The Fever King (Feverwake #1)(30)

Probably not. Besides, he couldn’t just change the electron configuration of gas particles and hope a paramagnetic metal would be attracted to it. He needed to create an actual magnetic field. Electricity had positive and negative charges, but magnetism had poles. So he needed a positive pole where the coin was and a negative one where his hand was. That was possible, right? At least, theoretically, but as far as Noam knew, no one had ever proved the existence of a magnetic monopole.

No, thinking like that wasn’t helpful. If something was theoretically possible, then magic presumably could accomplish it, just so long as Noam understood the theory.

Okay. Okay.

Imagining he could only work with electricity (which was true, at least right now) and not create a magnetic pole just because he felt like it, what would he do?

When you had a current in a straight line, the magnetic field looped around it like a spring. When you had a current in a spiral, the magnetic field was generated inside the coil. And at the ends of the coil, magnetic objects would be pulled into the field and spat out the other end: right into Noam’s hand.

Noam blinked, and the room slid back into focus. Lehrer, on the other side of that coin, patiently watched him as he sipped his whisky. Noam realized only now that he’d shifted while distracted, crossing his legs atop the seat cushion. His foot had gone to sleep beneath his shin.

Well, Noam thought, here goes nothing. And he activated the electric charge.

The spark that shot through the air was so bright that Noam nearly spilled out of his chair, half-certain something was about to catch fire. But in that same moment he felt cold metal against the palm of his hand, fingers reflexively closing around the coin.

Lehrer set down his drink, looking startled, or at least as startled as it was possible for Lehrer to look. Then he clapped, mouth curving belatedly into a smile. “Very good, Noam. A bit overenthusiastic, perhaps, but there’s nothing wrong with that when you’re learning.”

Lehrer gazed pointedly over his left shoulder. Noam looked as well; a black mark singed the lovely blue wall.

“Sorry.”

But it was hard to feel truly contrite when . . . he’d done it. He’d moved an object. With his mind. Using magic.

Lehrer waved his hand. “I think it adds to the decor, don’t you?” He leaned forward, looking at Noam like he had just transformed into the most fascinating person in the world. “Do you think the way you accomplished this trick was the best way?”

Noam reached for his coffee. His hand trembled—the one that wasn’t clenched around the fifty-cent piece like it might fly away again if he let go. “I’d hoped it would be easier. But I guess that’s not how magic works.” The prospect of having to think about the physics of everything before he could do magic was exhausting.

“You’ve gotten much faster at your technopathy, haven’t you? It’s become intuitive.”

“I have an intuitive understanding of magnetism too,” Noam argued. “Colonel Swensson said that’s how it works. I know how things theoretically move through the air better than I know how words end up on a text document when I type.”

“Presenting powers can be anything,” Lehrer said dismissively. “After all, how could one learn the science behind telepathy? And yet, we have presenting-power telepaths. Theorists say there must be some sort of natural affinity between the witching and their presenting power, but in truth, it’s only learned powers which rely on knowledge of scientific laws.”

Well, Noam was willing to bet Lehrer knew a good deal more about magic than Swensson did.

Still. “Am I going to have to think about physics every time?”

“Not every time. You just need to have that knowledge accessible somewhere in your memory, or at least more accessible than it currently is. Your mind is like a filing cabinet, Noam. Your accessible memories are the folders on top. If you have knowledge in one of those top files, you can use it instinctively. And the more drawers in your filing cabinet, the more of those types of accessible memories you can have.”

Noam hoped Lehrer was right. If Noam was going to be any use to Brennan, he needed to be able to use his powers quickly. Not spend the first five minutes trying to remember old p-sets.

“Let’s do that again,” Lehrer said, drawing another coin out of his pocket, “and this time, make it happen as quickly as you can.”

They spent the next two hours just like that: first with coins, then ball bearings, then moving away from the ferromagnetic metals until Noam was semisuccessfully shifting Lehrer’s silver cuff links around the surface of his desk. Lehrer only ended the lesson when his assistant showed up, holding a briefcase, to tell him he was late for a meeting.

“Duty calls,” Lehrer said. He surveyed Noam, appraising, as he slipped the cuff links back onto his sleeves. “Practice this tonight, Noam. See if you can’t move something nonmetallic before our lesson tomorrow.”

A tall order, especially since Lehrer still expected him to do his readings and problem sets. But that evening, Noam shut himself away in the bedroom while the others were watching a movie, sitting on his bed with A Physics Primer open at his side. And he didn’t give a damn what Dara thought of all-nighters, because by the time the alarm rang on Noam’s bedside table for basic training, he hadn’t slept, but he’d sent a piece of notebook paper dancing around his pillow. And, in a fit of impulse, he’d rearranged all the books on Dara’s shelf without committing the offense of touching a single one.