by Jasmine Walt
Called by Magic
A Baine Chronicles World novella
Jasmine Walt
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
1
“Hola, hermosa. Can I buy you a drink?”
Slowly, I turned my head to inspect the guy who’d just dropped into the bar seat next to me. Long, shaggy brown hair, dark skin tanned by the hot Southian climate, and a wicked scar slashing across his left cheekbone. Decent-looking features, but I wasn’t digging the tobacco-stained teeth or the map of broken blood vessels spread across his nose. Or the way he leered at me with those mud-brown eyes.
“Depends.” I shifted in my chair to face him. “Is this for business or pleasure?”
He waggled his dark eyebrows. “Can’t it be both?”
“No.” Already bored with the conversation, I allowed my attention to drift over the crowd. As usual, El Botin was packed to the gills with Southian mercenaries exchanging war stories and drinking each other under the table—the crowd was a colorful mix of shifters and humans. It was a fun place to hang out and improve my Southian, and since it was the general watering hole for mercenaries in this town, clients tended to seek us out here.
“Fine.” The ire in the man’s voice drew my attention back to him. “It’s business. I’m looking for a bodyguard to come with me to a party tomorrow night, as my escort. A woman like you”—he gave me a once-over, his dark gaze traveling up and down my willowy curves, pausing only slightly at the various weapons strapped to my leathers—“would be perfect.”
I raised an eyebrow. “So you want me to pose as your arm candy and protect you from threats at the same time?” I knew what that meant: finding creative ways to hide my weapons under skin-tight dresses and fending off advances from men without breaking their fingers. “No thanks.”
He sputtered, “What do you mean, ‘no thanks?’ You haven’t even heard my offer.”
“I don’t need to.” Money wasn’t an issue for me right now—I’d just finished up a very lucrative gig transporting high-value cargo from Canalo to the Randilon governor’s mansion, and I could afford to be picky with my jobs. Honestly, even though I’d only been in Randilon a few days, I was having a damn good time. Perfect weather, gorgeous tropical scenery, fascinating local culture, and best of all, I didn’t have to listen to my mother scream at me for “tearing the family apart.”
The man snarled, clamping his hand around my wrist in a vise grip. “You can’t say no to me. Do you know who I—”
Before he could finish his sentence, I twisted out of his grip, yanked his arm behind his back, and slammed his face into the bar. “I don’t give a fuck who you are,” I said cheerfully as blood gushed from his broken nose all over the counter. “No one is allowed to put their hands on me like that and get away with it.”
“Puta!” the man howled, his voice garbled by his bloody nose. He tried to struggle out of my grip, but I yanked his arm harder, popping his shoulder from the socket. The scream that echoed through the now-silent tavern was music to my jaded ears, and the crowd stared as I marched him out of the bar and through the open door.
“Have a nice day!” I sang, and booted him into the street.
The man let out a string of curses and landed in the dirt, but I barely heard him as I sailed back into the crowded cantina. The patrons stared at me for another half-second before abruptly resuming their conversations, and I settled myself back at the bar.
“Sorry about that, Tico,” I said to the bartender as he mopped up the blood. I flipped him a coin for his trouble, then ordered myself a paloma.
Tico shrugged. “No skin off my back, but you may want to be careful who you tangle with, chica. Some of these pendejos are well connected.”
I glanced toward the open door, annoyed that I was a little nervous now. “You think his boss is gonna come after me or something?” A lot of these idiots were in the drug trade, and the last thing I needed was to end up tangling with a cartel.
“Nah.” Tico grinned. “More likely he’ll tell his friends that he got into a fight with someone from a rival gang. No way he’ll admit that he was beaten up by a woman. Still,” he said, sliding my drink over the counter to me, “I wouldn’t push my luck too far. Some of these guys are loco.”
“Thanks, but don’t worry about me too much.” I winked and picked up the drink. “I can handle myself.”
Even so, I thought as I downed the combination of tequila, grapefruit, lime, and club soda, it probably wouldn’t hurt to make myself scarce. In fact, maybe it was time to move on completely. I wasn’t ready to return to Solantha yet—Sunaya and Iannis were still in Garai, and I couldn’t walk through the streets of my city without being hit by constant reminders of my sister, Noria—but I’d been hanging around the bar for several days and no promising jobs had come in. Perhaps I’d have better luck in a different Southian country—if I wasn’t finding any work in Salanis, the capital city, then chances were I wouldn’t find any jobs worth taking in Randilon’s smaller towns either.
I was just about to slide off my barstool when the door swung open, and a tall, handsome man walked in. He was blond and blue-eyed, and despite the warm weather he wore a dark grey suit, perfectly tailored to his long, lean frame. All eyes in the room turned to him as he consulted with the bouncer standing by the front door. Between the suit, the silver pocket watch chain dangling from his front pocket, and the way he carried himself, we all knew this man had money.
“Buenos días,” the man called to the room, and the patrons quieted. “I’m looking to hire a bodyguard for a trip to the Desai Mountains. The job involves escorting two children, so I prefer to hire a female, but I will take anyone who is interested.”
The other mercenaries immediately turned away, grumbling under their breath, and I raised an eyebrow. Even Camila and Sophia, the only other women in the bar aside from me, seemed turned off by the prospect. Both were older women in their early forties, hardened by decades of mercenary work, and even though I’d only known them a short time, I couldn’t imagine them being afraid of anything.
How intriguing.
“Okay, I’ll bite,” I said, putting on my best smile. I sauntered over to the newcomer. “I’m Annia Melcott. Who are you, what exactly does this job entail, and how much does it pay?”
“Excelente!” The man’s eyes lit up as he took me in, obviously pleased with what he saw. Was that a flash of relief I caught in his face? “I am Sorbano Tarras. My cousin Amara’s children are attending school here, but their grandfather has called them home due to a family emergency. He asked me to escort them back to the estate, but since bandits occasionally attack travelers on these roads, he insisted that I hire a mercenary to accompany us.”
“Tarras?” Sophia asked, appearing at my elbow. “Just as I thought—your cousin is one of the brujos that lives at the Tarras estate, isn’t she!”
I tensed. Brujo was the Southian term for “magic user,” and it was not a complimentary one. During the short time I’d spent here, I’d learned that race relations between mages, shifters, and humans were ten times worse than in the Northia Federation. The mages ruled here, just like everywhere else, but they looked down on the other races and never, ever mingled with them. Consequently, shifters and humans despised all forms of magic, and treated all brujos with contempt and suspicion regardless of whether they were a mage—the most powerful class—or another type of magic user.
Sorbano’s cheeks colored. “Yes. What of it?”
“Annia, you can’t go there.” Sophia’s voice hardened as she
gripped my upper arm, forcing me to face her. “My friend Clara traveled to the Tarras lands on a mission last year, and she ended up dead! The mortician who examined her body claimed she died of a snakebite, but we all know better. The brujo who owns that mansion used the evil eye on her! Probably so he could get out of paying her,” she spat.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sorbano said tightly. “Señorita Diaz’s death was tragic, but there was no foul play involved.”
I studied Sorbano’s face, looking for any sign that he was lying. While I didn’t have the sharp nose of a shifter or the truth-telling spells of a mage, I’d become pretty good at learning to read people in my line of work. “How much are you offering?”
“Fifty pejos,” he said. “That’s triple the usual rate for this kind of work. Half now, and half upon completion.” He pulled a small leather pouch from his pocket and handed it to me.
I hefted the pouch, then glanced inside to confirm the money was in there. It was damn good pay for the work involved, plus I would get a chance to see more of Southia, as the Desai Mountains were over one hundred miles south of here. Sophia’s warnings about the Tarras family didn’t bother me—I wasn’t afraid of mages like the locals here were. So long as I held up my end of the bargain, I didn’t see how anything could go wrong.
“All right.” I pocketed the money. “I’ll do it. When do we leave?”
“Perfecto!” Sorbano beamed and pulled a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket. “All the details are here, including where to meet. Be ready at 5:00 a.m.”
Sorbano left in good spirits, and I sat down at the bar to review the list.
“Five a.m., huh?” I muttered. Guess it was time for me to have one last drink, because I’d need to spend the rest of the day prepping for the trip.
“Here.” Sophia slammed a shot of tequila on the table in front of me. “We’re drinking to you today, idiota.”
I blinked, noting that everyone else had their glasses in hand. “A send-off drink?” I asked.
“A good luck drink,” she countered. “Since you are too stupid to listen to us, we will at least drink to your health and pray that you come back alive.”
I laughed. “I’ll be fine,” I said, and tossed back the drink. I might be in a different continent, but people were people no matter where you went. Nothing was going to come up on this trip that I hadn’t already faced as an enforcer.
Right?
2
"Okay, okay, that's enough," I said, holding up a hand as someone tried to push another beer on me. "If I drink any more, I won’t be able to walk out of here straight."
"That's the point, chica," Camila said loudly, her cheeks bright pink from drinking a few too many shots.
Over the last hour, the bar had transformed from a casual watering hole to a drunken revel packed to the gills with battle-hardened mercenaries dancing and singing their hearts out. I'd been drawn into several lively dance numbers already, and someone had even tried to carry me upstairs to one of the private rooms to continue the “festivities.”
"You mean the whole point of this is to try to get me to stay?" Shaking my head, I pushed up from my seat and prepared to head for the door. "Come on, you guys. I know you mean well, but I've already said yes to the job. I've got to follow through."
"Wait." Sophia grabbed my arm.
Scowling, I whirled around, prepared to take a chunk out of her hide, but the genuine concern in her face stopped me.
"If you're really going to do this,” she said, “at least stop by Tia Maluca's house first."
"Tia Maluca? Who's that?"
"A bruja," Camila said, "but not like the ones who run this country. She is more of a...ah, how would you call it, 'wise woman,' in your tongue. She is an expert on plants of all sorts, and brews healing potions that cure almost any illness. She also sells protective charms," she added pointedly. "The least you can do is buy some from her before you head off on this foolish mission."
"All right." Tia Maluca sounded like a hedgewitch—a magic user who specialized in plant lore and remedies. I thought of Comenius, a hedgewitch who owned a very popular shop in Solantha, and a pang of homesickness hit my chest. I'd met Comenius through Sunaya, back when the two had started dating, and while we hadn't been close, I'd still counted him as a friend. I wondered how he was doing now, and whether he'd finally married that dark-haired, voluptuous witch he'd been dating.
Sophia and Camila gave me directions to Tia Maluca's place and sent me on my way. The air outside was cool but not exactly fresh, tinged as it was by dust, horsehair, and the occasional whiff of animal feces, so I walked quickly. Still, it wasn’t so bad for a densely populated city in a poor country, and the friendly smiles and colorful shops more than made up for it.
Unfortunately, the narrow, twisting streets in this part of town made even the simplest of directions difficult to follow. At first, I thought I was doing okay, but three turns later I was sure they’d sent me in the wrong direction.
"The Ur-God take it," I growled under my breath as the buildings around me started getting nicer. The lanterns changed from gas to magic-powered, with purple globes instead of flames dancing behind the glass, and the streets were clean, free of refuse and horse shit. I was clearly heading into Salanis's version of the Mage's Quarter. "This is the last time I get directions from a drunken woman."
Even so, curiosity took me a few steps further; I wanted to see how the mages lived here. The air here was clear and lightly scented by the exotic flowers blooming on the bushes lining the broad streets. Rich mansions crouched behind high walls, and gleaming storefronts boasted a variety of goods and services, both magical and non-magical in nature. The men and women who strolled the sidewalks were well-dressed in colorful robes embroidered with geometric patterns that I gathered harkened back to some local tradition or custom. Or perhaps they were even the Southian version of runes.
"Hey!" A giant of a man in a guard uniform decorated with a jaguar pelt stepped in front of me. He had to be at least six foot five, all muscle, with dark skin and angry amber eyes. "What is your business here?"
"Umm." I gave him my best cutesy smile, aware that there were guards standing on every street corner. A few were looking straight at me, ready to back up their fellow guard if necessary. "Just looking around. Is that not allowed?"
"No humans allowed in the Magic District except on official business," he snapped. "Now get out of here!"
Asshole. Part of me wanted to give him a piece of my mind, but I swallowed my angry words and did as he said. "Great to meet you too!" I called over my shoulder as I scurried out of there. The absolute last thing I needed was to be tossed into jail during my first week in a brand-new country. I didn't have any real friends here, so there was no one around to bail me out if things went south.
Now that my head was significantly clearer, I headed back to the plaza just outside the mage district, then flagged down a random passerby and asked for directions. The first person I asked gave me a dirty look, muttered something in Southian I didn't quite understand but sounded like a curse, and hurried away. But the second, a young child, was less judgmental, and in no time I was heading in the right direction.
"Here we are," I said, stopping in front of a small single-story home. The neighborhood the child had directed me to was humble but fairly clean, the houses old but in decent repair. I stepped onto the porch, rapped on the door, then waited patiently, expecting a crone to answer.
The door swung open, and I was not disappointed. An old woman stood beyond the threshold, wearing a colorful homespun outfit decorated with beads that were embroidered with very specific shapes. Her thick braid was pure silver, a testament to her age, but her caramel skin was smooth and unlined. The only real sign that she was old were the nearly black eyes that regarded me—they seemed ancient, filled with infinite wisdom—and a little shiver raced down my spine as I stared back.
"Tia Maluca?" I asked. "My name is Annia Melcott. I'd like to take a look at your wa
res."
"You are a mercenary," she said, taking in my protective leathers, the knives and sword strapped to my body, and the utility belt slung around my hips. "Here for protection spells?"
I nodded. "I'm escorting two children to a mage's home in the Desai Mountains. My friends insisted I come here before I start the journey."
The woman nodded sagely and stepped back to let me in.
Ducking into the entryway, I paused to allow my eyes to adjust to the dim interior, then followed the witch further inside.
"I keep all my wares for sale in this room," Tia Maluca said as she shut the door behind us. Now that I was used to the darkness, I saw the shelves and tables in the room filled with all manner of interesting objects. A variety of exotic animals had been stuffed and displayed—a python hanging from one wall, a crocodile from another, and a stuffed leopard lurking in a corner—all staring at me out of glassy eyes. I shivered a little before directing my attention back to the witch.
"If you are venturing into a brujo's territory, you will want these." Tia Maluca laid two items out on one of the tables. "This," she said, tugging open a drawstring bag and pulling out a large pebble painted with swirling black symbols, "will protect you from evil spirits."
"Wonderful," I said, and stifled a groan. Evil spirits? Now I knew the woman had to be full of it. But hell, I'd already come this far. Might as well see what else she had, right?
Tia Maluca smiled, as if she sensed my skepticism. "And this," she continued, holding up a braided leather armband, "will protect you against misfortune and accidents, including snakebites. It will not shield you from all harm, but should you end up in a life-threatening situation, you may find you are saved by a stroke of ‘good luck.’” She winked at me.
I held the bracelet closer to my face, examining it for any evidence that it was magical. There were some rune-like symbols etched into the leather, but then again, anyone could scratch a few symbols out. Man, I wished I had a magitech device that could detect magical signatures!
