The Girl Without Magic Read online

  The girl stared silently at Maggie with her vivid green eyes.

  “I just,” Maggie began, “I couldn’t help overhear. What have you never seen so bad?”

  The girl looked up to the minotaur. He looked down at Maggie, considering her with his jet black eyes before nodding. At the minotaur’s approval, the girl spoke.

  “The Derelict,” the girl said, her voice still as loud as it had been before. Maggie wished the girl would speak more softly so the entire street couldn’t hear what she was saying. “There were more of them out last night than I’ve ever seen before. And not just roaming the lanes looking miserable. They were attacking people.”

  “The ones with no magic of their own.”

  “Those,” the girl continued, “and others. They stole magic some people came here with. But the problem is,” the girl spoke even more loudly, shouting so everyone waiting in the line could hear, “there’s no way to tell who has stolen magic. So the scum get to walk the streets and come into our tent. Filthy, disgusting, thieves!”

  “Enough,” the minotaur said, his low voice shaking the inside of Maggie’s chest.

  With a nod of her head, the red haired girl turned and walked past the line and into the green tent.

  “Take heed,” the minotaur said.

  Maggie watched his mouth move. He had the head of a bull, and there was something comical in seeing his lips form the dire words.

  “The street will be dangerous for some time,” the minotaur said. Maggie bit her lips together to keep from smiling. “Those who have stolen magic will be eager to lose it. And some will try and steal more before they are forced back into the shadows.”

  Maggie nodded, not trusting herself to open her mouth without laughing.

  “If you need a safe place to stay, or a way to earn, Lena would let you in. She has spoken of you before, Maggie Trent.”

  Maggie took a step back, startled at the sound of her own name. “Th-thank you,” she stammered before turning and walking away as quickly as she dared.

  Hurrying through the murmuring crowds, Maggie arrived at the market square. Trade was going on as usual, but the mood was more solemn than Maggie had ever seen it.

  Nearly everyone was silent and tense except for a group of young men in front of the tent that sold ale. They were sitting at a fine wooden table that was new to the square, laughing loudly.

  One of the men leapt unsteadily onto the table and shouted, “A toast! To the greatness and mercy of the Siren!” He cheered the sky, slopping ale down the front of his shirt. His friends laughed as he tried to climb off the table, tripping and falling to the ground. He lay on the dirt road, howling with laughter as two of his drunken friends tried to get him to his feet.

  Turning away from the raucous men, Maggie walked toward Mathilda’s tent, keeping her head low as the murmurs around her turned from solemn to angry.

  Mathilda’s tent came into view, and Maggie held her breath, waiting for Mathilda’s bright white mobcap to appear.

  Sure enough, as the drunken men burst into song, Mathilda’s head popped out of the shadows, glowering at the men.

  “Mathilda!” Maggie cried so loudly the people near her spun to glare at the noise. “Sorry,” Maggie mouthed before ducking into the shadows of the tent.

  Mathilda was standing behind her row of goods, deep in the shadows out of sight. On a normal morning, she would have been standing on the street, greeting everyone who walked by, trying to tempt them into buying something.

  But today she stood arms crossed as though waiting for something she dreaded to happen.

  “Mathilda,” Maggie said, much softer than she had the first time, “you’re okay.”

  “Of course I’m okay.” Mathilda waved a hand. “I was always going to be okay. I was rather worried about you. Waiting through the storm on that rock you call safe.”

  “I wasn’t―” Maggie began before changing her mind “―I found a safe place to wait out the storm.”

  “And the Derelict,” Mathilda tisked, “coming into town. That lot out there, they’d better be careful.” Mathilda waved a finger at the men, one of whom was now lying on the table and serenading the sky. “As if we don’t know why they’re celebrating. Sitting in the market square, throwing magic at the most absurd things. As if they think we won’t know why they have so much magic to spare. Give me your fish, and you’d best be on your way. People are fearful this morning, and it won’t be long before someone decides the square would be safer without that lot. And I can’t say as I disagree.”

  “I don’t have any fish,” Maggie said, her stomach suddenly feeling hollow as she again remembered the loss of her net. “My net got lost in the storm. My tent, too. Everything really.”

  “What? Oh poor child,” Mathilda tisked, her forehead wrinkling sympathetically. “Are you able to give?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Maggie nodded. “I just don’t know where to go.”

  “The Siren is the best way for it,” Mathilda said. There was no hint of regret at her words. “As long as you can give to her, she’ll be the best for those sorts of things. If you wanted a glass of the finest wine or even a fancy silk dress, I could offer some suggestions for where to go, but for this, the Siren.”

  Maggie hated the thought of the magic flowing freely from her, not knowing how much it would take to get what she needed, but if Mathilda said it was the best way, there was nothing else for it.

  “All right,” Maggie said finally, “I’ll ask the Siren for it. Thank you.”

  “Of course, child,” Mathilda said as Maggie walked around the table and back onto the bright square. “Wait.” Mathilda picked up a piece of bright purple fruit from the table. “Take this. You need to eat.” She smiled kindly. “I’ll be expecting fish tomorrow.”

  “Thank you,” Maggie said, warmth spreading through her at Mathilda’s kindness. She wasn’t used to people being kind without reason. But Mathilda didn’t ask for a draw of magic or anything in return. She only shooed Maggie away with a smile.

  Maggie cut across the square, making her way toward where Gabriel would be. Her path led her near the pack of men. Their stench of sweat and ale made her stomach turn.

  “Pretty one!” one of the men shouted as she passed. “Come join us!”

  Maggie kept her head down, not acknowledging the man’s words.

  “Come and have a laugh!” the man shouted, his voice growing more insistent.

  Just ten more feet, and she would be level with the table. A few seconds and she would be past them.

  “I said join us!” the man said. “I’m offering―”

  But what he had to offer, Maggie didn’t hear. The man reached out and grabbed Maggie’s hand as she drew level with the table.

  With no thought for wishing she could do a spell, Maggie punched the man hard in the face. Pain shot up Maggie’s arm, but she kept her fist tight, ready to strike again as she yanked her arm free from the man’s grasp.

  “Oy!” One of the other men shouted. “What’s the matter with you!”

  The man she had punched stepped toward her. Maggie dug her heel hard into his toes before running down a side street, diving into the shadows as soon as she could. She waited, huddled behind a barrel for the men to chase after her.

  Shouts carried from the square. Angry shouts from more people than had been in the drunken group. Maggie stayed where she was as the noise from the square grew louder.

  Maggie took a bite of the purple fruit. It was sweet, thick, and juicy. She hadn’t realized how dry her mouth was until the juices flooded it.

  Someone was screaming in the square now. It sounded as though a fight had broken out. Maggie stayed in the shadows until the fruit was gone and cleaned her hands on the grass before leaning out of her hiding spot to scan the street.

  It was nearly abandoned. An old woman who looked like she might be deaf toddled down the street, but everyone else had disappeared. Maggie couldn’t blame them; she wished she could be hiding far from what
ever was happening in the square, too. But there was nowhere for her to hide. Her home was gone.

  In one swift motion, Maggie leapt to her feet and began jogging down the street. Illial hadn’t been puffing on his blue smoke pipe in the market square. But that didn’t mean anything. What with the fighting, he was smart to avoid it.

  The smell hit Maggie’s nose before she reached where Rushna should have been. The tent was there, but the flaps were tied very decisively shut.

  “Rushna,” Maggie called softly. “Rushna!” There was no answer. But that didn’t mean anything. If the tent wasn’t selling food, why would Rushna be there?

  Maggie walked swiftly. The noise of the fighting in the square had disappeared, and there were people on the street now. A girl near her own age was lying in a hammock by the side of the lane, playing with a cat who sprawled lazily on her stomach. Neither the girl nor the cat seemed to be upset about anything. But then they were both there in the Siren’s Realm safe and happy.

  Maggie wondered if the cat had been wished into being or slipped through the stitches like she had. But there was no way to know. Maybe one day she could wish a cat into being for herself.

  Rounding the corner onto the street where Gabriel sold his roasted meat, Maggie’s heart immediately leapt.

  Gabriel and his cart were in the middle of the lane, surrounded by hungry people. The crowd wasn’t as large as usual. But they were still there, waiting for the legs of meat Gabriel passed around.

  “Gabriel!” Maggie called from behind two men who vied for the largest piece of meat.

  “What do you know? She’s still alive!” Gabriel’s face split into a wrinkled grin, but his smile didn’t hide the fatigue in his voice. “I was afraid you hadn’t made it through.”

  “I did,” Maggie said, scooting around the men to get a closer look at Gabriel. “My tent’s gone, but I was safe inland. What happened to you?”

  Gabriel gave the tiniest shake of his head as he passed meat to the last of his customers. Bickering like old women, the two men walked away.

  “The good fer nothin’ folk who live in the shadows came up to our part of town last night,” Gabriel growled. “Busted into our tents just before the storm was comin’. Drove people out into the rain and then attacked ’em. Stealin’ the magic others worked hard for.” Gabriel’s shoulders sagged, and a shadow passed over his face.

  “Did they…” Maggie wasn’t sure how to ask, or if it was even right to ask. “Did they get to you?”

  “One of ’em tried.” Gabriel rubbed a leathery hand over his mouth. “Bunch came into my tent carryin’ sticks, chasin’ me out into the storm. The wind was howlin’ somethin’ fierce. One of ’em knocked me face-first to the ground right into the water from the storm. I felt the magic rippin’ out of me like someone was tryin’ to pull my skin all off. Lightnin’ was strikin’ all around, and the wind was terrible. I think they thought I’d be too scared or confused to fight back. But I spent my life before here on a ship. I’d seen worse storms and fought nastier folk.”

  “So what happened?” Maggie asked, unable to resist. “How did you get away?”

  “Rolled over, knocked the bastard off of me, an’ pummeled him till he stopped fightin’ back,” Gabriel said matter-of-factly. “Left him out in the rain, and he wasn’t there when the sun finally come up. Don’ know if the Siren took him or if he walked away on his own.”

  “I’m sorry,” Maggie said. “Did they get many of your friends?”

  “A few,” Gabriel said, “but we managed to fight ’em off. That’s the good of bein’ one who has no magic of their own. I was in plenty of fights before I ever came here, and I never used magic to win any of ’em. I have enough to earn. I’ll make do. I’m just glad they didn’t get you.”

  “Thanks,” Maggie said as Gabriel handed her a turkey leg. “When do you think it’ll happen again? The Derelict attacking and the Siren making a storm.”

  “Eh.” Gabriel shrugged. “Could be a thousand sunrises, could be tonight.”

  “And we’re just supposed to sit and wait for it to happen again?” Maggie asked.

  “Aye. It’s the best we can do.”

  Maggie took Gabriel’s hand, giving him more of her magic than usual. “Then I guess I had better get ready for the next storm.”

  aggie had taken the long way back to the rocks by the Endless Sea. Getting lost in the maze of streets had made her determined to learn her way to all the hidden places she could find. She had been existing, moving from one day to the next, enjoying the sun and stability. Always fish in the sea, always food for her stomach. But her life hadn’t been stable at all. She had been living at the bidding of the Siren without even realizing it. The only power she had was in the magic she possessed.

  She found her way back to the Fortress and considered walking along the canals. But Bertrand Wayland strode by, a look of fierce determination on his face, and Maggie walked quickly in the other direction rather than face him.

  There were no Derelict on the sun-bathed streets, though wariness and solemnity were everywhere.

  When it was only a couple of hours before sundown, Maggie returned to her rocks. They were still there, but there was still no trace of her little home.

  Maggie lay down on the rock, imagining the blue of her tent above her. The breeze from the sea would rustle the fabric. The morning sun would peer through to wake her.

  But it wasn’t safe. Stone. She needed a stone house. But at what cost?

  Maggie laughed to herself, imagining shouting to the sky, “Can I get an estimate on a stone house?” But too afraid to say it out loud for fear it might actually work.

  “Well,” a voice said from above.

  Gasping, Maggie rolled backward, hiding in the crevice of the rock.

  “It seems you have wiped the slate clean again, sweet Siren!”

  Maggie recognized the voice. Bertrand Wayland stood on the rocks above her.

  “You have smoothed out some of the cracks, and hidden the tiny stitches,” Bertrand called out to the sea, “but not all. And I will find more. I suppose you would stop me if you wanted to. But I think we both know better than that. I will venture out again and bring back more riches for your realm. But I do ask…” Bertrand paused. “Try not to blow Miss Trent away if there is a storm in my absence. I can see you’ve ruined her home. She’s probably living with the others who have no magic of their own now. Dear Siren, don’t let the poor girl’s lie destroy her. And don’t let my journey destroy me.”

  Maggie held her breath as faint footsteps moved away from her.

  Bertrand had come here to make sure she was okay.

  Weird.

  Bertrand thought living with the others she pretended to be like was probably going to get her taken by the Siren.

  Probably true in the long run.

  Bertrand was going to go through one of the stitches and bring back more riches. Since he could only bring the clothes on his back to the Siren’s Realm, riches meant magic. Magic to build a stone house on the rock by the sea.

  Brilliant.

  Rolling back out of the crevice, Maggie sprang to her feet and climbed up onto the high rock. Bertrand was three hundred yards ahead, walking toward the city. Glancing around the deserted cliff to be sure no one was watching, Maggie ran after him.

  Half-formed plans rolled through her mind. He had said she wasn’t strong enough to go with him to wherever it was he went. But what did he know about her? He had figured out she was a witch. So what? She was braver than he knew. Stronger, too.

  She would go out, get some magic, come back and build her little stone house! But what if he wouldn’t let her come with him? What if she didn’t know how to get back? What if the whole thing was a trap? Or they died trying to find some great adventure? What if she didn’t know how to get more magic to bring back in? Maggie’s steps faltered, and she slowed to a trot, keeping Bertrand in sight but never gaining on him.

  He didn’t seem to be in a hurry as he wa
lked down the lanes. Past the jewel bright tents and on to the gray ones. Maggie had expected him to turn onto the stone streets of the Fortress. But instead, he kept going forward down more long rows of tents. Soon the tents weren’t so close together. There were spaces between all of them like little yards. Bertrand nodded at people as he passed in his easy manner. Somehow, his nodding to strangers made Maggie angry. Like he thought he was a local celebrity.

  But as Maggie passed the people on the spread out streets, they nodded at her, too. Smiling kindly at her. This was the first place she had been since the storm where no one seemed tense.

  If Bertrand was looking for some sort of illicit adventure, surely he had gone the wrong way. But he kept walking. He was only a hundred feet in front of her now, but she had to keep that close to keep him in sight. The grassy yards turned into a forest dotted with tents.

  The air here smelled damp with earth. Musky leaves added their scent. A log cabin stood in the distance, its chimney merrily puffing smoke.

  “What the hell is this place?” Maggie muttered. How could she have spent so much time in the Siren’s Realm, talked to so many people, and no one had bothered to mention a forest?

  Not that she would have wanted to live there. To some, the trees might feel liberating, but to her it felt like a crushing cave. Maggie took a shuddering breath and pushed down the memory of blood, screams, and a bright green light.

  She was so occupied with trying not to think she almost didn’t hide in time. Bertrand had stopped in the middle of a stand of bright white birch trees. All of them bent gently toward the earth as though they were trying to listen to its secrets.

  Peering out from behind a thick-trunked oak tree, Maggie watched as Bertrand paced around inside the circle of white birch. He was saying something in a low voice that Maggie couldn’t hear. After a minute or so, he began running his hands along the trunks of the trees as though searching for some kind of hidden catch. But he didn’t seem to find what he was looking for as he moved from one tree to the next. He made his way back to the center of the circle, tenting his fingers under his chin as he gazed through the white branches up to the sky.