Volume 1: Pickpocketing

by R. A. Consell

  The waves of heat vanished, and Kuro momentarily believed he had escaped the duo. The heat, though, was replaced with a figure taking shape in stride with him. It began as a collection of ghostly streamers of glowing smoke. They knotted together and coalesced into the faint form of a large snarling boar.

  It had to be Bella’s familiar. Kuro had outrun her spells, but her familiar could chase him tirelessly. It did not need her eyes or mind to control it, as it had its own. He would only be safe from it for moments longer. In its raw spirit form, it couldn’t do him any real harm, but soon the spectral form would grow skin, hair, teeth, and tusks and be as solid as he was.

  There was only one escape from the fearsome beast being conjured at his back. A familiar could not cross the veil. If he could make it to the shore, he could cross into the Blandlands and be safe.

  Kuro ran on.

  His lungs burned, and his painful feet screamed at him to stop, but the wind pushed him on, carrying him past the limits of his own exhaustion. So long as he could keep putting one foot in front of the other and not stumble, he could make it.

  Kuro flew through the forest, the solidifying boar close on his heels. The trees thinned, and he could see rippling veil at the edge of the water. A hundred yards never seemed such a long distance as he sprinted across the thin brown grass to the rocky shore with the last of his flagging energy.

  The boar was fully solid now. He could hear it breathing in time with its hoof falls less than a stumble behind him. Without time for second thought, Kuro launched himself off the rocks and through the veil into the Blandlands.

  Twelve

  The Warden and the Weasel

  Kuro had never passed through the veil directly. Crossing over where it was thin and torn along Detritus, or at a freshwater inlet, was relatively easy. The change was small, the shift between worlds gentle, and he could even pass unnoticed. The land on the other side felt dull and flat, like music heard through a wall, but the transition was unremarkable.

  Passing through the thick of the veil, though, was something entirely else. As Kuro crashed through the shimmering barrier between worlds, it felt as though a skin of dried glue was being peeled from his whole body. As he popped out the other side, his body felt suddenly too small for his mind, and his head throbbed with crushing pain. He had no time to reflect on the sensations, though, for gravity was not patient, and it pulled him into the roiling waters of the bay. With what little magic persisted in the Blandlands, Kuro could do nothing to prevent it.

  The icy cold water knocked the breath from his lungs, and his exhausted limbs thrashed uselessly against the waves. Kuro had never been in deeper or rougher waters than a bathtub, and he barely knew how to hold his breath. As he was buffeted about, he got a lungful of the saltwater and began to cough violently. He’d surely have drowned if the waves hadn’t thrown him against the shore. He crawled up the pile of sharp granite slabs that made up the coast of the Blandlands side of Avalon.

  The crashing waves knocked him about and more than once tried to drag him back into the water. Freezing and coughing, he managed to haul himself onto dry land, where a group of ducks clucked and hissed at him in irritation at his trespassing.

  Once he had evicted the seawater from his lungs, Kuro scanned the rocky island for cover. He was already chilled to the bone, and he didn’t know how much longer he’d last out in the biting wind. The island was a pale corpse of the Avalon inside the veil. The low rolling hills were replaced with sharp slabs of rock; the lush forest with sparse trees, thin and bent by the wind; and the only hint of the soft meadows were patches of scrub grass. As with everything in the Blandlands, it was also considerably larger. It felt like half as much life spread over twice as much land, with the exception of the birds. The island was teeming with them. The nearest shelter looked to be a dense copse of trees over a mile away.

  Kuro started to stumble in its direction, frequently berated by birds for wandering too close to their territory. He shivered violently, and his teeth rattled uncontrollably as he padded along the cold ground in his bare feet. He tried not to think very hard about his plans beyond reaching the thicket of trees, as his options didn’t seem too promising. The sun was already starting to set. It would get dark and even colder. He’d probably freeze overnight if he wasn’t dry. He could try to get back through the veil, but he could walk for hours before finding the entrance, and he wasn’t sure what kind of welcome he would have waiting when he returned; he had cut Bella pretty badly.

  As he approached the thicket of trees, a shape nestled within gave him some hope. He saw a house, more of a cottage, really. It was small, probably only a couple of rooms, but there was an electric light on and a rugged four-wheeled vehicle parked outside. If he could sneak in long enough to warm up, he might just live through the night.

  He crept up to the white aluminum-sided building, his pain and cold momentarily forgotten as all his senses became alert for any sign of the occupant. He moved like a shadow across the pine-needle-strewn ground and risked a glance inside through the corner of a small window. He caught a glimpse of an occupant. They were sitting by a wood-fired stove in an armchair with their back to the window. Kuro could see a bit of silver hair poking over the top of the chair and an arm with a plaid sleeve. It was troublesome that they were home, but the warmth promised by the fire was too tempting to walk away from.

  Kuro padded around to check for other entrances. At the side of the building, he found a window to the bedroom. Inside was a large bed covered in heavy quilts. He gave the window an exploratory nudge. It wasn’t locked. If he was quiet enough, the wail of the wind and the ceaseless cry of the thousands of birds would hide his entry, and he could hide under the bed until he was dry and warm. He might even be able to borrow a blanket that they wouldn’t notice missing, but only if he could find a piece of paper to write an IOU on.

  He gently slid open the window and snaked his way through the gap. He paused as his feet touched the floor to listen for movement in the next room.

  Silence.

  He eased the window closed and rolled under the bed. He could already feel the warmth of the small cottage starting to seep into his sodden clothes.

  He shifted to get comfortable on the multicoloured braided rug on which the large bed sat. He slid between some cardboard boxes and lost socks and came face to face with a furry creature also hiding under the bed.

  Kuro jumped in surprise but didn’t get very far as he bounced off the wooden slats just above him, making an unfortunate clatter. Kuro’s furry companion did not startle as easily, it seemed. Instead it nuzzled its face against Kuro’s affectionately and began to yowl loudly.

  The sound was familiar, loud, whiny, and uneven. It was the sort of sound made by a cat who couldn’t hear its own voice, the sort of noise that Graeae made. Kuro pushed the cat back from his face, far enough to see it clearly. He gaped. Staring back at him with her one good eye was Graeae, his first and best friend.

  Footsteps from the living room snapped Kuro back to his senses. Kuro tried to hush his cat, but Graeae continued to cry her greeting and climbed onto Kuro despite his protests.

  The door to the bedroom opened, and Kuro could see some slippered feet thump across the floor towards the bed. “Grey, what have you gotten into?” It was a woman’s voice, gruff, impatient, and worried.

  She dropped to her knees to look under the bed. Kuro pushed Graeae towards her, but the cat protested, yowling more loudly and squirming to escape his grasp. Graeae’s happiness at Kuro’s appearance would doom him. He all but threw the cat out from under the bed.

  Graeae emerged right under the woman’s nose, and she made a startled noise before reaching out for the cat and asking in a soothing tone, “What’s wrong, girl? Are you all right?”

  Kuro breathed a silent sigh of relief as the women began to stand again, but the breath caught in his throat as she said, “You’re all wet. What do you have under there?”

  The
woman released Graeae and leaned back down to investigate the source of the moisture. Kuro had no escape as her eyes met his beneath the bed. A moment of surprise in her face quickly shifted to a cross accusation. “What were you doing to my cat?” she demanded.

  “She’s not your cat,” argued Kuro, averting his gaze. The warmth of the room felt as though it were draining away. Kuro shivered in anticipation of being thrown back into the wind outside.

  This was clearly not the sort of reaction the woman was expecting. “What?” she started before quickly changing course. “Who?” she tried but didn’t quite settle on it. “How?” That didn’t seem to work for her either, so she gave up on questions and switched to an order. “Get out from under my bed.”

  Kuro saw no point in fighting it. He could run, but that would just lead him outside more quickly. Even if the woman beat him for trespassing, at least he’d be warm while she did it. He crawled out and stood, dripping, waiting for his sentence.

  When she did not act immediately, Kuro risked looking directly at her. She had short grey hair but youthful features that made it hard to guess her age. She wore a heavy red and black plaid flannel shirt and jeans, not unlike the lumberjack disguise Dubois had put on at the port. Kuro thought for a moment that she might have been the Hound in disguise again, but her eyes were grey, her ears whole, and they were out in the Blandlands, so magic like that wouldn’t work. “You’re soaked,” she said, scowling. “Come on, then, before you ruin my floor.”

  Rather than being beaten, or yelled at, or even scolded, Kuro was wrapped in towels and shoved into a comfy armchair in front of a toasty wood stove. He watched his host with growing suspicion as he sat steaming by the fire. Kuro had never been caught burgling, but he was pretty certain the standard practice for finding an intruder in one’s house was not to make them tea.

  Kuro looked around the small home, trying to divine something about the woman’s intentions. The walls were lined with shelves upon shelves of books, and when the shelves ran out, the books continued, pouring out into piles on the table and desk and floor. The few parts of the walls not covered by shelves were plastered with maps, annotated in pen, and photos of birds. The desk was an avalanche of loose papers and notebooks, with a tunnel carved out for a computer. The only clear surfaces were a pair of wooden chairs at the small dining table, and two armchairs, one of which he now occupied.

  Kuro’s investigations were interrupted by a mug of liquid being thrust at him. “Have some tea,” said the woman gruffly. “It will warm you up.”

  Kuro took the mug cautiously and sniffed at the clear orange liquid within as the woman sat in a second armchair opposite him. “Are you a runaway, a dare, or an accident, then?” she asked while she opened a novel to a dog-eared page.

  Kuro didn’t answer. For one, he wasn’t sure he understood the question. Also, he didn’t know what he was allowed to say around a Blandlander, certainly not the truth. Phineas had told Kuro that Blandlanders didn’t believe in magic and thought the idea of the veil was crazy. They would lock you up just for talking about it.

  The woman nodded knowingly as she turned a page. His silence had been enough of an answer. “Runaway, then. Students out on a dare are always full of apologies and explanations, and anyone who falls through accidentally is eager to get back. How’s the tea?” She turned another page. She seemed able to talk and read at the same time, witchcraft of the highest kind in Kuro’s mind.

  “Hot,” Kuro responded, not at all sure what to think of the woman. “You know about the school?”

  “Course I do. Don’t you know who I am?” she demanded. She was upset enough to take her eyes from her book.

  Kuro shook his head.

  “I’m the Blandlands warden,” she announced, looking for some recognition in Kuro. “Don’t they tell you guys stories about me anymore? Dani the crazy bird lady? No? Nothing?” She slumped back in her chair, disappointed. “What’s your story, anyway? What are you running from?”

  “Do you live here? Outside the veil?” Kuro asked, genuinely curious but also eager to evade the question.

  She went back to reading her book while she answered. “I can’t very well live inside, can I? I’m as bland as they come. I’m not even magical enough to be a stray. Can’t see the veil. Can’t cross the veil. I’m stuck out here.” She spoke as if it was a well-practised monologue. She answered the next question without Kuro having to ask it. “I came to the island ages ago to study the birds. I found a couple of students wandering around the island, one thing led to another, now I’m the warden. I’m allowed to stay on so long as I keep other Blandlanders away, and fish kids like you out of the drink.”

  It seemed like an enviable life to Kuro. She had a warm house with a big bed and a hot fire. Nobody was around to bother her. It was cozy and peaceful. All she had or needed was books and birds and a cat. That thought brought up a point of contention for Kuro. “Why is Graeae here?”

  The cat had been trying to find a comfortable perch on Kuro for the entirety of the conversation but was upset with him at being too damp to be a comfortable seat. She was, at that moment, stretched across the back of the chair, gently pawing the top of his head.

  “The cat?” Dani pulled her eyes from her book to stare quizzically at the small damp boy opposite her. “A friend gave her to me. Why? Do you know her?”

  “Yes,” Kuro replied. “She’s my friend. She was taken by the Hounds.”

  “She’s your cat?” Dani was aghast. “Talen said she was a rescue. I knew he was up to something.”

  “You know Dubois?” The warmth that had been seeping back into him drained.

  “Sure, he checks up on me now and again,” Dani replied with obvious distaste. “He makes sure I haven’t wandered off or some such. A couple days after classes started, he showed up with this cat, said it was a gift because my last one passed on last year. Then he tells me to keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary this year, as if that isn’t my entire job.” She concluded her story by rolling her eyes, then settled back into her book.

  Dani’s dislike of Dubois spoke well to her character, as did her apparent disinterest in prying into Kuro’s affairs. She was content to sit and read while Kuro dried by her fire. The chill had gone from his bones, and he was just beginning to doze when the door burst open behind him.

  “Dani, we’re taking the boat.” It was Principal McCutcheon, and she sounded frantic. “A child is missing. Possibly drowned. Can you check your cameras for any sign of him?”

  Dani didn’t even look up from her book. “Short kid? Big ears?” she asked while turning a page.

  “You’ve seen him? Where is he?” the principal demanded.

  “He’s in your chair,” replied Dani, finally putting her book down to look the principal in the eye.

  Kuro turned around and poked his head up over the back of the chair. He waved weakly at Ms. McCutcheon. Her face, normally stony and impassive, was a storm of relief and fury. It took only a moment for her to collect herself, though. She strode across the room stiffly, deftly avoiding the piles of books. She loomed over his chair and stared down at him. Emotion vanished from her face, and her lips returned to their familiar pursed position. “How are you feeling?” she asked in a voice so flat that it wasn’t clear whether she was hoping he was well or not.

  “Okay,” he said, wishing he could disappear into the cushions.

  “I’m glad.” She did not look glad. “Could you explain to me what happened today?” She crossed her arms and waited.

  Kuro had the strong feeling of being back in the Hound office, being interrogated. He had spent enough time living in Detritus Lane to know that nothing good ever came from talking to the authorities. If everyone just kept their mouths shut, they couldn’t get in too much trouble. “Nothing,” he said.

  “A student had her face cut open, a not insignificant portion of the Autumn Quarter caught on fire, and you fled to the Blandlands,” Ms. McCutcheon sa
id impatiently. “That is not nothing. I’ve just been speaking with Belladonna and Joseph. They’ve told me quite a story.” The principal was watching for Kuro to react. “They tell me that you stole from them, and that when they confronted you about it, you attacked them with a sharpened stone.”

  Apparently, Bella and Seph were not as well versed in the idea of honour among thieves. “What’s a rock to a pair of wizards?” Kuro retorted, frustrated that he now had to defend himself. “Besides, I never stole anything from those two.”

  Ms. McCutcheon considered Kuro carefully as he spoke. “Can I ask you, then, what you were doing in the Autumn Quarter instead of at the festival?”

  “The teachers were gone. I was climbing up after my meeting with Ms. El-Assar.”

  The principal looked skeptical. “Are you implying that you are innocent in this matter? That is difficult to believe when the school nurse is, as we speak, trying to save Belladonna's eye, which you nearly carved out of her head.”

  Kuro stomach lurched. He remembered the rock and some blood, but he didn’t really want to hurt her, didn’t really want to hurt anyone; he just wanted to get away. “Is she going to be all right?” he asked.

  “Is that remorse?” An eyebrow arched over her square glasses. She seemed to study Kuro for a long time without saying anything. She stood unmoving, unblinking, peering at him. “I’m going to ask you this once, Kuro. Did you steal anything from them?”

  “No. I didn’t,” Kuro said resolutely. He was hurt that he was being accused of stealing from those thieves.

  “I do not appreciate being lied to.” Principal McCutcheon pulled out a small piece of paper from her robes and let it flutter down onto his bed in front of him. He picked it up and read it: “IOU four sovereigns.” There was a small drawing of a winking weasel at the bottom. It looked a lot like one of his old notes.

  “I didn’t make this,” he said, staring in confusion at the piece of paper. He had not given it to them. He hadn’t even drawn a picture of Graeae since he’d arrived at Avalon for fear of being found out by the other students.