Wild Magic

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Faan stopped at the mouth of the wynd, smoothed her hands over her hair and took a last scrub.at her face, then she stepped out onto the board walkway of Verakay Lane, Ailiki trotting beside her.

“Fa^,. Wait for us.”

Dossan and Ma’teesee were running toward her, weaving through the crowd on the street, their school sacks bumping against their backs. She felt like vomiting and for a moment she thought of running away, but she straightened her shoulders and turned to face them.

“Oooo eeee, Fa.” Ma’teesee swung into place at her right side and Dossan settled more quietly by her left elbow. “The mess you left!”

Dossan giggled. “Head looked like he going t’ explode like a too-hot tatee, Fa. He was yelling at the teachers, ‘specially Quiambo Tanish, something about Shinda and… uh. I think witches,” she pinched Faan’s arm, “he was gobbling so fast I couldn’t really catch what he was saying.”

Ma’teesee nodded. “Whatever it was you did, Fa, it scared the potz outta him. Was it magic, huh? huh?”

“Shush, Teesee, I’m telling this. Anyway, Fa, they got him quieted down and back in his ol’ office, then they told everyone to go home and finish lessons there. So we left and here we are. Where you been?”

“Down by River,” Faan said. “I din’t want to talk to anyone, Dossy. It was ol’ pie-face Izmit’s fault, you know, she messed up my lesson book with really eee-vil stuff, worse’n you hear you go down by Jang.” She shivered and lowered her voice as she said Jang. It was a bad place they weren’t allowed to talk about, let alone visit.

Ma’teesee put her arm through Faan’s, squeezed it. “I told y’,” she said. “Shouldda come in with us Wascras. 01’ Doodoo’s kinda fuzzy, but he’s nice and he teaches us all kinds of naffy things, betchya a bag of taffees we learn more than that damakee Izmit and Vazi and Rullah Longnose and all them to-tee ta-tee.”

Dossan giggled, pulled Ma’teesee and Faan into a skipping dance. “Wascra Wascra we the Wascra girls…

“One two three four,” Teesee chanted, breaking free and clapping her hands as she jigged beside them. “Who is it we jaja for,” Dossan chanted.

“Wascra Wascra Wascra girls,” the three of them screamed. They broke apart and went chasing each other down the Lane, ignoring the scolds that rippled after them as they ducked around porters and nearly ran down shopping wives and servants. Ailiki squealed and dashed ahead of them, yipped at Louok the Nimble as he came from Peshalla’s tavern, leapt up on the stage Mama Kubaza was setting up for her band, yipped again as the big woman swatted at her, missing her intentionally, ran through the legs of Zinar the Porter.