Alessia’s New Friend

With a tray of her mother’s lasagne in her hands Alessia walked through Cagliostro to the home of the new guy in town. The painted houses of the town were known worldwide for their beauty, a rustic remembrance of Italian coastal villages on Origin.

People hadn’t been kind to the new guy. They were suspicious people. When she thought about what children at school has said about the blind man she was almost ashamed of her town. She had to remind herself that it had welcomed Abdul after his flight from genocide.

The people of Cagliostro knew all about murderous prejudice. Alessia’s people had been slaughtered for practicing magic. By necessity they had developed a martial society which feared outsiders. Her father was one of the Militia el Magi who mostly upheld the law. They also defended the planets of Cauldron and Faia from incursions of white clad soldiers who called themselves Witch Finders.

The new paint on the wooden panels of Abdul’s house almost hid the ignorant graf which had been scrawled across his home. The steps creaked beneath her black shoes. Alessia knocked on the front door and waited.

Abdul told her to wait a minute. She ran a finger over the new paint on the old flaking paint on the half rotten wooden door. The thump of footsteps on creaking floorboards told her he was at the other end of the house. She made a face of disgust looking at black mold between the wooden panels of the door. Though it had been cleaned and polish there were still hints of rust on the door handle.

“Hello Alessia, how are you?” asked the neg guy in town before he even reached the door.

“How did you know it was me?” she asked. Had he recognised the sound of her footsteps on the way there? Was there something distinctive about the sound of her breathing?

“You’ve knocked on my door before. I know the pattern and the strength of the knock.”

Abdul opened the door and as usual Alessia’s eyes were drawn to his blank eyes. As if he knew he smiled. He did know. Being blind wasn’t an exact description of Abdul. His eyes saw no more than hers in perfect darkness but being a magi had given him a sense to replace sight.

Abdul saw magic. He’d explained it before but she always had more questions.

“That smells good. Lasagne?” he asked, smiling. He had good white teeth, not perfectly straight but how many people did? He was handsome she’d say. His smile was cheeky. You could tell he had a good sense of humour when he smiled.

“Yes. My mother made it.” Alessia stepped into the house as he stepped back to let her in. He wore a casual tan shirt which was definitely second hand and black trousers for a bigger man with a brown leather belt which had seen better days.

She followed him to the kitchen which still looked hazardous despite the attempts to clean it. The house had been abandoned by the previous residents of Cagliostro, before the magi had renamed it. The world had not been theirs for more than a generation.

Theirs was a world of immigrants. Abdul was just the latest to a world for those fleeing hatred on the many other worlds colonised by humanity. Children born on the two worlds of their people seemed to consider themselves better than those who came seeking refuge.

Adbul’s chairs were the nicest part of the house that she’d seen. He tapped everything with his hands on the way past as if he was checking it hadn’t moved.

He went to a drawer and pulled out cutlery then two plates from a cabinet which looked squint on the hinges.

She watched him handling the plates and the cutlery in a tentative way. He moved with a caution which was almost imperceptible. He was as quick as most when navigating a space but she saw pauses to asses surroundings that were not needed by those who saw the world with eyes.

He knew why she was there. As he plated up the lasagne he smirked as if he was laughing at something she hadn’t said.

“Seeing magic isn’t the same as seeing. As I said before it’s very hard to explain to people who expecting colourful descriptions. I’ve never seen colours though.” He pushed a plate of lasagne towards her. His tanned skin looked darker in the dingy light of the yellow glowing kitchen lights.

“I’m told everything has a colour, that must be nice. Almost everything has some magic but it’s not the same. Living things have more magic than inanimate objects. Dead things that were alive fall somewhere in between depending on how fresh they are. Fun fact. I can tell how fresh meat is from the aura of magic around it.” He looked at her as if asking permission to dig into the lasagne. She nodded.

“People have more magical aura than anything. To use a sighted metaphor, you glow.” Alessia blushed. She hoped it didn’t affect her aura but his twinge of a renewed smile said that it did.

He took a bite of the warm lasagne on a worn out fork and threw his head back. He made a deep noise of pleasure.

“Damn that’s good lasagne. Please thank your mother for me.” He took another bite. “So like I was saying, magic varies in intensity and if you get used to thinking you’ll see something based on the magic you can bump into mundane things which have almost no magic to them. Old kitchen chairs for example. If I see people for long enough chairs become almost invisible because of the contrast. Different types of magic seem to have their own colour.”

“Magic does have colour. There’s a scale. We get taught about it at school. High magic has colours anyway. The low magic doesn’t have colour but we don’t learn about that so much because it’s weaker, generally.”

Wanting to show off Alessia summoned an orb of electrical energy. She couldn’t help smiling as the glow lit them up. For the first time Abdul was looking at it as she was, as if he could see. She tried to imagine what it would be like to barely see anything but her and the magic in this kitchen.

She could only hold the magic for a while. It took practice to go for longer. When she let go of the magic the yellow orb dissipated. It always left her sad to let go of the magic, as if she’d let something die.

Abdul told her she was very lucky. He had never been trained to use magic. Though it helped him navi the world he could not cast it. He was jealous. She hadn’t expected that. It made sense to her though. To summon and control magic was one of the most incredible experiences in her life. It was addictive. Not to be able to, that was a cruel thought. He should have been taught.

”I can teach you,” she said without thinking. Why had she said that? “I don’t know much but I can try to help.”

He smiled a smile which wasn’t mischievous or cynical in the least. It was all gratitude. He held out his hand.

“Deal.”