Chapter Twelve: The Smell of Magic (Edited)

In some ways, the ship reminded me of a labyrinth. In theory I knew there were designated areas for given work or activities, crew quarters, machinery shops, galley, wardrooms, and esoteric things I had no names for at all because my education just hadn’t broached the fundamental vocabulary of naval ship design and use, but in practice the ship felt like a gray-blue metal maze. Fortunately, Mom was always there to guide me.

“So Gwen,” Mom began, and I immediately recognized her lilting tone. It was quiz time. “Tell me, what’s the best way to navigate back topside from where we are right now?” Mom asked me as we walked through passageway after passageway. Most of the ship’s interior was filled with instruments, piping systems, and more I couldn’t identify.

“I think I could follow the red markings on the ceiling because they always lead to an exit?” I asked, thinking.

“If you don’t have a light source?” she continued, righting a turned over bin set aside that had numerous small tools that had been left at a cluster of pipeworks.

I gave her a glare. “You’re tricking me,” I said, twitching my tail back and forth.

“Oh?” she said with a smirk I could see.

“The lines glow in the dark.”

“Absolutely right,” she said. “Ground up alchemical moon-silver in the paint means it glows when lights are out.”

“That one was way too easy,” I told her. Seriously, that was a beginner's question. Never mind that I was only five, that was one of the first things she told me before she’d even let me step on the ship with her.

“True enough, so let's ramp it up a little. What if you can’t find the red lines?”

“Oh! You would then try to follow the direction of moving air.”

“Correct. If we’re onboard, we’ve opened a hatchway so you should be able to find a way out by following the movement of air, and most vents are positioned such that they could direct air throughout the ship toward entrances and exits.”

“Good thinking, Kitten. Here’s another one: what do you do if you see tools or machines that you aren’t familiar with?”

“That one’s easy, Mama,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Don’t touch it.”

“Ha, fair enough. Let me give you a real challenge, then. What do you do if you walk into a big empty room and start getting a headache and struggle to breathe?”

“Um…” I flagged. That one was new. Has mom talked about that before? She often tried to teach me about the ship while aboard, but I couldn’t recall this. I hoped it was, at least.

Taking my silence as an answer, Mom spoke, “You head up, as fast as you can. Dead air can settle in low areas when trapped, but living air rises, so upper levels would be safer.”

I nodded, staying quiet. It wasn’t quite the same, but I remembered similar speeches from my old life about being really careful about old structures, mineshafts, and such which, given I’d lived in a rusting midwest town, there was no shortage of abandoned or sitting structures slowly decaying with time.

“Here we go,” Mom said, pausing to examine a wall panel that frankly looked identical to the past ten we’d walked by at an intersecting passageway.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

Mom hummed. “See this dial here?” she said, pointing to a particular dial atop a terminal section with multiple intersecting pipes. “Mana is pumped through here, but dial reading is at zero so mana pressure is down, meaning everything’s shut down. Well…what was working, anyway. I’m guessing there was an overload caused by a blockage, contamination, or just the storm wrecking something,” she said absently. “Hold this light for me. Fixing this will take a few minutes.” She knelt to set her toolbox and handing me the lantern before rummaging through her tools.

 I nodded, only partly understanding. Something nagged at me, and it was at that moment that I  was slapped upside the head by a stray thought. “Wait, earlier you said magic was in the air, right? So why is it going through the pipes?”

That brought Mom up short. She looked up at me, her red curls hanging to cast her face in deep shadows but for the green glint of her eyes in the lantern light. “Good observation. It’s complicated, but a really basic explanation is that there’s not enough in the air for everything. So ambient thaumic particles — er, magic, that is, are condensed down for use in pipeworks and we call this condensed version mana. Hold the lantern up higher, please,” she said.

I did as she told and strained on my tiptoes to hold the lantern higher for her. She made a soft “a ha!”and promptly pulled out a wrench and screwdriver and set to work. I watched intently, trying to discern what she was doing and promptly failed.

Generally, I knew what was going on. The machinery here was some sort of pumping node meant to circulate concentrated mana throughout the ship to power assorted arcane machinery, not terribly different to a power station transformer meets distribution line for electricity.  This machinery would then theoretically function to let the ship function as, well, a ship.

The difference was in how much I didn’t know. I didn’t know how much of my old world’s science was integrated into this ship’s design and by extension Mom’s work. Did this ship even utilize electricity at all? How was it driven? The light strips preferred on this ship weren’t active, so were they entirely mana dependent? Was electricity even known in this world or had it been discovered and mana focused on instead? Why was mom twisting a pipe in between  tapping a series of runic markings? Why did I smell something faintly oily but in such a notably separate sense from the ship’s actual oils?

The last one had me sniffing the air again which caught a look from Mom, but nothing else. Truly, everything was bothering me. My memories from my old life and what was normal there vs here just made things more confusing. I felt as if I was missing out on huge amounts of context that were just expected here.

Alternatively, I was five. I still had a lot of growing to do, Mom was trying to teach me as best she could, so maybe I was the weirdo for having enough self awareness courtesy of a previous life’s memories of an old world to question all of this.

Mom was fast. Adjusting a pipe here, adjusting a valve here, suddenly exposing silver runes on a panel I hadn’t even seen she tapped before closing it again, checking dials before flipping through a manual she pulled from somewhere — I couldn’t keep up.

Then it was over. Mom tapped one final rune and smacked a pipe. The pump node hummed, and a single crystalline light lit up red at the top, but nothing else happened. The light strips connecting to the node flickered to life briefly only for a clang from deeper in the ship to echo and then flicker off again. Mom frowned as she dusted her hands off. I felt like I had blinked. “There we go,” Mom said.

“Did something break?” I asked, looking back and forth at the dormant light strips.

Mom shook her head. “This node’s fixed now, see the indicator gem?” she said, pointing to the top of the machine with an inset little red gem the size of a bead.  “Thing is, it was jammed as a side effect — the real problem is elsewhere. Come, follow me.”

I scrambled after her as she tore down a passageway at seemingly random but with confidence in her steps as she referenced a book again.

At this point, as strange as it may seem on a magical warship infused with Thaumaturgy and God knows what else, things became really boring. I knew Mom was working on some bit of machinery meant to keep mana pumping throughout the ship, and that was about it.  It reminded me in a strange mirror-like way of standing around my father’s garage in my old life while he worked on the incomprehensible mass of metal known as an combustion engine and he asked for me to pass supplies while he worked on something that may as well have been eldritch mysteries to me. Just like then, I’d had little idea how the engine worked beyond that it did, and here it was more of the same.

Sure, I knew what Mom said machinery did, but how did it work? How did it interact with physical laws? Did magic obey, or modify them? What was magic’s place in relation to the law of thermodynamics?  Did it even have one?

I didn’t know — no wait, I should amend that. I really didn’t freaking know. Actual magic was beyond me right now, but I couldn’t wait to learn more… provided Mom got better at it.

I really hoped not all her lessons were like the last one.

This process repeated three times throughout the ship. I would follow Mom with the lantern while she slunk through the ship at a fast pace, although she always slowed down for me. Then, we would find a node that was somehow not working. Mom would perform a combination of actual diagnostic, fiddling, and in one instance a combination of percussive maintenance alongside some small amount of whispered cursing she thought I couldn’t hear but I took careful note of. Afterward, we would continue. I tried to follow what she was doing, and mostly failed, especially when it came to messing with the runes at each node. The lights in the vicinity would briefly flicker, and then another distant clang echoed throughout the ship and we’d follow it. Rinse and repeat.

Naturally, the last node had a metallic screech echo throughout the ship that had me leaping behind Mom’s legs.

“Shi-cra — er, drat. That’s really not good,” Mom said awkwardly while I tried to calm my heart from going ballistic and get my fur to settle down. It was galling that Mom’s calming pats did more to calm me down than just telling myself it was a noise.

Despite horror movie logic strongly suggesting otherwise, we followed the screech and came to a very impressive hatch. I tried to read the label above the door and promptly realized the characters, while individually familiar, were far more complicated than I was used to. Yet, they were familiar enough from the language lessons Mom gave that I thought I could pick it out. The first word was composed of three sigils whose collective was similar to extra, or maybe secondary, and the second was—

“It says auxiliary engineering room, Gwen.” Mom said absently,  ruining my fun. I tried not to glare as Mom casually tried the hatch only for it to not budge.  “I can already tell this hatch this is not going to cooperate,” she huffed.

With that, her tail twitched.   he took off her jacket and tied it around her waist, leaving her in a gray-blue tank top. Mom braced herself with a wide legged stance. Mom's shoulder and biceps bulged as she tensed her muscles, and with a groan, she twisted. For a moment nothing happened, then Mom growled. Pressure built up, muscles strained, and just as suddenly, the resistance broke. A scream of agonized metal echoed through the chamber as the handle moved, and long-unoiled hinges gave way.  I cringed, ears folding even as rust rained down around the hatchway as Mom stepped back to admire her handiwork and dusted her hands off.

The moment the hatch opened, a flood of faintly shimmering mist flowed out. I immediately gagged as oil coated my throat and iron flooded my nose.

Mom was by my side in an instant.

“What’s wrong, Gwen?”

“The smell, it’s way too strong,” I managed to gasp out before coughing and hacking my lungs out only for no relief to come. It felt as if I’d tried to make out with an exhaust pipe and all its contents had settled in my chest.

This got a worried frown from Mom before epiphany overtook her eyes.  She jumped up and slammed the door shut. What blue mist had been in the room rapidly began to disperse. The scent rapidly faded to more tolerable levels. I stopped gagging and I just tried to breathe normally.

“Hurts,” I whispered, because darnit it felt like my brain and sinuses had both been simultaneously sucker punched and I needed to say something. I’d been smelling something ever since we came aboard and that room was more the same except concentrated ten-fold.

Soon my breathing steadied, and I found myself in Mom’s lap as she dabbed at my eyes and cleaned my nose with a cloth. To my surprise I saw a bit of blood on it. Once more, I was hit with an urge to cuddle and seek comfort, a desire I freely indulged in for a bit as I buried my face into Mom’s stomach and let her fuss over me.

Eventually, my curiosity beat back the desire to just be pampered. I rolled over and looked up at her. “What happened?”

“I think I’ve figured it out. Would like to see a professional to confirm, but,” Mom shrugged helplessly. “I don’t think you feel thaumaturgy like I do, Gwen. You mentioned smelling something?”

I nodded. “Really oily, like iron,” I said. It wasn’t quite like the fumes of a mechanic shop, but that was the closest comparison I had.

“Interesting, as I smell nothing that intense,” Mom nodded and brought a hand through the back of my hair in a long pet. The only reason I didn’t melt is because my lungs still felt achy and sinuses burned.  “When did you first notice these ‘smells’?” she said.

I gave it some thought, but only one incident came to mind. “After you gave me your crest,” I said.

Mom nodded. “Just like I thought. Congratulations, Gwenny. It’s official. You can smell magic,” she said with a proud, if amused smile.

I gave my most eloquent “Huh?” in response.

This would be the part where my Mom would explain what the heck she meant by that, but instead I was betrayed.

Mom burst into laughter.

“Mama!” I shouted and batted at her. This, unfortunately, only made her giggles intensify.

“Sorry, sorry, just your face is amazing. Wish I had a recording lens,” she said, after a long moment. Her tail softly waved back and forth letting me know she was still giggling on the inside.

My glare should’ve been enough to kill, but Mom was entirely unrepentant. I huffed. “What does that even mean?” I said in what was absolutely not a whine.

Mom smiled good naturedly as she took on her distinctive teacher tone. “Your nose is a little more sensitive, but I’m sure you’ll build up resistance with time,” she rambled. “But, the thing is, most magic in the world isn’t seen readily, especially if it’s not actively a part of spell or other thaumaturgy, outside some special situations. But, some people are born with the ability to sense the passive flow of magic, thanks to having awoken what are called mana channels naturally, although it depends, what with—” Mom trailed off, saying half a dozen words I didn’t know. I really wish I had that darn translator now.

“—anyway, got sidetracked. In the old days, most people who could sense thaumic fields were only born into it and were called mages, but some forms of thaumaturgy can awaken the ability. When I gave you your crest, some of your channels opened up and with them you awoke to the ability to sense the ambient energies around us.” She tapped the crest on my hand. “For me and most people, it’s a little bit of everything-sight, a little pressure sometimes, although if enough  gets concentrated like that mist or if it’s intentional and it can be seen by anyone. But some people are really specialized.  My mama, she felt it like air pressure and always complained about her ears popping in the city. I’ve heard of others hearing it like a song. But I think you smell it, Kitten,” she said. “So—”

“When you opened the door, I smelled a lot of magic?”

“Atta girl. Technically ambient thaumic energy, but close enough. The room’s leaking it from one of the big tanks and since you’ve never experienced so much at once, it hits you hard.”

I nodded, but internally I was trying to process that my magic sense was the smell of all things. That was just going to be awkward, I knew it. “What are we going to do?” I asked.

Mom chewed her lip before answering. “I have to get those pump stations fixed if this thing is going to run, so I’ll have to head in there, and I don’t think it’s going to be an easy fix, but,” she trailed off and her own ears drooped. “I think you’ll have to wait out here, Kitten, or even in another room while I work on it. Moment I open those doors again you’ll be overwhelmed.”

There was a lot I could say, but the distress in her tone was palpable. We were always together. I chose to lean into her in a hug. “I’ll be okay, Mama.”

Mom smiled. “Well, if you’re feeling brave, then I’ll trust in you.” She helped me up with an easy pull.. “You stay out here,” she said, handing me a lantern while she pulled another from her pack. “Don’t go anywhere, and if you need anything, just bang on the door and I’ll be out in a second. If you get hungry, you can eat your lunch. Oh, and—”

“Go, Mama!” I said, pushing her before she could fuss over me anymore. Mom laughed and headed to the door. She waited for me to plug my nose, before slamming it open and closed in a heartbeat. I still got a strong whiff from the room, but its cloying oiliness was nowhere near as strong as the first time around given, I’d distanced myself and how quickly Mom slammed the hatch shut.

I waited a few minutes after the hatch shut to make sure she wasn’t going to step right back out. I put my ear to the hatch and listened and heard faint clangs and hissing noises as if air was escaping from something, but little else. Satisfied, I picked up my lantern, adjusted its settings to focus on a broader beam of light over the focused setting, and promptly took off into the ship to explore.

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Chapter Twelve Author’s Note

Gwen is going to indulge in the gods given right of all children and especially all kittens to wander where they’re not supposed.

The ability to ‘smell’ magic isn’t anything particularly new, but I’ve always been fond of it as a method of ‘magic sense’ because it pens up interesting descriptions and can just be a bit awkward all around.

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