A Fortress of Pebbles

The lowest level of the Spire of Masteries was dedicated to the Mastery of Maps, about which Orion whispered “sounds dumb” to Cassandra. This was during Tassadu’s usual speech about how the four masteries were arranged in a hierarchy with maps at the bottom. Tassadu was walking backward down the hallowed hallways, delivering his usual monologue in his usual reverent voice in spite of Orion’s disapproval, while Aissaba trailed behind.

She took a moment to actually read the biography of the Johnson twins.

Homeschooled twins from rural Montana. Father: Christian/agnostic, ex-military, mechanic, welder, prepper, firearm enthusiast, distrusts the government. Mother: New Age spiritualist, novelist, yoga instructor, crystal enthusiast, believes in the law of attraction.

After more eye-rolling and whispering between the twins, Tassadu quickened his pace, instinctively trying to get to the cool parts about the Mastery of Maps as quickly as possible. Aissaba continued reading.

Parents: hoarders of books, homeschooling anarchists. Children: avid readers, undiagnosed ADHD, highly sheltered, lacking in social skills. (Final note: Both twins must be recruited. Apocalypse risk.)

Aissaba blinked, rereading the last bit. No wonder Tassadu’s scales were so green. He was looking directly at her while he spoke to the kids, “This laboratory to my left is dedicated to earthquake prevention. The one on the right is for volcanoes. It’s the reason Yellowstone National Park hasn’t exploded.” The rooms were filled with scribes scribbling on chalkboards and typing at computers – most of them, of course, were just sitting in chairs with pebbles to their foreheads, doing what appeared to be nothing.

It probably looked pretty boring to Orion and Cassandra, but that was by design. The hands-on demonstration at the end of the hallway would be all the more impressive. Or at least, that was the plan. That was what usually happened.

Then again: apocalypse risk. What did that even mean? It had been a year since Aissaba and Tassadu had graduated and taken this part-time job, failing to be accepted into any of the Masteries and needing a way to get a steady income of pebbles to support their low key, very chill lifestyle. Never in all that time had there been a recruitment labeled “apocalypse risk.”

Tassadu’s eyes seemed to say, See? This is why you should read the biographies ahead of time. What he said aloud was, “And now that we’ve reached this big mysterious door, my friend Aissaba will lead a hands-on demonstration of what map pebbles can do.”

Aissaba placed her hand on the big mysterious door’s ornate handle dramatically and said, with well-rehearsed excitement, “Have you kids seen the Last Airbender?”

They gave her back a blank stare.

“Or Pokemon?” Aissaba tried, wondering if her knowledge of American popular culture was becoming outdated.

Cassandra said, somewhat apologetically, “Our internet blocks a lot of things.”

Aissaba, though, was a pro and went off-script: “Well, in the old days, long before any of us were born, the Fortress used to create worlds, not just protect them. If you were creating a world, like for a book or something, what’s the first thing you might do?”

She paused, leveraging the Socratic method – standard procedure since her first class at the Fortress.

Orion, rolling his eyes, said, “Well, we’re in the Hall of Maps – so the answer is kind of obvious, right?”

“That’s correct, Orion!” said Aissaba, cheeks hurting from how much effort she was putting into smiling. “You would create a map. Rivers, mountains, volcanoes, oceans, floating islands. Guess what… all of this is possible with the Mastery of Maps.”

“What about forests?” said Orion.

“That’s life, obviously,” said Cassandra, shoving him.

“I know,” said Orion. “I’m just pointing out a flaw.”

Head throbbing, Aissaba fished into a pouch and came back with a handful of map pebbles. “Would the two of you like to do some elemental magic?” To her relief, both kids eagerly took a few pebbles.