immunity. During the trip to the Citadel, I had explained my
reasons for keeping it a secret to Irys.
“Why is Opal here?” Fisk asked. His voice had deepened
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since I last talked with him. He had cut his light brown hair
short, and was now as tall as my brother.
The Master Magicians ignored his question.
“Status?” Irys asked Bain.
“The boy inside this dwelling is on the verge of f laming
out,” Bain said. “He has pulled a huge amount of power to
him, blocking anyone, including me, from getting close.”
“Doesn’t that mean he has control of his power?” I asked.
“No. The barrier he made is out of fear and it is about to
rip apart.”
A disaster for magicians. Their magic came from the blanket
of power that surrounded the world. If one of them yanked
too hard, it will bunch and warp, creating havoc for the magi-
cians, and killing the person responsible.
“How can I help?” I asked.
“You need to go in there and talk to him. Teach him to
slowly release the magic back into the source,” Irys said.
Apprehension crawled like little spider legs over skin. “Teach
him how? I don’t have any magic.”
Fisk said, “She can’t get in there. Let me try to talk to him
again.”
“He’s losing it.” Irys’s face paled. “Think of the magic as a
balloon filled with air. Get rid of the air without popping the balloon. Go now!”
In a panic, I ran to the doorway and bounced off a curtain of
magic. After a second to recover my senses, I found the magical barrier. Pushing my hands and arms into the power, I leaned
my weight forward and shoved my way into the building. I
felt as if I swam in invisible mud. Every step was an effort. I fought to draw a breath. Could I drown in magic?
Struggling against the thickness, I searched the house. Dam-
aged tables, chairs without legs and soiled bedding littered the f loor. Cobwebs hung, dust motes f loated and broken glass
crunched under my boots. Not a home, but a shelter for those
without homes. It explained Fisk’s presence.
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My muscles protested the abuse. My lungs seemed to fill
with magic, expanding in my chest and wheezing through my
throat. I kept checking rooms until I found the boy huddled in
a corner. Although I wouldn’t use the word boy to describe the wild creature who gawked at me with an exhausted terror.
His tangled, greasy hair reached the f loor. Bony knees
poked through tattered pants. The rest of his ragged clothes
were inadequate for the cold weather. I guessed his age to be
around thirteen.
He trembled and sweat dripped from his jaw. I held my
hands wide, showing him I was unarmed before I crouched
to his level.
“I’m here to help.” I kept my voice even, suppressing the
desire to pant.
A wary, doubtful look replaced his fear. His lips whitened
as he pressed them together, matching his sickly pallor. He
clutched what appeared to be an apron and a teapot to his
upper body.
“You’re not in trouble. You have grabbed a huge amount
of magic. Can you feel it?”
He
nodded.
The panic in my heart eased a bit. “Don’t let go. You need
to hold on to it a little longer. Can you do that?”
This time he hesitated.
“It’s
important.”
His gaze slid to a battered sleeping mat next to him. A be-
draggled stuffed dog with a stained pink bow around its neck
lay on a dirty pillow.
I played a hunch. “If you let go, who will take care of
her?”
Alarm f lashed on his face.
“Hold on for her, okay?”
This time he responded with a determined nod, tighten-
ing his grip on the items in his arms. The gesture gave me an
idea.
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229
your teapot. If you don’t pour the tea out, it will break the
pot.”
“Too much tea,” he agreed with a strained high-pitched
voice.
“You need to send the tea slowly through the spout, releas-
ing it back to the sky. When the pot is empty, everyone will
be safe.” I hoped.
He closed his eyes. The magic thickened. It pushed me
over, clogged my nose and pressed me f lat to the f loor. Fear
spread inside me. Could I survive a f lameout at this distance?
My lungs heaved, burning with the effort to draw in air.
Black-and-white spots swirled in my vision like ashes above
a dead fire. The room spun and the world ceased to be for
a while. Awareness of my surroundings crept in. With each
blink of my eyes, the blackness faded and pale colors returned, turning into harsh brightness. Without magic blocking my
nose, the powerful acidic smell of urine invaded. I sat up.
The boy was slumped over. His teapot had rolled away,
but appeared to be intact. I touched his neck, searching for a
pulse. Nothing. Poor kid. I covered my face with my hands,
letting regret f low through me.
Eventually, I lifted my head. I had survived a f lameout,
and the building remained intact. I always imagined major
destruction whenever a magician talked about losing control.
My visions of collapsed walls and piles of rubble had been way
off the mark.
Irys rushed into the room with Fisk right behind her. She
slid to a stop next to the boy and laid a hand on his head. He
moaned and I jumped at the sound.
“Holy snow cats! Is he alive?” A stupid question, but my
wits had scattered.
“Of course. He’s just exhausted.” Irys frowned. “And mal-
nourished, and probably sick.” She scooped him up with ease. “I need to get him to the infirmary.” She aimed for the door.
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“I’m so glad he lived through a f lameout.”
Irys paused at the threshold. “He never lost control. Thanks
to you.” She swept from the room.
I rocked back on my heels, letting the information register.
I glanced at Fisk. He stood in the middle of the squalor, peer-
ing around with pain. His eyes shone with unshed tears.
“I didn’t know about this place,” he said. “I could have
helped them, but they probably scattered when Master Blood-
good and his magicians arrived.”
“Won’t they come back?” I gestured to the piles of pos-
sessions.
“Maybe.” He swiped his eyes. “I’ll post a few watchers and
if they return, we’ll offer them better shelter and jobs.”
I picked up the boy’s apron and teapot, figuring he would
want them when he woke.
Fisk nodded with approval. “They’re probably his mother’s.
My guess is she’s either dead or has abandoned him, leaving
him at the mercy of his abusive father. Which would explain
his fear of men.”
I pointed to the stuffed dog. “I think he might have a
sister.”
“If she shows up here, I’ll make sure she knows where he
is.”
Without the distraction of magic, the horrible living condi-
tions and filth assaulted my senses. As we left, I asked, “Fisk, how does this happen? Aren’t there agencies in the Citadel to
help these people?”
“There is one. And they are so overwhelmed it’s ridiculous.”
He sighed. “Believe it or not, some of these people choose
to live this way. They refuse all help. Others just don’t know
where to go.”
“You’ve done a lot.”
“As you can see, not near enough. I tried spreading the
word, but there are these little groups who stay isolated. Plus I’m dealing with vicious rumors.”
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231
“Really? I’ve heard nothing but praise.”
“That’s in your world. This world—” he stabbed a finger
toward the ground “—views us differently. They’re either
jealous, afraid or spiteful.”
“What are they afraid of ? You’re helping people.”
“They listen to the rumors and the wild stories of us selling
kids as slaves, smuggling drugs, organizing prostitution and
kids being forced to work for me,” he said in frustration. “It’s hard to reason with a frightened child.” He stepped toward
the door, being careful not to crush anything under his feet.
I followed his example. Concentrating on where I walked,
I bumped right into him. He had stopped. I met his intense
gaze.
A thin ribbon of fear curled in my chest. “What?”
“You reasoned with a terrified kid. Saved him and the blanket of power.” Fisk gestured to the sleeping mats. “These
people don’t trust anyone. Did you use magic on him? No…
you don’t have any…”
I waited as he chased the logic. It didn’t take him long.
“How did you get in? Even the Master Magicians couldn’t
break through the barrier.”
Again, I let him put the pieces together. It was sort of fun.
With the way he tilted his head and his inward gaze, I imag-
ined faint clicks echoing in his mind until he figured it out
with one loud snap.
Fisk grabbed my shoulders. “Magic doesn’t work on you.”
His eyes danced with excitement. “Like Valek. And you feel
magic, too. That’s why you looked like you were fighting a
strong wind. Holy snow cats is right!”
“Fisk,
I—”
“That’s why you came.”
“You
need—”
“Wow. The Council’s going to be thrilled. Why haven’t
you told them?”
I sighed. “It’s complicated. Besides, they’ll know soon
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enough since both Masters are now informed. Can you
keep it quiet for a while? I don’t want it to become public
knowledge.”
A shrewd look slid across his face. “I can for a price.”
“Scoundrel. How much?”
He touched his chest as if I had offended him. “Not money.
I may need your…special skills in the future to aid my Helper’s Guild members, and it would be comforting to know I can
engage your services.”
Smooth. I guessed he was sixteen years old, but his obvious
intelligence and experience from growing up on the streets
made him appear older. With his long eyelashes, he was going
to be popular with the girls if he wasn’t already.
“Agreed,” I said.
When we exited the building, two of his members ap-
peared. Fisk assigned them the task of watching for the missing residents. During the discussion, I studied their faces. The kids seemed eager, serious and confident, but I wondered if they
played or had fun. I examined the teapot in my hands. Fine
cracks ran through the pattern of roses. Chips lined the handle and the lid was missing. Did the children in the Helper’s Guild feel loved?
He finished and the two hurried off. I worried they would
be on their own tonight. I huffed, but not with humor, more
like self-disgust. First time I ever wondered about them. Or
cared, to be brutally honest. Fisk had mentioned this world
versus my world. And I agreed.
My world didn’t include rancid bedding and filth. My world
didn’t have children without homes and caring parents. My
world included warmth, food and love. But our worlds did
have one thing in common—bad people.
Quartz and I headed toward the Magician’s Keep in the
northeast corner of the Citadel. The white marble walls re-
f lected the sunlight and bounced traffic noise, creating echoes.
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233
I avoided the crowded market in the center of the Citadel.
Instead I bypassed it to the south and cut through the Sitian
government complex, which filled the southeast quarter.
The sight of the Master Magicians’ towers rising above the
other buildings sent a wave of memories crashing over me. I
waded through them, avoiding the awful ones and focusing
on the pleasant ones from my five years as a student.
At the entrance to the Keep, the guard stopped me.
“Master Bloodgood wants to see you in his office,” he
said.
“Please tell him I’ll be there after I settle Quartz into the
stables.”
Along with the guards, at least one magician worked at the
gate at all times for safety and to relay messages to the magi-
cians inside.
“No. Now,” the guard said. “Your horse can find her way
there without you.”
Annoyed, I snapped. “And get chewed out by the Stable
Master? No thank you. Have someone take her or I will.”
After a bit of discussion, a stable hand appeared to escort
Quartz. Satisfied, I crossed to the Keep’s administration building. Imposing marble steps led up to the main entrance. The
rectangular-shaped structure consisted of offices and confer-
ence rooms for the managerial staff as well as offices for the
Master Magicians.
A feeling of being home touched me for a brief moment.
As I navigated the well-known hallways, I encountered pools
of magic. A few graduates from the Keep’s program worked
in various positions in administration. The random touch of
power sent chills along my skin. I remembered Janco’s nick-
name for the place. Creepy Keepy.
“Come in,” First Magician Bain Bloodgood called through
his office door.
I entered and smiled. As usual, clutter filled the room.
Heaps of books strained the shelves. Odd devices and half-
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completed experiments littered his worktable. Piles of paper
threatened to spill onto his desk. The messy office matched
his wild gray hair, and the long navy robe reminded me of
all the times I had sat opposite him, discussing Sitian history with him. His face would all but glow with pride when I had
remembered an arcane bit of knowledge he had taught me.
I approached his desk. He glanced up from the book spread
open before him. A stranger met my gaze. His appraisal lacked
kindness or curiosity. The w
rinkles around his mouth deep-
ened with his annoyed frown. Dark smudges stood out against
the pale, paper-thin skin clinging to his face.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” he demanded.
Taken aback, I scrambled for a reply. “I told Irys—”
“She told me your pathetic excuses. What I want to know
is why you kept such a valuable skill secret from us when you
had created such a crisis in Sitia?”
“Crisis?”
“The crisis due to your sacrifice. Giving up your magic has
ground communications to a halt. It’s as if we have all gone
suddenly deaf. Your glass messengers were vital to commerce
and to my network of magicians. The Council doesn’t even
want to hear your name.”
The ground dissolved under my feet. I groped for the chair,
afraid I would fall. “But what about now? I saved a boy today
and protected the power source.”
Bain’s anger def lated a bit. “You did an excellent job today.
Once the boy is recovered, he will be enrolled in the Keep
to learn how to control his magic. However, even saving the
boy’s life won’t be enough to sway the Council’s opinion.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m afraid if I inform the Council about your immunity
now, they’ll be afraid.”
Confused, I gripped the armchair. “Why?”
“The whole nasty business with Akako has them on edge.
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235
So much that I had to assign every Councilor a magician to
protect them. A magician would not be able to stop you.”
“That’s extreme. I wouldn’t—”
“I know, but as I said, they’re not acting rational. Wait a
while, Opal,” Bain said. “I will tell the Council when they’re
ready. I’m hopeful everyone will relax soon. With Councilor
Moon returning to the sessions this week, I’m sure it won’t
be long. For now, Irys and I will keep you busy.”
Bain stood and walked around his desk. My head spun as if
I was falling from a great height. Before I could reply, his arm settled on my shoulders and he guided me to the hallway.
“You look exhausted, child. You’re welcome to stay in the
Keep’s guest quarters as long as you like. Get some sleep.” Bain closed the door.
I mulled over our conversation. Was I supposed to hang
around the Keep waiting for Bain or Irys to give me something
to do? Working for the Council didn’t appeal to me, but I
would help the Master Magicians.
However, I wasn’t going to remain idle. Finn was a magi-