The Third Law of Magic

The week between Christmas and New Year is always a good one for me, in writing terms. A lot of the other things I do in life tend to quieten down, and that gives me time to think, and to write.

So another short extract from Goblin Launderette for you today. This time we're with Em, who is returning home for the first time since she lost her father. With all that entails, both emotionally and magically.

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Late that afternoon her baggage arrived, and Em knew she would finally need to go up to the flat upstairs. She realised that she’d been dreading this moment. Dad had always kept the launderette relatively tidy and free from personal effects. There was a painting of her mother on the wall in the backroom, next to the battered old desk he’d saved from street rubbish and used for paperwork. Around it, were pinned faded scraps of paper which, if looked at closely, contained the hints of drawings Em had done for her parents when she’d been small. There was also an old father’s day card, made out of dried pasta. Em had no memory of making it, but assumed it must be her work as well. That was about it though. The back room and wash room were workspaces, after all.

Upstairs would be different. Upstairs there would be no escaping the man she had lost. Every object would be a memory. A thousand tiny grief traps waiting to be sprung. But it had to be done, and the arrival of cases presented an opportunity to break through that particular mental barrier. When Colin offered to help though, she did feel a certain amount of relief.

Together, they half carried, half dragged her large travel case up the rear stairs of the launderette. The staircase was steep and narrow. It wasn’t designed to be shown off, it was purely functional. As wide as it needed to be to grant access to the flat above, while minimising the amount of shop space lost to its presence. The white-washed walls were scuffed and chipped with the marks of every large object that had ever passed upward or downward. Some of them Em even recognised. There was the mark made when they’d brought home the blue sofa, there was the dent left when her father had dropped a box full of books down the stairs. They were a form of natural hieroglyph, telling the story of the launderette’s owners, going back for fifty years or more.

The wooden steps creaked as they slowly advanced up them, Em pulling the heavy wood and leather travel case while the goblin pushed it from below.

“Bloody hell, Em.” Colin complained, only half in jest. “Did you bring the entire university library back with you?”

“It’s not that heavy, Colin.” Em tossed back. “You’re just getting old.”

Colin snorted, and they redoubled their efforts until they eventually reached the narrow landing at the top. There, with one hand still on the travel case to keep it balanced, Em reached over to the door to the living quarters and pulled at the handle. It was locked.

“Oh, he must have locked it. Sorry, we never came up here to check” Colin’s voice was muffled by the travel case between them. “Do you reckon you can hold on to this? I think the key is on the rack downstairs. I’ll go and-”

“One second.” Em, said. A little voice in her head told her that this was a chance to test her new powers. On the long journey back to Gamlinberg she’d begun testing her limits as a way to distract herself. That she now had powers beyond even the most gifted of Sheet Mages was beyond question. She knew that for certain. But something else had been playing on her mind. Something her lecturer on Magic Theory had once said.

“Any sufficiently advanced magic is indistinguishable from other magics.”

He’d called it the Third Law of Magic. She didn’t remember much else from that lecture. She’d been… distracted. But those words had stuck with her for some reason and she decided now to put that law to the test. After all, she asked herself, what was the difference between rotating a misaligned duvet and rotating a lock?

Em reached out with her mind and tried to picture the lock’s mechanism. She felt the magic trickle into her and was surprised at how easy it was. She felt the lock resist being called a duvet, and dug deeper. The trickle of magic became a flood and the lock changed its mind. She spoke the right words, hoping Colin was too distracted to hear them and then…

Click.

“Wait, it’s okay.” She lied, trying to keep the sense of triumph from her voice. “I think it was just stiff.”

She pulled down the handle again and this time the door opened easily, swinging away from her. As it fell inwards with a low creak, Em gripped the travel case’s handle with both her hands again. With Colin’s renewed help, she dragged it inside.