The Mage and the Magpie

by Austin J. Bailey

  “You can see me?” she said, not quite surprised.

  “Of course, child,” Peridot said solemnly. “I am not so old yet that I cannot see what is right in front of my face. Who are you?”

  Brinley thought for a moment, trying to decide how to explain herself. “I’m Brinley,” she said, deciding the simplest answer was the best. “I’m looking for my mother.”

  “Mm…yes,” Peridot said. She seemed to consider Brinley for a moment, breathing deeply, taking in the smell of her. “I know who you are.”

  “You do?” Brinley asked, startled.

  “Yes, I do. And I know your mother.”

  Brinley didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t believe it. She was finally going to find out who her mother was.

  “However,” Peridot said, the warmth in her voice fading, “I do not know where she is. She has hidden herself even from me. Perhaps we will find her together, but not now.” She turned to Tabitha. “Right now I need a mage. I had hoped there might be one at the school.”

  Tabitha shook her head. “There isn’t. We haven’t had a mage visit the Magisterium since Cassis came to speak, but that was in the spring.”

  “There’s Cannon,” Brinley offered.

  “Cannon is at the school?”

  Brinley nodded.

  “He is not a mage,” Peridot said sharply. “Though he thinks of himself as one.” She glanced between the two of them.

  “Never met him,” Tabitha said, shrugging. She reached forward and picked up Flitlitter with an outstretched finger, holding him up to examine the bandage idly.

  “I just met Cannon tonight,” Brinley said hastily. Peridot seemed nice enough, but there was something humbling about standing next to a creature that could eat you for lunch. “I suppose I don’t really know what a mage is, but he seemed magical enough.”

  Peridot was eyeing her with what looked like an amused expression, if a lion’s face could look amused. Brinley hurried on, trying to fill the silence. “Do you want us to go get him for you?”

  Peridot lifted her head, breathing the night air in deeply. She sniffed a few times, then sent another chortling call out into the night. “No need,” she said, peering into the darkness. “He is already here.”

  Brinley turned to look. She didn’t see anything but shadows. She wondered if Peridot could see in the dark. Then she noticed a shift in the wind. The little breeze coming off the lake was replaced by wind coming out of the forest, heavy with the scent of pine. There was a tiny storm in the center of the wind, blowing toward them like a silver spinning top made of air. It slowed as it approached, spiraling in on itself until it died completely. Cannon stepped from the storm to the grass, transitioning seamlessly into an austere bow. “Pardon my lentor, Peridot. How may I be of service?”

  Peridot squinted at him and roared. Brinley clamped her hands over her ears, eyes shut tight against the noise. When she opened them, Cannon was sprawled on his backside, robes ruffled, hair askew, and all his pomp deflated.

  “That’s better,” Peridot said seriously. “Do not come before me flaunting yourself like a mage.”

  Cannon got to his feet shakily, one hand attempting to fix his hair.

  “Are you okay, Mr. Can?” Brinley said, grinning to herself.

  “Brinley?” Cannon said sharply, searching the night air.

  “What does ‘lentor’ mean?” Tabitha interrupted, looking at him as if she’d never seen a wizard before.

  “Lateness,” Peridot answered softly. She addressed Cannon. “Where is your master?”

  Cannon gave a slightly more humble bow. “Apologies, herald,” he said formally. “And sorry again, for I do not know where he is.” He paused, giving her the opportunity to speak, but she said nothing. “A child came to visit him,” he continued. “An idris, I think. He received it in his chambers and talked with it for a long time. He did not allow me in, and finally, when I couldn’t wait any longer, I went in and found that he was gone.” He paused again, but Peridot sat still. “I waited a day, and when he did not return I left to find him.” He trailed off, then finished darkly, “I’ve been looking for maps at the Magisterium. Maps of the Wizard’s Ire.”

  “I do not think that is where he is,” Peridot said. Her manner seemed to ease, as if hearing Cannon’s story had relaxed her. “Animus is too wise to have followed an idris far,” she continued. “Though it seems obvious that its words spurred him into action. I expected something like this. I met him not two weeks ago.”

  “You did? Is he okay? I have not seen him since he disappeared.”

  “I nearly ate him,” she growled. “Then I realized who he was.”

  Cannon paled.

  “Calm yourself,” she went on. “When he left me, he was in one piece.”

  He looked relieved. “Do you know where he is now?”

  “I could guess,” Peridot said, her eyes narrowing slightly. “But I have no wish to do so here. Nor do I have the strength, for I am wounded.”

  Cannon looked down at the wound in her chest for the first time. Blood dripped slowly from a small hole near where her right wing met her side. He bent in closer to look at it, but she stepped back, and he stopped short.

  “It is beyond you, Cannon. I need a mage. We must go to Aquilar, and you must take us there.”

  Cannon nodded uncertainly. “Can you fly?”

  “Not for long,” she admitted. There was a note of weariness in her voice and Brinley wondered how far Peridot had come already. “I may be able to glide, if you can provide the wind.”

  “That should be easy enough,” he said, turning up the sleeves of his robes and looking at her in a calculating way. “Will I, uh…I don’t know how to ask this.”

  Peridot gave him a forgiving smile. “You will ride on my back with Brinley.”

  “He will?” Brinley asked. “I mean, I will?”

  Cannon looked around. “Brinley? I nearly forgot. She’s coming?”

  “Oh, yes,” Peridot said, turning to face her again. Her voice felt warm in Brinley’s ears, like the voice of a familiar friend. “This concerns her as much as anyone. Besides,” she said soothingly, turning a deep green eye to Brinley, “I promised her I would take her to her mother.”

  “What about Tabitha?” Brinley asked. She turned to indicate the other girl, and was surprised to see her picking vigorously at the tips of Peridot’s wings. Apparently some stray bits of the forest had wandered out of place and landed among the feathers there. Peridot didn’t seem to mind.

  Flitlitter danced off Peridot’s head and down the length of her back, jumped onto Tabitha’s shoulder, and stared back at them defiantly. Tabitha went on with her work, apparently unaware that she was being discussed.

  Peridot gave a weary sigh. “Very well,” she said. “Tabitha can come as well. Now let’s be going before anyone else comes. My back is only so big.”

  “I’m going to stay,” Tabitha said, backing away from them. “Flitlitter says he isn’t going, and I need to stay with him while he’s injured.”

  Peridot nodded. “I hope we meet again.”

  “Are you going to Belsie?” Tabitha asked, taking another step away from them. “Master Lumps says Belsie is the best healer in the world.”

  Peridot smiled, but turned away without answering. Cannon mounted lightly, settling himself just behind her shoulders. Brinley followed him, stepping on Peridot’s leg to help herself up. She was surprised at how warm Peridot was. It was not unlike the warm furry belly of a house cat.

  “Wait!” Tabitha said suddenly. “You need to wait for Hugo.”

  “Hugo?” Peridot asked. “The prince of Caraway?”

  As soon as she had said it, Hugo came walking up. He looked thoroughly frightened, and the sight of Peridot didn’t seem to help matters.

  “You’re just in time!” Tabitha told him, pulling him toward the others.

  “Wha‌—‌what’s going on?”

  “Flitlitter says you must go with them!” Tabitha told him,
bustling him onto Peridot’s back. Brinley had to scoot back to give him room.

  “Flitlitter said?”

  “Bye!” Tabitha waved, walking back the way they had come.

  “Good-bye, Tabitha!” Brinley called to her. She felt something tug at her insides and realized that she had begun to think of Tabitha as a friend.

  “Are you ready?” Cannon asked Peridot.

  She dipped her head in agreement. “Hold on,” he said. He raised his hands to his sides as he had done in the Magisterium, and Brinley laced her fingers into the fur on Peridot’s back. She didn’t want to pull Peridot’s hair, but she didn’t want to fall off either.

  It came more gradually than she expected, a soft turning of leaves and grass and the golden hair from Peridot’s back. Wind built beneath them like a slow tide, swelling, lifting them away from the ground. As they picked up speed, Peridot spread her wings and they shot up, rising smoothly over the distant tree line. Brinley felt her stomach surge and grabbed Hugo around the waist as she slid backwards. Hugo gave a cry of alarm; he had forgotten she was there.

  “Faster,” Peridot’s deep voice came against the sound of wind.

  Brinley slipped backward again, fingers unlacing from Hugo’s waist, face and arms and chest pelted by the wind. She realized with frightening clarity that she was going to fall. She slid back farther, bent over from the wind now. She tried to shout and failed, the air blowing the words back at her. The wind died just as she toppled over backward, and a firm hand hauled her back up. She threw her arms around Hugo tightly, quite forgetting that he was a boy, and a stranger at that.

  After a second, Brinley realized that the wind had stopped. “Sorry,” she said weakly, and released him. She was surprised to see that they were still flying.

  “The air is passing around us,” Cannon said in explanation, reaching his hand out to the side until it brushed the edge of wind. Brinley copied him. She was reminded of sticking her hand out the window of a car on the freeway. She laughed and the lingering fear of her near fall melted away.

  Cannon grinned at them over his shoulder, looking sheepish. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.”

  They passed the edge of the trees and banked high over the Magisterium. Brinley saw a tower below them and wondered if it was Tabitha’s bird tower. It seemed like she had just been there a moment ago.

  They descended more quickly than Brinley would have liked, turning toward the center of the city. She thought for a moment that they might land, but they were moving too fast.

  “Where are we going?” she asked Cannon when they leveled out, flying between buildings down the center of a busy street.

  “The bridge,” Cannon said, pointing straight ahead. What Brinley had taken for a tall stone wall now sharpened before her eyes. It was a very long, very steep bridge jutting toward the sky. She was glad they were flying; it looked like it would be terrible to climb.

  Brinley expected Peridot to bank upward before they reached the bridge. Instead, she flew straight at it. For a moment Brinley was worried they might run right into it, but at the last second Peridot gave a sharp downbeat of her wings and angled them upward. They were ten feet above the bridge, flying parallel to it. A wide straw hat spun over Peridot’s wing and Brinley looked back to see an astonished old man leading a goat. The goat looked terrified. Brinley smiled, glad to know that this type of thing was out of the ordinary for somebody other than her.

  Hugo chuckled. “I bet that goat doesn’t sleep tonight,” he said.

  Brinley laughed. “Giant flying lion? I bet it doesn’t sleep for a week!”

  A great wall of mist rose before them and Brinley barely had time to hold her breath. She blinked in surprise, and just like that they were through it.

  Everything had changed below them. The moon was bright, and she could make out a small town, tiny in comparison to the one they had just flown over. A circle of bridges surrounded the town like the spokes of a wagon wheel. Peridot turned toward one of them. She flew close to this one too, passed through the mist, and the scene changed below them once more.

  A very different city lay beneath them now; this one was dirty and old looking. Houses littered the ground like speckled bugs.

  Peridot descended on a dark street corner. A cat looked up from a slumping rooftop and hissed at them. They dismounted quickly and followed Peridot, shadows dancing menacingly in the unfamiliar corners of the street. Short fenced yards held tools and cans, bins and boxes, and old rusted equipment that Brinley did not recognize.

  “Here.” Peridot turned at the entrance of what seemed to be a long, narrow garden. They walked under a low trellis overhung with vines that smelled faintly of milk and honey.

  “Is this where Belsie lives?” Brinley whispered softly to Cannon, remembering Tabitha’s words from earlier.

  “Belterras,” Cannon corrected her softly. “Only fools and little children call him Belsie. He is the Earth Mage.”

  Brinley felt herself grow a little angry. Is that what he thought of Tabitha? A foolish child?

  “Hush,” Peridot whispered sharply. They had come to a cobblestone path overgrown with white and purple flowers. At the end of the path there was a small door to a house of brown wood covered in the same honey-scented vines. The door stood slightly open, and there was a thin gold line of light emanating from within. Peridot pushed it open the rest of the way with a sweep of her massive paw.

  The room was round and warm; everything looked to be made of a deep golden wood and painted with the pallet of sunshine. Two men stood waiting for them.

  They seemed different than the wizards that Brinley had met at the Magisterium, no doubt because they were what Denmyn called “true mages.” Power hung about them like an audible hum.

  The one on the left looked like the storybook depiction of a magical person, minus moons and stars and a pointy hat. He looked stern. Belterras, she supposed, was the one on the right. He was large, with a happy fat belly wrapped in robes the color of the earth in spring; a necklace of pine nuts and turquoise bluebirds hung loosely about his neck, with brown curly locks of hair cascading across it from a kind face.

  The stern man saw them first, eyes snapping open, gray looking out from a stark field of white. He raised his hand and pointed at them in a commanding way. Brinley froze, unable to move. Her arms suddenly felt both heavy and brittle at her sides, as if they might break off.

  “Cassis!” Peridot’s voice rushed over the room like warm water, and the grey mage put his hand down hastily, eyes widening in recognition.

  “Peridot!” he exclaimed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it could really be you. This has been a night of illusion for us, and danger.”

  “Peridot,” Belterras said, his round face breaking into a relieved smile. “Friends! Welcome! Come in, and may my home be yours.” He actually hugged Peridot around the neck, which was a thing Brinley didn’t know you could do.

  “Where is my master?” Cannon asked them, peering around as if he might find the mage sitting in a corner.

  “Come,” Belterras said, “we have much to discuss, and you must be hungry from your trip. Oh my.” He had caught sight of Peridot’s wound.

  Without another word he passed a hand over the wound and whispered something, twirling a finger around the small bloody hole in a gentle fashion. A barbed piece of wood emerged from the wound and clattered to the floor. Peridot gave a snarl, eyes closed against the pain. She stomped one great paw vehemently in protest and the floor shook.

  “Hand me that,” Belterras said to Hugo, slapping a big hand on the boy’s shoulder and pointing him toward an empty pie tin. Hugo retrieved it and Peridot lay so that the wound was just over the tin. Belterras placed two fingers in a careful way along her chest over the wound.

  He bent close, whispering something in a language that Brinley had never heard before. He repeated the words a half a dozen times before Peridot growled again, shivering. Her whole back rippled with the effect, and her head f
ell to the floor with a thud. Blood began streaming freely out of the wound and Belterras nudged the tin to the left with a stumpy finger to catch it. There was so much of it. Too much, Brinley thought. But Peridot was large and strong, and soon it was over; the blood slowed rapidly, returning to a drip.

  “Good, good,” Belterras said. “You will be fine. This could use a poultice. If you have strength, we can all go into the kitchen while I make it, and you can tell us what is going on. Hold this here, boy.” He handed Hugo a cloth to hold against the wound as they moved into the other room.

  As soon as they entered, Peridot walked to the fire and lay down before the hearth, falling asleep almost instantly.

  “She will need to rest after that,” Belterras nodded approvingly. “At least a few minutes.”

  The kitchen was a long rectangular room with a sandstone fireplace at one end and a large deep sink at the other. A long island stood in the middle beneath a cascading array of shiny brass pots. Cannon and Cassis took seats on the high stools next to the counter while Belterras brought out a basket of bread. He sliced it slowly, arranging it on a plate. Then he brought out cheese, fruit, and a small side of dried meat. Cassis shot him a half-angry look. “I hope she is not out for long, Belterras. It may have been prudent to speak with her before you anesthetized her.”

  “I did no such thing, Cassis,” Belterras said, coming to a halt in the middle of his work. “I healed her, that’s all. This,” he continued, waving his long knife in Peridot’s direction, “is the result of fatigue, nothing more. The healing took the last of her strength.”

  “And who are you?” Cassis said to Hugo.

  “Where are our manners?” Belterras interrupted. The big man set down his mortar and pestle and crossed the kitchen, taking up Hugo’s free hand and shaking it warmly. “I am Belterras. And this stern fellow,” he said, pointing at the gray-robed man, “is Cassis, Mage of Metal and Stone.”

  Hugo looked up at him. “And you are the Mage of Earth,” he said. “I met you once with my father.”