Wild Magic

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The Pigg and his gang were scruffing down a side wynd, tempers on quick trigger. Tricky and his scourings had stomped them again last night, forced them to turn tail and get away any way they could. They were simmering with rage and humiliation. It didn’t help that younger children leaned out from upper-story windows, yelling names at them, smacking their lips in the shame-shame noise, pointing their fingers, and laughing.

They turned into the wynd, wrestling and hitting at each other, flaring into brief shouting matches that the Pigg fisted into grudging silence, kicking at the dirt, whistling, cursing, a mob of knobby knees and flying elbows, violence barely contained.

Faan came round a bend of the wynd, dragging her doll by one ann.

The boys surged in a dark herd about her, mocking her, pulling at her hair. One of them snatched her doll away, laughed at her outraged yell, threw it to another boy; she ran after it; he threw it to a third. Frightened and angry and helpless, she started crying.

The Pigg laughed, snatched the doll, took hold of it by its china legs and slammed it against a wall, shattering the head and arms, tearing the body so the aro-

.

matic wood shavings spilled across the weeds at the base of the wall. He swung the rag that was left about his head and flung it away, then he grabbed at Faan, caught hold of her hair, and jerked her off her feet.

She screamed.

Ailiki screamed, ran at the Pigg, black lips curled back over her teeth.

The Pigg’s lieutenant kicked at Ailiki, missed; Pigg kicked and caught the little beast in mid-shift; he sent the mahsar flying up and over the other boys.

And the road cracked open and huge gray shapeless forms rose from the earth, writhing serpent forms that reared up and over the gaping boys, roaring soundlessly, roars that hurt the mind not the ears. A serpent plucked Ailiki from the air with its mouth, set her gently down.

The Pigg yowled, swung a screaming bawling Faan up and around and flung her at the serpents.

Another serpent caught her, set her down, then reared back and darted its head at the Pigg.

He whimpered and went racing away, the rest of his gang fleeing with him.

Faan fled blindly back along the wynd, running and running, whimpering in terror. Ailiki ran after Faan, squealing, at her, trying to break through her panic.

The gray stone serpents undulated after Faan, protecting her.

There were Edgers watching, children leaning out windows, men and women gaping at her and at the monsters undulating behind her. They stayed where they were, too frightened to try to help. A few of the women were lay Beeservants with enough education to know what the serpents were; they stared at the baby and made Abeyhamal’s lazy eight. Any child who could call elementals to her was rare, magical, and dangerous to everyone around her. And possibly useful. More than one gazed after the terrified child with a mix of wonder and speculation.

An Anacho priest coming from a laying ceremony for the souls of a newly dead boatman was plodding up the wynd, head down, fingering the skulls and hammerbeads on his prayerchain. He almost walked into the serpents, glanced up, and went pale. Edging cautiously backward he hugged a wall as the great gray snakes undulated past. When the wynd was clear, he hurried across it and plunged into the maze of ways and wynds beyond, interested only in putting distance between himself and that eerie manifestation of a magic he didn’t want to know about.

Panote heard Faan’s screams and hurried into the alley. He froze as he saw the serpents.

“Talmak6s, Tannakes, Tannakds,” he shouted, held his arms out before him, bent upward at the elbow, crossed at the wrist. “My shield and my strength.” He ran out, knelt in the middle of the wynd, spreading his arms.

Blindly, Faan ran into them.

He held her, tenderly, gently; she struggled, bit, scratched, kicked, but he restrained her without hurting her. “Hush, Honeychild,” he said, “Hush, lovey, it’s just old Pan. You know old Pan, Pan oh tay.” He sneaked a look past her, gulped as he saw the huge serpent heads weaving over him, then calmed as he understood they weren’t threatening him.

Ailiki was sitting in the middle of the wynd, busily grooming her fur, licking at her small black hands and rubbing them over her body. She’d been hurt by something or someone, but she was healing herself as Panote watched.

Utsapisha struggled to her feet, but Panote waved her back. “Keep everyone inside,” he said. She nodded, shut the door and rested her back against it.

Faan stopped struggling and begin to sob. Panote hummed a Tannak hymn and the sobbing diminished until the child was leaning exhausted and silent against his massive arm.

Silently, subtly, the serpents melted into earth and air and the stink of strange magic cleared from the Wynd.

“Broke,” Faan said. “Bad boys. Dolly all broke.” Ailiki came over, put a small black hand on Faan’s arm.

“Broke Liki?”

The mahsar wriggled and produced a spurt of chuckling laughter. Then she scrambled up into Faan’s lap and nuzzled at her, tickling her with her wide-springing whiskers.

Utsapisha stumped over to Panote, stood hands on bony hips, gazing down at the drowsy child. “An’t she somefin, eh?”

“So it seems.”

Utsapisha inspected the wynd that stretched empty and shabby in the spring morning sunlight. “What were them things?”

“Earth elementals,” he said. “My guess is Faan called them. To save her from… urn… bad boys.”

“Bad boys, link. Tricky or the Pigg or one a them.” She snickered. “Musta scared the potz outta ’em which serves li’l bassards right.”

Panote set Faan on her feet, stood, and dusted his knees off. “What I want to know is how she got out.”

Utsapisha shook her head. “Kids. You turn your back a minute and off they go. That ’un gonna be a handful ‘n a half w’en she get a bit older.” She chuckled, a scratchy sound like rusty hinges. “A handful ‘n a half. Oh diyo.”