Wind Magic

by Nicolette Jinks

  Feeling a little safer now, I took a gander through the new, revised merchandise. Those trinkets Mordon kept beneath glass display cases glinted with a fierce intent previously unknown, as though the spells they contained did more than untangling hair or adding a little glow to the skin. No, it was the points on pins which shone as if dipped in poison which shone more than the cut crystal stones. Everything, every ring, every necklace, every bracelet, hid a sly smile. Guess what I do, they seemed to ask. Guess.

  Wands had never looked so wicked. Elder, willow, oak, it didn't matter. Appraising their value had not been my particular talent, yet I knew quality when I saw it. It was in the gloss of the finish, the way not a one bore carving marks. By now I knew the appearance of a simurgh feather, the clumps of silvery hair which could only be unicorn mane, the tuft from a dragon's beard. These were not for lightweight spell-casting where you could get away with using cattail fluff or satyr hair or a few strands of sable.

  Staves rested on their own shelves, tall as a walking-stick, short as a billy club. Thick, thin, smooth, knotted, plain, carved, with a gemstone knob or without. By now I was too stunned to analyze them correctly. I just shook my head at them until I passed on to the case holding focus rings, but even those I didn't really look at. A cursory glance said they were deadly as everything else.

  The entire row which had been books on historical potion-making was now gone, replaced by weapons. Yes, old weapons, some of them. But others were new. Mordon was not interested in selling new items. His interests fell under the category of garage-sale clutter.

  This was different. Organized, neat. Instead of artsy showroom, this was a no-nonsense stop for magical armament.

  My ring shifted on my finger, the gold dragon animating to loop her way over one finger then under the next, a slow figure-eight turning into a restless pacing. I didn't even think about how I used the ring as my focus point. Not anymore, I just did it. I reached towards an opal ring, wondering what had changed in the wold while I was gone.

  “Stop!”

  I did. Belatedly, I recognized Mordon's voice.

  “Step away slowly.”

  This wasn't a tone I was used to him speaking, so wary and suspicious. It reminded me of the time in the Wildwoods when he'd been toyed with by a duplicate of me. I hoped I wouldn't have to repeat the experience again. Hands up, I pivoted on my heel to face him.

  “Fera? Besheen.” A green orb floated in the air above us, casting light all around.

  I blinked back tears and said, “I just came through from the Wildwoods. I saw the paper. This paper.” The page wobbled in the light, all creases and damp stains from being in my hands. His eyes never left my face. Embarrassed, I tried to put the page down but it was stuck to my palm. I hurried to add, “And the historical potions books are gone, your wards are ultra-sensitive. What's happened?”

  He lowered his hand, only to run it through his hair. “Time cannot be gained without being lost.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Death has been out. You’ve lost the time that he gained.”

  It was so strange. To me, I’d been gone mere minutes. “I’m going to be honest here. I consciously know what you’re saying, but it hasn’t really hit me yet. Take advantage of my shock to tell me why your shop looks like an armory.”

  “Because it is.”

  “Okay.” I decided against touching anything that looked remotely menacing, and that meant not touching pretty much anything in the shop. “Who are you arming and who are you fighting against? Did Cole’s deal blow up into all out civil war? It must have been quite the cover up after he went Wendigo.”

  Mordon shook his head. “I have often wondered how I would tell you when you finally arrived. Every day has felt like a week. The spells that Cole has been working, the Unwrittens. They’ve been wearing the Veil thin in places, in the Market in particular. Every full moon, the Council would get together and maintain the Veil so that nothing slipped through. Of course, they didn’t exactly know that is what they were doing. They thought it was general maintenance of all the portals, the weather, the daylight, and so on. What matters is that they hadn’t yet maintained the Market before Cole’s party. When the Unwritten hit the Veil in combination with all the minor spells, it caused a tear. That tear has spread in other areas.”

  I took this in. “That means that sorcerers aren’t kept hidden from lambs any longer.”

  He found a chair behind the counter, the bags under his eyes now clearly visible. “In some areas. In others, the Veil is still intact. It also means that some lambs, those near the tears, have found that they aren’t really lambs at all, but rather a low-strength sorcerer.”

  “Oh.” I glanced around myself again. “And this has mixed reactions?”

  “Everything from jubilation to scamsters to witch-hunts.” Mordon took my hand. “I am glad you’re back. The tears thus far have been minor, and quieted as much as possible by the lamb’s governments.”

  “Why do I hear a ‘but’?”

  “Because you hear too well. But, they aren’t happy with our network of small nations. They think it’s inadequate to cope with a multitude of threats. To their people, and to ours.”

  “Wait. The Feds have declared war on you?”

  “It’s not war if it’s a police action.” Mordon scowled. “And it isn’t them alone. Tears have occurred throughout the world, and with our ability to portal from one continent to the other … it has them concerned.”

  “And?”

  “Kragdomen is a safe haven, and we have to keep it that way.” Mordon grasped my arms. “I’m glad you’re home. We have some newly turned sorcerers who would be glad to know you aren’t some story we cooked up to keep them complacent. I have someone for you to meet.”

  “And that is?”

  “Lacey. Our very own blood mage and drake.”

  I blinked at him blankly. “That’s a crime. Do you trust her?”

  “You could say she’s being put to better use than ornamenting a dungeon cell. Unfortunately, she seems far less trusting of us than we are of her. We need her, and we need you. Feel up to facing a changed world?”