Wild Magic

by Tamora Pierce

  Daine slept in the stable loft, cushioned by the bodies of the castle’s many dogs and cats. At breakfast, she listened as the trainees were given a day off (except from caring for their mounts). That meant a day off for her as well, and she could use one. All her shirts needed mending, and a wash wouldn’t hurt any of her clothes.

  Getting directions to the castle laundry, she returned to her loft and gathered her clothes. On the way back from the laundry, she found Selda checking the saddlebags that had been issued to each trainee for the trip south.

  “Smile,” the brunette said, shoving her belongings into a pack. “I’m quitting. I’ve had enough fun in the wilderness.”

  Daine glanced away. She wouldn’t miss the girl at all.

  “Don’t look so pleased.” Selda folded the bags and hung them next to her tack. “One of these days you’ll be packing yourself.”

  “Me? Whatever for?”

  The older girl’s smile was bitter as she looked Daine over. “Are you blind? How long can they afford to keep you on, do you suppose? After that thing with the griffins, I figured it was all over for you.”

  Daine felt cold. “I’ve no notion what you mean.”

  “What happens if they’re in a battle and you get hurt? You think they can risk their mounts coming to your rescue? I don’t.” The girl shouldered her pack as Onua came in. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Onua looked at her suspiciously. “You’d best get to the wharf. That boat won’t wait.”

  Selda gave both of them an ironic salute, and was gone.

  Onua rolled up her sleeves. “This is a surprise inspection. Let’s see how the trainees’ mounts look while they’re off relaxing. You start on that side; I’ll start here,” she ordered. “We can talk while we work. Look at everything, mind—nose to tail. What poison was she dripping in your ear?”

  Daine stroked the muzzle of the first pony with a hand that shook. “She said the Riders can’t afford to keep me. She’s right, isn’t she? If animals know I’m in trouble, they will come to me. Numair himself said I couldn’t shield all my wild magic.”

  “Maybe that’s so.” Onua ran a brush over Padrach’s Minchi to see if extra hair fell out after a morning grooming. “But it wasn’t the Riders that hired you. It was me. As long as I say so, you work for me, not them.”

  “How can you do that?” she whispered. “You’re a Rider.”

  “No, I’m a civilian expert. I deal with whatever concerns horses, and that’s all. I’m no soldier.” Onua pointed at her with a brush. “You saved my life in the marsh and at the palace, when the Stormwings hit. You saved Numair—he was the first person here I knew liked me for myself. I won’t let you down.” She reached over and dabbed at a tear rolling down Daine’s cheek. Those of us that’s horse-hearted have to stick together, all right?”

  Daine nodded. “But you’d tell me if I wasn’t giving satisfaction?”

  Onua grinned. “If we spend more than the morning checking these mounts, I will be most unhappy. I was planning to take the afternoon off.”

  Daine went to work, smiling. They had just finished when hoofbeats rang outside and a voice yelled, “Daine? They said you were in here.”

  She ran outside as Numair climbed off his sweat stained gelding. “Come with me,” he ordered. “We have to find the Stormwings.”

  She shaded her eyes to look up at him. “What d’you mean? Aren’t they behind their little clouds, being sneaky?”

  He shook his head. “They’re gone. Vanished.”

  She spent the afternoon on the observation deck with Numair and Alanna, searching as far out as she could drive her magic for any sign of the immortals. The Gifted ones applied themselves to scrying, or looking. Numair used a round crystal he carried in a pouch, Alanna a mirror with (Daine was tickled to see) roses painted on the back.

  “It’s not my taste,” the knight said dryly. “This is from Thom—my oldest. A birthday gift. It’s the thought that matters.” She glanced at the back of the mirror, winced, and turned it to the reflecting side. “That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway. And it makes a very good scrying tool.”

  For herself, Daine sank deep into meditation, listening up and down the coast. She heard the griffin female return to the nest with food: griffin males, it seemed, helped to brood eggs. Her friends among the sea lions were prospering, as were other seals and sea lions. A number of whales had come to swim in the waters around the Swoop, but she didn’t have time to attempt to speak with them. Crossing her fingers, she hoped they’d stay close long enough for her to get a chance. Other sounds she identified as two groups—Miri called them “pods”—of dolphins.

  At last she drew her senses back to the castle. “Nothing.”

  Alanna grimaced. “No luck for us, either.”

  “So our friends have given us the bag.” The baron had joined them at some point. Seeing Daine’s puzzled look, he said, “They’ve escaped us. It’s thieves’ cant, meanin’ a delightful trick whereby you wait for your pursuer and slip a large bag over his head to blind him.”

  Daine scowled. “Well, I’m not blinded, and they aren’t there.”

  George smiled at her. “I believe you.” He looked at Numair. “Is there a way to nab one of these beasties for questionin’?”

  Numair frowned. “I’m not really sure. If we can kill them, I assume we can capture them. . . . You know, it’s moments like this that I really miss the university library.”

  “We’re working on ours,” Alanna pointed out. “Maybe the king has the proper books already. And wait—what about the Golden Net?”

  Numair’s face lit. “You know, with a few adjustments—”

  “My lords and ladies.” A proper man in the livery of a castle servant had come up to the deck. “We dine in half an hour.”

  “I think I have the basic spell in a book I’ve been reading,” Alanna told Numair. “If you want to come take a look—” They followed the servant down into the tower, talking about spells and their variations.

  Daine looked at the sun; it was low. “No wonder I’m hungry.”

  “If you hear one of those nasties again, let’s catch it,” George said.

  “I don’t think we’ll get anywhere talking to one,” she pointed out.

  The baron’s grin was neither warm nor friendly. “You leave that to me.” They studied the ocean together. “It’s strange how folk look at a thing. Numair sees what’s comin’ to us—he thinks of the return of old magic, magic that’s controlled by none and understood only by a few. My wife sees a threat to her kingdom. Me, I’m a commoner born and bred, title or no. You know what I think of? Omens and portents—-like the red star that blazed over us when the emperor Ozorne was crowned, seven years back.”

  “Then maybe we’re lucky the Stormwings are giving us so much time to think about them before they do something really nasty,” Daine said.

  George laughed. “Now there’s a practical way to look at it, and I thank you. It does no good to brood about what might come.” He offered his arm with a bow. “Let’s go to supper and drink to the confusion of our enemies.”

  Numair kept her at her lessons until the midnight hour was called. She trudged back to the stable the Riders used, yawning heartily as she climbed to her loft bed. Her mind spinning with new animal groups, she kept her eyes open barely long enough to pull on her nightshirt.

  She awoke to a stable cat giving birth near her ear and three children—a girl and two boys—watching her solemnly.

  “I s’pose you’re fair proud of yourself,” Daine told the cat. “My wondrous book says you’re a feline, and a carnivore, and a vertebrate, and a mammal. I wish them that wrote it could smell around here right now and maybe they wouldn’t call you all those pretty names.” The girl wriggled out from between her blankets and grabbed her clothes. The feline was busy cleaning the last of the new kittens and refused to reply. “It’s too early to be paying social calls,” she told the children.

  “Our mamas sai
d you’re a mage.” That was Thayet’s daughter, Kalasin. She took after her handsome father, sharing his blue eyes and coal black hair.

  Daine sat on her bed. “I’m no mage.” She grinned. “Numair calls me a magelet, but that’s just for fun. It’s too early to be answering questions.”

  “Ma says you help animals.” Thom’s hair was redder than Alanna’s, and he had George’s green hazel eyes. “We brung you him. He was on the wall.”

  The two older children lifted a basket and offered it to Daine. Inside lay an osprey, a fishing hawk, glaring at her over a broken leg. If the cat hadn’t been giving birth close by, she would have known about him already.

  She sighed and took the basket. “It’s all right, then. You can go now.” Turning her attention to the bird, she carefully took him from the basket. “How’d you manage this, sir?”

  He shrieked and slashed at her when she joggled his leg. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, gentling him with her mind. “I’ll make it better—I hope.”

  She went to work, unaware that the children watched her, fascinated. Bird bone was easier than otter bone to mend: it was thinner and hollow. Better still, it wasn’t a clean break, but one of the greenstick kind, which meant the bone simply had to be fused together again.

  Opening her eyes, she saw that the break was healed, the bird’s pain gone. She was dripping sweat onto him. “Sorry,” she murmured as he shook himself.

  He cocked his head, looking at the mended leg. He was impressed, and intrigued by what she had done. At the moment, however, what he was most interested in was a nap.

  She smiled. “Just, when you wake up, obey the rules—no hunting or teasing any other creatures in this castle. They’re all my friends too.”

  The osprey understood. She settled him on a wooden rail and brought water from the stables below. Promising she’d see him later, she gathered her things again and left.

  Her early visitors waited for her by the stable door. “You missed breakfast,” Prince Roald said. “We brought you some.” He handed over a napkin wrapped around sweet rolls.

  “Thank you,” Daine said. “That was very kind.” She wolfed two of the rolls, knowing her manners were terrible and not caring.

  “Papa gets hungry when he’s been using his Gift,” remarked the princess.

  Daine wiped her mouth. “It was good of you to bring the osprey, and the food. I thank you. Now, I think you should go back to the nursery, please. Won’t the servants be missing you?”

  “We’re too old for the nursery,” replied Thom, with all the dignity of his six years. “Only the twins have to stay there. They’re four.”

  “Poor things. Listen—I have to bathe, and then I work for the Riders, which means I’ve no time to chat. Good-bye.”

  They looked at her hopefully.

  What was she supposed to say? At home she’d never spoken with a child. Parents had always kept them from her. If I ignore them, they’ll go away, she decided, and went to the baths.

  When she came out, they were waiting. They trailed her to the stable, admiring the new kittens while she stowed her gear. They followed her back down to the ponies and helped as she looked after Selda’s old pair as well as Mangle and Cloud, holding brushes, pails, and rakes for her. They were still with Daine as the trainees, subdued after a morning conference with their officers, came to look after their mounts.

  Thayet broke out laughing when she saw what was going on. “I’m sorry, Daine,” she said, giggling, “but it’s like ducklings. No offense, children.”

  “You said we ought to learn more about the stables, Mama.” Kalasin was more outspoken than her brother. “You said if we wanted to come with you and the Riders when we’re older, we’d have to take care of our gear and all.”

  “Daine has to decide if you can stay, however,” the queen said.

  The girl wished the children wouldn’t look at her piteously. Thayet was right—it was like ducklings. She could have shot them easier than resist those eyes. “Onua? Sarge?” she asked, hoping. They shook their heads.

  “Look at it this way,” Buri said. “You’ll need help with the new extras—Jacy and Kenelm handed in resignations a little while ago. Starting tomorrow we’re taking groups outside the castle walls for days at a stretch. You won’t even have Onua then.”

  Selda had been right, Daine thought, looking at Buri and the queen. They know I won’t be helpful in the field, not if the ponies obey me first.

  A gentle hand rested on her shoulder—Onua’s. “Somebody does have to care for the washouts’ horses,” the K’mir whispered. “It’s real work, not just something to do because we haven’t the heart to throw you out. And you need to stay close and study with Numair, remember?”

  “Once you start, no quitting,” Thayet told her children. “If you agree to help Daine, that’s what you do. It’s a responsibility. You can’t stop just because you’re tired of it.” The two coal black heads nodded seriously.

  “Thom?” the Lioness asked.

  I don’t think he’s old enough to bind him, Daine thought, but Thom was already promising. She recognized the expression on his face. He might be only six, but he would keep up with Roald and Kalasin or die trying.

  Which means I’ll have to watch him, she thought with a sigh. Ducklings.

  A week passed. It was easier to manage them than she expected. Being able to meet wild animals was a powerful attraction, one the “ducklings” did not tire of and would not risk losing. Though she incurred the wrath of all the nursery helpers but the chief one, Maude, by introducing their charges to savage beasts, she presented her friends to weasels, crows, bats, and deer. She let them watch as she worked to heal one of the dogs, who’d had a paw smashed by a passing wagon.

  She was surprised to find Roald and Kalasin did help in the stable, and that only Thom’s size kept him from doing as much. She knew from her meetings with the twins that his maturity came from the possession of two appallingly lively younger siblings. Roald and Kalasin also had younger sibs, but their maturity seemed to result from what people expected Tortallan royalty to do. She was surprised, and a bit shocked, to learn that they fed and groomed their ponies at home. She had never heard of princes and princesses who had chores.

  “I’ll be a page in a year,” Roald pointed out one day as they helped with the constant chore of mending tack. They had settled on the flat area in front of Daine’s stable (as she had come to think of it) as a place for such chores. “I’d have to learn then, anyway. It’s best to know as much as I can ahead of time. Papa says later the other lessons will keep me busy.”

  “I’ll be a page too.” Kalasin had insisted Daine call her “Kally” as the children did. “Papa said girls can be knights, so that’s what I’ll do.”

  Daine was about to ask Thom if he wanted his shield when a messenger came through the gate at full gallop. Covered with dust, the man slid from his horse as hostlers came to take it.

  “Lioness,” he gasped. “Message for the Lioness.”

  A servant bowed. “This way.”

  Thom, the princess, and the prince watched, all looking grim. “Great,” Thom said. “She has to go away again.”

  Kally sighed. “It’s like Mama in raiding season,” she told him. “We’re lucky to have mothers who fight. Our fathers must stay home and protect their people.”

  “Da fights when they hit the village.” Thom was a stickler for fact.

  “Papa fights if he can,” Roald tried to smile and failed.

  Poor things, Daine thought. They miss their folks, coming and going all the time. At least while Ma and Grandda were alive, they were there.

  “How about a run to the beach?” she asked. “The seals aren’t that far out. If we ask nice, maybe they’ll come in.”

  “Maybe I should wait,” replied the redheaded boy.

  “I’ll have Gimpy keep watch,” Daine wheedled. Usually the bloodhound’s name made Thom smile, but not now. “He’ll fetch us if they saddle Darkmoon.”

&nbs
p; “I’m not a baby. I won’t cry or anything. It’s just—I keep having bad dreams anymore.” Thom looked down, biting his lip.

  “Let’s go look at the seals,” Daine urged gently.

  Gimpy was coming for them when the Lioness and Darkmoon passed him on the slope to the beach. The minute she stopped they knew it was serious: she wore full mail. A company of the Swoop’s guards waited by the gate, wearing combat gear. One of them carried a banner, crimson silk with a gold lioness rampant—the personal flag of the king’s champion.

  The knight slid from the saddle, hanging shield and sword from the pommel before kneeling to embrace her son. Thom fought tears.

  “You know Fief Mandash?” She spoke to all three. Roald and Kally liked her and didn’t look any happier than her son. “They’ve got ogres—three of them. They killed the lord and his son and have the rest of the family trapped in the keep. I have to go. We’re the closest king’s representatives.”

  Thom swallowed. “Ma, ogres are buge.”

  “Not buge, huge. The messenger says the male is eight feet or so. That’s not bad, and he’s the biggest.” Alanna smiled, but her eyes spoke of worry and watchfulness. “I’m taking some men, all right?” That seemed to reassure the children. “Thom, mind your father and Maude, and don’t get under people’s feet. A hug and a kiss”—she took them—“and you be good.” She tousled his hair and shook hands with Roald and Kally. “Tell your seal guests good night,” she advised. “You need to clean up before supper.”

  All of them went to obey. The knight watched them pat the seals, pulling on an amethyst-stitched glove.

  “Should I go with you, Lioness?” offered Daine. “If it’s immortals?”

  “No, with twenty men I should be fine. What gets me angry is I told Mandash to arm his people, if he was too cheap to hire soldiers. But no, we can’t teach peasants to use weapons—what if they decide they don’t like their overlords?” She sighed. “I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. I just don’t like the timing, and I don’t like it being immortals.” She took one of Daine’s hands in both of hers. Her grip was powerful. “Will you and Numair look after my family? Don’t let anything happen to them.”