Spy Glass

by Maria V. Snyder

  immunity. During the trip to the Citadel, I had explained my

  reasons for keeping it a secret to Irys.

  “Why is Opal here?” Fisk asked. His voice had deepened

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  since I last talked with him. He had cut his light brown hair

  short, and was now as tall as my brother.

  The Master Magicians ignored his question.

  “Status?” Irys asked Bain.

  “The boy inside this dwelling is on the verge of f laming

  out,” Bain said. “He has pulled a huge amount of power to

  him, blocking anyone, including me, from getting close.”

  “Doesn’t that mean he has control of his power?” I asked.

  “No. The barrier he made is out of fear and it is about to

  rip apart.”

  A disaster for magicians. Their magic came from the blanket

  of power that surrounded the world. If one of them yanked

  too hard, it will bunch and warp, creating havoc for the magi-

  cians, and killing the person responsible.

  “How can I help?” I asked.

  “You need to go in there and talk to him. Teach him to

  slowly release the magic back into the source,” Irys said.

  Apprehension crawled like little spider legs over skin. “Teach

  him how? I don’t have any magic.”

  Fisk said, “She can’t get in there. Let me try to talk to him

  again.”

  “He’s losing it.” Irys’s face paled. “Think of the magic as a

  balloon filled with air. Get rid of the air without popping the balloon. Go now!”

  In a panic, I ran to the doorway and bounced off a curtain of

  magic. After a second to recover my senses, I found the magical barrier. Pushing my hands and arms into the power, I leaned

  my weight forward and shoved my way into the building. I

  felt as if I swam in invisible mud. Every step was an effort. I fought to draw a breath. Could I drown in magic?

  Struggling against the thickness, I searched the house. Dam-

  aged tables, chairs without legs and soiled bedding littered the f loor. Cobwebs hung, dust motes f loated and broken glass

  crunched under my boots. Not a home, but a shelter for those

  without homes. It explained Fisk’s presence.

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  Maria V. Snyder

  My muscles protested the abuse. My lungs seemed to fill

  with magic, expanding in my chest and wheezing through my

  throat. I kept checking rooms until I found the boy huddled in

  a corner. Although I wouldn’t use the word boy to describe the wild creature who gawked at me with an exhausted terror.

  His tangled, greasy hair reached the f loor. Bony knees

  poked through tattered pants. The rest of his ragged clothes

  were inadequate for the cold weather. I guessed his age to be

  around thirteen.

  He trembled and sweat dripped from his jaw. I held my

  hands wide, showing him I was unarmed before I crouched

  to his level.

  “I’m here to help.” I kept my voice even, suppressing the

  desire to pant.

  A wary, doubtful look replaced his fear. His lips whitened

  as he pressed them together, matching his sickly pallor. He

  clutched what appeared to be an apron and a teapot to his

  upper body.

  “You’re not in trouble. You have grabbed a huge amount

  of magic. Can you feel it?”

  He

  nodded.

  The panic in my heart eased a bit. “Don’t let go. You need

  to hold on to it a little longer. Can you do that?”

  This time he hesitated.

  “It’s

  important.”

  His gaze slid to a battered sleeping mat next to him. A be-

  draggled stuffed dog with a stained pink bow around its neck

  lay on a dirty pillow.

  I played a hunch. “If you let go, who will take care of

  her?”

  Alarm f lashed on his face.

  “Hold on for her, okay?”

  This time he responded with a determined nod, tighten-

  ing his grip on the items in his arms. The gesture gave me an

  idea.

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  “Imagine that the magic around us is tea, and it has filled

  your teapot. If you don’t pour the tea out, it will break the

  pot.”

  “Too much tea,” he agreed with a strained high-pitched

  voice.

  “You need to send the tea slowly through the spout, releas-

  ing it back to the sky. When the pot is empty, everyone will

  be safe.” I hoped.

  He closed his eyes. The magic thickened. It pushed me

  over, clogged my nose and pressed me f lat to the f loor. Fear

  spread inside me. Could I survive a f lameout at this distance?

  My lungs heaved, burning with the effort to draw in air.

  Black-and-white spots swirled in my vision like ashes above

  a dead fire. The room spun and the world ceased to be for

  a while. Awareness of my surroundings crept in. With each

  blink of my eyes, the blackness faded and pale colors returned, turning into harsh brightness. Without magic blocking my

  nose, the powerful acidic smell of urine invaded. I sat up.

  The boy was slumped over. His teapot had rolled away,

  but appeared to be intact. I touched his neck, searching for a

  pulse. Nothing. Poor kid. I covered my face with my hands,

  letting regret f low through me.

  Eventually, I lifted my head. I had survived a f lameout,

  and the building remained intact. I always imagined major

  destruction whenever a magician talked about losing control.

  My visions of collapsed walls and piles of rubble had been way

  off the mark.

  Irys rushed into the room with Fisk right behind her. She

  slid to a stop next to the boy and laid a hand on his head. He

  moaned and I jumped at the sound.

  “Holy snow cats! Is he alive?” A stupid question, but my

  wits had scattered.

  “Of course. He’s just exhausted.” Irys frowned. “And mal-

  nourished, and probably sick.” She scooped him up with ease. “I need to get him to the infirmary.” She aimed for the door.

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  “I’m so glad he lived through a f lameout.”

  Irys paused at the threshold. “He never lost control. Thanks

  to you.” She swept from the room.

  I rocked back on my heels, letting the information register.

  I glanced at Fisk. He stood in the middle of the squalor, peer-

  ing around with pain. His eyes shone with unshed tears.

  “I didn’t know about this place,” he said. “I could have

  helped them, but they probably scattered when Master Blood-

  good and his magicians arrived.”

  “Won’t they come back?” I gestured to the piles of pos-

  sessions.

  “Maybe.” He swiped his eyes. “I’ll post a few watchers and

  if they return, we’ll offer them better shelter and jobs.”

  I picked up the boy’s apron and teapot, figuring he would

  want them when he woke.

  Fisk nodded with approval. “They’re probably his mother’s.

  My guess is she’s either dead or has abandoned him, leaving

  him at the mercy of his abusive father. Which would explain

  his fear of men.”

  I pointed to the stuffed dog. “I think he might have a

>   sister.”

  “If she shows up here, I’ll make sure she knows where he

  is.”

  Without the distraction of magic, the horrible living condi-

  tions and filth assaulted my senses. As we left, I asked, “Fisk, how does this happen? Aren’t there agencies in the Citadel to

  help these people?”

  “There is one. And they are so overwhelmed it’s ridiculous.”

  He sighed. “Believe it or not, some of these people choose

  to live this way. They refuse all help. Others just don’t know

  where to go.”

  “You’ve done a lot.”

  “As you can see, not near enough. I tried spreading the

  word, but there are these little groups who stay isolated. Plus I’m dealing with vicious rumors.”

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  231

  “Really? I’ve heard nothing but praise.”

  “That’s in your world. This world—” he stabbed a finger

  toward the ground “—views us differently. They’re either

  jealous, afraid or spiteful.”

  “What are they afraid of ? You’re helping people.”

  “They listen to the rumors and the wild stories of us selling

  kids as slaves, smuggling drugs, organizing prostitution and

  kids being forced to work for me,” he said in frustration. “It’s hard to reason with a frightened child.” He stepped toward

  the door, being careful not to crush anything under his feet.

  I followed his example. Concentrating on where I walked,

  I bumped right into him. He had stopped. I met his intense

  gaze.

  A thin ribbon of fear curled in my chest. “What?”

  “You reasoned with a terrified kid. Saved him and the blanket of power.” Fisk gestured to the sleeping mats. “These

  people don’t trust anyone. Did you use magic on him? No…

  you don’t have any…”

  I waited as he chased the logic. It didn’t take him long.

  “How did you get in? Even the Master Magicians couldn’t

  break through the barrier.”

  Again, I let him put the pieces together. It was sort of fun.

  With the way he tilted his head and his inward gaze, I imag-

  ined faint clicks echoing in his mind until he figured it out

  with one loud snap.

  Fisk grabbed my shoulders. “Magic doesn’t work on you.”

  His eyes danced with excitement. “Like Valek. And you feel

  magic, too. That’s why you looked like you were fighting a

  strong wind. Holy snow cats is right!”

  “Fisk,

  I—”

  “That’s why you came.”

  “You

  need—”

  “Wow. The Council’s going to be thrilled. Why haven’t

  you told them?”

  I sighed. “It’s complicated. Besides, they’ll know soon

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  Maria V. Snyder

  enough since both Masters are now informed. Can you

  keep it quiet for a while? I don’t want it to become public

  knowledge.”

  A shrewd look slid across his face. “I can for a price.”

  “Scoundrel. How much?”

  He touched his chest as if I had offended him. “Not money.

  I may need your…special skills in the future to aid my Helper’s Guild members, and it would be comforting to know I can

  engage your services.”

  Smooth. I guessed he was sixteen years old, but his obvious

  intelligence and experience from growing up on the streets

  made him appear older. With his long eyelashes, he was going

  to be popular with the girls if he wasn’t already.

  “Agreed,” I said.

  When we exited the building, two of his members ap-

  peared. Fisk assigned them the task of watching for the missing residents. During the discussion, I studied their faces. The kids seemed eager, serious and confident, but I wondered if they

  played or had fun. I examined the teapot in my hands. Fine

  cracks ran through the pattern of roses. Chips lined the handle and the lid was missing. Did the children in the Helper’s Guild feel loved?

  He finished and the two hurried off. I worried they would

  be on their own tonight. I huffed, but not with humor, more

  like self-disgust. First time I ever wondered about them. Or

  cared, to be brutally honest. Fisk had mentioned this world

  versus my world. And I agreed.

  My world didn’t include rancid bedding and filth. My world

  didn’t have children without homes and caring parents. My

  world included warmth, food and love. But our worlds did

  have one thing in common—bad people.

  Quartz and I headed toward the Magician’s Keep in the

  northeast corner of the Citadel. The white marble walls re-

  f lected the sunlight and bounced traffic noise, creating echoes.

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  233

  I avoided the crowded market in the center of the Citadel.

  Instead I bypassed it to the south and cut through the Sitian

  government complex, which filled the southeast quarter.

  The sight of the Master Magicians’ towers rising above the

  other buildings sent a wave of memories crashing over me. I

  waded through them, avoiding the awful ones and focusing

  on the pleasant ones from my five years as a student.

  At the entrance to the Keep, the guard stopped me.

  “Master Bloodgood wants to see you in his office,” he

  said.

  “Please tell him I’ll be there after I settle Quartz into the

  stables.”

  Along with the guards, at least one magician worked at the

  gate at all times for safety and to relay messages to the magi-

  cians inside.

  “No. Now,” the guard said. “Your horse can find her way

  there without you.”

  Annoyed, I snapped. “And get chewed out by the Stable

  Master? No thank you. Have someone take her or I will.”

  After a bit of discussion, a stable hand appeared to escort

  Quartz. Satisfied, I crossed to the Keep’s administration building. Imposing marble steps led up to the main entrance. The

  rectangular-shaped structure consisted of offices and confer-

  ence rooms for the managerial staff as well as offices for the

  Master Magicians.

  A feeling of being home touched me for a brief moment.

  As I navigated the well-known hallways, I encountered pools

  of magic. A few graduates from the Keep’s program worked

  in various positions in administration. The random touch of

  power sent chills along my skin. I remembered Janco’s nick-

  name for the place. Creepy Keepy.

  “Come in,” First Magician Bain Bloodgood called through

  his office door.

  I entered and smiled. As usual, clutter filled the room.

  Heaps of books strained the shelves. Odd devices and half-

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  Maria V. Snyder

  completed experiments littered his worktable. Piles of paper

  threatened to spill onto his desk. The messy office matched

  his wild gray hair, and the long navy robe reminded me of

  all the times I had sat opposite him, discussing Sitian history with him. His face would all but glow with pride when I had

  remembered an arcane bit of knowledge he had taught me.

  I approached his desk. He glanced up from the book spread

  open before him. A stranger met my gaze. His appraisal lacked

  kindness or curiosity. The w
rinkles around his mouth deep-

  ened with his annoyed frown. Dark smudges stood out against

  the pale, paper-thin skin clinging to his face.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” he demanded.

  Taken aback, I scrambled for a reply. “I told Irys—”

  “She told me your pathetic excuses. What I want to know

  is why you kept such a valuable skill secret from us when you

  had created such a crisis in Sitia?”

  “Crisis?”

  “The crisis due to your sacrifice. Giving up your magic has

  ground communications to a halt. It’s as if we have all gone

  suddenly deaf. Your glass messengers were vital to commerce

  and to my network of magicians. The Council doesn’t even

  want to hear your name.”

  The ground dissolved under my feet. I groped for the chair,

  afraid I would fall. “But what about now? I saved a boy today

  and protected the power source.”

  Bain’s anger def lated a bit. “You did an excellent job today.

  Once the boy is recovered, he will be enrolled in the Keep

  to learn how to control his magic. However, even saving the

  boy’s life won’t be enough to sway the Council’s opinion.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m afraid if I inform the Council about your immunity

  now, they’ll be afraid.”

  Confused, I gripped the armchair. “Why?”

  “The whole nasty business with Akako has them on edge.

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  So much that I had to assign every Councilor a magician to

  protect them. A magician would not be able to stop you.”

  “That’s extreme. I wouldn’t—”

  “I know, but as I said, they’re not acting rational. Wait a

  while, Opal,” Bain said. “I will tell the Council when they’re

  ready. I’m hopeful everyone will relax soon. With Councilor

  Moon returning to the sessions this week, I’m sure it won’t

  be long. For now, Irys and I will keep you busy.”

  Bain stood and walked around his desk. My head spun as if

  I was falling from a great height. Before I could reply, his arm settled on my shoulders and he guided me to the hallway.

  “You look exhausted, child. You’re welcome to stay in the

  Keep’s guest quarters as long as you like. Get some sleep.” Bain closed the door.

  I mulled over our conversation. Was I supposed to hang

  around the Keep waiting for Bain or Irys to give me something

  to do? Working for the Council didn’t appeal to me, but I

  would help the Master Magicians.

  However, I wasn’t going to remain idle. Finn was a magi-