Ask about the others in the Resistence

Not knowing whether to be impressed at the show of magic or irritated at the loss of his sandwich, Xabar instead reaches over and reclaims his food from Blake’s hand.

“Nice Levitation Spell,” he says, grudgingly. “Never could get the hang of that one. Last time I tried it, Hager’s underwear ended up flying from the school’s flagpole. It wouldn’t have been such a big deal if he wasn’t still wearing them.”

“And you’ll notice the peculiar absence of the sound of soldiers’ feet running to take me into custody,” said Blake, holding his hand to his ear.

“So how many of you are there in the Resistence?”

“I dislike that term - ‘The Resistence.’ For one thing it makes us sound a lot more organized and monolithic than we truly are. There are Resistence factions all over the kingdom, all operating without any central leadership and without any unified strategy. It also makes us sound like we are the ones resisting things, when, in reality, it is the Establishment that resists the natural order of the world by suppressing that which is only proper.”

“So what do you call yourselves? The ‘Free Use Of Culture, Knowledge, Magic and Education Club’? You could go by the abbreviation and call yourselves the ‘F.U.C.K. M.E. Club.’ That should sell a few t-shirts.”

Blake smiled wryly and said, “My particular faction calls itself ‘the family.’ There are just a few of us, and we don’t stay in one place for very long. It’s easier to avoid detection that way.”

“‘The family’? It sounds like a bunch of Italians, dressed in business suits, dividing their time between running and attaching concrete shoes to their enemies,” says Xabar. “Is your leader a fat, old guy who speaks in a whisper and sheds a tear before handing his enemies over to ‘Vinnie the Barber’ for a haircut and shave down to his ankles?”

“If you tried to come up with the most opposite description of our leader, you couldn’t have done better,” says Blake. “But I don’t want to give you too many details about that until I know whether you are in.”

“Are all of the family Häzadertroth’s rejects?” asks Xabar. “I didn’t realize I was joining such a large fraternity.”

“There aren’t very many who have been expelled from Häzadertroth’s Academy,” says Blake. “That’s why finding you is so fortuitous. Most who leave Häzadertroth’s do so early on when it becomes clear they have little hope of mastering any useful skills. To get someone such as you or me, who have already learned the finer points of magic, is a rare thing.”

“So where do the others get magical abilities? You’re not going to tell me the family’s notion of a master wizard is a guy who can make rude noises when someone pulls his finger, are you?”

“Magical knowledge is not as hard to come by as some would think,” answers Blake. “Some have learned from wizards who have more liberal notions about such matters. Others have gained abilities through working with magical beings such as faeries, djinni, and the like. Our leader spent some time overseas and learned the ways of wizards in other lands.”

“I’m still not sure what you do, though,” said Xabar. “What are you trying to pull off?”

Blake holds up his hands. “What makes you think we have to be up to anything other than to live our lives? The world tells us we don’t measure up, and we refuse to accept the judgment of the world. I admit, our leader seems to have bigger ambitions, but as for me, I am just interested in enjoying the finer things in life, and the family allows me indulge in those things.”

“I know a non-answer when I hear it, Blake. I’m the master of them, so just give it to me straight. What is it you do?”

Blake grins. “Ok, if you must know, we specialize in acquiring rare and valuable items.”

“That sounds like you are saying the family is a ring of thieves.”

“I don’t like the word thief....” says Blake, before being cut off by Xabar.

“And I don’t like the words venerial disease. That doesn’t mean you don’t need penicillin if you spend the night at Sonjia Jingowictz’s house.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Blake answers, “yes, I guess you could say that we specialize in a bit of thievery. We use our skills to acquire items of value, but it is for a noble cause. We are like Robin Hood — stealing from the rich and giving to the poor.”

“Who are the poor who benefit from your stealing?”

“Why, we are, of course,” says Blake, with a smile. “Charity starts at home, after all.”

“So you are offering me a job as a pickpocket?”

“Nah... I just pickpocket for fun. We focus on the big payoffs — stealing the things that everyone thinks can never be stolen.”

Xabar sits up and looks sharply at Blake. “Wait a minute! You said you have only been in town a few days.... You were behind the break-in at the bank, weren’t you? I heard the thieves cleared the whole place out and didn’t so much as break a single window!”

Blake shrugs and says, “There is no proof connecting us to that crime, whatsoever.”

Xabar studied the man. “When Alice Cörperson got pregnant in the tenth grade and gave birth to twins, they couldn’t prove who the father was, but everyone knew there was one around somewhere.”

Blake laughs and says, “I think I have said all I can for now. To tell you more without a commitment to join us would jeopardize you and the family. What do you say? Will you join us?”

Before Xabar can answer, they hear the sound of approaching steps, followed by the opening of the apartment door. Glynda enters, looking tired, yet eager. She stops in her tracks when she sees Blake.

“Oh, Xabar! I didn’t realize you had a guest,” she says. “I was finally able to get away from work.”

Blake looks her over and then asks Xabar, “Another friend of the Viscount?”

Xabar dismisses his suggestion with a wave and introduces Glynda to Blake. “Glynda and her mother have been kind enough to let me stay here for a few days,” he explains.

Looking at the clock, he is surprised. His conversation with Blake took much longer than he thought, and it is now closing time for the tavern below. Blake also looks at the clock and says, “It is late, and I must get home to —“ He stops and looks at Glynda before saying, “the family.”

Xabar rises to walk Blake to the door. In a lowered voice, for Xabar’s ears only, he asks, “What do you say? Will you come with me and meet the family?”

Xabar looks over his shoulder at Glynda, whose longing eyes tell him that despite her long day, she has reserves more than enough strength to finally give him a proper greeting.

As if reading his thoughts, Blake said, “And don’t forget a certain fiancée of yours is waiting, eager to cure the rest of your amnesia and to begin picking out the wedding invitations. I hope you can operate on little sleep.”

Xabar considered this. “It would be morally incorrect for me to stand up either of these ladies. Perhaps we can meet up tomorrow?”

Blake frowns. “I don’t know. As you said, that bank heist — whoever is responsible for it — has really got the authorities perplexed, and they are really applying the heat. We’re going to be leaving these parts soon. I’m not sure we’ll be here tomorrow.”