Chương 49: 49 Loop 2, part 3

The sun was low and golden over the Green as we made our way to Thane's classroom. It threw long shadows off every tree and turned the grass a pretty bronze color. It wasn't evening yet, but it felt like it. I glided across the open lawn, three inches off the ground. Finn walked beside me, his arms crossed. He was still butt hurt, having lost the argument about me staying in bed until tomorrow.

"You wanted proof. So here's proof. I know exactly how Thane's lesson went, and what's on the board in the room." I paused, hoping he'd say something, but he just gestured for me to continue.

"He started with unified enchantment theory," I said. Then I started mimicking the professor, miming his actions.

"'Comparing enchantment to just casting a spell is like comparing cooking to just applying heat to food. You're not attaching magic to matter. No, no.'" I did Thane's little laugh to punctuate my point.

"'You are convincing matter to behave differently. It's a negotiation. A relationship between you, your magic, and the object of your enchantment.' How could I have—""Known what Thane was talking about if you weren't there?" Finn finished for me, his voice sarcastic.

"Time loop, sure. For all I know, you used some spell to spy on the class while you pretended to sleep in the infirmary. I know enchantment's the one class you hate to miss." I opened my mouth to rebuke him, and then closed it. Honestly, I would probably do exactly that at some point.

"I didn't need to spy," I insisted.

"My first time through this week, I was there. In the back row, like always. [Subtitle] s running, so I didn't have to listen. [Wideview], so I didn't have to turn my head. You want the part where you were scribbling notes about how to map a healing spell into your ward schematic? He even told a story about a freshman who'd tried to enchant a wooden table and said, at the end—and I quote—'Putting aside the dangers of attempting to enchant Treant-made furniture, enchantment is all about persuasion.'"

We reached the door to Thane's classroom, and I gestured for Finn to go ahead of me. The hallways had been empty, but for some reason, the lights were still on in almost every room, including Thane's. My curiosity was killing me, but the effort wasn't worth it. He stopped in the doorway and turned to face me. Despite my best efforts, he didn't look convinced by my spiel.

"You're just telling me more details you could have learned from your spying spell," he said. He was gentle about it, which got under my skin.

"Assuming you've paid attention to the class at some point. And if you don't have a spying spell, you could have sat in on that lesson when he gave it last week to the first years. Or to the other classes, too."

"It was today's lesson, man."

"Says the guy who's supposedly been unconscious since breakfast." He spread his hands in a placating gesture.

"You hear how that sounds? Either you were awake enough to spy—which means you weren't as hurt as you pretended to be—or you weren't awake, and you're just repeating information you got secondhand. He gives the same speech almost every time he teaches a new enchantment spell." He had me there, a little. Any student could have given me notes about what happened.

"Okay," I said.

"You're right. This is a waste of breath." Finn blinked. It was clear he'd been ready for me to dig in my heels.

"I'm done wasting effort convincing you by myself," I said.

"So step inside the classroom and meet him."

"Meet who?" In answer, I just floated through the doorway into Thane's classroom, and headed for the spot where I knew Flag would be. I didn't need [Wideview] to find him. I knew exactly which stone he was—third row from Thane's desk, the one with the chip in the corner. Not having [Wideview] up made me feel naked, but I couldn't afford the mana with what I had planned. I crossed the room and knelt beside him. The entire point was that Flag could vouch for me.

And unfortunately, Flag's voice went straight into my skull, where only I could hear it. Before any of this worked, I needed to find a way to make Flag able to talk again. I pressed my palm flat against him, like I had that first time, and said, "Flag. Hey. It's me." For a second, he said nothing. I frowned. But then the warmth surged up through our link, so fast I almost fell over midair. Lazlo! He paused. I think something's very wrong. Is the dragon gone? I couldn't feel my legs.

And then everything was loud and white, and now I can't feel my legs again, except it's worse, because I can't feel my arms, either, or my hands, or my eyes, and I was so very good at holding things, and now the battery's gone, and the body's gone, and I can't see the tops of desks, and—"Flag. Breathe. Relax." But I don't have lungs, he said. You told me that.

You said, "Flag, your golem body has eyes," and then later, you said I didn't need to breathe, and I've been thinking about that, and I think you were right, Lazlo, but I don't have eyes anymore, either. I'm back on the floor. I'm flat, and I'm a flagstone. Why am I a flagstone again? So he did remember all of it. Which meant I wasn't alone. Something in my chest unclenched that I hadn't known was clenched. This story has been stolen from Royal Road.

If you read it on Amazon, please report it"You're okay," I told him.

"You're not hurt, I promise. I just need to get you a new golem body. It's a little hard to explain, but... we're back to Monday." There was a long, suspicious quiet. Finn looked at me quizzically, like I'd gone insane. It was Thursday, last I checked, Flag said.

"It was. Now it's Monday. We went back in time." Back in time? He turned the words over in his soul. I really needed to start figuring out this terminology. Well. That would require effort. And I didn't want to. I was a floor on Monday, too, Flag said. I remember. Thane stepped on me fourteen times before lunch, and he did it again today. Is this a Monday where I get to have a body, or is this a different Monday where I'm just a floor? Talking to him was the first thing that had felt normal all day.

"This is the Monday where you get a body," I said.

"Just hang on. I have to deal with something first." I'd spent the entire conversation speaking out loud for Finn's benefit, and he had spent the entire conversation getting increasingly concerned about me.

"Laz," he said, "you're talking to the floor. And after what I felt with [Mana Sense], I genuinely can't tell if that's a concussion or something worse." Which brought me back to the problem I'd walked in with. Flag still had no way to make a sound that wasn't aimed at the inside of my head. I looked around the room for the mannequin I knew Thane stored somewhere. It was shoved against the wall, half-buried under the usual enchantment supplies he let pile up.

It was a wooden figure built roughly into human shape, used for drilling enchantments. It had been a while since it was last used, given it was the start of the term. There was dust on its shoulders. Its wood had gone gray with age. It was perfect. I couldn't give Flag a real golem body. But why did I need to? Nothing about the spells needed to be cast on a stone body. And while the book had made it clear that the stone shape was best, what did that matter?

[Wideview] was best used for battlefields with hundreds of people, but I made use of it all the time.

"Flag, new plan. How do you feel about being a mannequin?" There was a thoughtful pause, and he hummed. Is it taller than a desk? Will I be able to see the tops of desks?

"Yep." Does it have arms?

"Yep." Ooh, Flag said, and the warmth in the link brightened. Oh, I would like arms again. I am very good at holding things. Does it have legs, too? I didn't want to blunt his enthusiasm, but I also didn't want to lie.

"Unfortunately, no. But I could try to make you legs from one of the desks or something." Oh. The link went quiet for a beat. Well, I had legs on Thursday. Gold ones. I liked those. But I think any legs are better than no legs.

"Laz." Finn was watching me, still talking to a rock.

"What are you doing, man? This is starting to scare me."

"I told you. I'm going to prove to you that I have time traveled." I pushed myself upright, ignored the not-at-all-worrisome fact that the world was still tilting, and started doing the mana math. I had the mana for it, but barely. I'd run the sequence enough times this week to do it half asleep. The part I couldn't count was whether the desk legs would hold a golem up. Because, you know, no sane person would do what I was doing.

There was also the small matter of whether a hollowed-out practice dummy counted as enough of a body for Flag to make any sound at all. But there was only one way to find out. [Recursion] and [Cascade] were going to be my best friends. [Break] spam on the desk for the legs would trip [Cascade] and get the chain rolling. As long as I kept every cast inside the same school, [Recursion] would grind the costs down toward the floor. But I was going to be cutting things close. First, I needed legs.

I turned to the nearest desk—a solid gray one in the front row—and looked at the four wooden legs holding it up. And then I looked closer. Really looked. The desk was held up by dozens of screws, nails, and brackets. The boring hardware nobody ever thinks about, holding up the boring object nobody ever looks twice at. I had the perfect spell for it. And it would work perfectly for revving up [Recursion] and [Cascade]." [Break]." [Break — Enchantment.] Cost: 8 mana. Breaks targeted object.

It was cheap, because it was meant to break seals and rusted hardware and a dozen other minutiae to save time in factories. My parents had probably cast it thousands of times. Usually I wouldn't bother with a spell like this, but needs must. I cast it over and over again, aiming for every single bit of hardware on the desk. The spell found the screws, and the nails, and the brackets, and quietly convinced them they were tired of being in one piece. The desk shuddered, and then it fell apart.

Four desk legs rolled free. I picked up all four and immediately turned to the mannequin. I cast [Slot]. Flag floated up out of the old mortar with a quick scraping noise, and the spell seated the flagstone into the circular mannequin cavity. Then I cast [Align] four times—once for each leg—and they all clicked into place. The wood found the joints and settled like it had always been there. And then I cast [Bind], locking the limbs into place.

And then, finally, I cast [Wake], riding the [Recursion] chain all the way down. Even discounted, it scraped my mana pool like a spoon hitting the bottom of a jar. As the last spell hit the mannequin, it shuddered. Oh, Flag said. I remember this part. But these aren't my old legs. My old legs matched. These ones feel weird. I think one is smaller than the others. But that's all right. I liked the gold ones, and now I like the crooked ones. Are we doing the thing where I get to walk?

"We're doing the thing where you get to walk. Go ahead and stand up, buddy. And say hi to Finn." Flag stood up on his wobbly desk legs and said, "Hi to Finn."