Chapter 1: Magic Places, Magic Hearts

Cor Caldwell had been spotting the student getting out of the car in front of her here and there for several years now, but never in any of her classes, and always just walking across campus or sitting somewhere or, as now, being dropped off, usually by some unknown driver in a retrofitted Obsidian Motors Oracle, one of the more popular and enduring lines of family sedans from Obsidian. Her dad drove one, although he was still a little too firmly rooted in the past to pay for the anti-gravity drive retrofit like the one in front of her.

She didn't even know his name, and none of the friends she'd casually asked knew either, but she had definitely placed him in her 'interesting' category. He was tall and slender, though the one time she had seen him in a tank top and shorts throwing a football with a couple of other guys he seemed to have all the proper muscles.

"Stop that!" she muttered to herself, embarrassed at having flashed on that visual.

"Excuse me?" Her mystery man asked, turning her way.

"Oh! I"m sorry, I was just muttering to myself," She said, then flashed her patented, prize-winning smile. "But since we're talking ... Hello, I'm Cor!" She held out her hand.

His hands were firm and dry, but he held her hand gently, not shaking it. He flashed an award-winning smile of his own.

"Hello yourself, I'm Andy."

Before Cor had a chance to say anything else, the driver of the car that had just dropped Andy off cleared his throat. As Cor looked down, she saw him raise an eyebrow at Andy, who obviously understood its meaning.

"Sorry Nicco. I'm just planning on hanging out on campus until the Kirsch Auditorium presentation at five, so I'll find lunch and dinner on my own afterward, and it'll be late when I call."

"Okay kid! But you have my number if something comes up. You know the drill."

"Of course Nicco, now get lost will ya, I have a pretty girl to impress here, and you're cutting into my time."

Cor was all set to pretend massive indignation when her mystery man turned back, flashing that smile again,

"Sorry about that, but when you're talking to Nicco, you have to do it with a certain attitude. Especially when there are pretty girls around. His entire family is a bit old-world in its outlook. I hope it didn't bother you."

"Well, since you managed to slip in that I'm pretty again, I should be coy and cute and act pleased, right?" She answered, tilting her head to one side.

He laughed!

"I guess that might have sounded like a lame pick up line, huh? Lets start over. Hi! I'm Andy. Since we're both standing here on the sidewalk in front of the Forbe's, could I offer you a cup of coffee, or perhaps tea?"

"Oh, that's a much better line! Yes, I'd love a cup of tea."

The process of getting a seat and getting tea was accompanied by inconsequential comments and light chatter.

"Cor. That's an interesting name. Is it short for something?" Andy asked. When they had finally found themselves a place to sit.

"Corycia," Cor answered, blushing. "Its..."

"One of the Naiads of Greek Mythology," Andy said with a laugh. "My Great Uncle's sailboat was the Nereid, and my Dad and Granddad's back in California is the Naiad. I shouldn't be surprised to find myself sitting with someone with a link to one of our running family fascinations."

"Fortunately, growing up everyone just called me C.C., For Corycia Caldwell. But I decided to grow out of that when I was twelve, and started calling myself Cor."

"When I was ten, my sister started calling me 'coppertop' because my first two initials are A.A. for Andrew Alan, so she made the whole AA battery connection. Fortunately she didn't get a lot of support from our friends and family and she dropped it pretty quickly. She was only being annoying for effect anyway – pretty soon after that we both decided to drop all the big brother/little sister rivalry and feuding stuff anyway."

"So you're from California? Are you one of those born-and-raised California surfer dudes?" Cor asked.

"I was born in North Carolina actually, at my Great Grandfather's house, but we live in Angel's Camp, California, in the old gold rush area, not on the coast. We haven't spent much time there. My parents travel a lot." Andy answered. "Where are you from?"

"I'm from Crown Point, New York. That's where I was born, and where I've lived my whole life until I left to come here for college," Cor said. "Angel's Camp seems to ring a bell in my head for some reason, why is that?"

"It's where Mark Twain wrote 'The Jumping Frog of Calaveras County', so maybe that's it?" Andy suggested.

"Could be. Don't think so though ... It'll come to me eventually."

Andy laughed and shook his head.

"Why do I have the impression you aren't the type to let details slip by you?"

"Its what got me here on scholarship, and what usually keeps me home on the weekends, I"m annoyingly thorough and meticulous. My professors tell me its my greatest strength, and my friends tell me its my greatest weakness."

"Because it discourages relationships?" Andy asked.

"Yeah. Always has," Cor sighed. She suddenly gave Andy a very nice smile. "I've got to run. I've got a class. Thank you for the tea, and the conversation."

As Cor stood up, Andy reached out and touched her arm, returning her smile.

"Hey, Miss Meticulous, it was absolutely my pleasure, and thank you back," The touch turned into holding hands as Andy slid the touch down the arm. "Are you doing anything Saturday?"

"Are you asking me on a date?" Cor asked.

"Well, yeah. If it doesn't ruin your reputation with your friends, of course."

"I have a morning lab on Saturday, but I"ll be done with that by 10:30. MY afternoon and evening are free. What did you have in mind?"

"A friend is performing at a recital, and I'd love to be able to show up with a beautiful and smart girl on my arm. I too have a reputation to overcome amongst certain segments."

"Hmm. Well we can't let the segments win, now can we? Okay. Shall I meet you somewhere?"

"I'll pick you up in front of Stratton, at 3?"

"Okay! Wow! I've got to run, or I"ll be late for class," Cor surprised herself by brushing Andy's cheek with a quick kiss on her way past him. "See you Saturday."

Andy sat for a while sipping the remainder of his tea, and thinking back three years to the term Jeni Anderson had used. 'squiggly.' There was no doubt about it, Cor Caldwell made him feel squiggly.

<Maia, are you busy?> Andy sent out the thought.

<Not to busy for you Andy, what's up?> Her thought came back.

<I need to make sure there's an extra seat available Saturday. I'm bringing a date.>

<Oooh! Exciting! I'll make sure there's an extra spot for you!>

<Thanks, Mai. Mum's the word though, okay? This is a first date, so I don't want any advanced hype getting built up over this.>

<Of course, Andy! You know we are all on your side on this one, even Ren!>

<Thanks again then. See you Saturday!>

As he usually did when he wanted to think, Andy went running. He kept a gym bag with his running gear in a locker at Steinbrenner Stadium. A nice five mile run, keeping his pace to realistic levels, had him feeling a lot more settled.

The next four hours were spent meeting with various small groups of students, including the largest group of sixteen during the lunch hour at the Lobdell Food Court.

There were 27 students currently working on the new PhD in Gravitics track that had been instituted recently, and Andy was quietly shepherding most of them along with tutoring, brainstorming and companionship. The guys here who were able to absorb the concept of Gravitics whole and come out the other end with a working concept were usually the ones who were very tied up in their own worlds of math and physics. In other words, the die-hard science nerds.

Halfway through the lunch session, he spotted Cor, and gave her a wave. She waved back, and started slowly making her way towards him through the crowd. Andy quickly cautioned his table mates, especially Arne, who was the most vocal and outgoing of the bunch.

"Listen guys. The girl headed this way to say hi does NOT know who I am, she just knows me as Andy. We've got a date Saturday, and she'll get the horrible truth then, so please don't ruin it for me, okay?"

The phrase 'horrible truth' drew some laughs, but these guys all saw Andy as the shining example of their group, so there was no chance they'd be spilling the beans.

Andy introduced Cor to the 'Gravy Geeks', as they called themselves, and introduced her to them.

"Cor is one of the Nanites." Andy said, "She's studying nanofluids."

"Nanites?" Cor asked.

"Yeah, we have names for all the various tracks. You nanotech guys are the Nanites, the Aero and Astronautical engineers are the Space Cases, us Gravitics guys are the Gravy Geeks ... you get the idea." Arne answered.

Cor did, and she smiled in appreciation, waved goodbye with a "See you Saturday!" over her shoulder.

Arbor was my facet. Once I'd turned sixteen I had official parental permission to do new facet hops whenever I wanted. I didn't do them very often, but I had found six so far. I'd turned in data on five of them.

Arbor was my own though. There was something about it that clicked for me. Perhaps it was the people, who were a happy, hard working and optimistic bunch for the most part. Perhaps it was when I discovered that the name the Arborians used for this facet translated to Arbor, exactly what I'd used as my own designator.

The people of Arbor love the grape, they love horses and they love music. Bards were their rock stars, a fine horse was their Porsche and a good wine was their daily bread. I had spent a couple days here and a couple days there over the past three years burying myself in what it meant to be an Arborian. It was slow and careful work.

A small but real percentage of the Arborians were gifted in one way or another. Not in the way we considered the awakened or the soul divers as gifted, but in the way that Spinner, my old Dream World friend would call 'Magic', definitely with the capital M.

These people tapped a little of the gifts, a little of the Dream Stuff and even a little of the Light, and did it in interesting ways. Teleportation, Transformation, Shape-shifting, Mind Reading, a weirdly inconsistent cornucopia of gifts in the strangest mixtures and proportions that made those who were gifted odd and unique and oh so very interesting to me.

None of their abilities could be considered 'pure', when looked at from the advantage of my perspective. Their access to the gifts were spotty and partial most of the time, their access to the Light was incredibly indirect and totally outside of their conscious control. Their use of the Dream Stuff was accidental at best, and required rigorous rituals, bordering on the ridiculous to perform the same feat consistently.

But from an uninformed perspective, it was pure Magic, the stuff of every fantasy writer's dream. I was going to build a home there, and soon, certainly within the year. I had a couple months of classes left, and barring a blown dissertation or other unlikely event, I would have my degree in public policy to go along with my degree in Physics. I had no plans to use either degree for anything more than establishing my credibility within certain circles of Earth's political and scientific communities, but they were the things that got me Mom and Dad's buy-in to my plans to NOT be tied down to the McKesson Group or Obsidian Industries corporate suit-and-tie demands on anything more than a part time basis.

Slider and I were riding along the Northern Trade Road, towards the Red Flag Inn. The inn was the place on Arbor where I was best known, as I had been establishing myself there during my sporadic trips to the facet. It was in the Northeastern corner of the kingdom of Midhal. The food was always good, there was always a good selection of local wines, and even an occasional bottle of something from someplace exotic.

I had a nice fat Springhorn, dressed and bled out strapped over the back of my saddle. A gift of fresh game was something I always tried to bring with me. The innkeeper, Trough Farelly, always appreciated it, and I never asked for anything in return, paying full price for my room and meals while I was there. I did usually get generous portions when eating the game I'd brought in though.

As Slider and I approached the front of the inn at a slow trot, I saw Speck, the stable boy come running out. As with most of the working class young of Arbor, he was quick to recognize a repeat visitor who tipped well.

"Good morning Speck!" I said, as I let Slider come to a stop. I slid out of the saddle and onto the ground beside him. Spec was short and thin, but not undernourished. He was well fed, he was just a wiry boy, eleven or twelve years old. His father was Brick Hellerin, the Red Flag's blacksmith.

"Welcome back to the Red Flag, Weaver!" Speck answered. Weaver was the name I'd been given, based on the softness of the cloth my riding cloak and other clothing was made of.

I untied the knots holding the Springhorn to Slider's back, and hoisted it over my shoulder. I headed for the back of the inn and the butchery. I turned my head to look back over my shoulder at Speck and Slider.

"Slider, you be good for Speck now." Slider offered a snort in acknowledgment. "Speck, your tip is in your pocket."

The butchery in the back of the Red Flag was a thick-walled building, built half in and half out of the hill rising behind the inn. Its entry was a small room with a thick curtain made of three layers of heavy, thick-haired hides from the black plains oxen at each end. I dropped the Springhorn onto the counter that ran the length of one wall, and passed through the interior hide curtains, hollering for Block Harnish, the butcher.

"Harnish! Fresh meat at your door, where are you?" It didn't look like the old Brude was in the butchery, so I sent my senses towards the inn itself, were I found her helping Knifehand Burga the cook wrestle a large Green Buck haunch onto the spit of the main cooking fire. I quickly pulled my senses back. It's not always a wise idea to leave yourself extended on Arbor. I went back out to the entry, grabbed the Springhorn, and left it hanging on a hook just inside the inner curtain, then headed for the kitchen door.

I met the butcher coming out the back door as I was going in.

"Weaver! She rumbled in her rough voice. "Did you just get in? What have you brought me?"

I endured the rough thumping of her massive hands on my back, and once the world stopped shaking, answered.

"Hello yourself Block! I brought a nice fat Spring Horn, Prime and well fattened by a season of feeding on sweet summer grasses." I patted her on the back in return, with considerably less force. "I hung it on a hook just inside the inner door."

"Thank you Weaver, you always do the extra little things that make an old woman happy. We won't be having your Spring Horn tonight though."

"A nice thick slice of Green Buck, with some of Burga's Red Leaf gravy and a big chunk of fresh Chona bread will be good enough for me."

"Weaver! You and your tricks. How did you know we were having Green Buck?"

"Block I'm always telling you I"m the worlds most powerful wizard, and you never believe me!"

Burga must've heard the commotion through the kitchen door, because just then he popped his head through the open door.

"What's the ruckus out here?" He said with a roar. "Oh, Weaver! Its you is it, and with fresh meat for us I assume?"

Before I could answer, he grabbed the collar of my riding cloak and yanked me through the door, yelling as he did. "Lets get you inside, and let the old She-Ox get back to her work, and to whatever choice bit of game you've brought me."

Once inside the kitchen, I got rushed through to the common house, which is what the public part of the inn was called. This was where the guests and visitors came for their meals or to sit and drink.

Because the Red Flag was almost exactly halfway between Pipertown and Old Reddech, which was once the seat of the local government, before the neighboring Lord Esterhal's father decided to rearrange the local political landscape almost a hundred years back, the common room was also a frequent meeting place for merchants, soldiers, diplomats, priests, prostitutes and thieves. It was a good place to sit and soak up that 'Arborian flavor' I was interested in.

Burga handed me off to Sunrise Swoda, Trough's oldest daughter, who was currently heavy with child, her third. Her husband Spider Swoda was the bartender and 'guardian of the grape' at the Red Flag.

The Arborians really did take their wine very seriously, and those who served it were considered cultural torch bearers in a way.

"Sit here, in your corner Weaver, and I'll have Rose bring you a nice glass of the Kirellian MonkHeart, okay?"

I nodded and smiled, knowing that Sunrise was still trying to get me interested in her little sister Rose, who was probably ten years my elder, attractive in a bosomy sort of way, and utterly and inescapably shallow, mean-spirited and vain. Fortunately, she was also relatively bright, and although Sunrise had not realized it, Rose herself was fully aware of my lack of interest.

The wine came, and I thanked Rose with my usual smile, which always threw her off. She didn't expect kindness and civility from the men who she saw as rejected suitors.

The common room was sparsely filled at this time of day. The midday meal would shortly draw a crowd, but the biggest crowds would be here for the evening meal. I was here today in particular because I expected Lord Esterhal's Wizard and his party to be stopping here this evening, and I wanted to arrange a meeting. If I was going to try building in the area, it was the King and his Wizard I would have to deal with eventually.

Trough spotted me eventually, or Sunshine let him know I had returned, and he stopped by for a brief visit.

"Weaver, welcome back. How long will you be with us this time?"

"Just overnight, Trough. I'm hoping to see someone here tonight, just long enough to make arrangements for another meeting at a later date."

"I hear you brought us a nice plump Spring Horn for tomorrow's dinner. Where did you find it?"

"Nice try, Trough!" I said with a laugh. "You know I'm not going to give you any hints about what part of the area I've been scouting."

"An innkeeper must always try Weaver. We are supposed to be founts of local information after all."

"Is Thistle playing tonight?" I asked. The musician was the original reason I came to the Red Flag, having heard of him from travelers on the road.

"Yes, although he will have to play my old Cuesta, rather than his own. He broke a string plate last night, and won't be able to get it fixed until we can send for old Sienna the woodsmith."

"If he's willing, ask him to bring it by. I have certain ... skills when it comes to repairing things."

"You always seem to surprise those you know with your ... skills." Trough amplified the hesitation I had used with the word. "When you tell Block you are the world's most powerful wizard, I sometimes am tempted to believe you."

I flashed Trough my best smile, and tossed out another laugh.

"Ahh, if I could only get Block to come that close to believing, I would consider my mission accomplished."