Plan C

Artifacts of the Arcane by Jake Kerr. Season one, The Staff of Light, episode sixteen, Plan C. I alternated between trying to focus on hiding myself and making sense of how I could deal with Naomi. I would dodge a group of soldiers and then nearly run into another group, while imagining that when I wasn't annoying Naomi, I was embarrassing myself in front of her. I somehow made it to my quarters without being seen and opened the door, only to run right into Felice. Her eyes went wide. Did your meeting with Cain go okay? Well? He questioned my ability to wield the staff, and then he lit my arm on fire, which was intensely painful. Other than that, it went great. Felice nodded as if she expected my response, that's not so bad. I'm sure he won't light you on fire next time. I almost laughed, but she was serious, not so bad. The thought made me even more desperate to leave the citadel. I thankfully for her concern and made my way up the stairs to my room. I opened the door, planning on switching from the boots to my shoes and then rushing back to Naomi so we could escape. I took one step into my room and stopped cold. There was an old man sitting in the reading chair, looking over the illusion textbook. He looked up at me. Is this yours a waste of time? If you ask me? He tossed the book on the floor. He was ancient. The small amount of hair he had was white and slicked back in an attempt at style. He had gray eyes, and as they peered at me, they were the only part of him that looked young. His skin was thin and wrinkled, and he looked very frail. I couldn't even guess his age. Yet he looked regal. He wore a nice suit that somehow fit well despite his inability to fill it. The shirt was pure white, and his navy blue tie was tightly knotted and perfectly centered. I stared at him. He scowled at me. Well, don't just stand there, let me see it. He held out his hand. I'm sorry. Who are you? He obviously wasn't some soldier sent here to hold me until Cain could get his hands on the staff. On the other hand, he had the same dismissive demeanor of Cain himself. I'm plan B, he laughed, a scratchy, high pitched laugh. Plan B. I worried that perhaps the old man was insane and had wandered into my room. Yes, plan B. If Cain can't get you to follow his orders, I'm to convince you to give me the staff to wield. I stared at him. For whatever good that will do him, He scratched his head. Actually, I might be planed c Plan B is probably kin trying to use the stuff himself. The old man looked at me, and when I didn't respond, added. Fine, if you must know, I'm also the Royal gardener at Balmoral. His expression didn't change, but he opened and closed his hand in a reminder to hand him something. Did he mean the staff? Do I know you? Unfortunately not? He sat up straighter, but still didn't stand or. Perhaps Fortunately give me the staff, and I think that may clear some things up. I pulled the cane against my chest. I'm afraid I can't do that. He shook his head and nodded. Ah, yes, I expected this. He waved his finger at me. My son said the same thing after I gave it to him, and asked him a few years later if I could use the staff for some particularly difficult topiary work. He shook his head. It would have made things much easier, he sighed, the selfishness of youth. I guess he. Gave the staff to his son. My staff, my grandfather's staff. Before I could ask any questions, the old man laughed. Maybe you want to stupid is my son. You're starting to understand, now, are you not? Who are you? He laughed a bitter laugh. Maybe you are as stupid as he is. After all, I'm Joseph blacash declan Black. Your grandfather is my son. I felt my knees go weak because I knew that he was telling the truth. I saw it immediately, not just in his eyes, but the shape of his face and even his gruff demeanor, which, if I were honest, was a big part of my grandfather's personality. His smile fleeting as it was, reminded me of my father's smile. I took a step forward. You're my great grandfather. Yes, I'm also an arch mage. I've borne the staff. Blah blah blah. That's why Cain used his infernal connections to get me sent here. He thinks I'm a loyal citizen and will wheeld the staff for him. But the truth is, he leaned forward. I just came here to hold the staff one more time before I die. He held up a finger, but I did not lie. I am the King's gardener in Balmarle. He shrugged, as it were. I walked over to him, and as I approached, he held out his hand again. If I'm to be totally truthful, I also wanted to see you, my great grandson, but don't tell anyone I have a reputation for being decidedly unsentimental. He laughed. Plans. See. I held the staff up. As you wish, although one might think great grandfather would be more appropriate. He looked at the staff. Ah, still a cane. My foolish son never could figure out how to change it back. I see his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw clenched. He looked both sad and angry. I didn't move, and he added the staff boy. I handed it to him. I knew I shouldn't have, but I did. I cannot explain why, other than to say that I knew it was the right thing to do. The staff said as much to me in its arcane and unfathomable language. He held it up and it transformed into a living branch of some flowering tree. It bloomed with white flowers, and petals fell. As he pulled it close to his eyes. My great grandfather smiled and his face transformed. He breathed in deeply, his nose among the flowers. The happiness made him look years younger. He lowered the staff and it changed into a cricket bat. He looked at me. You are a young boy. Would you prefer this? I didn't answer, and he quickly added, ah. You are American, Perhaps this is better. The cricket bat transformed into a baseball bat or this. In short order, he changed the staff into a large stick, a flower, a wand, and a wooden knife. Before he could do any more, I interrupted, I prefer the cane. He frowned. Making it a cane was a joke I played on my son as a reminder of his feeble ego. The staff remained a wooden knife, and Joseph tapped it on his palm. He stared at me, and again I felt uncomfortable in his gaze. His presence was at once exciting to me, but his mannerisms and attitude were disturbing. He took joy in the staff and what it could do. But he did not seem to care about me much at all. The more I considered him, the more it bothered me that he was dismissive toward my grandfather, his own son. I prefer the cane, and you can give it back to me now. I held out my hand. He didn't say anything for a while, just stared at me. When I refused to avert my gaze, he smiled my father's smile and held up the staff to me, which without my noticing, had turned again into a cane. As I went to take it, he pulled it back. Are you not curious what my mastery of the stuff is? I'm afraid I don't understand. What do you mean mastery? Joseph shook his head. How much do you know of the staff? Boy? He hadn't offered the staff back to me, although it still held its shape as a cane. I looked at him, and all my questions, all my confusion, tumbled into my head. What did I know? What did mister Ali teach me? What did my grandfather teach me? From those few moments when he gave me the staff? The answer scared me. Nothing I knew nothing of the staff, and then it hit me. He knows. He is the only one who knows. Before I could say the words, my great grandfather pointed to the other reading chair, have a seat, Thomas. His voice was wistful, but also kind. I know too little of your situation to expect so much. My disappointment over declan should not poison my view of you. He pointed at the illusioned textbook lying on the floor, and it turned into a rectangular piece of rich dirt. Grass grew out of it and turned it into a small piece of lawn. Sit I sat down and looked at the grass. It was rich and lush and appeared real. Are you an illusionist? Joseph looked aghast, Good Lord. No, illusion is the creation of the unreal, and thus it is weak. He sneered, a useless magic. He turned and looked at me. The staff in my hands manipulates the innate bits of life that are hidden in practically everything. I didn't say anything, and he sighed. To your grandfather, the staff was wasted on me. I was little more than a gardener. He touched the tabletop, and twigs and branches grew up from the wooden surface. That's amazing. I wondered at this power of his Could he create massive treehouses? Could he make animals grow too? Could he touch the sea and fill a net with fish? If he could manipulate life? Could he also bring someone back from the dead? Could he heal injuries? There were so many things that I could imagine he could do with his power that it overwhelmed me. It is kind of you to say, but unfortunately I was ordered to give up the staff because my master was not quite as valuable as that of my son, who could destroy things. He ran his hand over his head, and it was the exact same movement I had seen my grandfather make over and over again as he tried to tame his wild hair. Is there anything you can't do with the staff? We don't have time for us to discuss the missed opportunities of my youth. Let me just state that the most powerful arch mage since the Staff was brought to Britain is sitting in this room. I thought of his words. They didn't sound like the boastful comments one would hear from a boor, nor were they filled with the bravado I heard attached to those that described my grandfather. My great grandfather could manipulate life itself. Yes, I agreed with him. That was power of a frightening magnitude. I nodded. He was the most powerful arch mage in history. You nod, but I have not finished. The second most powerful arch made since it was brought to Britain is the one that currently holds the staff. He smiled, and the cane turned into a large, intricately ruined staff. It took a moment for the words to sink in, but I can only make light, so I heard. He didn't add anything, and the silence became uncomfortable. You mentioned that the staff came to England. I thought that the staff was our family's legacy. Were we not always from England. I was thoroughly transfixed with the opportunity to learn more about the staff and our family's history. The origin of the staff has nothing to do with our family. He turned the staff back into a cane and handed it to me. Our family are thieves, he said it so matter of factly that I couldn't quite believe what I heard. During the First Crusade, one of our illustrious forefathers traveled far to the southeast and came back with a powerful magic item. How he got it is lost to history, but you can be sure it involved murder, torture, or probably both. The staff. Yes, how the fool escaped per with one of the few artifacts of the arcane left in the world is beyond me. But he did. I thought the staff was one with our family, and that only we can use it. Well, that story certainly stops people from asking embarrassing questions, so. We aren't the only ones who can use it, of course, not as he spoke. My great grandfather appeared nothing more than to be annoyed with the whole story. At this point. However, he looked me in the eye and held up a finger to underscore the point. Here is your first and only lesson about the staff. Its power is its own, not mine, not yours, not our families. Different people can use it to different effect. Thankfully, very few people can get it to do anything. Hell, it's sat on a mantle for decades. A couple hundred years ago, he shrugged. Perhaps the staff got bored with our family and hoped we'd pass it on to someone else, he laughed. Of course we didn't. But mister Ali's family is from Persia, and he said it was destined only be held by one of our family, Joseph. Another reason to be rid of that staff. That we have deluded the very people we stole the staff from through lies is a stain on our family. He waved his finger at me. I'm too old to make a difference. But know this, Thomas. If you tell Ali or his family, or anyone from Persia that the staff belongs to anyone but them, than you are party to their oppression. The history of my family and the staff, which so thrilled and inspired me just minutes before, now made me uncomfortable. I cannot believe that we stole something and then use the very thing we stole to convince those we stole it from to serve us. The idea of destroying the staff seemed to make much more sense now. I should return it to Ali's family and tell him the truth. Good God, boy, don't do that. Why does it not belong to them? Have you not been paying attention? The staff belongs to no one but itself. Better to destroy it and rid the world of one of the last pieces of magic that humans can control. Mister Ali had made this same argument, and while I vaguely understood mister Ali's point about the danger of magic. I also remembered his joy of magic working with the technology of the train. Maybe my great grandfather didn't understand this exciting future. But magic is a force for good too. Your own son used it to help defeat the Germans. And what about the great achievements of magic and technology working together. I rode here on a train that was as fast as the wind and flew across water. My great grandfather stared at me as if I were an idiot, I. Would be angry boy, but I can only pity you and your ignorance. He leaned forward, and his glare was uncomfortable. Let me ask you this, how does that majestic train run? The engineer uses magic. I did not know, but assumed it was powerful magic created by the engineer, who was some kind of transportation magician. Even as I considered the scenario in my mind, I knew it was ridiculous. The train is powered by I am married enslaved in the engine and tortured until he uses his magic to power the train and create its magic. What is a meriad? I had heard them mentioned over the past few days, but I was still unclear on what they were, and my question was the last straw. My great grandfather's temper boiled over. A married the most powerful of the magical creatures. It was enslaved by trickery, You ignorant child. Is that the magic you are proud of? Is that the magic you want to use to gain fame and power for your family? No? I threw the cane to the ground. I want none of that. Joseph held up his hand and the cane flew into it. It is the bargain you now live with here. He handed me the cane. Take this and do with it what you will. I'm too old. I'm not even a plan. See, I'm a curiosity nothing more. He stood up. Give it to Vingrosh. He could rid it from the world. Exchange it for my son if you want. I don't care. He turned away from me and took a few steps, and then paused. Cain wants the staff. He brought me here as insurance to use the staff against Hitler if he could not. I came only to hold it again and to remind myself that at least one person could use the staff to create beauty and not destruction. I have done that. I stood up as he walked to the door and ran to him, Wait goodbye, Thomas. I like to think that you'll make the right decision, but alas I don't have the energy to find out. He was at the door when I reached him. He moved slow. He was old and frail, and I could tell that he had used more energy in the past few minutes than he had in a long time. You said you were the second most powerful arch mage in history in the room, did you mean that I was the most powerful? He looked at me, and I wanted him to smile and say you are now use your power for good, but he did none of those things. He shook his head and opened the door. He walked out, then turned to me and said. How much do you know of light? Can it bend? What does its absence mean? What happens if you slow it down? I didn't understand what he was saying, and he clearly noticed. Perhaps it is best that you don't know. And with that he walked toward the stairs. While I stood in the doorframe, I watched him depart, wondering if I'd ever see him. Agains