by Jen Pretty
I rose to the surface and gasped for air, the quiet peace betrayed by my need to breathe. I wondered if I would ever feel the kind of peace I felt as a child again. The feeling of family seemed so long ago and so far away now, but I hoped I would find something like that here in Avalon.
A block of soap rested beside the tub and I used that to scrub my scalp and hair until my hair squeaked and the water was brown. Then I rose, wringing the water out and stood before the fire, letting it dry me. The warmth penetrated to my bones, leaving me feeling as though I had a fever. I quickly got dressed in my deep green skirt and shirt, wrapping the tiger skin around my waist as an apron. I pulled on my boots and was out the door before I even heard a stirring from Miss Landers in the house.
The night had been mild and the rain had melted the lingering snow, but it was still cold enough that I chose not to linger. Instead, I hurried to the cottage I knew housed the dining room and kitchen.
Inside, the smell of food had already filled the air. The sounds of busy women in the kitchen reached my ears. The dining room was empty, so I crossed to the kitchen and pushed open the door.
A dozen women were in the smaller kitchen, stirring and frying up a storm over a set of open fireplaces like the one my mother had when I was a child.
Several dozen eggs lay in a basket beside a woman who was cracking them into a pot. Another woman was carving meat from a boar, her sharp blade sliding effortlessly through the fatty meat.
More women were kneading dough for bread thought they weren’t using their hands. It was as if the bread was kneading itself. Others were washing dishes in a barrel beside a pump like the one in the bathroom, but the dishes splashed around and rose out of the water to sit on a tray as if they had strings attached. The women were talking and laughing as they worked and I felt like I was on the outside looking in. I had been one of these women only weeks ago in the orphanage. Making breakfast for the children and cleaning the dishes had been some of my daily chores.
I stood in the doorway, unsure if I was welcome or if I should leave, until one of the women noticed me.
"Breakfast won't be ready for another half hour," she said, before returning to her chores.
"Do you need any help?" I asked in a hushed tone. I wasn't the best at serving, but I could cook and lord knew I could clean.
"Aren't you a dear!" the older woman who was cutting the boar said with a fond look on her face. "Why don't you come sit and tell us all about your travels?"
"Travels?" I asked.
"Yes, aren't you the girl from the north everyone is talking about all of a sudden?" She asked, setting down her knife and wiping her hands on a scrap of cloth.
"Yes," I said.
"Good, then come along. We haven't much for entertainment here." The woman smiled kindly, so I sat in the chair she pulled out from the wall and I told them about my travels, leaving out most of the story about leaving the convent and everything about magic. I mentioned Margarette though and explained she had taught me to read and a bit about magic before she died.
The women all listened while they worked, throwing in questions here and there. They were particularly interested in Paxton, even though I clarified that nothing of the romantic sort happened between us.
"It's so tragic," one of the younger women said. "Was he handsome?"
I thought back to Paxton's features. He was handsome. "Yes, he was tall and broad, with very nice features."
"You said he was blond? Where did he come from?" One of the older women asked.
I remembered the Saxons raiding that town I had stumbled upon. They were all similar in build to Paxton and even bore the same tattoo on their chests. Could Paxton have been a Saxon?
"I don't know," I said. "Maybe the east?"
The woman didn't look convinced, but I changed the subject. I didn't tell them about Copper or the man with the oddities I had killed. That was something I would never share with anyone. The women started taking platters of food out through the door between the kitchen and the dining room as I heard the sounds of children's voices filling the room.
"You best get out there, girl, before those devils eat all the food," the older woman who had been cutting the boar said. "Thank you for visiting with us."
"Thank you," I said. I walked back out and grabbed a plate, filling it with the beautiful foods the women had prepared, and feeling more like I belonged in Avalon.
"Morgana! Come sit with us," Macy called.
Yup, that was definitely my new home; if only it was something that would have lasted.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
That evening, when I returned to Miss Lander’s cottage, she was waiting for me at the kitchen table.
“Morgana, come sit. I have some exercises for you to practice.”
I took the seat across from her and she handed me a feather quill and a parchment, then set a piece of paper above my own which had letters written individually.
“You can practice these letters. Once you have a full page of each, you can return them to the High Sorceress, so she can see you have been working.”
“Why does she care if I can write?” I asked, studying the page of perfectly spaced letters.
“Because it is important that every magic user be able to document their spells for future generations. Some spells are very complicated and you may never reach that level of magic, but if you do, keeping a record of it will help others.”
I was quite certain that nobody would want my spells as they were all Dark Arts, but I set to work anyway. The High Sorceress expected everyone to do what they could for each other. We were a community, or so she said.
During the days that followed, I spent a lot of time watching the people use magic. I would wander the streets, memorizing the words they used and the movement of their hands.
I witnessed a woman right a cart that had toppled over and a young girl using magical wind to sweep her front steps.
My chores were simple. Mainly cleaning or helping move items from the docks to the kitchens, but I had plenty of free time to work on magic or my writing.
I used magic to help with my chores, when I could, whispering the words when necessary, but most of the simple spells didn’t even require me to say the word out loud, so no one was the wiser and the High Sorceress was pleased to see me using magic.
I was pleased that part of my work was tidying the dining room, as it gave me more time with the kitchen staff who had taken me under their wing, so to speak. The had taught me a few new recipes in the kitchen, making me feel like I fit in.
When I was done with my work, I spent an hour each night reading the book of magic. I wanted to be sure I had the whole thing memorized before I hid it away. It was getting more and more cumbersome to carry around while tending my duties.
No one noticed that I wasn’t using white magic to help me in my chores. I spoke very low so no one could hear me speak the unusual language and so far nothing I had done seemed to shock anyone.
The other children began to look up to me, except for Lauren and her band of mean girls.
Macy, Ann and Gillian had brought me into their rain project which they were going to display at the island winter carnival. We were all going to make it rain for the final demonstration in front of everyone on the island. Of course, it was just the illusion of rain.
The snow had come to stay, blanketing the island in fluffy white powder and beginning to freeze up the water between the island and the mainland. Macy had told me that by the time of the celebration the water would be frozen solid and we could walk across if we dared.
Early one morning I walked into the kitchen and took up my usual seat until breakfast was ready. The women were chatting and gossiping about one of the locals who was getting married and leaving Avalon, when the High Sorceress walked in.
"High Sorceress, what a nice surprise." The oldest of the cooking staff, Edna, said.
"This is not a social visit, Edna. Vanessa, can you please come with me?"
&nb
sp; Vanessa was a younger woman with deep mahogany hair that she kept swept up in a plait close to her head.
"What is it, High Sorceress?" Edna asked, stepping in front of the younger woman.
High Sorceress stared at Edna for a moment before she spoke again. "Vanessa has been seen using the Dark Arts in her private time. As you all know, Dark Arts are forbidden by all magic users, but particularly on Avalon."
Edna turned to look at the younger woman who had tears running down her face already. "Oh Vanessa, how could you?" Edna's voice was almost sympathetic which surprised me, but she moved out of the High Sorceress's way.
The blood rushed out of my head and I felt dizzy. Dark Arts. That was what I had been using.
Vanessa burst into sobs and followed behind High Sorceress out of the kitchen.
"What will they do to her?" I asked watching the door swing shut.
Edna moved closer to me. "Don't worry Morgana. She will be taken back to the mainland. I'm sure she will find a new job."
"They won't kill her?" I asked. The nuns at the convent had wanted to kill me when they found out I was doing magic.
"Oh, no, dear. But Vanessa should have known better than to mess with that dangerous magic." Edna turned back to the kitchen women. "Back to work, breakfast won't make itself."
The rest of the women went back to hurrying around, cooking and baking, but I was still stuck on the idea that Vanessa was being kicked out of Avalon.
Would they do the same to me if they found out I was using dark arts?
I hoped to never find out. My secret would be safe as long as I kept my mouth shut. "I forgot something in my room," I said. Nobody was listening, so I left my chair and raced back toward my room in the small cottage.
I rounded a corner in the path and came face to face with Lauren and her gaggle of giggly girls.
"Slow down Megan," Lauren said with a sneer. Her cloying scent of lilac was overwhelming today as if she had bathed in it.
"Morgana," I corrected her, trying to get past them, but they took up the whole path.
Lauren laughed and her hyenas did, too. They were barely as tall as my shoulder, but they had so much contempt that I found it hard to think around them. It was as if I was eight years old again and spending my first night in the orphanage.
"Let me pass," I said in a low voice.
"Let me pass," one of Lauren’s minions said in a high-pitched mocking voice.
The word I had refused to use when I heard them mocking my clothes came back to my mind. I bit back and sealed my lips, standing and waiting for them to leave.
They continued to mock me until I turned on my heel and marched to the High Sorceress office in a huff.
I knocked on the door, still feeling anger surge through my veins.
"Come in."
I pressed open the door and stepped into the small office I had seen on my second day in Avalon.
"High Sorceress, something must be done about Lauren. She and her friends are constantly mocking me and ..." I cut off, realizing I sounded like a child. I had been so angry I hadn't thought about how it would sound that I was complaining about a small child.
"I simply don't have time to deal with bickering children. Lauren is a very good student of magic and you could learn a lot from her. I suggest you do your best to become friends with her."
High Sorceress’s gaze returned to a stack of papers she was writing on her desk. Her quill scratching across the page.
Dismissed, I walked out of her office and slowly back to the cottage, praying Lauren and her idiot friends were gone.
I made it cross town and into the safety of Miss Landers cottage. I sighed with relief.
"Stupid girls," I whispered. "They will get what is coming to them, some day."
I crossed to the bed, pulled the small book from the waist of my skirt, and tucked it between the layers of the mattress, beside Paxton's knife.
"Ouch," I whispered, cursing when I accidentally pricked my finger on the blade.
Blood pooled on the tip of my finger as I watched. A moment later it dripped to the floor, breaking me from the trance it had pulled me into. I grabbed the corner of my blanket and tore off a small strip, wrapping my finger tightly to stop the flow of blood.
I got a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was the same feeling I got as a child when I had done something wrong and knew I would be punished when my parents found out.
It felt strange to not have the book with me, but I knew for sure it was dangerous to have it on me now. I had nowhere to go if they kicked me out of Avalon like Vanessa. I had the book memorized anyway, even the really difficult to read parts were locked away in my mind. The pronunciation of some words was probably wrong, but I didn't want to say most of those, anyway.
I took out my parchments and quill, then sat down at the small desk by the cottage window. I scratched out the letters as Miss Landers had shown me, struggling with making the curves smooth and the lines straight.
I was improving, but it was harder at my age to learn to write.
I heard a giggle out the window and knew it was Lauren. I would recognize her laugh anywhere.
Irrational anger bubbled up. So much anger that I almost said the word that kept coming back to me every time I had any dealing with Lauren. My fists clenched until I bent my quill. That snapped me out of my anger and I flattened out the quill, taking a deep breath and cursing that little girl silently.
She would get what she deserved, I reminded myself, then went back to struggling through the writing exercise.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
"Morgana, I feel as though you aren't progressing in your writing as expected." Miss Landers said one morning.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am. I'm trying very hard," I said standing beside her desk in her small study. Every magic user studied on the island. They read old texts or scribbled notes.
"Yes, I can see you are trying, but it isn't enough. A wizard sent word that he is travelling this way. He is very talented in magic, but he also has excellent penmanship. I’m sure he would agree to give you some extra help. Perhaps a different style of teaching would help you improve.
"Thank you, Ma'am. That would be very welcome."
Miss Landers smiled. "Very good. Until then, please keep trying."
"I will, thank you." I hurried out of her study and back to my room, grabbing my tiger skin before heading out to join my friends for lunch.
I walked the snowy paths toward the dining cottage, staring at the cobblestones beneath my feet, lost in thought about my troubles with writing, so I didn’t notice anyone ahead of me until I bumped right into someone and was thrown backwards.
“Oof.” I hit the ground with a thud.
“Watch where you are going, Megan,” Lauren’s shrill voice taunted making her friends break out in laughter. Had she used magic on me to knock me down? She was just a little girl.
“Morgana,” I muttered.
“Nobody cares what your name is, you will never be a sorceress. Come on, girls.”
They all filed past me and I waited until they were gone to rise from the cold snowy path.
As I was dusting the snow off, my name was called from behind me. I turned to find Macy, Ann and Gillian walking towards me.
“What happened?” Macy asked as she approached and saw the snow all over me.
“I slipped,” I said with a chuckle.
They laughed and we walked together to the dining cottage.
We ate in the cafeteria, where I could hear the cackle of Lauren and her friends.
It drove my anger and I found myself mouthing words I had promised myself I would never use again.
As soon as we were done, I suggested we go practice some spells. Working as part of a group I could get away with not having the type of magic they had.
As soon as we were away from Lauren, I felt much better. The anger dissipated and I was able to smile and laugh at the jokes my friends told.
Gillian was the quietest of our gro
up. I knew she had a tragic story to go with the scars on her face but when she caught me staring, she took my arm and leaned in walking close to me.
“When I was four, they tried to burn my family at the stake. I was the lucky one. But mother used bad magic and killed the ones who strung us up before she succumbed to the fires. I wanted you to know.” She looked at me as though she knew my secret, then winked and skipped off.
I wanted to ask her why she wanted me to know, but that would mean opening myself up and I wouldn’t dare risk my place here in Avalon. It was home.
We walked to the far end of the island, where the boats docked in the summer. Now that the lake was frozen, a boy with a horse and wagon brought our supplies across.
“There he is,” Macy called back. Gillian sprinted to catch up and gazed over the edge of the cliffs in longing.
When I caught up to them, I looked over the edge, too. The boy was waving up at Gillian. They had spoken a few times and I wondered if Gillian would really leave the island to be with him. I couldn’t imagine any reason I would leave, now that I was here.
When I couldn't control my shivering anymore, I made my way to Miss Lander’s cottage. It was quiet when I walked in. Passing the common area and moving down the hall to my bedroom, as I had hoped, she was still out. I pushed the door open to my room and stopped dead.
My room was a mess of papers and bedding. Someone had ransacked everything. All my writing had been torn up and tossed around the room.
"No," I whispered, frozen in place and unsure what to do. I picked up a piece of paper that had been torn, but caught the edge of my handwriting on it. It was one of many practice sheets I had used, trying to write my name properly.
I hurried across the room and dropped to my knees beside the bed. The mattress was thankfully intact. I slipped my hand under the mattress and felt the book still in place, letting out a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding. I reached in further, creeping my fingers between the layers until I felt the cool blade. At least my possessions were still intact.