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Authors: Austin J. Bailey
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have caught the eye of someone like the Magemother?
Archibald chuckled. “Yes. Hard to imagine, isn’t it? But there you are, the truth. We kept the relationship largely to ourselves, but you can ask your father if you must. It was long ago, but he remembers. What is your second question?”
“What happened?”
Archibald stopped laughing. The sad look crossed his face again. Then he folded his hands and gave a resigned sigh. “We had a child.”
“ What? ” Hugo sat up. The Magemother had a child? Could that happen? Had that ever happened?”
“Yes,” Archibald said knowingly. “We did.”
“But is that allowed? I never knew the Magemother could be an actual mother.”
Archibald raised his eyebrows. “Is that your third question?”
Hugo winced. “Ahh, um, no?”
Archibald nodded. “No doubt the situation got the best of you. I will ‘cut you a break’ as they say. Just this once.” He cleared his throat. “Yes, the Magemother can have children. In fact, she must. The Magemother does not live forever, though most people do not know that.”
“She’s mortal?” Hugo asked, shocked.
Archibald nodded. “She lives long enough that few people know it. There have been only two Magemothers in the history of our world. In order to pass on her calling she must have a child.”
“A daughter?”
Archibald nodded. “As I was saying, we had a child. I saw it only once.” Archibald looked as if he were remembering something painful. “She gave birth in her sanctuary on Calypsis. No man had ever set foot there before, but she brought me.”
“What happened?” Hugo had lost track of how many questions he had asked. He needed to hear the end of it.
A dark look crossed Archibald’s face, a painful memory brought back to the present. “The child disappeared one day.”
“Disappeared?”
He nodded. “She would not tell me how, or why. She said that she could not tell me. After that, we…grew apart.” Archibald’s jaw clenched.
Hugo looked down.
Archibald coughed awkwardly, and when he spoke, his voice sounded deep and throaty. “Time for your third question. Make it an easy one, will you?”
Hugo thought hard. He decided not to ask what he wanted to. Archibald had already given him so much, he could see it on his face.
“Do you want some tea?”
Archibald smiled appreciatively. “Thank you.”
The conversation was pleasant after that. They spoke of simpler things. All the while, Hugo studied his teacher when he wasn’t watching. He had lived a much more interesting life than Hugo could have guessed.
That night he thought about how much pain Archibald must have been in all these years. He still felt it, obviously. Did he blame her? Had he ever forgiven her?
His thoughts drifted to his own inner turmoil. Was he kidding himself, thinking that he could just bury his dreams, his feelings like that? Would he end up like Archibald in forty years? Archibald gave off the appearance of being on top of the world, but deep down guarded a secret wound. Hugo didn’t want to live like that. Just then he felt the pain come back. It was a tangible thing. He could actually feel his heart hurting.
No, he thought as sleep drifted nearer. That was stupid. Hearts don’t actually hurt.
Above him, a bird started to sing. It sounded like the same bird from last night. That was odd, wasn’t it? He realized he’d forgotten to ask Archibald whether birds sing at night. Sleep was close, and he wasn’t thinking clearly. Maybe they did. He couldn’t remember. But why was it following them? Maybe it liked to pick up stray crumbs that they left behind on the trail. The bird’s song sounded sad, like his heart. Why would a bird be sad? Maybe it didn’t get enough crumbs today. He would have to be sure and drop some good ones tomorrow…
***
An hour later, Hugo woke with a start. Something was wrong. He strained his ears, trying to pick apart the noises of the night.
Ground mice rustling in the underbrush,
Archibald chuckled. “Yes. Hard to imagine, isn’t it? But there you are, the truth. We kept the relationship largely to ourselves, but you can ask your father if you must. It was long ago, but he remembers. What is your second question?”
“What happened?”
Archibald stopped laughing. The sad look crossed his face again. Then he folded his hands and gave a resigned sigh. “We had a child.”
“ What? ” Hugo sat up. The Magemother had a child? Could that happen? Had that ever happened?”
“Yes,” Archibald said knowingly. “We did.”
“But is that allowed? I never knew the Magemother could be an actual mother.”
Archibald raised his eyebrows. “Is that your third question?”
Hugo winced. “Ahh, um, no?”
Archibald nodded. “No doubt the situation got the best of you. I will ‘cut you a break’ as they say. Just this once.” He cleared his throat. “Yes, the Magemother can have children. In fact, she must. The Magemother does not live forever, though most people do not know that.”
“She’s mortal?” Hugo asked, shocked.
Archibald nodded. “She lives long enough that few people know it. There have been only two Magemothers in the history of our world. In order to pass on her calling she must have a child.”
“A daughter?”
Archibald nodded. “As I was saying, we had a child. I saw it only once.” Archibald looked as if he were remembering something painful. “She gave birth in her sanctuary on Calypsis. No man had ever set foot there before, but she brought me.”
“What happened?” Hugo had lost track of how many questions he had asked. He needed to hear the end of it.
A dark look crossed Archibald’s face, a painful memory brought back to the present. “The child disappeared one day.”
“Disappeared?”
He nodded. “She would not tell me how, or why. She said that she could not tell me. After that, we…grew apart.” Archibald’s jaw clenched.
Hugo looked down.
Archibald coughed awkwardly, and when he spoke, his voice sounded deep and throaty. “Time for your third question. Make it an easy one, will you?”
Hugo thought hard. He decided not to ask what he wanted to. Archibald had already given him so much, he could see it on his face.
“Do you want some tea?”
Archibald smiled appreciatively. “Thank you.”
The conversation was pleasant after that. They spoke of simpler things. All the while, Hugo studied his teacher when he wasn’t watching. He had lived a much more interesting life than Hugo could have guessed.
That night he thought about how much pain Archibald must have been in all these years. He still felt it, obviously. Did he blame her? Had he ever forgiven her?
His thoughts drifted to his own inner turmoil. Was he kidding himself, thinking that he could just bury his dreams, his feelings like that? Would he end up like Archibald in forty years? Archibald gave off the appearance of being on top of the world, but deep down guarded a secret wound. Hugo didn’t want to live like that. Just then he felt the pain come back. It was a tangible thing. He could actually feel his heart hurting.
No, he thought as sleep drifted nearer. That was stupid. Hearts don’t actually hurt.
Above him, a bird started to sing. It sounded like the same bird from last night. That was odd, wasn’t it? He realized he’d forgotten to ask Archibald whether birds sing at night. Sleep was close, and he wasn’t thinking clearly. Maybe they did. He couldn’t remember. But why was it following them? Maybe it liked to pick up stray crumbs that they left behind on the trail. The bird’s song sounded sad, like his heart. Why would a bird be sad? Maybe it didn’t get enough crumbs today. He would have to be sure and drop some good ones tomorrow…
***
An hour later, Hugo woke with a start. Something was wrong. He strained his ears, trying to pick apart the noises of the night.
Ground mice rustling in the underbrush,
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