Wild Magic

› › ‹ ‹

They rounded the end of a tenement, shied to the far side of the wynd as four looters came through a window.

The leader grinned and started for them.

Faan let fire flutter on the backs of her hands and the skinny, scarred boys went gliding off, vanishing into shadow before they’d gone half a dozen steps.

Ma’teesee clicked her tongue. “Yaras,” she whispered. “I wonder who they got?”

Dossan glanced over her shoulder, shivered. “Every time I see something like that, I think it could as easy be Mum’s place.”-She hugged the two baskets closer against her, hurried ahead of the others.

“Buzzit, Thesee,” Faan muttered. “Likely one of ’em has a paymaster in a STRIKER band.”

“Choo-ee.” Ma’tee^gne pulled the cloak closer around her and hurried after Dossan. “Fa, you don’t think…”

“Rey said…” Faan trotted past the two girls, slowed, but kept a step ahead of them… everything over here’s chance these days. You don’t know who’s buying what with your life.”

Ma’teesee shifted the basket, rubbed at the red mark on her ann. “That jeggin’ Barrier, what’s Honey Mother thinking… “

“T’s! I don’t know. I don’t even care any more. Wait here a minute.” She ran along the last bend of the wynd and stopped in the shadow of the tenement, frowning along Verakay Lane. “Good. They’re setting out the barrels now and… ah… Mutri Maship and his band, they just this minute come out of Peshalla’s Tavern. Soon’s they get started, we can cut across the lane.”

Dossan gave Faan the basket she’d carried for her, whistled a quick trill, repeated it, waited.

The kitchen door opened a crack; it was dark inside except for the leftover sunset filtering in through the dusty, cramped windows.

A vague figure peered through the crack, whispered hoarsely. “Dossy?” Fasirill, Dossan’s mother. “Diyo, Mum.”

“Shh, Dossy.” The door opened a few grudging inches more. “He’s drunk. Come on in, quick.”

Faan pushed Ma’teesee ahead of her, turned, and waved to Dossan. “See you ‘n an hour, Dossy.”