My back hurts. Somehow I’ve unwrapped from the usual safe, little ball into a splayed out, open package. Little lights peck at my face, daring me to dismiss them. However, any gesture will face the full brunt of this stiff, aching pain’s threats. It never used to hurt like this after resting.

  So much has changed. How long has it been? I call up my full status.

  One more dream really did max out my entire arcane foundation. The frantic, failing attempts by that big one to open a tear were so vivid and detailed. Especially his surprised intensity on trying to make the final, failing step work. Perhaps I really have found a good teacher amongst the big ones despite my previous misgivings?

  The vaguest intuition having trickled into my mind, I reach a hand up and pinch lightly with my fingers. Concentrating hard through narrowed eyes, the space there slightly warps under the pressure I’m exerting. I twist it, pull it, push it, wiggle it, and it follows along like an obedient animal.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  My heart races with excitement. This is exactly what I’ve been waiting for. What I’ve been yearning for! However, I have no idea what to do with it.

  Tolerating the aches and pains, I force myself up and race over to my big pack, burrowing through all the junk to find my books. I pull the copies of “Introduction to magic”, “Collection tips for kids”, and “Training and athletics” all out of the bag. There’s some interesting things in this pile, but the magic intro is the only one even remotely relevant right now. However, after skimming through the remaining pages, it only yields shallow, survey level information about assorted specialties along with general foundational growth strategies. I don’t want general growth, I want this. I want it now!

  Pacing around my dirty, little room, I continue mindlessly pinching and prodding at space with my hand while lost in thought. What do I need right now? I need to steal pants and boots. My cloak, as wonderful as it’s been, is simply not enough to hide my nature from the big ones.

  Also, that thing at the guild told me to return to the pits. How? Can I walk there? That doesn’t make sense, it’s floating out far away somewhere inside a sea of nothingness. I doubt one of our gang planks will reach that far. Maybe I can create my own spacial tear to get there? That’s an exciting idea that definitely needs further exploring, but I’ve no idea where to even start. I have to develop this new song first.

  What else? I should get back to mixing, but it’s a low priority. That is, unless I find better information to guide me. I suppose that means that procuring more books is another priority? Books are always a priority. The little treasures are so much bigger and shinier on the inside than they look.

  I walk all the way to the sewage output to check if night has fallen. The sun’s almost down, so I hurry back to prepare the things that I’ll bring for this scouting trip. For certain, rid my waist of all these stupid coin pouches. Actually, I’ll just dump them all into the big pack and keep the empty pouches. One metal, or…

  A dagger? Is that what this is? Regardless, I’ll keep one on my belt. Another in the small pack for backup. Three toxic sedatives, per usual. I think that’s it. Best to travel light so as to keep as much space as possible for bringing new treasures back with me.

  Finally, I decide to leave this stupid, gigantic leather tunic I got from that pursuing song. It’s always slowing me down when worn and makes me look bizarrely mishappen under the cloak. Besides, I’ve used much of it for scrap to practice my mixings anyways. What’s left is mostly tatters.

  Throwing my cloak back over my shoulders in final preparation, I sprint to the nearest rat hole and out onto the… road? Yes, that’s what the big one at the guild called it. They have so many silly, different names for things. Why make it so complicated? At what point does a well tread trail become a road? Why bother with these extra details?

  The evening is winding down as I finally emerge to casually wander through the streets looking for an easy mark. Those at the dinner stalls have mostly left. The vendors are packing up and heading towards the stone circle to return back to wherever they live. It’s interesting that they don’t seem to live here. I suppose the spacial ports allow them to work wherever they please, as long as they have enough of those silly little coins for tribute.

  Hm, I suppose that’s a good reason to keep the coins? I can’t steal a spacial tear. Unless I sneak in when someone else is going? No, no, it’s too out in the open. It’d be too obvious. I’d also need to wait for someone to be going where I want to go, and that could take forever. Until I can make my own tears, I’ll be restricted to traveling only via willing big ones. However, that assumes I can properly communicate where I wish to go. Can I write my own courier instructions?

  My imagination’s rambling killing time, the darkest night arrives and the roads are now all but empty. Those left waddle about clumsily, looking not dissimilar to myself after the toxic sedative mishap. Have they also been drugged?

  I pick one to follow as an easy quarry. It’s not difficult since he’s so excessively focused on his own precarious forward progress. The big one I’ve chosen bumbles up against several incorrect doors before finally finding one that he’s able to open. Miraculously, he doesn’t even close or lock it behind him. It’s trivial to quietly slip in after hearing him stumble off deep enough into whatever lies inside.