Wild Magic

The dog showed her an image in his mind: Onua, seated with her legs crossed, hands resting on her knees, eyes closed. To that picture he added Numair, doing the same thing. A shimmering, pearly light gleamed around each of them, rippling over their faces.

‘What’s that?’ Daine asked him. ‘That light, there?’

Tahoi didn’t know. It was a thing some humans had and others didn’t.

Magic, Cloud said. Your dam had it, and some of the others back home. Not so bright as these two – more like a glitter. But it’s magic, all right.

Onua only does the sitting thing with humans that have the light, Tahoi commented, and sighed.

The girl smiled. ‘Find a stick – I’ll play with you. Not here, though – I don’t want to scare the fish.’ Tahoi wagged his tail and hunted for a stick that wouldn’t hurt his mouth. ‘Cloud? Do I have the light inside?’

No, the mare replied. The light’s only for humans. You may look like a human, but you aren’t. You’re of the People: the folk of claw and fur, wing and scale.

‘Impossible,’ the girl said flatly. ‘Look at me. I’m pink, my fur’s patchy, I walk on two legs. I’m human, human all over.’

On the outside, the pony insisted. Not inside. Inside you’re People.

Tahoi brought a stick, and Daine went to play with him. Cloud was joking, of course. She was human. Ma would have told her if she weren’t.

They left their camp the next day. Onua set an easy pace, stopping twice in the morning to rest. Numair kept up without appearing to tire. Catching Daine’s eyes on him once, he thumped himself on the chest and said, ‘When the Lioness puts a healing on a man, he stays healed!’

‘Does your ma know you’re this silly?’ she demanded tartly.

He nodded, comically sad. ‘The few grey hairs she has on her head are my doing. But’ – with an exaggerated change of mood – ’I send her plenty of money, so she can pay to have them dyed!’

‘I hope she beat you as a child,’ Onua grumbled.

The day passed quickly. Numair and Onua told stories about the people they knew at the palace. The man even juggled for her, a most unmagelike feat. By the time they made camp, she felt she had known him for years.

Building their fire, she ran into trouble. No matter what she did with flint and steel, the wood was too damp to catch. At last she coaxed it into a tiny flame and held her breath.

‘How does it go?’ he asked over her shoulder, and the flame went out.

‘Gods bless it!’ she snapped.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Oh, they must’ve had rain here yesterday. Everything’s damp.’

‘Sit back.’

She did as she was told, and the tinder burst into flame. She had to put large sticks of wood on it fast, before the fire used up the tinder. ‘But you didn’t point, or make circles, or chant anything—’

He shrugged. ‘Some people need those things. I don’t.’

She gasped at his arrogance. ‘Well, excuse me for breathing!’

His laugh was full throated and made her grin. ‘What – did they have to enact fire-making rituals before anything would burn, where you came from?’

Her spirits dropped. ‘Things burned easy back home,’ she said flatly. ‘Real easy.’ She’d been having a good time while her family lay in the ground. Grabbing the shovel, she went to dig the latrine.

Teeth dug into the mage’s elbow, making him yelp. He looked down at his attacker, Cloud. ‘Stop that, or I’ll light a fire under your tail.’ The mare squeezed a little harder and released his arm.

‘It was going so well.’ Onua was grooming the ponies. ‘She laughed.’

Numair rubbed his elbow. He’d got off lightly – Cloud had only barely nicked the skin. ‘She’ll laugh again.’

Daine kept to herself, and the adults left her alone, talking quietly. When cleanup was done, they did the sitting thing. It was as Tahoi had shown her: with eyes closed and legs crossed they sat, hands on their knees, breathing as if they were asleep. In fact, Daine went to sleep watching them.

That night it came to her that Ma and Grandda probably wouldn’t mind if she had fun now and then. They’d been partial to fun, making berry strings or playing catch with the bread dough. In her packs were two of the dancing puppets Grandda had made for her birthdays: the horse and one that looked just like Ma. The others had been ruined, but she had saved these.

She got up in the morning with caution and sent the raccoon and the marten who had spent that night with her on their way. She hated apologies, but if Onua and Numair were angry, she would make some.

Luck was on her side. Their grouchiness seemed to be normal morning grouchiness; all they wanted to do was drink their tea, eat their food, and get moving. Daine let it go at that. If they weren’t angry about how she’d behaved, why remind them?

They made good progress that day. Once supper and cleanup were done, Numair stretched. ‘Let’s go, Onua. You won’t improve without practice.’

Daine knew what came next. ‘What’s the sitting thing?’ They looked at her blankly. ‘You know – what you’re going to do now.’

‘Meditation,’ Numair said. ‘It clears the mind, and rests it. If you have the Gift, meditation helps your discipline.’ His eyes were thoughtful as they rested on her. ‘Would you like to learn?’

‘I don’t have the Gift.’ Was he going to start on that?

He shrugged. ‘It’s not only for the Gifted. I told you, it rests the mind. It helps you get a – a grip on the way you think.’

‘It helps you decide what you want,’ Onua added. ‘And how to get it.’

Daine scuffed her foot in the dust. ‘Is it hard?’

Both of them smiled. ‘You won’t know till you try,’ Numair pointed out.

Daine shrugged and sat as they did, tailor-style. ‘Now what?’

‘Hands on your knees. Sit straight. Close your eyes. Let the thoughts empty out. For tonight, that’s enough. Just let your thoughts go.’

Daine heard Tahoi sigh. Now he had no one to play with.

The next morning they weren’t far from their camp when riders overtook them on the road: Alanna and the men of the King’s Own. Daine was startled to see that the Lioness, so friendly before, was now pale with fury. Darkmoon was as angry as his mistress. He pranced and fidgeted until Daine went to his head. He calmed slowly under her hands.

‘He’s gone,’ the knight told them. ‘From the looks of it, he fled the minute he knew you were safe. Curse him! Those dungeons of his—’

‘I know,’ whispered Numair. He looked suddenly tired.

‘I don’t understand,’ Onua protested. ‘You searched?’

‘We did.’ Alanna rubbed her neck. ‘His servants claimed Stormwings came, with a box, like a sedan chair. They flew off with him in it.’

‘Then they can be talked to,’ Numair said. ‘They’re intelligent.’