Free Masters of the Veil by Daniel A. Cohen

Sam’s jersey. “Did you take a look at this? A New Jersey bonded with an article of wear!”
    “My dear Fromson.” She gave a small bow and took a crumbly, bite-sized pastry from the pile. “A jersey is an article of wear for physical activity in the other world.”
    He eyed Sam up and down. “Physical activity, huh? Think he’ll be any good at our games?”
    “I hope so.” She gave him a grin. “I also hope Sam normally doesn’t sleep this late. The arc is half over.”
    “No,” Sam shook his head. “Usually I’m up and running by six.”
    “Six?” the shopkeeper asked. “Six of what?”
    “O’clock.”
    “O-what?”
    “You’ll have to excuse Fromson,” May told Sam. “Among other things, time is seen a little differently here.”
    “How so?”
    “Why don’t you walk with me?” She made a polite gesture toward the center of town.
    Sam thanked Fromson and followed May off toward the pond.
    May smiled. “How are you feeling, Sam?”
    “Truthfully?” Sam polished off the slider bun and licked the icing from his thumb. “Like I just found out my whole life has been a lie.”
    “Not a lie at all.”
    “Then what?”
    “A step. One level that has led you to another.”
    “I don’t know if you realize it, but this is kind of a lot to take in.”
    “What a monumental step it is to take—a leap even. I had to take it myself, and my experience was a special circumstance, as well.” She flashed an impish grin. “If I can do it, I think a big, tough kid like you can handle it.”
    Sam thought about what Coach DeGrella would say if he knew how Sam was acting. Whining was not taken on the gridiron. Then he winced as he considered what his coach was probably thinking about him blowing the game.
    May held out her diamond-gloved hand. “If you’d like, I can use the Veil again to—”
    Sam held up his hands in protest. “No, no, I’m fine.”
    “Good.” May gave a satisfied nod. They resumed walking around the pond.
    Sam ran his tongue across the inside of his upper lip and smacked his lips, savoring the taste of the slider bun as the last bit of icing stretched across his tongue. “So, how is time different?”
    “Not different, just perceived in another way. You see, we don’t have numbers for time. We have the same time as the outside world, but we do things according to the world around us. Get up with the sun, and sleep when we get tired. We don’t number the hours in a day.”
    “So how do you know when to do things?”
    “Like what sort of things?”
    “I don’t know… like, meetings and stuff.”
    “There are terms for different periods of the day, which you will learn during your training.” May stopped. “Take a look at this.”
    They approached the edge of the pond and Sam leaned over the carved barrier. Staring back at him was a fish the size of a terrier, its body a bright gold with black fins. Out of its mouth came a white globule with the luster of a pearl. The ball slowly rose and finally popped the surface, sitting on top like a buoy.
    Sam rapped his knuckles on the stone and the fish drew closer. “What are they?”
    “Rinsefish.”
    “Why were people taking the white things? Jewelry?”
    “No, rinsing.”
    “Huh?”
    “Take it, it’s a gift.”
    Sam plucked the white glob out of the water and held it in his hand. It was slimy, like seaweed, yet it held its shape.
    May mimed placing it in her mouth.
    Sam looked at her with disgust. “You can’t be serious.”
    She reached down and gently stroked the top fin of the rinsefish. After a moment of this, the fish ducked under the water and swam away. “I don’t know what you mean. People in your society eat flesh, so why not this?”
    “Because this is disgusting.”
    “Just try it. I promise you’ll like it.”
    Sam shrugged. He popped the white glob into his mouth and immediately felt a tingling sensation.
    “Don’t eat it,” May warned. “Swirl.”
    The taste reminded him of lemon sorbet. As soon as