Wild Magic

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There were a pair of two-wheeled carts placed between the twin pillars that marked the Approach to the Wood Bridge. Two sour, sullen Cheoshim stood watch there with crossbows, and short spears. Punishment detail? Probably. But they wouldn’t be careless, wouldn’t let her slip past however cleverly she went.

You want us to get across that Bridge anytime soon, you better come up with some way to get them out of there. She pulled the worn skirt closer about her, folded the excess cloth into a pad and eased onto her knees, then leaned forward so she could see the Bridge without being seen.

The drays were heavy and ancient; she recognized them immediately, having seen them often enough when she waited for Dossan outside the Woodman’s compound. With pairs of plodding saisai hitched to them, they carried crated furniture to the gatts and brought back loads of fine woods.

Her nose twitched. Those saisai were Winks of meat now, barreled in brine; the Woodman slaughtered them when he couldn’t buy feed or water for them. The

Cheoshim must have collected whatever Naostams were hanging about and forced them to haul the drays to the Bridge. Probably didn’t pay them so much as a moju either.

Abeyhamel spoke.

If you’re in such a hurry, you should’ve got me out earlier.

Abeyhamal spoke…

We could always cross by the Iron Bridge… nayo? Verna. Then a boat’s best. Why don’t we go for Reyna’s cat? Ladrda-vivi’s far enough on we won’t have trouble with that pair.

Abeyhamal spoke emphatically.

What can you expect if you don’t bother explaining? So have I got it right? I cross to the Low City on the Wood Bridge while someone else is coming across the Iron Bridge FROM the Low City? You going to explain why or who? Huh, I thought not. Then we’ve got ourselves a knot and not much time to untie it. Id appreciate some suggestions.

Abeyhamal repeated what she’d said before, the exact words without explanation or amplification.

Faan’s nostrils flared, but she fought down her disgust and told herself Dossan had to face this sort of thing every day-an employer was an employer, no matter hers was a god. Thick as a brick. Potz! Well, you’ll live through it, Fa. So let’s figure this out.

She scowled at the Bridge. The drays weren’t that much of a barrier, not with those huge wheels; she could slip through easily enough, she’d hardly have to bend her head. But the men…

Silvery-gray bubbles came blowing up through the dry hard. earth; some of them drifted about her, slid through the black twill cloak and rested like cool thoughts about her shoulders and neck, others flitted restlessly about her, rising and falling, curling in a lazy vortex that stayed mostly at the edge of her sight-Wild Magic in the open for the first time, drawn by her need.

She heard the popping fizz of their talk, sighed because she hadn’t a hope of understanding it.

Abeyhamal spoke.

Well, get on with it, you’re the one that’s in a hurry. Gods, she thought, Riverman was right, best to keep far away from them if you can. IF you can. Potz! Miseries miseries miseries…

She shut her eyes and gasped as Abeyhamal seized her brain, drove ghost fingers through and through it, stirring it and kneading it like sticky bread dough. Pain jagged through her she ground her teeth and culled synonyms from memory to reassure herself that her head still worked and to distance herself from what was happening to it. Agony. Affliction. Anguish. Tbrment. Tribulation. Torture.

When the pressure eased, she rubbed the gummy pain-tears from her eyes. You finished reknitting my brain?

There was no answer from Abeyhamal, just a vague sense of satisfaction.

Faan shivered. Do you hear me, FVildings?

The popping fizz grew more agitated, then the babble increased enormously and the whirl of the bubbles went faster and faster until she was the center of a silvery tornado. Strange. Uncomfortable. Sense of… something… an arbitrariness without limits… sliding, slippery contact… like touching… she couldn’t find a word for the feel she got. Except for the good will that was like a sweet smell over them, the Wildings were scary. Well, no point in being a bigot about it.

I need to draw those Cheoshim off the Bridge. Can you help me?

She heard a rush of something like giggles, then the bubble people swirled away from her and went darting off like a swarm of… what? The way they moved, flitting and swooping in graceful arcs, reminded her of a field of butterflies shining in the sun-which she couldn’t remember seeing, but the image was sharp in her head.

Abeyhamal spoke.

Vema, vema. Faan sighed and got to her feet, shook out her skirt. Fire? Might burn the Bridge down! Abeyhamal spoke.

The appearance of fire? Don’t know if I can do that. Abeyhamal spoke.

Vema, vema. If you say so. Ow! Do you have to DO THAT? She lifted her arms, narrowed her eyes, built her focus on the drays… and waited.

The Wildings fluttered about the Cheoshim, making the guards nervous with tiny nips from things they couldn’t see. They scratched, stamped their feet, jigged around, stared at the drays, and cursed them as hosts for lice.

The nipping grew worse. Clawing at themselves, they put more distance between themselves and the carts.

Faan smiled, then loosed the thing she’d built. The drays seemed to explode in flames, pale, translucent red and orange tongues of fire whipping out and up. Prodded by Abeyhamal, she pulled over herself a harder cloak than usual of her no-see-me and ran for the Bridge, Ailiki lallopping ahead of her.

The Cheoshim guards were yelling and following instinct, getting out of there, scratching and cursing the heat licking at them, too busy to bother with a shadow like a drift of smoke that flowed past them and oozed between the burning drays.

By the time Faan reached the middle of the Bridge, the Wildings were back with her, bubbling about her, giggling and excited, loving the game. More-ee, more-ee, they fizzed at her, givee moree. Tricky chicky ticklee donkee.

Abeyhamal spoke.

Vema, vema. She fluttered her fingers at the Wildings. Later. Another day for sure, another time. I give you my blessing for your help and my promise repeated.

I told Riverman and I tell you now, I will serve you as I swore. Go. I have to be quiet like a mouse.

She held her arms out from her body, the cloak fluttering in the furnace wind running along the River; the bubble people fell away from the Bridge as if she’d dumped them overside, then they flowed in a silver streak across the water and melted into the Riverbank.

Abeyhamal spoke.

Faan glanced downRiver. The Iron Bridge wavered in the heat haze, but she could see a dark figure intermittently visible between the girders. I see him. Who is it?

Abeyhamal was pointedly silent and tangibly impatient.