Read Online Masters of the Veil by Daniel A. Cohen - Free Book Online Page A

me the damn ball.”
    “But it’s not a ball,” Doug said. “It’s you.”
    Sam looked at Doug’s hands. In place of the ball, a black swirl filled his palm. It was just lying there, limp, as if too tired to go on. Then hundreds of other swirls drifted onto the field and attached to Sam. They started to drift upwards, carrying him out of the stadium. Up over everyone’s heads, he looked down and saw blank stares on thousands of fans.
    “NOOOO!” Sam jerked against the swirls.
    “Did you forget your way?” The black swirls asked in unison.
    “Huh?” Sam asked.
    “Now jeopardous in play?”
    “Let me DOWN!”

    ***

    Sam awoke in the pitch-black room.
    “How generous is May?” asked a quiet voice.
    Sam rubbed his eyes. “Uh, very generous?”
    A pinprick of light appeared next to him and started to grow until the room came into view.
    Sam remembered everything.
    Oh no. It can’t have been real .
    That meant he really had hurt that kid and blown his football career. He started to feel the panic rising, choking him. His whole life was wrecked. The memory of being locked in a jail cell crept into his mind.
    He lay there for several minutes, processing everything. A chill ran over him and his stomach tightened up. He took a deep breath and tried to remember the excitement he had felt the previous night, how ready he’d been to learn, how eager to know that magic was real and he could do it. After a couple of heavy breaths, he finally began to calm, although the knot still sat heavy in his stomach.
    He had no idea how long he had slept, but it felt like only a moment. The painting on the wall had transformed overnight. Now, it showed a scene of children playing in a field, each one bearing a tiny glove on his or her hand.
    Sam reluctantly extricated himself from the green ropes and got to his feet. The ball of light hovered next to him.
    “Bathroom…?”
    The light followed him as he made his way toward the door at the far side of his room. Sam gave it a sideways look. “Convenient.”
    The bathroom looked like it had been designed by an alien race, although one with pleasant taste in decor. Next to the toilet, which had also been decorated with artwork, was a small tree. Instead of leaves, however, the branches produced a soft-looking material, which Sam assumed was their version of toilet paper.
    After he relieved himself, the light-ball accompanied him back into the bedroom. Sam went to the door and tried to twist the knob. When it refused to turn, he felt like the rock walls were closing in on him.
    The ball of light rocked back and forth in the direction of one of the walls.
    “Right,” Sam remembered, “touch the wall.”
    After a moment’s hesitation, he reached out. Instead of being stopped by solid rock, his hand passed through the wall as though it were nothing more than smoke. He pushed his arm through and felt emptiness on the other side. After taking a deep breath, he jumped through.
    It seemed he was a late sleeper.
    Beyond the wall, Atlas Crown was alive with movement. Morning sunlight bathed the grounds, and people smiled and waved to one another while they moved about, wearing clothing that resembled kimonos and monks’ robes. Simple symbols—not the corporate logos Sam was used to—were woven into the fabric, giving Sam the impression of Native American garb. Like May and the kids in the painting, everyone wore a glove on one hand.
    Nearby, a lanky, dark-skinned man held out his red glove toward the roof of a hut. An hourglass-shaped ball floated off the roof and landed among a group of kids wearing yellow gloves with green polka dots. They squealed with delight and ran off with the ball past someone wearing a metal glove—almost like a gauntlet from a suit of armor. When he swung around to watch the kids, he saw a wild-haired woman wearing a clear glove that looked as if water had been molded around her skin.
    The kids ran out onto an area full of small shops, magnificent trees,