Among the Deranged

Chapter 3: Among the Deranged

A small voice calls out, “Capella? Is that you?”

I turn quickly, hiding my wands. What’s the sense of that, I wonder, since I am wearing this robe that announces my Wizard status to the whole universe? Still, since hiding the wands saved me before, the action has now become instinct.

The person behind the voice has deep brown hair, a wide stature, and a foothill of a nose leading down to the mountainous mouth below.

She and I are bent over our technoscopes, staring down at the scene below. An unusual array of plant molecules dance slowly. They almost seem to shimmer. I look at her in wonder and ask: “Do yours seem to be… dancing?” She looks back at me, amusement and amazement sparkling in her deep green eyes.

I laugh at this: I’ve failed the two standard Magic Tests to which the Wizardry subjects every member of the Military. I still have one left—coming up rather soon, actually—but there have only been a handful of wizards identified at age 18.

“Marinelle?”

“It is you, Capella!” She pauses briefly, lips moving wordlessly. I’m pulled back into my surroundings: this planet—this overabundant, easy planet—and I realize the significance of finding her here.

I lower my voice, dismayed by what I’m about to ask.

“Are you a Deranged?”

She shakes her head violently. “No, no, no! I’m fine. There was some sort of misunderstanding—I had some trouble, you see, after you left our project—I don’t remember it, but it was supposedly really terrible—I mean, seeing plants vibrating? Whose perspective wouldn’t change after that?” She catches her breath and continues on: “But now I’m fine. Really. Fine.”

She pauses in her defense and looks at me, at what I’m wearing.

“You’re a wizard! Ha, I knew it! So that’s why you left our project! No wonder! So, come on, tell me all about it!” Her face is flushed, and I wonder if she realizes she needs to breathe once in a while.

“Yup, I’m a Wizard. Or was: they don’t count me as one of theirs any longer.”

Marinelle looks at me, remembers where we are, and gasps.

“Don’t tell me you’re a Deranged!”

“No, but—”

“I mean, if I’m not a Deranged and I’m here, then maybe you’re not a Deranged, either! But then, how did you get here? Maybe there was a misunderstanding—maybe—”

“Marinelle!” I interrupt, putting as much force and authority in my voice as I can muster. “Do you always blabber like this now?”

“Well, no, I mean, sometimes, yes, but I can stop. I’ll be quiet now.”

“Uh huh.”

“No, really! I can! It’s just—” Her voice stops, but her lips continue moving, a constant stream of soundless words leaking out of them like juice from the fruit we’re standing on. But at least for the moment, she’s quiet.

“They were going to have me drained, Nelle. They—all of them, not just the Wizardry!—are too caught up in their own damn factions. They don’t see the limits they inflict on themselves in the name of purity, and I—”

“Drained! For what?” Her eyes narrow at me suspiciously, and then she starts giggling. “Nah, you’re no killer! I can’t imagine you doing anything worthy of being DRAINED! You’re kidding!”

Her incessant chatter is starting to wear on me, but I suppose I’ve got to put up with it. At the very least, she doesn’t seem to be delusional… just… hyper. And finding a friend here, among the Deranged, is a great stroke of luck.

“I didn’t kill anyone, Nelle. As I was trying to say, the Wizardry and the Military are too caught up in their own philosophies. I’m not. And what I was doing—well, when the Wizardry found out, they considered it treason.”

She nods slowly, but the confusion spread across her face betrays her. She has no idea what I’m talking about. I’m not terribly surprised: Marinelle has no concept of the philosophies that rule the Military and the Wizardry, as she has never changed from one to the other. I’m not sure whether telling her the whole story now would be prudent: it’s starting to get dark and I am still not entirely convinced of her mental stability.

Still, it is a good sign that she’s been quiet this whole time.

“Where do you live here? Can you show me a place where I could stay for a while?” I don’t particularly want to stay here, but I’ve no choice. There’s no way, technological or magical, off this planet that I can see... And besides, where else could I go?

Seriousness quiets her earlier exuberance as she answers, “You’re welcome to stay with me, but be careful about who else you talk to here. Some of them are okay, but there are real Deranged here.”

She motions for me to follow her, and we begin walking northwest, towards the edge of the continent.

As we walk, we fill the time with the most meaningless banter we can think of. I suspect she’s as uncertain of me as I am of her. We used to be so close, partners for so many years, but it’s been years now since we last saw each other. And during those years, I became a wizard, and she got shipped off to live with the Deranged. Who knows what else might have changed?

Suddenly, she stops walking and crouches down. Long-forgotten military instincts snap back into place as I follow her lead.

Leaning over to me, she whispers, “The camp of the Deranged is just half a mile north of us. Sometimes they come this far south. Don’t ever let them see you walking to or from my home. I don’t want them to know where I live.”

I nod, wondering if it’s safe to stand yet. She searches the dim shadows, presumably for any wandering Deranged. After a few moments, she quietly stands and we continue walking.

In a matter of minutes, we reach her home: an elaborate log cabin with leaves serving as thatching. (The leaves are hard to make out in the dusk, but they seem to have been taken from the fruit trees we passed.) I follow her inside to a room with a bed made of those same leaves.

“It’s not as uncomfortable as it looks,” she says when she sees me looking at the bed skeptically.

For now, it will do, but I don’t intend to spend any more time here on this planet than I need to. The two of us fall onto the bed together: her, presumably tired from whatever it was she did all day, and me, exhausted from the intense magic use and the long trek through the forest on forgotten muscles. She says good night and quickly falls asleep, but I’m tormented for a while by my predicament. The phoenix led me here for a reason—I do need a place to hide for a while—but how can I stay here forever? With no magic, no technology, how can I—forgive me for saying this here—stay sane?

But those are worries for tomorrow.