The Other Side of Magic

by Ester Manzini

  The block on her abilities was something different entirely. But could she write out the possibility that her mother had put another seal on her, just to keep her from being free?

  “I’ve never considered this side of the matter, but… “

  “It’s something we should investigate I’ll ask the elders if they have some knowledge of any spell that could explain the situation. But you’re not the only one I’m interested into.”

  Ligeia gave Gaiane a dry smile and turned to Leo.

  “Ampelio escaped the conscription traveling as a bard and storyteller—and a spy--for the past eight years. You, Leo, look very young: why are you…”

  “Never been one for magic,” she replied curtly, and Ligeia didn’t investigate further. She turned her back on them and looked at the shelves on the wall. Candles, blankets, even books.

  “You’re not a rarity here, if that’s of any comfort to you.”

  “Larsa said something like that. There’s not much magic around here. Actually, it’s quite a mess.” Leo said, and Gaiane kicked her foot. “Ouch!”

  “You’re talking to a queen! Be more respectful!” she hissed, but Ligeia laughed. It made her look younger and less intimidating.

  “Don’t worry, the title is more of a honorary thing than something I revel on. Nobody is particularly reverent to me, and it’s alright. What’s a queen without a crown? A mayor, nothing more.”

  “Sorry,” Gaiane said, blushing.

  Ligeia continued.

  “‘Not much magic’ is an understatement. We have barely any to speak of--have you two guessed why?”

  A test! Gaiane gasped in excitement: the memory of Alcmena questioning her and pushing her to use her wits flashed in her mind, in a mixture of homesickness and pleasure.

  “Because… Alright, let me see,” she said, frowning in concentration. “Demographics, first: I’ve seen some children under twelve around, but not many people in their twenties. Lots of over fifty, I’d say.”

  “Yes, and…”

  “So, if we consider Del Prato’s work on the age of first display of magic powers, and the relative short time span in which Nikaia has been…”

  “Is it because Zafiria is taking the mages, isn’t it?” Leo interrupted her, and Gaiane glared at her.

  “I was getting there myself!”

  “And when their indenture ends, they’re out of power entirely.” Leo concluded.

  Gaiane forgot her brood and cocked an eyebrow. Something in the whole discussion made very little sense.

  “... they’re using Epidalian mages? In my homeland? B-But why? We have mages, too, and very powerful!”

  She knew Epidalian young people spent time in Zafiria, but her mother always told her it was for education, an honor to their family. Why use foreign mages when those in Zafiria were the finest in the land? They'd been through the topic already, when Leo was still angry with her, and it still didn't make sense.

  Ligeia leaned against the wall and nodded.

  “If what they say it’s true, and you are the only person whose power will never run out, you can see the point.”

  “No, we love magic, it’s…”

  “Magic, to you, to the Asares, and your people in Zafiria, means power. Wealth, social status, possibilities--what happens to those who have exhausted their own stack?” Ligeia twisted a braid in her fingers, and Gaiane felt once more tears choke her.

  “How would I know? I’ve never seen anything but the tower I’ve been kept for my whole life.” she whispered angrily. Leo took a step closer, and her warmth calmed her a little.

  Ligeia looked at her intently for a long moment.

  “As I said, no child should live captive,” she murmured, then she roused. “But you are ignorant of your own land’s status. Well, let me tell you the whole story, then: your people take our people and use them as labour force. To build and plow and serve.”

  “B-But… Zafiria is a lovely place, I read everything about it, and…”

  The queen cut her pathetic justification short.

  “They’re never paid for their work. And when they’re done, when no magic runs through their veins anymore, they’re discarded. Sent back to Epidalio, where they live in poverty--or join the rebellion and try to survive.”

  “Fine, I think she got it,” Leo said, stepping in. “She was too young to be part of this, and is a victim as any other Epidalian person, here. Don’t…”

  “I need her to understand.” Ligeia held her hand out. “Nikaian people will talk. They won’t be kind.”

  Gaiane bared her teeth against the ever present need to cry and dropped to her knees so hard her legs hurt.

  “Then let me help!” she blurted out.

  * * *

  “I’ve told you already that I don’t like formalities, I…”

  “Please. I can’t use my magic, but I want to help! To make up for the plan I was unwilling part of. Let me do something!”

  “Up, girl,” Ligeia said, taking Gaiane’s arm and hauling her to her feet, gently enough. “What can you do?”

  “Not much,” Leo said. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s true! Since I’ve met you I haven’t seen you do anything remarkable!”

  “I can read! And I speak many languages, and…”

  “Then Mirone will show you to the library,” Ligeia said swiftly. “Not that books do any good when there’s no mages to train, but we salvaged some from the Asares’ raids.”

  “You’re not punishing me, then?” Gaiane asked in a soft voice. Ligeia closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if to calm herself.

  “Either you really are an innocent victim too, and you don’t have to apologize for that; or you’re lying, but you wouldn’t behave like this. Why should I punish you? What would I accomplish?”

  “B-Because it’s my fault. All of this. You lost everything, and…”

  “Gaiane, I haven’t lost everything. I have my daughter, and a cause to fight for. You can be a part of it, and Epidalio will forgive you for being part of a war you didn’t choose. It’s up to you.”

  “We take your offer,” Leo said quickly. “I can find the way to the library, while Larsa already asked me to help her at the forge.”

  “Wait, are you…”

  “No waiting, she might change her mind,” Leo murmured, pulling Gaiane along. “Thank you for your consideration, your majesty--Ligeia.”

  The woman smiled and pointed at the door with a flick of her chin.

  “You’re free to go, but stay in town. I might need you two again.”

  Chapter 16

  Leo couldn’t say she liked Nikaia, or what was left of it. It was dark, even with Larsa’s ingenious system of mirrors. The smell of burning torches was everywhere, and the food was scarce even for her low standards.

  But it was something. After a lifetime living in the static waters of the Mill, with the only noteworthy events being tragic, for the first time she felt alive. On the brink of something she couldn’t quite name yet, but part of a bigger world, waiting for a change.

  She was useful, too, even if right now she was sitting idle on a table in the so called library. The books were few and in bad conditions, some all rippled by water, others with their covers half burned and the pages ruined by rats. She never tried her luck with reading, but Gaiane adored them.

  At the moment, the princess was sitting at a table, with a small lamp casting its glow on the yellowed page she was reading. Leo, intent as she was in carving a small duck from a piece of wood she’d found in Larsa’s pile, glanced at her every now and then.

  Gaiane was pretty. Even now, with her hair in a loose bun and her face drawn after days of poor sleep, she looked exactly how Leo thought a princess was supposed to.

  Her knife caught in a knot, and she worked her way around it, using its bulge to shape the round chest of the duck.

  It was hard to accept and even harder to express, but she’d grown fond of the girl. Whiny and clumsy as she was, Gaiane deserved bette
r from life. She really wanted to help, but as of now, all she could do was linger around and suffer Nikaia’s accusing gaze with a grace Leo admired to the point of envy.

  With a sigh, she lay the knife down and studied Gaiane’s shape. The dancing flame shone on her hair, and her long lashes curved on her cheekbones.

  A mere month ago, had anyone told her she would’ve come to consider a girl like Gaiane a friend, or even care about her, Leo would’ve punched them. But now? A faint smile touched her lips as she remembered how Gaiane would nestle against her whenever she felt threatened, and her heart skipped a beat.

  And then another, when the princess looked up from her book.

  “You’re rather distracting.” she said with one of her sweet smiles. Leo gaped for a moment, her neck warming up instantly, then shrugged and retrieved her knife.

  “I can leave if you want…”

  “No! I like having you around, in case you didn’t notice.”

  “I’m good at keeping you out of trouble,” Leo said, louder than she’d intended. Gaiane giggled.

  “That you are… why don’t you come here? It’s brighter, and you wouldn’t risk cutting a finger while you work.”

  “I don’t need to… I mean, I’ve been doing this since I was a kid, I’d never hurt myself.”

  Gaiane rolled her eyes and moved down the bench.

  “Come read with me, then. I can teach you, if you wish…”

  Leo stiffened and threw her knife and duck on the table, slipping down with a grunt.

  “You think I’m ignorant, don’t you? Everyone does. I studied, in case you’re wondering, and studied hard. I’m not stupid.”

  Gaiane’s face crumpled in a wounded expression.

  “I never thought you were! You’re the smartest person I’ve ever known, you can take care of yourself, you can do so many things that are stranger than magic to me--don’t ever say that again!”

  “But everyone thinks I’m dull for not having a way with words. And who knows, maybe they’re right, maybe....”

  “Then let me read for you,” Gaiane said abruptly. “Please.”

  Leo’s anger waned at once. She blinked in the dim light and worried her lip.

  “I’m not a child anymore, Gaiane, I…”

  The princess interrupted her, placing her fingertip on the book.

  “This is interesting. I’ve read it already, but it’s always nice to go through some old tales. It’s a report on the First Zafirian War, when Hirdslandian tried to invade us. The Asares didn’t rule Zafiria yet, we’re talking about five centuries ago, and there are battles and heroes.”

  With a sigh, Leo sat at the bench with her. As expected, the letters immediately started to twitch under her eyes, and no matter how hard she squinted, they wouldn’t stay still.

  Gaiane adjusted herself at her side, their arms brushing together.

  “Here, this one is Danel Iron Hand, the Hirdslandian warlord. They called him Iron Hand because he always wore steel gauntlets. It was really uncommon among his people, you know? They preferred hide armors, even if later on they turned to blacksmithing, after their failed invasion.” Gaiane tapped her finger on the picture of a wild-looking blond man with some impressive thick mustache. “Here it says ‘At the head of two thousand horsemen, Danel Iron Hand crossed the Crimson Peaks in the East and rode to the plains, plundering the farms he came across and leaving many unwanted heirs in his trail’, and then…”

  Her voice was low, every word pronounced with care in that accurate accent of hers. After some time, Leo stopped looking at the page and let Gaiane’s tale lull her away from her thoughts.

  Pretty, she’d called her in her thoughts. Useless princess, troublemaker, pesky.

  Friend.

  Beautiful.

  For the rest of their afternoon, Leo stood silent, her chin perched on her fist and her eyes memorizing every freckle on Gaiane’s face.

  * * *

  “And here is… careful, little one, this is dangerous,” Larsa snapped. “Are you even listening to me?”

  Leo roused and looked at her mentor. The storage room was narrow, with a low ceiling; a ray of sunlight came from a slit above her head, where a mirror conveyed it from the surface. No torches here--too risky.

  “Yes, I… sorry, I was…”

  Larsa snorted and knocked her knuckles on Leo’s head.

  “Who were you thinking of, eh? I need you with your mind all here, not running after some pair of pretty blue eyes.”

  “I wasn’t… I… alright, saltpeter. I got this.”

  “Mh. You better. We use this to make…”

  “Black powder, I know. Don’t look at me like that, I told you I know a thing or two about it--I made fireworks.”

  * * *

  “No wasting black powder for fancy toys, here. We need it to open new tunnels,” Larsa said, covering the foul smelling barrel with a board.

  “Why not use it for firearms instead?”

  “Why use it? We have no wars to fight, and an arrow kills a deer as much as a bullet. I’m not making guns, only tunnels. And tools.” The woman opened a small jar and took a pinch of dark dust. “Good that you can make it too, old Larsa is the only one in Nikaia who can handle this without losing a finger or two.”

  “My fingers are all in the right place, thank you very much,” Leo grunted. Larsa took her hand and slapped a tiny leather pouch in her palm.

  “Here. Some for your toys, then,” she said. Leo frowned.

  “What?”

  “Black powder. You can play with it, but you will not get any more for now. You’re still a child, you deserve to have fun. But no blowing people up, eh?”

  “Oh! Thank you, I suppose?” Leo said, squishing the soft content of the pouch between her fingers. It was finely ground, probably better than the one she used to make.

  Larsa resumed her lesson--the stock of sulfur from the mines, they needed to stretch that out, and the piles of coal from her forge and the fireplaces--and Leo listened with a half ear. She wanted to be back to the forge and do something practical, and soon enough Larsa took her back to work.

  Here, in the stifling heat of the flames, Leo felt at home. She could lend a hand with creating new tools or repairing damaged ones, even beating her hammer on the hinges of a new door or the wheels of a cart. It felt good, and cleared her mind from any intrusive thought. Larsa took two shards of broken swords from a pile and threw them in a crucible, then stopped, her eyes crinkling as she stared at the door.

  “Ah, we have company,” she said. Leo unloaded a sack of coal from her shoulders and turned around.

  A small, round face was peeking from the door. Rea, she thought, recalling the child she’d seen with Ligeia. A princess, somehow. The curls on her forehead barely concealed her black ring.

  “What are you doing here, little squirrel?” Larsa asked, crouching and calling the girl in with her hand.

  “Ampelio said you make toys.” Rea pointed her finger at Leo and smiled. One of her front teeth was missing. “May I see one, please?”

  “What… oh, sure!” Leo patted her hands on her thighs and reached for her satchel. She spilled its content on the ground.

  “You did that?” Rea squealed in delight as Leo handed her the duck.

  “Yeah. You can have it, if you wish…”

  “Thank you! It’s beautiful!” The girl beamed and grabbed the duck, then proceeded to run her finger on the small head, lifting on Leo two large, shining eyes. “For real, though? It’s mine now?”

  Leo’s heart clenched. So much gratitude for such a little thing. This girl’s childhood must’ve been hard.

  “Of course it is. You’ll take good care of it, while I’d risk to lose it.”

  “Oh no, I’ll keep her safe, I promise! Do you have any other toys? May I see? What’s that?” and she pointed at the black powder pouch.

  “Er--no, that’s not…”

  “Come on, you can show her. But come here with me, squirrel,” Larsa said, c
alling Rea with her hand. “Leo can do magic tricks without magic!”

  “Can you? Really?”

  Leo wanted to dismiss the issue, but after all, why not? She deserved to have her fun, as Larsa had said.

  “Alright, just give me a second…”

  She looked around the forge. There was an abundance of useless iron powder, but also some copper and aluminum from the pots and pans, and even a pinch of limestone from the bottom of an old bucket. She divided her black powder into three tiny stacks and added a little of those substances to each stack, then lit the end of a stick on fire.

  It was not the best, and she didn’t expect much of a show, but even some sparkles could’ve entertained her audience.

  “Stay back.” she said in a grave tone, then touched the black powder with her makeshift match. It exploded in three pops of silver, blue and orange.

  Rea shrieked, and Larsa clapped her hands. Leo bowed, a bubble of simple happiness in her chest.

  “More! More!”

  “Enough for today, little one,” Larsa said, lifting Rea and loading her on her shoulder. “Maybe another time.”

  “Promise me, Leo!” the girl said, giggling. When Larsa put her down, Rea rubbed her eyes and cradled the duck to her chest with her other arm.

  “See? You’re tired. Now thank Leo and go rest.”

  Rea nodded reluctantly and muttered her thanks, then obediently turned around, walking away on shuffling feet and whispering to her duck.

  Larsa went serious.

  “Poor thing, this city is no place for children. And she looked happy indeed--you made her day.”

  “It was nothing,” Leo protested, but couldn’t help the smile on her face.

  “Can you say it wasn’t magic?”

  “Just science. I can’t…”

  “Used to sprinkle my swords with magic,” Larsa interrupted, her thick arms bulging as she grabbed her hammer and returned to work.

  “Cool,” Leo said, rekindling the flames with another shovel of coal. Her hands and face were smeared in black, but she didn’t care. She tried not to drift away into ruminations on magic. She felt good, and didn’t want to spoil the moment.