Inyanga's Star and Other Constellations

II.v When Inyanga Gets In

So, Inyanga wrote in the air with her glass gnomon. I guess we just wait the hour for the mute spell to end, and then I'll go back into the library to ask.

The courtyard beneath the levitating lecture hall began to come to life around this hour on a dies Solis. Students came out of the sun to study under al-Maysan, where there was light to read by with backs against giant floralwoods or the walls of the hedgemaze. Out of respect for the quiet, any who weren't studying talked low. Inyanga kept tapping her ears to check if she were deaf, but that was no help; her hands made no sound tapping.

She clapped, and no sound waves reverberated. Nothing. No matter what she did.

A few students were running along trying to make a model of a skyscraper levitate. Streams of white stellar energy came out of their gnomons like kite strings, and it seemed as if the girls thought that by running they could pull it up off the ground like a kite catching wind. Stubbornly, the model skyscraper stayed put.

Inyanga's starfire animated kimono swirled around her hips, though, and she wondered if it was bad aim or someone trying to catch sight of her thighs.

"Sorry!" called Mingxia, a chubby, pretty girl with long satin hair, as she ran past. As if she had been aiming for the building.

Inyanga didn't know whether to blush or scowl, yet hearing a word out loud — even just one — felt good on her ears. Not being able to reply verbally felt less good. Inyanga gave a 'no worries' wave that lost its enthusiasm halfway up, but Mingxia wasn't looking back anyways.

And Storm looked defeated out here with her sound muted. She kept hitting her ears, too, as if she were trying to get water out of them, and she had never replied to Inyanga's message.

Inyanga got in front of her and sent more words. You said this secret taboo had something to do with how magic works, right? A big part of the 'economy of magic?' And it came up when I asked Maestra Alondra whether magic can run out. Wow, this will be some revelation. I never told you this, because we weren't friends, (Storm stuck out her tongue, hands on hips already in place, and Inyanga gave a chillingly mute laugh) but before I came to magicians college, I promised my parens I would find out how magic works and if it can run out. My umama gets really worried when the reporters talk about it running out, like it will be the end of times. Buildings will fall down on top of us, water will stop coming from the pipes, the elderly immortals will age and die, and the weather systems we have controlled through modification spells will be unleashed to sweep us up in floods, tsunamis, tempests and tornados.

She finished and expected Storm's reply, but Storm's eyes were still tracing back and forth across the wall of text Inyanga had composed. The long paragraph had poured right out. She tapped her foot while she waited for Storm to catch up.

When she did, Storm was shaking her levitating curls again. You won't be able to tell your parens. The taboo.

Inyanga shook her head right back. No way am I following that rule. Nothing I have ever learned has supported the hypothesis that magic could run out. Now, if the secret taboo happens to reveal the data set I'm missing, and I turn out to be wrong, I guess I'll hold my tongue. The irony of that phrase written while she literally couldn't speak amused her, giving her lips an involuntary smile. But if I'm right, I'm going to tell my family. I'll tell the whole stars damn world, because—

"INYANGA! Inyanga!" Amafu's shout was like a bomb blast in the quiet courtyard. "Out of detention early?" Her running shoes echoed. Loud voices sounded so strange in their muted existence, and a few heads looked up from textbooks, frowned, and shook.

Storm started to write something back: You can't though. The taboo. You won't be able to tell—

Amafu ran up and into Inyanga's arms, braids whipping around them both. Inyanga's kimono swirled around her friend, wrapping them both up. "Why didn't you commlink me?" Her voice rang out so loud to the two muted girls, and they couldn't speak back, and she paid no attention to their gasping mouths. "I'm so hungry. We can eat early, why do I even wait for you for lunch? Guess it just shows how much I love you. Oh, hey Storm."

Storm wrote, Hello, Amafu, in airweave. The hand that wasn't waving the glass gnomon like a baton was back on her hip.

"Why aren't you speaking? Why are you writing airweave captions?" Amafu looked back and forth from one girl to the other.

If Inyanga could have growled her words, she would have. Instead, she inserted some swears into her dialogue: The stars fucking damn librarian just put us under a stars damn mute spell for a stars fucking damn hour.

Seeing the words there shocked her a little, until all three girls burst out laughing. Storm and Inyanga's laughs were silent, silent, silent. Grrr, wrote Storm, and they laughed again.

"I just knew you two would become friends through detention. Predictable!" said Amafu. "So. Lunch? The caffe has arepas today!"

Might as well, what else are we doing? wrote Storm.

Inyanga wrote back: Wait, hold on. You were saying something. And I want to march straight back into the library the second I get my voice back and demand to be told the taboo. Unless one of you wants to just tell me! Amafu, maybe you could bring us arepas out here.

"Hold on yourself," said Amafu, out loud. "Why are you talking about the taboo—"

Storm put her hand over Amafu's mouth, the only way to interrupt her, and Amafu made an exasperated squeal. Facing Inyanga, directing her words to her, with her free hand she wrote, Listen, friend, and she let go of Amafu and kept writing, We can't talk about it. We can't talk about it. We can't talk about it.

The words kept on coming in the bright afternoon mid air.

I can't talk about it, Amafu can't talk about it, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?

Inyanga clearly didn't, and made no reply in any way.

Storm added: I can't even say more than that. I can't even say why, and I'm actually trying to, and I'm amazed I can say that. I can talk about the fact that I can't talk about it, but I can't talk about why I can't talk about it. Put the pieces together, starfire brains. When you learn it . . . You Won't Be Able To Tell The World.

I'm actually trying to. Inyanga's eyes went over and over that phrase again. And then, ‌You Won't Be Able To Tell The World. Understanding slowly, slowly dawned.

It wasn't that Storm chose to obey the secret taboo rule. Storm couldn't say the taboo. Storm, Amafu . . . every single magician in the college . . . maybe every magician in the world . . . was under a taboo spell.

Amafu, wrote Inyanga, would you mind bringing us some arepas? We have some thinking to do. No time to go to the caffe.

Thank you for reading Inyanga's star in Constellations, please give a star if you enjoyed reading it.