Daisy Banks

Marked for Magic


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the tray before her.

      “I want you to look at the star. Breathe in the vapor, but concentrate on the star.”

      She nodded, and then took a deep breath, followed by another. The star shone through the pale, sweet-scented smoke. She focused on it.

      “Do not turn your head, but tell me, what can you see, Nin?”

      “The star,” she murmured.

      “Is it bright yet?”

      “Yes, very. It’s beautiful.”

      The soft tone told more than her words. She had slipped with such ease into the calm of the dream-like state. How could he have missed so much about her? “I want you to sing as you did yesterday.”

      “But you said I was out of tune.”

      “I do not care how musical you are. Just sing like you did yesterday.”

      He winced when she screeched and was still out of tune.

      “You know this is different from when you sing aloud?”

      “Yes, this is easy.”

      By the river gods, she’d even answered in thought. A flash of envy at her ability leaped through him. This was no coincidence as he first suspected it might be. He had taken months to learn to speak the silent words clearly, yet she was a bright beacon who burned with a steady power.

      “I want you to try to make the song quiet, Sparrow. Make the sounds soft, so it stays in your head. You will have to concentrate.”

      She gave a tiny nod. Tilting his head, he took note of her expression.

      The pupils of her eyes had expanded to become huge, dark dilated circles, partly due to the incense, the rest, perhaps fear. To let go this fast could cause nausea, or panic if one were unfamiliar with the sensation. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

      He wished she’d picked a different tune. The song she had chosen spoke of lost love. Sorrow filled its words. The noise from her lessened a little. “If you want breakfast, you will have to make a much better effort.”

      “Bastard!”

      He suppressed his desire to laugh at her irreverence. She did not need reassurance, but a reminder of where she sat. “Speak to me in such terms again and you will spend a week as a toad in a jar.”

      “Sorry,” she mumbled, but not in a sulk. She had slid deeper into the trance.

      Concerned, for he did not wish her to go further, he spoke. “You must center all your thoughts on quiet. Stay with me and try.”

      She leaned down toward the incense tray, her gaze fixed on the star. Gently, he urged her upright. The song grew softer.

      “A lot better, but you need more control, Sparrow. Come on, I know you can do it. I am sure you are hungry.”

      Quiet came slowly, creeping over him in a wave. Not one sound from her broke the morning stillness. “Oh, well done!”

      She turned toward him, her gap-toothed smile widened, and the warts on her chin wagged. The noise returned.

      “No, now do it again. Make the singing quiet.”

      Once more, her voice lowered until it vanished. The sense of her effort radiated to him. “Do not turn to look at me, but remember this sensation. Can you feel it?”

      “Yes.”

      “Good. Examine, learn, and remember it. Whenever the thoughts come fast or hard, you must recall this level of concentration to stop them escaping to disturb others who might hear you.”

      She nodded.

      He sat back, pleased. All in all, she’d done very well for a first attempt. “Now, I want you to look away from the star and look at the floor instead.”

      She tilted her head down.

      He smothered the tray of incense with a lid. When he glanced back, she still looked at the floor. “Breathe deep. Stretch your legs out. Relax. When you are ready, look at me.”

      After several deep breaths, she slowly straightened her legs and smiled up at him.

      He offered a silent prayer of thanks for the power of the glamour. Without the effect of his spell, with her fragile vulnerability and her utter trust in him, she could burrow into his soul. He got up and removed the tray of incense. “Blink, stretch, and now, Sparrow, you can eat.”

      “Thabit, did I do it right?”

      He ruffled her hair, surprised the gray spikes were so soft beneath his palm. The glamour obviously didn’t penetrate further than a visual illusion. He must remember and not touch her again. “Yes, you did very well. You will continue to practice up here with me. But, Nin…” He stepped back and glanced around at the clutter.

      “Yes.” She stood.

      “You must never come up here alone. There are things here that could hurt you. I would not want to deal with the repercussions. Now, shall we go down to make porridge?”

      While she made the porridge, he bathed in the stream. When he returned, she sat quiet as they ate. Might she be ill? The incense could cause nausea and dizziness if inhaled too fast. “Sparrow, are you all right?”

      “Yes, I’m remembering.”

      “Good, it is important to identify and recall the sensation of control.” He put down his spoon. “Now, while you go bathe, I will get a basket of things together to trade. We will visit the market today. I intend to show the village I have not killed you…yet.”

      Her low laugh caught at him as he headed for the stairs. He packed a dozen small pots of salve and a variety of bottles of popular potions and healing brews to barter. After a few moments to decide which, he folded three of the scarves. He never took too many. The trades seemed better if the villagers saw the fabric as a luxury.

      The basket ready, he took it down to the kitchen, left it on the table, and went to change his robe. For today’s purposes, he put on his second best—wine red with a hood. The black leather belt he wrapped around his waist, he only wore on serious occasions. He added his silvered dagger to its black sheath and set his pouch beside it so the dagger lay at his hip. He pulled out the leather thong and combed through his hair.

      The villagers would see him powerful today. A mage with an apprentice, if he could call her that, should strike a little fear. He would relish their reactions. Nin lived under his protection since they cast her out. He’d see they would respect her place.

      She waited in the kitchen. She’d bathed and changed into the loose, shapeless brown gown. The homespun rag hung like a sack. His old blue tunic was a far preferable garment. She bent to peek into the basket. Arching an eyebrow, he shook his head so she backed off from her investigation. Her mouth formed a perfect O as she stared at him, and the glamour shimmered, revealing the gold of her hair among the gray.

      “What is wrong?” He glanced down at himself and forced his level of concentration to steady.

      “Nothing, you look…You look…”

      He gave her a nod, pleased the gray spikes had returned. “Like a Mage. Thank you, Sparrow. It is time to go. While we trade, we will get you enough cloth to make a new gown. The brown one is as foul clean as it was when dirty.”

      He indicated for her to carry the basket and, as they left, pondered why he should find the sack-like gown so offensive. He locked the door.

      * * * *

      Their walk to the village uneventful, Nin’s surprise grew at how quick it seemed. For when she first trod this path, the journey had been the longest she’d ever made.

      Had it only been two days ago?

      The gate of the village palisade came into view. She halted because her knees shook. “Thabit,” she whispered, “you won’t let them kill