smug face came back full force as he answered. “All this is clearly explained in Harrison's Study of Boyde's Hierarchy.” As if a poorly researched textbook trying to justify a half-baked and easily debunked theory would provide an explanation for his misconception.

Anyone that had spent time on the streets and dealing with real live Magicians could poke holes in Boyde's Hierarchy. Every Magician had their own limits to how effectively they could use a given type of Magic. No matter how many different types they had access to, the different types could vary independently from the others.

Now he had answered two questions with not just textbook answers, but with references to two textbooks. Both of which would be more useful as emergency toilet paper than as research material. A sinking feeling started in my gut. Not sure if I really wanted to know the answer I asked anyway. “Just out of curiosity, how much field experience do you have?” “I graduated at the top of my class from the Abigail Goode Academy.” “That's not what I asked.” “My placement scores for Clave service were in the ninety seven percentile.” “Also not what I asked.” An angry look crossed over his face. “If the Salem Council did not have confidence in my abilities they would not have sent me.” Before speaking I took a moment to meditate on the idea that one of the benefits of a polytheism was the sheer number of gods' names to be taken in vain. “So, what you're saying is, this is your first field assignment. Is that about right?” Mather started to take on an indignant expression, so I waved my hand to cut off whatever reply he was about to make. “The first thing to keep in mind is that in the real world, a question is just that. A request for information, not an insult, not an attack, just an attempt to gain information.”

Indignation was slowly being replaced with sullen anger on his face. I decided to press on before he started actively sulking. “Therefore, answering the question that is being asked goes a long way towards making a good impression. And if you don't understand the question or don't know the information being requested, simply saying so will help give the impression that you are in fact intelligent.” His eyes narrowed at that, probably wondering if I was implying that he had made himself seem stupid.

I held up a hand to head off an angry retort. “As a matter of fact, at this time I have no real idea just how much of what you were fed at that academy of yours you will need to unlearn.” Oh good, the confused look was back. “By way of example, Boyde's Hierarchy? Easily the biggest pile of BS this side of Texas.” That got a look of shock from the kid, likely thought I was being blasphemous. “at the moment re-educating you is not that important. I'll check with some contacts to see if they have any idea where Mr. Edgars hangs his hat.”

As I stood up to leave, Marla stopped me. “Just one thing Mr. Alexander.” Never a good sign when she calls me mister. “Our Clave will be extending the courtesy to the Salem Clave by allowing Agent Mather to join the investigation.” I held out a brief hope that she meant from the office. Her mouth twisted into the same grin she used on poker night right before she displayed a royal flush. “He'll be riding with you for this one.” I looked briefly at the kid then back to Marla. -How much paperwork?- She just raised an eyebrow to send us on our way. Just before I reached the door it opened and Meghan stepped in to hand me a folder and a to-go cup of coffee. Whatever the Clave is paying her, it's not nearly enough.