Brightly Woven

by Alexandra Bracken

  I nodded. “It’s so…” I couldn’t find the right word. Even I, a world away in my little desert house, had heard stories of Fairwell’s fabulous glass sculptures. I had to find the green crystal dragons, and the blown vases large enough to fit a grown man inside. Henry would be incredibly jealous—in all of his travels, he had never once seen the white walls of Fairwell.

  “Looks like they still haven’t fixed the bridge,” North said absently. In the distance, I could just make out a long, thin board that stretched over a waterless moat.

  “Great Mother, what happened to it?” I asked. There should have been a drawbridge, or at least a stone entry into the city.

  “Fairwell had an awful time with hedge witches a few years back,” North said. His shoulders slumped slightly. “But you probably don’t know what a hedge witch is, do you?”

  “They take care of the gardening at the palace?” I tried.

  “What we all wouldn’t give if they did.” The wizard chuckled. “They’re rogue women with magical ability, shunned by the wizarding community for their practices. They usually live on the outskirts of cities and steal shipments in and out of them to survive.”

  “So there are no…male hedge witches?”

  “No, we just call them rogue wizards or something of the like.”

  “Well, that hardly seems fair,” I said. “Why are only the women singled out that way?”

  “They got that name because for a very long time, female wizards were banned from learning most magic. It’s not that way anymore, of course, and you’re almost as likely to see a female wizard now as a male one,” he said. “About two hundred years ago, after the last great war with Auster, there were few magisters left with the skill to take on apprentices. At the time, the Sorcerer Imperial decided that the male wizards would be the ones to receive schooling, so that the next children of children would have a selection of magisters to choose from. Many women were unhappy, to say the least, and left to create their own communities where they taught themselves and one another. Those women and their descendants never came back to proper wizarding society.”

  “What are the hedge communities like?” I asked.

  “Tightly knit, highly secretive,” he said. “Though I’ve never seen one myself. I’ve only come across one male wizard who grew up within a hedge community, and he wasn’t forthcoming with details.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Who do you think?”

  I stared at him. “Dorwan…?”

  North nodded. “Explains quite a bit, doesn’t it?”

  “How do you know so much about him?” I asked. “He doesn’t seem the type to share.”

  “I met him when we were both still young,” he said. “Look, Syd, it’s not something I’m proud of. I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “Did you train with him?” I asked. “Did he have the same magister?”

  “No,” he said. “When I was with my magister, Oliver was the only other student he had.”

  “Who in the world is Oliver?”

  North gave me an exasperated look.

  “He’s the current second-in-command of the Wizard Guard, ranked number two just behind the Sorceress Imperial, who is ceremoniously ranked number one. He hates tea, enjoys moonlit walks through Provincia’s palace, and is a spectacular git,” he said. “Now that we’ve played twenty questions, would you mind dropping it?”

  The thin scrap of wood covering the moat could barely support our combined weight. It dipped dangerously beneath us as we crossed into the silent, dark city. There was no one around, save for the two guards on either side of the entrance. Both were fast asleep and snoring in high, extended wheezes.

  From the outside, except for the demolished bridge, the city had seemed unspoiled, marred by age and hedge witches, but no worse for wear. Inside the walls, however, it was a very different story. The outer ring of buildings had sizable pieces of roofs and entryways missing, some completely torn away and left as rubble on the ground.

  North led me through the streets, and slowly the buildings began to appear whole again. The sounds of actual life in the distance reached my ears.

  “It won’t be as bad once we get farther in,” North said, as if sensing my thoughts. “The people here gave up waiting for repairs and just moved farther inside, where it was harder for the hedge witches to reach them. We just passed the streets with all the glass blowers.”

  “So you come here often?” Somehow, I wasn’t surprised.

  “It’s gotten worse over the years,” he admitted. “The king neglects—neglected—this part of the country for far too long, and now it’s fallen into this mess.”

  If my mother had heard him say such a thing, she would have boxed his ears for being so disrespectful. I bristled on her behalf.

  “I’m sure that wasn’t the case,” I said. “It might have been the fault of his advisors, but not the king.”

  After blocks of dirty, broken-down buildings and uneven streets, the light of the inner city was like a beckoning fire, a fire that became rowdier and louder and drunker the closer we got. One entire block was made up of pubs and taverns; we saw drunk patrons thrown out of one pub only to stumble into another right next door. There wasn’t a place of worship in sight.

  “We’re going to get something to eat,” North explained, as we stood beneath a wooden sign that read THE STUBBORN DRAGON. “I’m hoping my friend is here tonight.”

  “Please don’t drink,” I begged, but he didn’t hear me. Instead, he pushed a path for us through the crowd inside. Someone was banging an unidentifiable song on an out-of-tune piano. Occasionally North would recognize someone and give a curt nod or a smile. He reached back to take my hand, but instead I slipped it into the pocket of my dress.

  “Waaaaayland, I thought you had abaaandoned us!” a woman purred. “Where did you find such a precious little doll? Got a sitting gig?”

  “Just a friend, Anna,” North said in a smooth voice. “Speaking of friends, I heard a rumor that Master Owain has been around these parts. Has he been in tonight?”

  “Why do you want to talk to him?” She pouted, sliding off our table.

  North smiled. “Business. You know how it is.”

  “I’d know if you told me more about—” she began, but never had a chance to finish.

  “If it isn’t Wayland North, finally back to make an honest living!” came a voice behind us, a deep baritone. “That is, if you’re really here for business.”

  The man was a great mass of muscles and stringy blond hair. He looked to be twice my age, with the beginnings of a beard, uneven and slightly darker than the hair on his head. A shirt of old, rusted chain mail covered his broad chest. He wore mismatched metal wrist guards that scraped along his side and snagged the frayed bottom of his wrinkled undershirt. When he grinned, his teeth gleamed in the faint light of the tavern like a wolf’s. If his eyes hadn’t betrayed how overjoyed he was to see North, I might have thought he was ready to devour us both whole.

  “Honest is probably not the word I would have chosen, Owain, old friend.” North clasped the other man’s hand, and Owain pumped it up and down enthusiastically.

  “Hah! So you haven’t heard yet!” Owain crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve gone straight. Only good, clean jobs for me now.”

  “So, in other words,” North said, “you’re living in poverty?”

  “When am I not?” Owain scoffed. “Seemed foolish of me to try to live like a knight but not work like one.”

  “In that case, I’ll have to buy you dinner,” North said, motioning for him to sit down.

  “Where have you been all this time?” Owain asked. “I thought about sending a few of my boys out to look for you, I was getting so worried.”

  North chuckled into his mug. “Here and there and everywhere, as usual.”

  “But your…” Owain made a strange gesture with his hands. “That’s all right?”

  North snorted, and I knew what Owain was referring to.


  “So he gets to know what’s wrong with you?” I asked bitterly.

  “There is nothing to tell.” North hid his face behind his pint. “Owain, meet my lovely new assistant, Sydelle.”

  “Pleasure, of course,” Owain said. He took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. He leaned forward between us, so North disappeared behind his enormous frame.

  “I sent that letter of application off,” he said. “But I got this short piece in reply saying the Wizard Guard isn’t in need of human services.”

  “I told you that before you applied,” North said, and his voice was somehow stiff. “You’re not a wizard. If you want a position as a steward in the palace or a post along one of the roads, you’ll have to ask the most powerful wizard you know for a recommendation.”

  “But, lad, that’s you.”

  “And that’s terribly sad, my friend.”

  “Why?” I asked. “Why is it sad?”

  “What if I don’t want a do-nothing post?” Owain asked. “I don’t understand why it’s only the wizards that get to fight, even when a war is coming.”

  “I don’t make the rules,” North said. “It’s the way it’s always been.”

  Owain snuck a glance at me out of the corner of his eye, but before he could reply, a resounding bang cut through the racket in the pub. A large man had upended his table, sending drinks and cards high into the air. The thin man across from him sat perfectly still, arms crossed.

  Owain dropped his hand to the hilt of his sword, but North only glanced over his shoulder.

  “Rottin’ wizard!” the first man yelled, seizing the other by his crisp collar. “Think you can cheat me?”

  The thin man ripped himself away from the other’s grip, retrieving his cane from where it had clattered to the floor. The entire length of it, right up to the ivory claw at the top, was wrapped with thick, yellow braiding.

  “Think I wouldn’t know a cheat when I saw one? Can’t sucker me or my cards!”

  The wizard raised his cane. The barkeep would have none of it.

  “Out, you fool!” he hollered, throwing a bottle against the counter. “Didn’t you see the sodding sign? No wizards!”

  My eyes darted to North, my hands instinctively reaching for my bag.

  The thin wizard didn’t retreat; his slit eyes cast out over the length of the pub, searching for some ally or friend. North turned in his seat, watching the scene with a look of great amusement.

  “He’s one!” The wizard thrust his cane in North’s direction, and the pub’s attention immediately shifted. North raised a brow, and I wondered how the other man could have possibly known.

  “Who, him?” the barkeep snorted. “That lad’s been one of us since he was a boy, so walk that arse out, or Viktor will throw it out for you.”

  Seeing the other wizard’s snarl, North held up his hands and shrugged innocently. But the wizard wasn’t looking at him any longer—his eyes flashed to my face, half hidden by Owain. North glanced back, as if trying to figure out where his gaze had fallen. He missed the way the other wizard took a step forward. Toward me.

  Viktor gave the wizard a hard shove that sent him sprawling into the scattered cards and drinks.

  “I’m two hundred fifteen!” the wizard hollered as Viktor dragged him to the door. “Two hundred fifteen!”

  North turned back to our table as the music started again. “If I was only ranked two hundred fifteen, I wouldn’t be shouting it for the entire city to hear.”

  “What number are you?” I asked. North bit the side of his thumb.

  “Two hundred fifteen outta four hundred twenty-seven isn’t bad,” Owain said. “When’s the next ranking?”

  “Next spring, I suppose,” North said. “If we lose wizards in the war, the numbers will shake up.”

  “Will the Sorceress Imperial lose her ranking?” Owain asked. “Can’t imagine her being too pleased.”

  North snorted. “Whoever holds the title is number one, regardless of how many duels they win in the rankings. She’ll be in power for a few years yet.”

  I leaned back into my chair, brushing my disobedient hair from my eyes. The way the wizard had looked at me—squinting eyes stretched wide and shining brightly, lips parted—had been suffocating somehow, setting the small hairs on my arms on end.

  A word caught my ear.

  “Dragon?” I repeated. “That’s impossible. Astraea and the wizards destroyed them all with the giants ages ago.”

  Owain coughed lightly, but it was North who answered.

  “Mostly, yes, but there’s a small number still lingering here and there.” Seeing my expression of horror, he added, “But the giants never existed, just the dragons.”

  “It’s a few miles west of here in Farfield,” Owain said. “They’ve promised a hefty reward for the first wizard who shows. Most of your kind have already moved on to the capital to prepare for war. The people are desperate, from what I hear.”

  “You have to destroy it,” I said, and both men turned identical looks of astonishment on me. I turned to face North. “It’s your responsibility, the reason Astraea gave the wizards magic.”

  Owain let out an uncomfortable laugh. “This lass is one for the myths, then.”

  “It’s not a myth!” I said, gripping the table, unable to stop myself now that I had started. “It’s the reason Astraea inherited the world from her father, the Great Creator. She gave the gift of magic to her people, and it was only because of that that they were able to defeat dragons and all wicked things! It’s why she has supremacy over her sister goddess, Salvala. You have to do it, North; it’s your responsibility.”

  I knew the Wizard Guard had been established for that very purpose. When it became clear no common sword would be strong enough to cut through dragon hide, the wizards’ mastery of the elements made them the only weapon the kingdom needed. North refusing to do it was like a slap in the face, both to tradition and to our faith.

  “I would have rather had a sword,” he grumbled, reaching for his pint. “The amount of magic this will take…”

  “Then go worship Salvala!” I said, standing up so quickly that I knocked over my chair. I still couldn’t shake the way the thin wizard had looked at me, like he wanted to eat me alive. It was too much: the heavy, suffocating pipe smoke, the stench of alcohol, the buzz of noise. I refused to sit there and let our goddess be mocked in such a way.

  “Where are you going?” North asked. I saw his cloaks swirl around his feet as he stood.

  “Outside, to pray for your black, withered heart!” I pushed North’s hands away and picked up my things. “What do you care? Just leave me alone!”

  “I’ll go with you, then,” North said, matching my glare with his own.

  “I’m just going to find us a place to stay!” I adjusted my bag’s strap on my shoulder.

  “Would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you then, lass?” Owain said unexpectedly. “Food won’t be here for quite some time, anyway.”

  I didn’t protest. I just wanted to get away from North’s dark eyes.

  Outside, Owain did most of the talking. He told me how he and North had met—an almost brawl when they had both been out of their minds with drunkenness—and went into even greater detail about the beautiful, fair-haired Vesta. It took me several minutes to work out that Vesta was a horse, and Owain was possibly in love with her.

  “Finest girl a man could ask for, I tell you,” Owain swore, pounding his fist against the stone wall. “Ever been on a horse, lass?”

  “Once,” I admitted. “The horse threw me.”

  Owain let out a long whistle but said nothing.

  “Is there a place we could stay tonight?” I asked him. “I’d rather not go back in.”

  “Of course there is! Just depends on how much you’ve got.” Owain leaned down.

  “We don’t have any money,” I said, resting my hand against my forehead. “He came here looking for work.”

  Owain tilted my chin up
with two large fingers, and his green eyes bore into mine. “I’ll get him to take the dragon job, lass. I almost have him convinced. The two of you can stay with me for the night. Nice place—clean and safe. We’ll all go slay the dragon together.”

  “I don’t understand how you can be friends with him,” I said.

  “You mean Wayland?” Owain clucked his tongue. “Aw, lass. He’s just like a stallion. Wild and kicking on the outside, but a heart as soft as satin on the inside. Just waiting for the right girl to break him in.” As if the implication of his words wasn’t enough, Owain gave me a big wink.

  “Your friendship was built on ale,” I reminded him, pulling my bag over my shoulder.

  “And what a fine friendship it is!”

  The section of the inner city Owain took me to was several streets behind the row of taverns, and the blue building stood out like a flower among dead, rotting trees. I was surprised by the interior; fine carpets and flower vases were scattered around, brightening up an otherwise dark setting.

  A small, old woman was sitting at a desk by the entryway. Owain introduced her as Mrs. Pemberly, whispering as we went upstairs that her kindness was the only reason he could afford his room. Apparently, there was some sort of trade between the two of them. He cleared out any “bad sorts,” and she let him live there at an extremely discounted rate.

  “Bless the lady’s heart,” Owain said, fumbling with the lock on the door. “Cleans my room and everything. You can go to her for anything you need, lass.”

  “Thank you,” I said, dropping my bag to the floor. “Will you tell North where I am?”

  “Course! Poor ol’ lad is probably tearing out his hair with worry, thinking I’ve stolen you away for myself!” Owain laughed.

  “I sincerely doubt it,” I said, settling down on the corner of the small bed.

  “Ahhhh…,” Owain sighed. He leaned up against the wall. “You know, lass, the reason I was surprised to see you was because I thought that a pretty, delicate thing like yourself couldn’t possibly be there with Wayland North. He doesn’t bring many girls round unless they’re part of a job—but also ’cause his smell can sometimes kill kittens.”