Troll Tunnels

by Erin M. Hartshorn

  “Hmm.” Her acknowledgement was noncommittal. “If you change your mind, let me know. Better yet, if you even think you might change your mind, I’d be happy to pay for you to make progress toward an MBA. The better you are at your job, the more successful I am.”

  Why did everyone think I should want to continue my education and move on from where I was? If I tried to juggle any more tasks in the day, everything was going to suffer. However, I didn’t want to antagonize Kendall.

  “I’ll consider it, but I don’t think this is the best time to start a program. I might be moving soon, and that’s always fraught. On the other hand, have you thought about offering continuing education subsidies for other employees?”

  “Pfft. Why would I do that?” She pushed back from the desk and stood up, forcing me to lean away from her. “Counter jockeys turn over in their jobs. If they get more education, they’ll just leave sooner for greener pastures, and you’ll have to find even more new people to hire.”

  I didn’t agree with her — treating employees well helped increase loyalty. Maybe Freddy and Trish and whatever other hires would move on with time, but helping them along the way would be good for business, as they would talk the Wicked Whatever up around others. I wasn’t going to change Kendall’s mind, though.

  “What about the assistant managers, at least? They’re likely to stay longer.”

  “Like Rich did?”

  “No, like I did. To stay, to build up the place where they work, maybe eventually to move up to managers when you need new ones.”

  “You didn’t build anything up before I pushed you. Why should I believe other assistant managers will be any different?”

  Today, right now, I didn’t have the energy to argue with her. I straightened up and spread my arms. “Your shop, your choice. I was just making a suggestion.”

  She stalked toward the door. “Keep me in the loop on the hiring front. If you don’t find someone soon, I might take a hand.”

  I stared after her. Was she serious? There was always someone looking for a job, and it had only been two days since Rich had quit. For her to be this stressed — maybe her other businesses weren’t doing as well as the Wicked Whatever, and she needed to be sure we could prop up her ailing empire. If so, small wonder that she wanted me to work miracles as a regional manager. If she found someone she could trust in that position, I hoped they would leave me alone.

  “Ximena! So good to see you.” Kendall’s voice carried from the other room, and I glanced at the clock. Yes, Ximena’s shift started soon, but I would stay to make sure anything that had slipped in the past hour got dealt with. And to drink a couple cups of tea to replenish my magic reserves. I wasn’t wobbling on my feet from the lack of energy, but I had serious doubts about my ability to even do a basic hex at the moment.

  Tea would help. And not having someone hovering around who bounced between complete trust in my ability and doubt that my suggestions were worth the air it took to make them.

  Chapter 10

  The tea did help — magic didn’t pour in, but I could feel it filling me like clear water sparkling in the sun, cool, deep, refreshing. I felt almost normal as I left work, although I did have a to-go cup filled with a third serving of the tea, just because. I didn’t see or feel any trolls on the way home, although I went past the T. Just as well — I’d seen enough of them for one day, and I was sure the feeling was mutual. Hsien wasn’t there, either, but I would see him soon enough, when he came by for the twins’ lessons.

  The familiar scents of ginger and garlic, pork and shrimp, wafted out when I opened the restaurant door. The twins were waiting at a table in the back, working on their homework.

  Wei intercepted me as I moved to greet them. “I do not know what you have done with the lock on your door, but the children should be able to get into their own home.”

  Ice coated my words. “If your son insists on trespassing, I have to do something to keep myself safe.”

  “Safe? He would never—”

  “I’d rather not find out you’re wrong the hard way. He’s entered my home when I wasn’t there, locked the door when he was the only one around, searched through my phone to see who I’m talking to — these are not the actions of someone I can trust.”

  “Then move out,” she snapped. “You clearly don’t care about what’s best for your children.”

  “I have a lead on a place to look at.”

  She appeared stricken at my words. I didn’t see any reason to ask her how Matt’s behavior could possibly be what was best for Tina and Gavin. She wasn’t thinking about it that way — only that she didn’t want to lose her grandchildren. If I were on better terms with Celeste, I might ask her how Wei had reacted when she moved out. Maybe Vanessa would be willing to gossip about it.

  I brushed past. “Pack up your homework, kids. You can finish upstairs. Lessons today!”

  Although they didn’t grumble, they weren’t filled with the alacrity of their first couple of lessons. The realization of work had set in. I gave them a break and carried their backpacks upstairs, although I regretted it by the second flight.

  Inside, I slung the backpacks onto the dining table and let them sort out what they still needed to finish while I went into the kitchen to dispose of my empty to-go cup. I paused to brush the leaves of the lemon branches set in a vase on the counter and smiled softly at the citrusy smell. The Grecian windflowers that had been with them had faded within a few days, but the branches looked like they were trying to root in the water — a first for me, given how readily I killed most plants.

  The doorbell interrupted my reverie, and I went to open it, hesitating first to feel the comforting familiarity of the Lung dragon’s magic on the other side. “Come in.”

  He peered past me at the children. “I can return when they are finished.”

  For their first couple of lessons, he had tried to work with one child while the other focused on homework, but focus wasn’t my children’s strong suit. Not when there was something more interesting happening, anyway.

  “They can complete their homework later. Your time is valuable.”

  His chuckle was low and dry. “I have more time than you might think, young one, but I appreciate the courtesy. Here’s the card for that shop I mentioned the other day; you should stop in and speak with the owner. Would you perhaps prepare some tea for me while I listen to young Gavin’s progress?”

  Chagrined, I nodded. I usually offered something to drink right away. For him to need to ask was a failure of hospitality.

  As I put the kettle on and bustled about, gathering a tea pot and cup for him and my pour-over apparatus to make a cup of coffee for myself, Gavin began to play. The notes didn’t make me wince with their sourness, but even with the boost Gavin had received from practicing in Haris’s presence, he didn’t have the physical control yet for perfect consistency. Nothing beat actual practice for learning an instrument — a fact that Hsien drove home.

  “Again.”

  “But I’m better than I was,” Gavin whined. “And no matter how much I work at it, it’s so slow!”

  “Perhaps you should practice twice as often and leave your electronic device to gather dust, then. If you are serious about learning.” Hsien’s voice cut across the knocking of the water in the kettle as it worked at boiling.

  “That’s not fair! I’m just a kid. You can’t expect me to be as good as you.”

  “Do you think I was born knowing this?”

  “Well — yeah.”

  Hsien’s laughter was unfettered, and even the violin strings resonated with his humor. “No, child, I had to learn, too. And my teacher was less sympathetic, especially when I said I shouldn’t have to practice because of who I was.”

  The kettle shrieked at that moment, which covered my own snort of laughter but also prevented me from hearing Gavin’s response to Hsien. I took my time rinsing the pot and cups with the hot water before steeping the tea. I realized I hadn’t ground beans for my
pour-over, so instead I fished around in the cupboard for a chamomile teabag — not really what I was in the mood for, but less work.

  When the tea was ready, I arranged everything on a tray and carried it out. Hsien nodded in acknowledgement, and I picked up my teacup and carried it over to sit on the side table next to the couch. I still felt unsure of what to do during the twins’ lessons, but me staying quietly in the same room seemed to be acceptable to everyone, once the twins had realized Hsien really meant they were to have no secrets from me about magic.

  I doubted they were as forthcoming with Matt about magic — I would have had an earful and then some if they were — but he certainly had his suspicions about what was going on.

  Hsien was holding Gavin’s wrist and shifting Gavin’s finger placement on the strings. “You must arch your fingers to be certain you are only covering one string at a time.”

  “It hurts when I do that! My fingertips are small, anyway. They can’t cover more than one, unless I try.”

  “You will grow, and I have no desire to have to teach you again later how to do it properly because you have become accustomed to bad habits. Learn now so you do not have to relearn later.” He cocked a single eyebrow at my son. “Unless you enjoy the work and want to do it twice?”

  Gavin’s look of disgust was priceless. No, he didn’t want to do it twice. He didn’t much want to do it once, but he had an inkling of what he could do after he learned, and for him, that would have to do for motivation.

  “Now, try again.” The notes were closer to true this time, though much slower as Gavin thought hard about each movement of his fingers. The one time he slipped and flattened his finger, the difference in tone was obvious, but Hsien did not comment on it. “Better. Practice your fingering each morning, without bowing. You are striving for accuracy. Speed will come.” Hsien turned to face Tina. “Let us see what you have managed in the past week.”

  She stood with her arms at her side and her chin up, as if she were proud and certain. Only her teeth pulling at her upper lip betrayed her nervousness. The previous week, Hsien had set her the task of creating a ball of magical light, without giving her any instruction on how to do so. Tina hadn’t asked me for any help, which was just as well. A bit of ball lightning? That I could conjure. A will o’ the wisp or the like? Not so much.

  Squaring her shoulders, she held her right hand in front of her, palm up, and stared at it fixedly. I could feel her magic, straining to grow, reaching forward like someone stretching to catch a throw that was going to be short. A brief flare of blue light flashed over her hand, gone as quickly as it had appeared. She looked hopefully at Hsien.

  His face was neutral, and his words gave no hint of reaction. “That was a ball?”

  Crestfallen, her hand dropped to her side and her shoulders drooped. Her response was so quiet I almost missed it. “It was light.”

  Hsien reached forward and touched her forehead, straightening her head. He didn’t let go. “Close your eyes and picture a ball — something that a Red Sox fan would try to grab in the stands.”

  “You mean Gavin would.”

  “Tina.” Not really a rebuke, just her name, but it was enough to make her flush and close her eyes. After a moment, he said gently, “Can you picture the ball?”

  “Mostly.” Her voice was tremulous, the way it got when she was afraid of being wrong, but a diffuse peach sphere misted into existence in her outstretched palm.

  Hsien pulled back, letting his hand drop to his side. The ball stayed put.

  “Open your eyes.”

  She peeked with her left eye first, then her right flew open as well, and she let out a squeak of joy. The ball promptly disappeared, but she didn’t care. “I did it! I did it!” She threw her arms around him, and he regarded her fondly.

  “And this is what you will practice for the next week.”

  “Awwww.”

  “You must learn control. By next Wednesday, I will expect you to be able to hold the ball through your brother playing one of his exercises.” He shot a glance at Gavin. “At normal speed.”

  Neither of them was happy at this dictum, but I didn’t laugh at their expressions.

  “Would you care for more tea before you leave?” He’d given them their assignments, which meant that he was done with their lessons for the day. My question was part of our ritual.

  “No, thank you.” His answer, too, was the one he always gave. “I have imposed too much on your time. I will see you soon.”

  He stood to go but cast one last look at Tina. “You may practice this ball as much as you wish — in this house — but that is the only magic you will do for the next week.”

  Her chin set mulishly, but he raised an eyebrow at her. She dropped her gaze. She might still disobey him, but she wasn’t going to challenge him directly. Stubborn, yes, but not stupid.

  When she wasn’t looking, he smiled at me, and I knew we were both thinking she was going to break his rule. As long as there was no fallout from it either at school or from her father, I would let it go.

  Chapter 11

  “So, Mom—” Tina’s voice was casual as she poked her spoon into her bowl.

  Gavin focused on his own food, not looking at either his sister or me. His decided lack of curiosity told me that he’d helped plan this approach. I kept him in my peripheral vision as I answered.

  “Yes?”

  “Who’s your patron?”

  I’d been expecting this question since the twins had pledged to Hsien. I wanted to tell them the truth — Tina knew firsthand that it was possible to do magic without a patron, had done so for months. Would also continue to do so, ignoring both rules and common sense if she knew it was possible.

  Tina being Tina, she was going to experiment on her own anyway, but as long as she thought she had to answer to Hsien, she would limit how far out of bounds she would go — which I was in favor of. I didn’t want her getting in over head until she was old enough to understand what that meant.

  Which meant the full truth wasn’t an option.

  “I’m not ready to talk to you about that yet.” Which was not technically a lie.

  “But shouldn’t we at least have had a choice?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Are you unhappy with Hsien?”

  “Only because he makes her work,” Gavin muttered.

  “Like you’re one to talk!”

  We’d gotten off the subject of my patron, for which I was grateful, and if I didn’t say anything, they’d get even more off track. However, I didn’t want to listen to them argue during dinner, so I stepped in. “Yes, you both have to practice so you can learn. Do you think that would be any different with another patron?”

  “Maybe,” Gavin said, at the same time Tina asked, “How often does your patron make you practice?”

  So much for having changed the subject.

  “These days, I work more on learning different facets of magic from others. You know I’m trying to learn about healing magic. I’ve also spent hours with Lashonda trying to get me to understand the difference between a binding and a ward, but I’ll never be as good as she is. That’s the power she bargained for, and I’m lucky she’s willing to share.”

  “You said bargained.” Gavin looked at me curiously. “Ama told us we would be bound to him by what we said, but all we did was say that we were taking him as our teacher.” He sipped his soup. “Ama seemed really annoyed by that.”

  Hsien had told me he considered the twins his apprentices. Between that and Gavin’s words, I wondered if maybe he wasn’t their patron in the same sense that Ouroboros was Maggie’s, but rather they fell somewhere between us — natural talent like I had, but bound and shaped by his teaching. In time, they would likely outstrip me with my catch-as-catch-can magic skills.

  “I did say bargained. If you ask Maggie the next time she’s over, she’ll tell you all about tradition — how someone who wants to be a witch petitions a patron, asking for a specific gift, a facility with a type
of magic, like binding spells or potions or walking in dreams, and how the would-be witch and the patron arrive at an agreement over what power will be given and what strictures will have to be followed.”

  “Strictures?” Gavin asked.

  “Rules.” Of course Tina would know what the word meant. “Like ‘Don’t talk to your cousins about this.’”

  “Or always talk to your parents,” I agreed.

  Gavin frowned. “But I thought Dad didn’t like magic.”

  “He doesn’t. But if he asks you about it, you need to answer him truthfully.”

  “If he gets custody, will we still get to do magic?”

  I bit my lip as I thought about my answer. My first instinct was to say of course, to ask whether they thought their Ama would let their father stop them. I honestly believed that between them, Wei and Jinhong would ensure that the twins had ample opportunity to learn from Hsien — but Matt had strong opinions, and I wouldn’t put it past him to move away from Boston entirely if he thought he could “save” the twins by doing so.

  “I don’t know. I think we’re likely to get joint custody, and you will always be able to do magic — to take lessons, to practice, to learn — when you are with me. If I’m wrong, I don’t know what will happen.”

  Tina slammed her spoon on the table. “I won’t stop just because he says so. It’s part of me, and he can’t change that.”

  I wanted to cheer. The more mature side of me jumped in. “No, he can’t change that you have magic. But when you are with him, you will follow his rules, even if you disagree with them.” I sighed. “You don’t want a broken relationship with your dad for the rest of your life.”

  Tina rolled her eyes, and Gavin ignored me, reaching for the pot to refill his soup. I wasn’t under any illusions — they would obey their dad about as well as they obeyed me, which basically meant “Don’t get caught.” Fortunately for them, if Matt did catch them doing magic, he’d blame me, not them. I could live with that.