Masters of the Veil by Daniel A. Cohen

hand slammed backwards onto the table. The force was stupendous; it felt like every one of Sam’s knuckles had broken.
    The kid lifted his arm. Sam slipped his throbbing hand under the table, nursing it.
    “Next!” the boy called, and a short, squat man stepped up next to the table.
    “How did you—?”
    “I said NEXT!” The kid didn’t look in Sam’s direction.
    Sam got up and let the short man take over. Beads of blood welled up on his knuckles as he made his way back out of the circle, head down.
    Someone patted him on the back as he squirmed through. Sam looked up to meet the gaze of a smiling guy about his own age with curly brown hair. He carried a beautiful, curved horn—long, tan, and embossed with gold writing—in one of his hands, both of which, Sam noticed, were ungloved.
    Sam attempted a smile, but failed. As he squeezed out of the ring, he saw May waiting with a hand on her hip.
    She gave a heavy sigh. “What did you think was going to happen?”
    “But that kid was tiny! How did he do that?”
    “That kid’s name is Petir LaVink, and he is one of the finest gumptius players we have.”
    Sam rubbed the back of his injured hand. “But how was he so strong? His arms were like toothpicks.”
    “I told you, it is not about strength. It is about ability.”
    “Ability to do what?”
    “Use the Veil, not your muscles, to push. Now, we have an appointment to keep. It would be very rude to show up late.”
    His whole hand throbbed. “Where?”
    “It’s not far.”
    “With who?”
    “Someone very important.”
    Sam sucked his teeth.
    “Fine.” She broke into a condescending smile. “Before you go bumbling around in things you don’t understand, you need to learn a few things.”
    “Magic?”
    “Yes, eventually.”
    “Can’t you just take me home? I can take care of myself.”
    “I know you can, and I’m not worried about you, I’m worried about others, and you should be, too. It would be extraordinarily dangerous for you not to learn how to control this. Please, just trust that I want what’s best for you.”
    Sam thought about the cornerback’s screams. He managed a glum nod.
    May took Sam’s bruised hand and waved her diamond-like glove over it. Once again, the pain subsided as the skin healed.
    “And if you go home, how will you ever best LaVink?” One side of her cheek curved into a crooked smile. “I mean, that was pretty humiliating. I think you need to train for a re-match to prove yourself.”
    Sam gave a huff. “Fine. But if I’m going to hang around here for a little while, I think I’m going need a change of clothes… and where do I buy one of those fancy gloves? And, oh yeah, where am I going to get money? I have a feeling there’s no ATM around.”
    “We do not use money here.”
    Sam cocked his head to the side. “No money?”
    “No money.”
    “How do you buy things?”
    “We are a community.”
    “Meaning?”
    “If you work hard and don’t rub anyone the wrong way, you always get what you need, and usually what you want, too.”
    “I want one of those.” He motioned to her hand. “What do they do, anyway?”
    “Your second-skin is a conduit.”
    Sam rubbed his forehead. “I’ll understand later, right?”
    “You did ask.” She turned her palm upwards.
    He exhaled. “So, to the meeting.”
    “To Bariv.”

CHAPTER 9

    “ D on’t tell me this is the Veil?”
    May choked back a laugh. “No Sam, this is not the Veil.”
    “There is no way I’m going through there.” Sam snatched his finger away from the wall of gunk.
    May had brought him to an uninhabited part of Atlas Crown. They were nowhere near the towers and away from any sign of people—a high contrast to the bustling atmosphere of the marketplace.
    They were now face to face with a slimy, purple partition between two stone wolves, each one carved directly into the rock face. When Sam brought his finger away from the slick surface, a small amount of the purple goop came with it, which