‘I
thought you would say it’s science.’
‘Playing
with souls? Unlikely. But the magic is dying, Torrullin, and not just here and
not just this magic. Soon folk will rely only on reality and be content with
the little time they are allocated…as it should be.’
‘Gods,
what happened to you? That is utter bullshit and I cannot fathom how you can
make that narrow judgement when you have been beyond the confines.’
‘Come,
Torrullin, folk like you will be dinosaurs one day soon.’
‘Come,
Lian, what is reality? The tangible, the controllable? Fate, death? The three
dimensions your senses deal in? What, then, is a sunset? Oh, nature’s
spectacle, the reality of scientific factors colliding, yes, but what does it
invoke in those who stop to experience? Do they merely accept the scientific
reality or are they moved to tears, awed, uplifted, romanced? There is not one
of the five senses there; no touch, no taste, no hearing, no smell, no
sight…no, no sight, for even in blindness can it be, and cause emotion. That is
magic. Why does a man run out into the first rains after a dry spell? Is he
checking that it is real, is he giving thanks to his deity- which is magical
also- or is he going out there to glory in the wonder of the water that is
life? He cries, he revels, he dances, he kneels. Magic, Lian. As long as there
is emotion, there is magic, for neither emotion nor imagination belong to the
world of three dimensions. Magic will not die while one sentient lives.’
She sat
back in her seat. Goosebumps climbed her skin. ‘That isn’t the magic I referred
to.’
He
dragged his chair around and sat on it back to front, arms dangling over the
backrest. ‘Where is the difference?’
‘Oh, come! What you have described is natural…’
‘Really? Then
all would experience it as part of genetic makeup. I have known men and women
who have never looked at a sunset and not because they were unable to or there
was no sun, but because they looked and did not see. They were unaffected. A
sunset is natural, but how one reacts is the magic.’
‘Granted,
but then it’s natural magic, if you will. There’s nothing supernatural in
feeling uplifted after seeing something beautiful. Hell, how long have you been
burning to say all that?’
A grin quirked
and was gone. ‘Long enough.’
She
smiled. ‘Rebuttal?’
‘You
become aware of your insignificance and you are aware what is happening around
you is bigger than you, more powerful, that it is beyond your ability to
control, touch or change. It happens despite you. That is why you are moved,
and say what you will, Lian, that is more magical than anything I can do.’
She did
not answer and looked away.
Relentless,
he continued: ‘Why do you have a painting of a forest on your wall? You, who
shouldn’t know it exists? How do you understand what I mean when I speak of a
sunset? Yes, you have seen the sunrise from the windows above, but then how do
you understand rain? Is it because you know from your past life? Of course, but
then consider Breem, the linguist. He has never left the caverns and had never
seen the view from the windows. If you were he, why do you have a likeness of a
forest on your wall or a picture of an ocean from whence a dolphin leaps out
into the sun? How do you know what it is and understand? Race memories?
Perhaps, but is that not supernatural? All of it is bigger than you and is part
of your soul and would be even in the deepest, darkest pit. It is inexplicable,
complicated and magical.’
‘You have been thinking about this.’ There was a suggestion
of tears in her eyes.
‘Gods,
Lian, are you not hearing me?’
‘I hear
you and your words begin to change me. I’m intrigued by your need to say it,
however.’
He rested
his forehead briefly upon his arms and drew breath. Then: ‘I see the magic even
in my sleep. It will not die and therefore some of us have reached for rebirth.
A magic that gives us the magic for longer. Unfortunately the pain and loss
eventually overcomes the selfishness, but that, too, I consider part of the
magic. In all things there is two, equal and opposite. And, thus, we reach for
death, the final magic where loss and love go hand-in hand and in that
understanding comes peace. I have died, Lian, and now I can no longer do so.
Magic and magic. And nobody knows just how fantastical that is.’
NETHERWORLD (vol VI)
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