Street Magic

Master High-and-Mighty Viper was wrong about her magic. If she felt it working, like the pahan said she could, she might be able to do something. Anything.

She was on bare, pounded earth. No help there. The nearest stone was in the wall, two feet behind her. It was old stone. It had been here for a very long time after it was cut from its bed. It had lasted for three houses built on its foundation, each new building setting it more firmly in its ways. Getting that stone to move, hundreds of years after it had been cut and placed here, would take work, hard work.

It was fizzy, her magic. She’d felt it that morning, during meditation. It fizzed inside her brain, and kept on fizzing when she reached for something, as if it were an arm that had gone to sleep. Evvy sent a stream of magic down into her hands, straining it through her spread fingers. Now she had six cords of her power. She thrust them at the wall, twining each one around a stone. She hoped she didn’t pull the house down on herself, but she had to do something, and this was all she had to work with.

Taking a breath, gripping her power, Evvy pulled on her stones. Within moments she was soaked with sweat, though she hardly noticed it. She pulled again, and again, dragging on her power while the stones in the wall grumbled and groaned. The habit of long years was hard to break. She felt as if she tried to walk down Triumph Road dragging this house and its old, mulish foundation.

“Yoru, look at her.” It was the female’s voice, the girl who had brought water to Evvy. “I think the sleep-stuff made her sick.”

“Fussing over the thukdak again?” The male voice drew closer. Evvy felt air move, and a hand touched her face. “Sweating. What’s the matter, princess, scared?”

Evvy went cold with fury; her grip on her magic slackened. Please, she thought to the stones, believing she had failed. Pretty please? she thought, hating that bit of childish silliness.

In the stone she felt an answer that seemed uncomfortably like, You could have just asked.

Rock grated; Evvy smelled dust. People yelled. A handful of stones exploded from the wall, just over Evvy’s body. One struck the boy in front of her; he grunted and hit the ground with a thump. Evvy drew up her legs and kicked out, shoving him away from her.

Someone was babbling a prayer to Mohun for quiet and peace. A boy cried, “Get me a rag; Yoru’s bleeding.”

“Ikrum?” someone further away cried. “Ikrum, you’d best come!”

“What happened?” The young man’s voice came from outside the room. When he spoke again, Evvy could tell he wasn’t far from her. “Shaihun eat it, what did she do?”

A babble of voices answered him. Evvy heard the boy near her moan. Not dead, she thought savagely. Too bad.

“We thought she couldn’t do magic if she was blindfolded!” cried the girl who’d given her water. “She’ll pull the house down if we keep her here!”

“Yoru?” The young man’s voice sounded now close to Evvy, as if he crouched about three feet away.

“Brained me,” said the cruel boy’s voice, slurred and filled with pain. “Li’l belbun threw stone at … me.”

“Well, your skull’s in one piece.” There was no sympathy in the crisp voice.

Please? Evvy asked the rocks in the wall near those she’d pulled out. Please help?

They thought about it.

Hard fingers grabbed her ear and twisted. She lost her hold on the magic between her and the rocks in a wash of pain. “I think we’d better take you to the lady, Yoru’s belbun,” the crisp voice said. “She’ll know what to do with you, or her mage will. And if I were you,” he added in a whisper, “I’d think of ways to keep the lady happy. If you don’t, you’ll never see daylight again.” To someone else he called, “Gimme the sleepy juice.”

Evvy fought to concentrate on the stones, tried to grip her magic through the pain in her ear, but she couldn’t do it. She tried to thrash out of crisp-voice’s hold, but that just made her ear hurt more. In a moment smothering, smelly cloth covered her mouth and nose. She fell into shadows, without even dreams for company.

14

By taking Mai to the Water temple, Briar had dealt himself a bit of luck. The street on which the Vipers laired was close to the temple. Better still, the turning onto the Vipers’ street, Oleander Way, was clearly marked. He had not gone far down that twisted road when he saw that other visitors had come to call. Ten Gate Lords clustered around a blank doorway over which a snake was painted. The gang members were armed with clubs and daggers.

Briar looked at the Gate Lords coldly. If they attacked the den, Evvy might get hurt. That was unacceptable. He had to deal with the Gate Lords first.

As soon as he had made the seed balls he and Rosethorn used for protection on the road, Briar had stowed his share in his mage kit. Reaching into an outer pocket, he slid out two wrapped in yellow cloth. He sprinkled them with a few drops from the kit’s water bottle.

A Gate Lord looking around noticed he was there. He pointed a club a Briar. “Stop gawping and take off, if you know what’s good for you!”

Briar glanced at the club: it sprouted leafy twigs and sent roots searching for the ground. As the Gate Lord yelped and dropped it, Briar hurled a ball into the midst of the gang. It opened when it hit, scattering seeds. Briar followed it with a surge of power. The seeds he had so carefully prepared exploded in frantic growth.

Vines shot from the ground in all directions, as if they meant to do twenty years’ worth of growing in an afternoon. They were a mixture of grape and five-finger plants, tough, flexible and strong, spelled to twine rope-like around the target Briar chose. He directed them to the Gate Lords. The vines obeyed, whipping around gang members, trapping arms, legs, and weapons. Three went sprawling, to be bound where they lay. The remaining seven were dragged back by their green captors, away from the Vipers’ door. Some vines shot across the street. They wrapped long stems around door handles and window gratings, tying four Gate Lords to it. Some plants reached out to one another, yanking the remaining three captives into one green bundle.