Chapter 32
Shadow spit…My fingers were phasing again, and I pushed them into the hard oak floor of the lower auditorium until they were solid once more.
“So,” I said brightly, my voice echoing on the grotto’s dark ceiling.
“Since there is no absolute way to ascertain if a shadow is a city shadow familiar with humans, or a desert shadow stumbling in with no previous awareness, let me hear a few options on how to handle the situation when one appears.”
The students all looked at the spot of sun behind me, or the far walls lost in shadow, or even the podium standing unused behind me since I was sitting on the edge of the stage, feet dangling.
There were only five, and all of them were considerably older than me, transfers from out of state lured by the chance to be a Spinner at the end of the course.
It had taken a good two weeks and some help on Pluck’s part to convince them I knew what I was talking about.
That I hadn’t been able to convince even one person from my local sweepers’ guild to take my class was kind of a disappointment.
Perhaps I should have kept it upstairs, I mused as I waited for someone to speak up.
Seriously, though. It wasn’t that bad in the grotto, the temp pleasant despite the room having no air-conditioning and being open to the air.
The seats had been professionally cleaned and the lights in the stairwell replaced.
I had made sure that class time would be when the sun was at its highest so the sun coming in the well would be enough to read by.
I’d reluctantly accepted the university’s offer to teach when I realized I had no paycheck—even if it was an obvious bribe to not file charges against them for wrongful prosecution.
But the memory of the ceiling collapsing on St. Unoc’s graduating class was too new, and it was only incoming students who would take the risk. Even the lure of gaining a moldavite stone tuned by Pluck and a rise to Spinner status at the end of term wasn’t enough.
It’s not the room, it’s the resident occupants, Pluck fizzed, and I sent my gaze to the top rows where three shadows sat in their graduating-rez skins, listening. The shadow lounged at my hip as a large dog, his smooth skin sparking where motes of dust landed.
They are being quiet, I thought back. Honestly, that the resident shadows might take an interest was most of the reason I had asked for the room. That, and it felt good down here.
I sighed when it became obvious that no one was going to say anything.
They wanted me to spoon-feed it to them, and I pointedly cleared my throat.
“The intention of this class is not to teach you a method of shadow interaction but to increase your awareness of shadows’ limits, threats, and possibilities.
They are individuals with histories far more complex than we can guess at, histories that impact their actions as much as any battle trauma or personal tragedy affects us.
Giving you a three-step method implies they’re predictable. They aren’t. So…”
I gestured for someone to say something, glad my fingers were solid in the faint light.
“Talk to it?” someone said, his low voice holding a hint of sarcasm, and a nervous chuckle rose.
I was just glad someone had said something.
Sure, the class had been given to me to shut my mouth, but if I failed to increase attendance, they’d cancel it.
“Talking is an excellent start,” I said, and Pluck flicked an ear, sending a splat of dark matter to land by the student’s toe.
“But I’d suggest setting your sticks down between you and the shadow before initiating conversation.
It not only forms a barrier that they will likely not cross without dire need, but it indicates a willingness on your part to assume he or she means no harm. ”
“Damn,” someone whispered, and then louder, “That sounds risky.”
“It is,” I admitted, being a product of the same propaganda they were brought up on. “But chances are good that if you ‘stumble’ onto a shadow, it’s been watching you for a time and has gauged you to be a level thinker and not prone to acts born in fear.”
“Dr. Grady…”
I nodded at the woman with her hand hesitantly raised. It was an honorary title, and embarrassing, but the university had a rule that you had to have a doctorate to teach, so…
“You can’t transition from sweeper to weaver unless you are a weaver already. Why would a shadow even want to communicate with someone like me?”
“Shadows pine for human connection. That’s why they often animate rezes to facilitate communication.” Damn it, my fingers were phasing again, and I made a fist, hiding them.
You should tell them you can evaporate. They will give you a raise, Pluck fizzed, an eye rolling to the top of his head when he sensed my flash of fear.
I don’t need money. I need them to think I’m normal.
I cleared my throat, adding, “Shadows are also known to make mistakes.”
We do not. Unless it’s underestimating our weavers. Which I have done. I am a foolish yeth.
“But some,” I said, ignoring his sparking skin, “are working toward desensitizing themselves to masses of humanity in the hopes of finding weavers again. They have spent eons hiding from us, and change is as hard for them as it is for us.” Pluck’s ear twitched, and I followed his gaze to the propped-open fire door.
Someone was on the steps, and I glanced at my phone beside me.
“Ah, watching a sweeper or Spinner and then speaking to him or her is a way to start building trust and move on from their past.”
Pluck got to his feet, hindquarters rising first to stretch like a big black Lab. It’s Benedict, he fizzed in my mind, well aware that every eye was on him.
I turned my phone over to check the time.
Class was almost done. It went surprisingly fast from this side of the podium.
“Okay,” I said, and there was a general gathering of air as they recognized my mood of dismissal.
“I’m going to give out some homework for next Thursday.
” Again, my fingers phased as I thought about Benedict, and I concentrated on making them firm as Pluck told me to get over it and tell everyone.
“I want you to find a city shadow taking residence within a rez. Don’t approach him or her, but watch from a comfortable distance for ten to fifteen minutes.
I’d like a page on what you see and your thoughts on how you think the shadow is feeling.
” Because creating a pathway to empathy is more important than creating a dialogue.
The students gathered their things, clearly uncomfortable. But the lure of a Spinner stone was such that they wouldn’t complain.
“A ten-minute observation,” I said as I stuffed my phone in my pocket and pulled my long-stick closer. “One page, double-spaced. It won’t kill you.”
“The shadow might,” someone muttered, and I glanced at the fire door when Benedict came in. My pulse fluttered. “What if it tries to talk to me?” my student finished, and I tore my eyes from Benedict, hoping they couldn’t tell how besotted I was. Gaaaawd…
“Then explain who you are,” I said, and Benedict rocked to a halt beside the stage, waiting. “That you’re part of my class, and invite him or her to join us next Thursday. Chances are good that he or she is looking for an invite.”
“Why does a Spinner need to know about shadows?” someone whispered, and my expression blanked.
“You want a Spinner stone?” I barked. “You aren’t getting one until you convince me that you understand and can work with shadow.
You don’t have to trust them. You don’t even have to like them.
But you will understand them, and for that, you have to lose your fear.
I’m not asking you to sit next to a shadow-animated rez and buy him or her a cup of coffee.
Stay within your comfort zone. At least twenty feet.
Are we good? Yes? See you all on Thursday. ”
No one said anything, heads down and grimacing as they filed out, passing Benedict with hardly a glance. Even the shadows auditing the class had left, their rezes beginning to shriek as they lived out their last few seconds of life over and over until they dissipated and vanished.
Amusement fizzed through me as Pluck made an eerie, slow-motion leap to the floor. Damn it, Benedict was laughing at me, and I slid from the stage when the last student scuffed up the stairs.
“I don’t want to hear it,” I grumped as Benedict came closer, his smile becoming decidedly fond and loving. “They wouldn’t even be here if they didn’t want a stone. Not one of them is anywhere near to earning it. Greed, Benedict. That’s all it is.”
Pluck flicked an ear, phasing out completely to re-form as a person in one of the vacated chairs. “Give them time,” the shadow said. “You’re dangling magic in front of them and telling them they have to work for it instead of it being their birthright.”
Benedict shifted nervously as he watched Pluck, but it was obvious he felt honored that the shadow had taken a human form.
“Hi, Pluck,” Benedict said, and Pluck nodded, one knee crossed over the other. Benedict hesitated, then added to me, “I think a little tough love is the only way to get through to them. I like watching you teach. You’re a badass.”
“I don’t feel like a badass,” I grumbled, and his arms went around me. They were warm and comfortable, reassuring me that I hadn’t made a mistake accepting the university’s offer to teach instead of demanding the apology that I deserved.
“So, week three, and you’ve got them talking to a wild shadow? On their own?” Benedict rocked back, and I felt the loss of his warmth. “Isn’t that risky?”