Hercules, she recited to herself, setting the suitcases on the ground to give herself a couple seconds to catch her breath, or Taurus to make me stronger. Antlia to lessen the weight. Gemini to share the load. Microscopium to shrink them, or Sculptor to change their shape and distribute the weight better. Her father would sometimes test her in the same way; proposing a problem and having her list off various spells to solve it. When he wasn't around, she continued the game; for the most part because she didn't want to fall out of practice and disappoint him when he got back, but a part of her did enjoy it.
“It doesn't matter if you have the Pact or not yet,” her father said, “this is to get you used to thinking quickly and instinctively about the right spell for the job. In theory, you'll make more Pacts eventually,” he drew the word out condescendingly, and Miranda lowered her eyes, “and when you're in a situation where you don't have time to think – only do – you'll thank me for the practice.”
With the suitcases resting on the floor, her hands were free to fish the slip of paper with her new room number scribbled on it out of her back pocket. 314A. She walked a few steps down the hall until she could see the number on the first door: 301. She sighed, and returned to her bags.
Miranda dragged her fork through the mashed potatoes in front of her, creating a complex interconnected network of hills and valleys spanning the north half of her plate.
“So,” she started, trying to sound casual, “I know that we don't live that far from school, but I was wondering if I could stay there: in the dorms?”
Marie slowly put her fork down, folded her hands together and examined her daughter from across the table. “Was this your father's idea, or yours?” she asked slowly, choosing her words carefully.
Miranda fidgeted, uncomfortable. “No, mum, it was my idea. Well, actually, that's not right," she corrected herself. "I was just chatting with some of the kids I met. At the new school. One of them mentioned that you kind of miss out on the private school experience if you commute, and another invited me to be roomies.”
Marie noticeably relaxed.”In that case, I have no problem with it.” She even smiled. “Less than a week in, and you're already making friends. I told you it wouldn't be so bad.”
Miranda smiled back at her mother: for a moment, she'd thought the answer was going to be no.
As she trudged down the seemingly endless hallway, Miranda spared a fond glance for the case in her right hand, as if she could see through the material and lining to the precious contents.
“Now Miranda, watch carefully. You'll do this for yourself eventually, but until then this will have to do.”
Miranda was excited. It had only been a couple weeks since her father – Robert Collins, Master Warlock – had told her about his abilities, and by extension, her own. Any working of magic had her full attention.
He held his hands a foot above the table, and Miranda could see the Star Dust start to gather. “
!” he commanded, and the Dust came together, taking shape quickly. For a second, Miranda could see an object made out of pure starlight glowing between her father's fingers, then the leftover Star Dust scattered like confetti and fell twinkling to the table where it disappeared. Laying on the table was a beautiful bronze telescope.Miranda reached out to touch it, but pulled her fingers back, looking to her father for permission. When he nodded, she carefully picked it up, examining the scroll work, and looking through the eyepiece. The bronze was intricately carved to depict the twelve signs of the zodiac, twisting around each other in graceful curves. She traced her finger along the delicate lines.
“It's beautiful,” she said.
Robert just nodded, his face unreadable. “We'll get you a stand tomorrow morning. Until then...” he reached down into his briefcase and pulled out a heavy, leather-bound book. Modyrn Astrology was written in fancy script on the cover.
“Homework.”
She hadn't brought Modyrn Astrology with her, having graduated out of that book a while ago and noticeably lacking room in her case alongside all the other texts she'd carted along with her, but the telescope – along with her astrolabe and other tools – were packed carefully in custom-cut packing foam. Her star charts and notebooks were just as carefully stowed in the other suitcase, minus the foam.
Miranda finally reached the door she was looking for, and rested the suitcases on the floor once again. She brought her hand up but paused before actually knocking.
“You're just a novice, Miranda,” Robert said, “so I don't expect much from you. But still, you've made four Pacts so far, and none of them are complete. Even Pyxis.
I mean, the Archer I can see, but a complete Pact with Pyxis and Sagitta should have been well within your abilities at this point. And there's no reason you should have failed to get a Pact with Scutum.”
Miranda looked at her shoes, the tiled floor, the baseboard; anything except her father's disappointed face. He wasn't yelling – he wasn't the kind of person who did in her experience – but his steady monotone was worse.
She hated disappointing him. She thought she was trying as hard as she could, but she always seemed to fall short.
Miranda clenched her fist – digging her nails into her palm – inches from the door. A mote of Star Dust lazily floated across her vision, passing through her hand. Sure, I can look flashy, she thought to herself, but I've barely managed the most basic Pacts. The kids here have been nice so far, but their abilities are so far beyond mine: would they still want to associate with me if they knew how much of a failure...
She shook her head and knocked at the door quickly, before she continued along that train of thought and changed her mind.