Wild Magic

› › ‹ ‹

Gozi the Ramp and his gang came prowling down the lane as Faan was using tongue and imagination on Mazabo the rag-and-bone man; they milled about listening for a moment, then added their own taunts and sass-dances. They were fourteen, fifteen, young apprentices out on a tear.

Gozi the Ramp cupped his hands about his mouth. “Chooee, hoop hoop hoop, chooeeeee,” he howled. “Bite ‘m, bebe, chew ‘m hard and spit In out. Chooee, hoop hoop hoop, chooeeee.”

“Rag man bag man eat his own potz,” Dossan chanted, clapping and stamping, slapping her arm, her mid-finger thrusting.

“Chooee, hoop hoop,” Fugo and Wiswan hooted while they danced in a circle about their leader, snapping their fingers, jerking their heads, their hair spikes swaying.

Ma’teesee thrust two fingers in her mouth and started to whistle, then yelped and danced back as a cascade of dirty, soapy water flooded down from the upper window. As she looked up, she saw a pair of Shinda guards running toward them. “Tchi’ka, buzzit, fleas comin’.”

The two sets scattered into the wynds and ways of the Backbehind of the Edge, lost the guards after the first few turns.

The three girls sat on a deserted gatt, swinging their legs over the side and watching the torches of the priest-procession climbing the Sacred Way. Ma’teesee poked Faan. “What’d y’ learn today? Show us, huh? huh?”

Faan wrinkled her nose. “You spooky, Teesee, I think you crazier ‘bout this than me.”

Ma’teesee giggled. “You learn it, me, I figure ways of using it. Like the time we had Rullah the snerk running down Verakay showing everything she got ’cause her skirt kept blowing up.”

“Diyo. And who got singed for it? Me.”

Ma’teesee punched her arm. “‘S the idee, diyo dee dee.”

“That’s old.”

“So what’s new?”

Dossan snorted. “You gonna fall for that, Fa?”

“Oh Dossy, don’t be wet. You wanna see, too, I know you.”

Faan and Dossan slapped hands. “Old stuff, sho’

‘nuff, Teesee’s stale, big’s a whale.” They collapsed into giggles as Ma’teesee rolled round behind them and began tickling first one, then the other, her strong agile fingers raking their ribs.

When they’d laughed themselves weak, they lay on the worn planks staring up at the sky, breathing in deep sighs, blinking at stars drifting in and out of thin dry clouds.

After a while, Ma’teesee said, “Fugo said there’s gonna be a fire on the Jang tonight. Wanna go?”

Dossan sat up, fiddled with the leather thong she’d tied about her wrist, glanced sideways at Faan.

Faan looked down at Ailiki who was stretched across her stomach, looking back at her, nose twitching, ears laid back. She sat up, dislodging the mahsar. “Diyo,” she said. “Le’s do it.”