“How’s it look?”
Sarah looked him over. “Turn around. Let me see how it looks from the back.”
Sam turned, facing Jiao-long, his back to Sarah. “Well?”
“It looks fine. How does it feel?”
“Good. Take some getting used to, but not bad.”
Sarah said, “We’ll take it then.” She eyed the shop owner. “How much?”
“One gold,” Jiao-long said without hesitation.
“Surely, you can do better than that? You sold an enchanted sword to a minor. Maybe you aren’t willing to admit it, but I think you know it’s enchanted. And maybe you have your reasons. So…”
Sam wasn’t listening. He had stopped hearing anything after Jiao-long had said the price of the scabbard was a gold piece. Hadn’t he mentioned several times since they started off this morning that he was completely and utterly broke? That he didn’t have a single copper coin to his name? Why was Sarah pushing so hard when she knew he couldn’t afford it? All it would lead to was him being more embarrassed when he had to admit he was penniless.
But Sarah continued to haggle. She went back and forth with the Surly Dragon’s shrewd owner, negotiating lower and lower.
“Seven,” she said. “And that’s my final offer.”
Jiao-long stared at her, his eyes narrowed, perhaps trying to glean whether or not that was indeed her final offer.
“Very well,” he said. “Seven silver.”
Sam’s ears were burning. “I don’t…”
“Don’t worry,” Sarah said. “It’s my treat. A gift.”
Sarah removed a small pouch from her pocket and counted out seven silver, depositing them one at a time into Jiao-long’s outstretched hand.
When they were outside the shop, Sam said, “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know. But I wanted to.”
“Well, thanks! It’s really cool.”
Sam reached behind his head, found the sword’s handle, and plucked it from the scabbard. Then he sheathed it again, this time on the second try. He waved his hands in front of him, wiggling his fingers. “Hands free,” he said, showing Curtis.
“Hooray for you,” Curtis said.
“I’ll get you something next time,” Sarah said, sensing his disappointment.
Curtis cheered up a little. “It is pretty neat, really. Better than the one I have, which attaches to a belt and jiggles a lot when I walk.”
“It’s still early,” Sam said. “What should we do now?”
They spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon exploring the many village shops. Sarah had wanted to stop in the leatherworking shop where she checked on the status of a saddle she was having mended. Curtis had talked them into visiting a shop called Beasley & Blokes Games Emporium, which specialized in different card games and illusions. Curtis had spent nine copper on a powder, that when mixed with water, would turn your skin green minutes after you drank it. Sam had begged him to save his money, but Curtis had been persistent.
“Aren’t you going to try it then?” Sam had asked.
“I’m saving it for a special occasion.”
“What occasion calls for turning your skin green?”
Sam had convinced them to come with him to check out the Cognizant Reader. The bookstore was owned by a very plump woman wearing a flowery dress that was much too tight on her. Her name was Madam Daffy, and she waddled from one shelf to another, rearranging books. She wasn’t as knowledgeable (or as friendly) as Gnovis, but seemed to know her stuff. The Cognizant Reader carried more of the newer books than Gnovis did in his store, but their selection of older books left something to be desired.
“My friend, Gnovis, runs a bookstore in Lesser Spriggleford,” Sam said.
“Ne’er erd o’ him,” Madam Daffy said, waddling across the floor like a pregnant duck.
Their final stop was at Rachel’s Treats, where Sarah bought each of them a frosted pastry filled with caramelized apple slices. There weren’t any tables inside the small bakery, so they stood outside the front door, sheltered from the falling snow by the overhead awning.
“If Lazarus served these in his restaurants along with his hot chocolate,” Sam said, “he’d make a killing. I’d gain a hundred pounds.”
“Agreed,” Curtis said. “I wish my ma could bake like this.”
Farther down the road, Sam saw a figure in a purple robe walking in the direction of the forest. Lilah, he thought. He’d almost forgotten that he had a lesson with her today. Was it that time already?
Sam hurriedly scarfed down the rest of his pastry, stuffing the last chunk into his mouth. “Ot ooh oh,” he said, his words indecipherable because of the pastry in his mouth.
“What?” Curtis asked.
“You really shouldn’t talk with your mouth full,” Sarah said.
Sam chewed, swallowed, said, “I’ve got to go.”
“Go where?” Curtis said, but understanding dawned a split second later. “Oh, that’s right. You’ve got something important to do.”
“What’s the rush?” Sarah called after him as Sam started down the road.
Without looking back, Sam said, “I told someone I’d meet them somewhere!”
When Sam reached the edge of the forest he waited on the road expecting to see Lilah appear from behind a tree, but she wasn’t waiting for him.
He entered the forest, trying to remember the path she had shown him, which had been much faster than the one he and Curtis had taken on their initial outing. He took a wrong turn, doubled back, and had to search until he found the path again.
He walked for a while, not entirely sure he was going the right way on account of the snow covering the path. He came around a curve and could see the steep hill to his left, expecting to hear the sound of rushing water from the stream, but realizing that it would most likely be frozen over by now.
Sam found Lilah seated on the moss-covered boulder. A book was open in her lap and one of her hands was in the air, a tiny tornado filled with golden flecks swirled above her palm. Without glancing up from the book she said, “You’re late.”
“I know. I…”
“I know what you were doing,” she said, snapping the book shut. She closed her hand into a fist and the impossibly small tornado disappeared. She slid down from the boulder. “You were with Curtis and that girl.”
“Her name’s Sarah,” Sam said, feeling suddenly defensive. Did he detect a hint of disapproval in her voice?
“I know what her name is,” Lilah said.
“You’re always more than welcome to hang out with us.”
“I don’t associate with people like that.”
“People like what?” Sam asked. “What’s wrong with my friends?”
“She isn’t entirely trustworthy you know.”
“I don’t understand. I don’t have any reason not to trust her. Explain yourself.”
“Never mind.” She thrust the book out at him. “Take this. It’s chock full of cutesy magic. It also has a chart that tells you the common word and its corresponding conjure word. If you read it, it might help you learn faster. Just don’t get caught with it. And, if for some reason you do get caught, by no means tell them who gave it to you.”
“Of course I wouldn’t. Are you in a bad mood or something?”
Ignoring his question, Lilah said, “Let’s go over what you’ve learned so far. Show me Dragonsprite.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “How many times are we going to go over that one? I could do it with my eyes closed.”
Lilah waited. With a dramatic sigh, Sam held out his hand, palm up, and said, “Draksprit.”
The fiery dragon appeared in his palm, quickly found its footing, and hacked up a string of fire. He was better at it now; more confident of himself. At least where something simple like Dragonsprite was concerned. The most important thing he had learned was how to focus his mind the right way. How to make magic. His dragon was more powerful now, not nearly as feeble as the one he had conjur
ed on his first attempt months ago. Sam threw up his hand and watched the dragon take flight, gliding upward until it exploded into sparks near the top of a tree.
“Okay. Good. Now – Lightness of Being.” Lilah bent down, dropping a white and brown feather onto the ground.
Sam pointed his hand at the feather and said, “Levitas.” The feather jumped several inches into the air and then settled back down to the ground. “Levitas,” Sam repeated. This time, the feather floated higher before drifting back to the ground.
“I’m still not very good at that one,” he said.
“It’s difficult. It’s actually a powerful spell. Once you amplify it, if you were good enough, you could lift that boulder.”
“No way?”
“Don’t worry, you’re not there yet.”
“Show me then,” Sam said.
“I’m not there yet, either. It’s one of those spells that take years to perfect. That’s why, at your level, it’s considered nothing more than cutesy magic.”
Lilah waved her hand at the feather on the ground and it sprang into the air, moving around effortlessly as though it was being carried by the wind. Suddenly, it fell to the ground. “Did you hear that?” she asked.
“Hear what?”
“Nothing, I guess.” She stared past Sam and off into the bushes clumped together near the last stand of trees before the clearing near the stream.
“What was that you were doing when I got here?”
“Oh, you mean this?” She opened her hand and the tornado appeared in it. “I was debating on what to teach you next. This one is called Reveal. Its main purpose is to show you things you wouldn’t otherwise see by moving physical objects from view. It is similar to Lightness of Being in that it can also be amplified to be more powerful. Now that you have the book, you might as well get used to looking things up yourself.”
Sam opened the book, grateful to find that everything was listed in alphabetical order. The back of the book contained two indexes: one with common names listed alphabetically, and the other by the conjure word. He used the common name index to locate ‘Reveal,’ and then flipped to the appropriate page. “Revelan,” he said once he found it.
“Correct. Easy enough isn’t it?”
Sam wanted to say that a young child could have figured out how to use the book, but then remembered that not everyone was as familiar with books as he was. If there was one thing he could navigate without assistance, it was a book.
He didn’t wait for Lilah to prompt him this time. He opened his hand, concentrated, going to that special place in his mind, and said, “Revelan.”
Nothing happened. Not really. Only a small puff of smoke that disappeared almost instantly. Sam had been through this enough times to have learned not to get discouraged if it didn’t work the first few tries.
“Revelan.” The second attempt was better than the first. This time, the smoke didn’t disappear immediately; it did two sluggish circles in his hand before fading away.”
There was a rustling sound and Lilah glared at the bushes again.
“Revelan.” The tornado, only four inches tall, materialized in his hand, spinning, and he could see the gold specks caught inside of it.
“Well done,” Lilah said.
The rustling sound came again, and this time Sam heard it, too. Lilah was concentrating on the row of bushes.
“What is it?”
“Let’s find out shall we,” she said and whispered, “Revelan transferus.”
The miniature tornado sprang out of Sam’s hand, hit the ground, and raced toward the bushes, growing larger and larger as it went. Lilah had somehow stolen it from him and was controlling it now.
By the time the tornado reached the bushes, it was at least six feet tall. The leaves and branches on the trees behind them swayed madly. Sam watched as the bushes were uprooted from the ground, spraying dirt as they were sucked into the tornado.
And then Sam saw exactly what the spell was used for: hunkered down on all fours, exposed now that the bushes had been yanked away, was Sarah. Now that there was no use in hiding, she stood up, brushing dirt from herself.
“What are you doing here?” Lilah asked. “Spying?”
Sarah didn’t seem at all embarrassed by being caught. In fact, she appeared almost indignant. “I wanted to see what Sam was up to,” she said. Sam heard anger in her voice.
Why is she mad? he wondered. She was the one spying.
“This isn’t your business,” Lilah said.
“Sam’s my friend, so it is my business.” Sarah’s gaze settled on Sam, and he could see that she was furious. “I wouldn’t have thought you would be so stupid, Sam. You realize you’ll be expelled for this?”
“But…”
“And you,” Sarah said, turning her attention back to Lilah, “you should know better. You aren’t certified to teach yet. What would Instructor Volatine say?”
“Nothing, if you don’t tell him.”
“I expected more from you, Sam. Why would you hide something like this from me?”
Sam’s mind had drawn a blank. Because he had promised not to tell or because he knew he was doing something that would get him into trouble – both seemed like reasonable answers, but at that moment he couldn’t get the words to come out of his mouth.
Unlike him, however, Lilah wasn’t tongue-tied. “Who are you to talk? He isn’t the only one keeping secrets. Is he?”
Some of the anger drained out of Sarah’s face.
“That’s what I thought,” Lilah said.
The tornado, which had still been wreaking havoc nearby, vanished.
Without another word, Sarah turned and trudged off into the forest. Sam made to follow after her, but Lilah said, “Let her go.”
“But she’s my friend,” Sam said
“Then you won’t want to go to her now. Better to let her work things out first.”
“You sound like Curtis. And what did you mean when you told her I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Sam could tell it wouldn’t do any good to pursue that line of questioning, so he said, “Why do you dislike her so much?”
“I don’t dislike her.” And just when Sam thought he was about to get an answer she said, “You wouldn’t understand.”
“But…”
“That’s enough for today.”
She started onto the path, leaving Sam standing there by himself, more than a little confused.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
TAMING THE LIZARD
Weeks passed. The weather turned colder. The snow had been relentless, and most every morning Abeth Lee would awaken one of them before the others and have that unlucky boy shovel a path through the freshly fallen snow. Although there didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the way Abeth chose them, when Sam’s turn came, he couldn’t help feeling that the entire selection process was a bit unfair.
However, another part of him – the part that felt guilty for having kept something from Sarah – thought it paled in comparison to the punishment he really deserved for lying to her.
She hadn’t spoken to him for several weeks. It hadn’t been for Sam’s lack of trying, either. If he tried to sit by her during meal times, she would take her plate and move to another table; if he tried talk to her during class, she would simply pretend he didn’t exist; and if he attempted to catch up with her after training, she would always disappear before he could find her.
He was miserable. And he was making Curtis miserable, too. Curtis, who took a more logical approach to the situation, told him it was only a matter of time. That she couldn’t stay mad at him forever. But now that weeks had gone by, Sam wasn’t so sure.
To top it all off, his magic lessons with Lilah had all but ended. By the time training was over each day, most of the light had drained from the sky, and there was no use trying to make it to the forest and back before dark.
It’s your bad luck, he thought. You’re eternal
ly cursed. That was one thing that never took a holiday. He wondered if perhaps he had been jinxed before he was born; if he had been born under a bad sign, assuring him of a life of misery. This made him think of the gypsies that came to Lesser Spriggleford every summer, during the busy weeks leading up to the Glowing Butterfly Festival. That, in turn, made him think about the enchantment stones he had purchased from the hawk-nosed gypsy, which led him to think about how his father had never gotten around to crafting him a sword (which, even if he had, Sam couldn’t have gotten any use out of the stones anyway since it was against the rules for first years to have an enchanted weapon). And for the first time in a long time, Sam felt himself getting a little homesick.
He didn’t even want to think about the tests coming up in a few days. It was almost more bad news than he could handle.
Reluctantly, Sam rolled out of bed. Curtis was asleep, so he nudged him awake as he did every morning. He dressed, waited for Curtis, and then they headed to the mess hall. The oatmeal was barely edible on a good day, but today the mere sight of it made his stomach churn. He pushed the bowl away from him, burying his head in his hands.
“You better eat,” Curtis said. “After all, you’re a growing boy.” Curtis laughed at what he considered to be a remarkably witty comment. He had been trying to cheer Sam up for days on end, but nothing had worked. “You’re really being a drag, you know that?” Curtis tilted his head and batted his eyes. “Oh, Sarah, I miss you so much. My heart is broken. You’ve got the lonely warrior routine down pat. Life is so miserable. I mean geez, Sam, how much longer are you going to keep this up?”
Sam wasn’t listening. He had spotted Sarah sitting at one of the other tables, but she wasn’t alone. There was a boy sitting across from her. A pale but well-muscled boy with spiky red hair and lots of freckles on his face. Sam didn’t know the boy very well, but he thought the boy’s name was Jasper. Although Sam couldn’t hear it, whatever Jasper had just said must have been funny because Sarah was laughing out loud.
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