The Magic Thief

by Sarah Prineas

  The fat magister’s name was Brumbee. He had a round, rosy face and was dressed in bright yellow wormsilk and velvet robes over a plain black suit and waistcoat. The sleeve of his robe had a patch with a fat black-and-yellow-striped bee embroidered on it. With my paw I patted his pocket. He kept a locus stone in there, and a ring of keys. I couldn’t get them out to look at them because cats might be good prowlers, but they’re not very good at picking pockets.

  I was just settling into the shadows beside his chair for a good listen when Brumbee’s big, gentle hands reached down, picked me up by the middle, and set me on his lap. I struggled, but he held me tightly by the scruff, then gave me a scritch behind the ears. “Nice kitty,” he murmured in a soft voice.

  He was all right, then. I sat down, tail-over-paws, ready to pick up some information to bring back to Nevery.

  At last the magisters finished their discussion of the werelights.

  “Very well then,” Brumbee said. He reached into his other pocket and pulled out a delicious-smelling napkin. Then he unwrapped it—a sandwich left over from his lunch!—and fed me a sliver of chicken. I ate it and licked my whiskers. “I am afraid that I must again bring up the problem of the decay of magic in Wellmet.” Brumbee looked down the table at the other wizards. “The duchess expects us to act to deal with this situation. And we don’t want things to spin out of our control.”

  “I agree that the situation is becoming alarming,” said a lady wizard with gray hair piled in a messy bun atop her head. “And that we need someone to focus his or her attention on dealing with this crisis. What about you, Brumbee? Would you do it?”

  The fat wizard shook his head. “No, no, Periwinkle. I don’t want to do it. What about you, Sandera?”

  A keen-looking, youngish woman at the other end of the table shook her head. “Oh, indeed no, Brumbee. Not I. But we do, as you know, have another choice.” She looked around the table.

  “Not Pettivox,” the gray-haired Periwinkle said.

  Brumbee shook his head. “Certainly not. I purposely did not invite him today so we could consider the matter without him. Pettivox would not be suitable.”

  “Power hungry,” Sandera agreed. “Therefore he is a danger, don’t you know. And he spends too much of his time traveling to the desert city. But there is still one more to consider.”

  A tall, sharp wizard banged his bony fist and glared down the table at Brumbee. “We cannot name Nevery!”

  Brumbee raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t mention Nevery.”

  “Well, you were thinking of him,” the sharp wizard said. “I could tell. Now, we all know he’s managed to get the order of exile repealed and has returned to Wellmet. And we all know why.”

  The gray-haired wizard nodded her head. “True enough. Nevery has returned. But I don’t see that asking him to lead us magisters through this crisis would be such a bad thing. Better than Pettivox, certainly.”

  The sharp wizard groaned. “Nevery is dangerous. He pays absolutely no attention to the laws governing the use of magic in the city. He will lead us into trouble. He’s already dealing with the Underlord, I hear.”

  The fat wizard gave me a reassuring stroke. “Not to worry. I think everyone realizes that in such times as these, we need a wizard like Nevery. He is the only one who can balance the Underlord and the duchess. And despite his hastiness, he’s the finest wizard this city has ever seen.”

  “I agree, Nevery would be best,” said Periwinkle.

  “I concur,” added the keen lady, Sandera.

  “Well, Trammel?” Brumbee asked.

  “Oh, all right,” the sharp wizard answered. “But don’t think I’m going on my knees to Nevery’s ghastly old mansion to beg him to lead us.”

  “That’s all right, Trammel,” Brumbee said. His fingers tapped me twice on the head. Pay attention, he seemed to be saying. I sat up. “I have a feeling that Nevery will come to us.” He nodded. “He will meet with us soon. And, I think, that concludes the meeting.” The other wizards began to rise, talking, shuffling papers.

  Right. I had what I needed. I got ready to spring from Brumbee’s lap, to race to tell Nevery the news. The wizard’s big hand stopped me. “Off you go now, kitty.” The man smiled and gave me another rub under the chin. In spite of myself, I purred. “Run back to your master, as fast as you can.”

  I leaped from the wizard’s lap and tore out of the magisters’ meeting chamber.

  CHAPTER 8

  Back at Heartsease, Nevery changed me into a boy, and I told him what the magisters had said. That they were worried about the ebbing magic crisis, that the wizard Pettivox wanted the job of leading them, but that the magisters knew Nevery was in Wellmet, that they wanted him to lead them instead. “All you have to do is ask,” I told him.

  “I can draw my own conclusions, boy,” Nevery said sharply. He got up from his chair and paced across the room, then back again. “And they all agreed not to support Pettivox?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Sandera said he was power hungry.”

  “Pettivox is a decent wizard. But he’s a terrible leader. Hmmm. Things must be worse than I thought for them to offer it to me so readily. I wonder if I was too hasty, going to the Underlord.” He put his hands behind his back and paced some more, muttering into his beard.

  Coming to a turn in his pacing, he noticed that I was still there. “Well, go on out, boy.” He gestured for me to leave the room.

  I took two steps toward the door. Then stopped. “Nevery?” I asked.

  He paused in his pacing and scowled. “What, boy?”

  “I was just wondering when I’m going to learn tricks like that.”

  “Tricks? What are you talking about?”

  “Well, Nevery, I am your apprentice. I’m supposed to learn the embero spell, right? I’ve got all of it except for the end, and I need the rest.”

  Nevery shook his head, and his scowl deepened. “Don’t be stupid, boy. You are not my apprentice. I took you on as a servant, nothing more.”

  Not his apprentice? I stared at him. Something strange was happening to my stomach, like the bottom was falling out of it and a giant black pit opening up. Not his apprentice, after all. His servant.

  I wasn’t sure I could be a servant, not even for Nevery.

  Without saying anything, Nevery got up and went to the table, fetched his grimoire, and sat down again. He opened the book and marked a spot on the open page. He cleared his throat. “All right, boy. Tell me the embero spell.”

  I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “It goes tumbriltumbrilulartambefranjevaneekhoutenfranjelickavanfranjelocar”—I paused to take a breath—“franjelilfraajellumiolendilarterkolil—”

  “Tarkolil,” Nevery corrected, looking up from the book.

  “Right, tarkolil,” I said, “lilotarkolilotar-kennan…” I stopped. “That’s all, then everything goes black.”

  There was a long silence. Finally, Nevery nodded and closed the grimoire. “The spell won’t effect unless the magic is focused and released with a locus magicalicus. But that’s all of it, boy.”

  Oh. Well, it didn’t matter now.

  Might as well get it over with. “I wouldn’t be a very good servant, Nevery. So…so thanks for turning me into a cat. And showing me Heartsease.” I stared down at my feet so I wouldn’t have to look at him. I turned to leave the study.

  “Wait,” Nevery said. I stopped with my back to him. “You’d rather go back to thieving on the streets of the Twilight than serve me?” He sounded angry.

  I thought about it. I was a good thief, and an even better lockpick. Most of the time I did all right. Most of the time I managed to avoid being noticed by the Underlord and his minions. But sometimes, no matter how hard I scrambled, things got bad. I’d go hungry for a few days, or the weather would get cold and I wouldn’t have a copper lock for a corner in a crowded cellar to sleep in, or I’d have to fight off a stray misery eel, or somebody would steal my shoes.

  Working for Nevery would be easi
er. I wouldn’t mind sweeping and polishing scrying globes and fetching water if I were his apprentice. But I couldn’t do it as his servant. Not even if it meant going back to the Twilight.

  I shook my head and headed for the door.

  “Wait,” he said again. I stopped, but I still didn’t turn around. “All right.” He sighed. “Maybe I do need an apprentice.”

  Suddenly everything looked a lot brighter. I turned back to him.

  “All well then, boy?” Nevery asked.

  Outside, at that moment, the sun came out and shone straight in the window, and a beam of light splashed me right in the face. I blinked, dazzled. The room was flooded with afternoon sunlight, thick as honey, but brighter, sweeter. Dust motes danced in the air like tiny stars. I realized that I was grinning. “All right, Nevery,” I answered.

  “Yes, all right, boy,” Nevery said gruffly. “Go and get yourself some dinner.”

  * * *

  Never had an apprentice, never wanted one. Still don’t want one. Not a good teacher, for one thing, and don’t want apprentice underfoot. Boy very likely to be more trouble than he’s worth.

  No locus magicalicus (serious problem)

  Habitual liar, thief, etc.

  Eats cupboards bare

  Aggravates Benet

  On the other hand, boy’s abilities of interest. Can’t think of any wizard who could have repeated a twice-heard spell as difficult as the embero, but boy did it. Very surprised. Also, odd that boy has never been ill, despite living on streets as gutterboy. Possibly has some affinity with city’s magic. Though no precedent for such a thing.

  Note to self: Send Benet out for materials to build gauge for measuring ambient level of magic. Must determine whether, as has been claimed, the rate of magical decay is increasing.

  List for Benet:

  Copper wire, springs

  Optical lenses (panvex, pancave)

  Slowsilver (as much as he can get)

  Verity crystal (dark one, if possible)

  Dock pendulums (three)

  Burnishing powder

  Partelet

  Nuts, bolts, screws of various sizes

  And more food. Boy eating pantry bare.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 9

  I’d never been into Nevery’s workroom before. It was where he prepared his magics. He’d had Benet rip down the tattered wallpaper and whitewash the walls, and he kept were lights burning in a crystal candelabra hanging from the ceiling, so it was bright in there, and clean, but not tidy. In the center of the room was a high table covered with alembics and copper coils, dirty teacups, scrying globes, bits of silk cloth, and papers. And in the middle of the table, a jumble of brown-paper-wrapped parcels.

  In the morning, when I came in the door with tea and a plate of biscuits and honey, Nevery was perched on a high stool at the table. He looked up at me and lowered his bushy gray eyebrows into a scowl.

  “Knock first, boy,” he said. “You made me spill the slowsilver.”

  Sure enough, a few flowing silver balls snailed their way down the table and oozed to the floor.

  “I’ll get them!” I put down the tea and biscuits, grabbed a glass jar from the high table, and went after the slowsilver.

  “Stop!” Nevery roared, leaping up from the stool. I froze. He leaned over and snatched the jar from my hand. “Look, boy.” He showed me the jar. Greenish crystals crusted the inside. “Tourmalifine,” he said. “Slowsilver cannot mingle with tourmalifine.”

  I looked at the jar, then at the slowsilver snails on the floor. “Why not?”

  “Because when mingled they explode.” He polished a different jar with his sleeve and handed it to me. “Now, pick up the slowsilver. Carefully. It’s cursed hard to come by, and I need every drop.”

  I went down on my knees under the table and chased the slowsilver around while Nevery sat on his stool drinking tea and eating his breakfast. Slowsilver was tricky, I found, because I couldn’t actually pick it up. It squirmed away from my fingers and split into tinier snails. The best way to collect it was to blow on it to get it oozing along, then scoop it up with the glass jar. Of course, then the slowsilver I’d already caught tried to get out again.

  I wondered what slowsilver was for, since the white-haired wizard at the Underlord’s mansion had wanted more of it.

  “Nevery,” I said, coaxing a shiny-bright snail into the jar. “Why can’t slowsilver and tourmalifine mingle?”

  “I already told you, boy. They explode.”

  “Yes, but why?” I caught the last bit of slow-silver and crawled out from under the table. Standing, I put the glass jar on the table, but far away from the jar of tourmalifine. I leaned over to look closely at the slowsilver. It looked like a shiny puddle of mirror, swirling gently, peacefully. “What is it about slowsilver and tourmalifine? When they’re alone they don’t explode. So why do they when they’re together?”

  Nevery finished off his tea and put down the cup. He nodded, pulling on the end of his beard. “Yes. It’s not a bad question, boy.” He stood up. “Come with me.”

  I followed him out of the workroom and down to the study, where he pulled from a shelf a fat book bound in red leather.

  “Here.” He put the book into my hands. “Read the fifth chapter, which will answer your question, and then I will test your understanding of it.”

  “But—”

  Nevery scowled. “One thing you’ll have to learn, boy, if you’re to be my apprentice. You don’t argue with me. Just do as you’re told.” With that, he swept out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  I went to the table, sat down, and opened the book. Hmmm. The pages were brittle with age and brown around the edges. The ink was bright, though, and diagrams in different colors decorated almost every page. I closed it and got up to walk around the room for a while.

  Clear as clear, Nevery was busy with something in his workroom and didn’t want to be bothered.

  Well then, I wouldn’t interrupt him. Ever since we’d come to Heartsease, I’d been wanting to explore the other part of the mansion.

  I left the study and went outside. In the courtyard, the wind was blowing and, overhead, dark gray clouds raced across a lighter gray sky. The clouds were full of rain. Not snow; it wasn’t quite cold enough.

  Picking my way through the brambles, I went around the side of the house until I came to a place where I could climb through a window to get inside. The window was about twice my height from the ground, but a thick vine of ivy grew up the wall and around it, so I climbed up that way. The panes were broken. Clinging to the vine with one hand, I reached in, unlatched the window, pushed up the sash, and slid inside.

  It was a workroom. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the dim light, and saw that rain had gotten in the broken window; the curtains and the carpet were damp and rotten. It smelled of mildew. It had a high table and stools, and walls lined with shelves. On the table were lots of glass jars and alembics, all clouded with dust and spiderwebs.

  And some sort of little metal machine about as big as my hand, with cogs and pistons that looked melted, like it had been struck by lightning. I put it in my coat pocket to show to Nevery.

  And then I found the interesting things.

  At one end of the room was a wooden desk, fancy and carved. Underneath it was a locked chest, banded with metal, dusty and spiderwebby.

  I dragged out the chest from under the desk and used my coat sleeve to wipe it off. The lock looked basic, a simple four-pin double crick-twister. I pulled out my lockpick wires. I knew—knew—I should wait for Nevery to open it. But I couldn’t wait. I had to know what was in there.

  Kneeling before the chest, I bent the wires into the right shapes and slid them into the lock. Quick fingers, and the wires clicked right into place and the lock turned over. Easy. Almost like it wanted to be opened. I pulled the wires out of the lock, put them in my pocket, and opened the squeaky lid of the chest.

  It was full of rocks.

  * * *r />
  From Nevery Flinglas, Wizard, to the Wellmet Magisters.

  My former colleagues, you are no doubt aware that I have returned to Wellmet; I am able to inform you that the order of exile that banished me from the city twenty years ago has been lifted, by order of Her Grace, the duchess.

  The city, I judge, is suffering from a magical decay; I expect you have noticed.

  My assessment is that the wizards of Magisters Hall need someone to guide them first toward an understanding of the situation and then in creating a plan to deal with the decay of magic. I offer my services and hereby volunteer to serve as your leader during this crisis.

  When you have discussed my offer, you may reply to me at Heartsease.

  NEVERY FLINGLAS

  * * *

  CHAPTER 10

  The rocks I’d found were laid out on trays covered with faded blue velvet, the trays stacked five deep to the bottom of the chest, where I found a book covered with cracked leather and stamped with gold runes and an hourglass with wings at its sides. I’d seen the same hourglass before, carved into the stone floor by the gate leading to Heartsease, and on the patch on Nevery’s robe.

  I set the book aside, then lay the trays around me on the floor and inspected the rocks. The first one was gray, flat, and rounded, a river stone about the size of my palm. When I touched its smooth surface, it felt warm and strangely welcoming. I closed my eyes and a picture flashed into my mind of a tall, slender, gray-haired lady in a gray gown. She raised her hand, which held the gray, flat stone, and then faded away.

  The next rock was a rough black lump with chunks of cloudy crystal embedded in it. I picked it up and saw a burly, bearded man who reminded me of Nevery. He scowled at me, and I put the rock down on its bed of velvet.