Magic Steps

Sandry ducked her head to keep anyone, from seeing her grin., She felt a.

prickle of respect for Pasco. By her reckoning from, his story, his cousins had been, in, the air for at least ninety minutes. He must have been really determined when he danced them, up there, she thought.

Zahra stepped forward. “Excuse me, Gran’ther,” she announced. “Lady Sandrilene fa Toren has come to help Pasco unravel this”—she glanced at the hanging trio—,”

difficulty.”

The Acalons turned and bowed to Sandry. Even the three in the air tried to bow.

This time she’d thought ahead; she raised her handkerchief to her nose to hide her grin at the sight of those three swaying bows.

The old man shot a look at Pasco. “Was there no one of our own standing you could bother with this?” he de manded sharply. “I am sure my lady is far too busy to undo your tangles.”

Sandry curtsied to the man Zahra had called “Gran’ther.”’ “Actually, I’m honored to be the mage who discovered Pasco’s talent,” she remarked solemnly. “Not everyone gets to find unusual magics.” Perhaps a white lie on her part would make Pasco feel better, and get his family to think of this as an opportunity, not an embar rassment. “I look forward to being his teacher.”

“Teacher!” barked the old man. “Since when does the nobility teach?”

“My lady, this is my husband’s father, Edoar Acalon,” Zahra said quietly. “He is the head of our house.”

Sandry walked over to the three who hung in the air. Halting beside the old man she answered him. “Since the is the mage who discovered his talent, and there no dance-mages at Winding Circle.”

With a nod, she turned her back on Edoar Acalon, making it impossible for him to argue with her. Focusing on the captives, Sandry walked around them, thinking hard.

“I don’t think I’ve seen anything like this before,” she remarked slowly. She had Pasco’s measure by now. He was capable of forgetting his scare the moment his cousins were earthbound again. She had to reinforce his fright, or he would be skipping lessons before she could say “Duke’s Citadel.” “None of us ever hung anyone in midair.”

Pasco gulped: she could hear him. “You can’t fix it?” he cried. “But you have to! I don’t know how to get them down!”

She wanted to take pity on him, but something warned her not to let him relax just yet. It’s not what I would have chosen for his first lesson, she admitted to herself, but it’s what we have—and maybe it’ll stick longer this way Sandry shook out her skirts, letting Pasco stew a little more. His mother Zahra stood at parade rest, her eyes never leaving Sandry’s face, while the old man leaned on his cane.

“lf you didn’t know how to get them down, you shouldn’t have put them, up there,”’ Sandry remarked at last.

“It was an accident!” cried Pasco. “I told you how it happened!”

“It’s all right if you don’t know you’re a mage,” a girl pointed out.

“Don’t help, Reha,” muttered Pasco.

“But he does know,” replied Zahra woodenly. “Lady Sandrilene told him. He was supposed to tell us, and take lessons with her.”

“Of course he knew,” Sandry added, her voice cool. “You had to dance, didn’t you? You had to think of a tune and hum.”

“I want him arrested!” cried Vani, pointing at Pasco. “He knows magic and he did it to me, and that’s against the law! I want him harried!”

“You will be silent, Vanido Acalon.” Gran’ther Edoar’s voice was splinters of ice. “You have said more than enough today.”

“Please get them down,” Pasco begged Sandry. “I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll take lessons, whatever you want. Please”

Sandry looked at Zahra. “Have you a private room we can use?” she asked.

The woman nodded, and led them back into the house. Sandry followed, towing Pasco. When Zahra showed them into a small chamber just off the gallery, Sandry thanked her and closed the door.

“Sit,” she ordered Pasco. “Take some deep breaths. It’s just you and me here.

Calm down.”

Pasco nodded and sat on the floor, inhaling and exhaling loudly. Sandry looked around. From the scent of Incense and the statues of gods in wall-niches, she guessed they were in the family chapel. She recognized most of the gods: Larks own patroness, Mila of the Grain, the earth goddess, and her consort the Green Man; Yanna Healtouch, the goddess of water and health; Shurri Firesword, the goddess of fire and warriors; and Hakkoi the smith, god of forges and the law.

She paused before the only unfamiliar statue: a man with a hawks head, feet, and wings in brown and blue feathers, and a long black coat. A sword and dagger hung from the belt at his waist. In one hand he carried a lantern, in the other a set of manacles. From the number of votive candles and half-burned sticks of incense around the niche, he seemed to be very popular in this household.

“That’s Harrier the Clawed,” Pasco informed her. His voice was steadier. “The god of provosts, guards, and thief-takers. He takes apart secrets and puts them away against the starving time. There’re shrines to him. in every coop—every guardhouse. And here.”’

Sandry turned to look at Pasco. “First things first,” she said. “You need to learn to meditate. Or at least, you need to be able to clear your mind if you’re handling magic. Now’s as good a time as any to start.”