Maggie waved her hand. “You know I don’t speak with anybody but mages and kings, Tabitha,” she said, waving her hand loftily. “Ordinary people are boring.”
“Brinley isn’t ordinary,” Tabitha said. “She’s the Magemother.”
Grudgingly, Maggie turned her attention to Brinley. “Ooh, I see,” she said. “Yes, you are quite right. Clearly the Magemother. I suppose I can talk with her. How do you do, Magemother Brinley?”
“Well, thank you,” Brinley said with a curtsy. She eyed the drafty door of the hut. “Do you live here year-round?” Brinley was thinking of how cold it must be in the winter. Even now, it must be freezing at night.
Maggie’s face fell slightly, but she propped it up with a smile a moment later. “Oh, yes, dear,” she said proudly. “Built it myself, I did, and you won’t find a finer home in all the city.”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t,” Brinley said. She bit her lip, thinking of everything she had to do and wishing that there was more time to help the woman. “I’m afraid we don’t have too much time to get to know one another today, as we are on our way out of town, but perhaps we can have you over for dinner at the castle in the future?”
“Ooh, yes. Food! That would be lovely. And indoors, no less.” She turned back to Tabitha. “Can you imagine?”
Before Tabitha could answer, Maggie was speaking again. “You have time for a game of war hands before you go, of course.” She spun on her heel and retrieved the bucket from within her hut. She then proceeded to place it on the ground in front of her door, sat down on it, and smoothed out several layers of dresses until they were flat again.
“I’m ready,” she said when she had finished, and she held out her fist. “Oh.” She plucked the sooty mitten off her hand. “Now I’m ready.”
Brinley gasped loudly, but covered it by pretending to cough. When Maggie had taken her mitten off, she had revealed a horribly disfigured hand. Three fingers were gray and bloated from repeated frostbite. Brinley felt her gut twist as she looked at Maggie’s hands.
Nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a decent roof over her head, she thought bitterly.
Tabitha seemed not to notice. Without missing a beat, she sat down cross-legged across from Maggie. “Best out of three?” she asked.
Maggie nodded.
“Oh no,” Brinley said with a groan. “You’ve finally found someone who will play with you.”
Tabitha gave her a scathing look. “Of course I did,” she said. “It’s a fine game. You taught it to me, after all.”
It was true. It had happened one night when the two of them had stayed up late, talking into the early hours of the morning. Tabitha had told her all about growing up in the Magisterium, and Brinley had told her about living in Colorado and four-wheelers and how she had once tried to teach frogs how to do gymnastics.
It was an innocent thing, she had thought, a simple game of Rock-paper-scissors like she used to play with her dad, but for Tabitha it had become an addiction. She kept Brinley up for an hour the following night, and after that Brinley had absolutely refused to play with her again. Since then, Tabitha had been teaching anyone who would listen. Hugo had been her first victim. He lasted two hours before declaring that he would never play with her again. Several of the castle staff had likewise fallen victim to her trap before word had spread. Now most people knew to say no when the question was asked.
“Maggie likes to play,” Tabitha said. “Don’t you, Maggie?”
“Ooh, yes,” the woman said enthusiastically. “Love it, love it, love it! Only best of three?”
Tabitha sighed, holding up her own hand. “It’s all we have time for.” She held a hand up to her mouth and whispered. “She won’t let me stay any longer than that, and we have important things to do.”
Maggie gave Brinley a suspicious look.
“Begin,” Tabitha said. “Rock, paper, scissors! Paper covers rock. Again. Rock, paper, scissors! Ha! Scissors cuts paper!” She snipped Maggie’s hand with her fingers and the woman drew them back in haste, inspecting them with a worried look on her face.
“Just a game, remember?” Tabitha said.
“Yes, of course,” Maggie said, holding her hand out again.
They played three more rounds before Brinley finally convinced Tabitha that their original “best of three” were long over.
“But she’s winning!” Tabitha objected frantically.
“We have to be going now, Maggie,” Brinley told the older woman. “But I think I would like to come and visit you again, if that’s all right.”
Maggie sighed. Then her face brightened and she leapt from her bucket. “Gifts before you go!”
Brinley gave Tabitha a questioning look while Maggie rummaged in her shack, but the other girl just shrugged.
Maggie emerged with a metal box and presented it to them as if it were the most precious thing in the world. It was made of tin and shaped like an octagon, like one of those fancy tins full of Christmas cookies that she had seen back home. This one was bright red with bluebirds and daisies painted on the top. She turned her head from side to side as if she were checking whether it was safe to reveal her wares, then popped the lid open. “For your journey,” she said.
The tin was full of odd baubles and pins, bits of string, a handful of marbles, strangely shaped swatches of fabric, and bits of shiny paper folded into animal shapes. There was a thimble, a mismatched set of dice, sparkling river rocks, bent strands of wire, a rough-looking egg-sized reddish stone, and a day-old apple core. There were a few old metallic objects whose function Brinley was not familiar with. Nothing that looked like it would be valuable to anyone other than Maggie.
“You can have anything your heart desires,” Maggie said, “if you have something to give.”
Tabitha immediately plucked a button off her dress and deposited it in the tin. “What do you recommend?” she asked, pinching her chin thoughtfully.
“This one,” Maggie said, extracting a very old-looking bead of wood and brass. “It will protect you from harm.”
“Thank you, Maggie,” Tabitha said, then stepped aside and pushed Brinley forward.
“Oh, no, I’m okay,” Brinley said, thinking that she didn’t want to lose any of her buttons on the first day of the journey.
Tabitha flicked her on the back of the neck.
“Ouch. Okay, okay.” She perused the tin and selected a thick wooden button. If nothing else, she thought, it might come in handy if something needed to be repaired on the road.
“Hmm,” Maggie murmured, pursing her lips.
“What?” Brinley said.
“Nothing. A fine choice. Very lucky button. Just not what I would have picked for you.”
Wondering how a button could be lucky, Brinley started to put it back.
“Oh, no,” Maggie said, pulling the tin away. “Choices are final. Now, what will you give me?”
Brinley put the button in her pocket and opened her traveling cloak. There was a golden thread that had come loose from the hem. She had noticed it when she was getting dressed. She wrapped the loose bit around her finger and broke it off, offering it to Maggie. “Is this okay? It’s real gold, I think.”
“Ooh, lovely!” Maggie said, placing it carefully in the tin. She stared at her treasure for a while, lost in thought, and then snapped the lid shut so suddenly that Brinley jumped. “Got to go. Water’s on.”
She put the tin back inside the hut and brushed past them to the door of the blacksmith’s shop.
“She works for him,” Tabitha explained.
Curious, Brinley stuck her head into the blacksmith’s shop. There she was, on the other side of the room, sitting at a water-powered grinding wheel. She was shaping what appeared to be the cross guard for a sword.
“Can I help you?” a deep voice said.
“Oh,” Brinley said, surprised. “No, thank you. Just saying good-bye to Maggie. She left in a hurry, that’s all. Bye, Maggie!” she called, then ducked back outside.
&n
bsp; The smith followed her out. “She spoke to you?” he asked, sounding surprised. Then he recognized her. “Oh, Magemother. Of course, I suppose she would speak to you, then.” A look of apprehension crossed his face. “I try to take as good a care of her as I can, mind.”
Brinley wondered if he thought she had come to rescue the woman. He was starting to sweat nervously now. The Magemother was supposed to do that sort of thing, she knew, rescue common people who needed it, right the wrongs of society.
“Honest,” he went on. “I give her work to do and food to eat when she wants it. She won’t take any money, and she won’t take a room neither. Prefers her shanty.”
“I believe you,” Brinley said, glancing over at the shack. “It’s a pity, though. I can’t imagine that she is too comfortable in there.”
The man took off his cap and wrung it between his hands. “Doesn’t make a bit of sense to me. Very proud, that one. Won’t accept any help from me beyond her employment.”
“She told me that she likes having her own home,” Tabitha said. “I expect that’s just the best she can make.”
The smith nodded slowly. “I suppose.” He shook his head. “Any rate, good day to you, Magemother. Call on old Jaship if you’re ever in need of a smith.”
Brinley nodded.
“That was weird,” Tabitha said as they walked back through the square. Brinley was leading them through the fastest route out of town.
“What, Maggie?”
“No,” Tabitha said, “the smith. He was afraid you were going to call down fire on him or something.”
“Or something,” Brinley agreed. “The Magemother is supposed to be a guardian of the people,” she explained.
“So?”
“Well,” Brinley said as they approached the outer gate, “I have heard that the Magemother will sometimes intervene to help the common people when they get themselves into trouble. Sick, falsely imprisoned, being treated badly, things like that…Tabitha, do you think that Maggie would accept any help from me?”
“I bet she would,” Tabitha said. “She has a soft spot for people she thinks are important, and she liked you.” Just then Tabitha’s coat made a strange squelching sound and Brinley glanced at it. “Tabitha, what was that?”
“Nothing,” Tabitha said lightly. “So how is the Magemother supposed to know who needs help in the first place?”
Brinley rolled her eyes. “That’s the hard part,” she said. “Most people think the Magemother knows everything. Some actually think that she sees everything that happens. Everywhere.”
Tabitha laughed. “That’s silly.” She stopped walking abruptly. “You don’t, do you?”
“Of course not,” Brinley said, pulling her towards the gate. “The only time anything remotely like that has happened was when I took the power back from the mages.” She shivered, remembering. That had been the hardest moment of her life. In order to destroy the previous Mage of Light and Darkness, who had become corrupted by evil, she took back the power from all of the mages at once, which meant that for a short time she held all of it herself. “But that was just temporary,” she went on. “After I gave the mages their power back I couldn’t feel the air anymore, or the stones, or the animals. I’m more like a common person now than a mage.”
Tabitha patted her on the back. “Don’t worry,” she said. “You’ll figure it out eventually.” She looked troubled at some thought. “We both will. I have so much to learn.”
It was true, Tabitha was apprenticed to Belterras, the Mage of Earth, as well as being the Magemother’s Herald, or protector. She had her own mountain of responsibility now, but she seemed to be taking to it better than Brinley was. Indeed, Brinley thought, if she could learn how to be the Magemother half as fast as Tabitha was learning how to be a mage, everything might turn out all right.
At the gate of the city, Brinley and Tabitha paused. Somebody was waiting for them.
“Archibald!” Tabitha said delightedly. “How wonderful! Have you come to see us off?”
Archibald stood with one hand on the city gate, leaning casually on his silver-handled cane with the other. He tipped his bowler hat to them and smiled. “Not exactly,” he said. He motioned for them to follow and walked beside them under the gate.
He tapped Brinley on the shoulder with the handle of his cane as they walked, raising one eyebrow high. “A little bird told me about your secret problem,” he said. “I have come to offer my services.”
“What problem?” Brinley asked, confused.
“The matter of your missing father.”
Brinley swung slowly around to face Tabitha, whose eyes had gone wider than she would have thought possible. Tabitha bit her lip, eyes rolling around to look at anything but Brinley.
“It could have been any little bird,” Tabitha squeaked. “Not necessarily me.”
“You are the only little bird I told, apart from Animus,” Brinley said, poking Tabitha in the nose with her finger, which caused Tabitha’s eyes to swing inward in an attempt to follow it.
“I couldn’t help it!” Tabitha said, wincing as she attempted to uncross her eyes. “It just slipped out, and…well, I thought you’d be pleased. Archibald wants to help, and I know how stressed you’ve been because you want to just drop everything and look for your father, but you can’t.”
“But I can,” Archibald added.
Tabitha cupped her hands over her mouth and leaned in tentatively to whisper in Brinley’s ear. “And I know you had another nightmare about him last night. You were talking in your sleep. You have to let Archibald look for him. You just have to!”
“This,” Brinley said, looking back and forth between the two of them, “is a conspiracy…But,” she added to ease the look of panic on Tabitha’s face, “it is a welcome one. I would be glad for your help, Archibald.”
“Excellent,” Archibald said. “Tabitha and I have planned things out already. We have devised a means for me to communicate with you while you’re on the road, and I have my pony waiting, packed and ready to go. All that remains is some direction from you. Where should I begin my search?”
“Oh,” Brinley said, startled. “I don’t know.” She proceeded to tell him the full story of her father’s disappearance as they walked. She told how the gods had allowed him to accompany her back to Aberdeen from Earth, warning that it would be a dangerous trip for him. She told how his hand had slipped out of hers somehow as they crossed the black void that stretched between worlds, and how he had not come out the other side.
He put a hand on her shoulder when she had finished, pulling her into a hug. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I would have started looking earlier if I had known. No one deserves to lose a father, especially you. You’ve just lost your mother…” He looked down. A second later he cleared his throat with a cough. “At any rate, I believe I shall start my journey with a trip to Ninebridge. I have an old acquaintance there that might know something of this place, this in-between place where you think your father is.”
“Really?” Brinley said, surprised that Archibald already had something to go on. “Who is it?”
“Oh,” Archibald said, waving his cane dismissively. “An unsavory character. You wouldn’t know him.”
Brinley nodded. “Do you want us to take you with us? We’re headed to Ninebridge right now.” She patted Tabitha playfully on the back the way she would a horse. “It’s much faster to fly.”
Archibald gulped. “Ah, no, thank you. I much prefer to keep both feet firmly on the ground at all times. The back of my pony is as high as I go.”
Brinley hugged him, filled with a sudden sense of appreciation. Someone was going to look for her father! True, it wouldn’t be her, but it was getting done. She breathed a deep sigh of relief. For the first time in many days she felt her mind resting on the task ahead of her without any guilt in the background. She could focus on finding the mages now. Archibald would take care of things. “Thank you so much,” she breathed, squeezing him once more before she le
t go. “You don’t know how much this means to me!”
“Think nothing of it,” he said. “It is my privilege.” He nodded to them and smiled. For an instant Brinley thought she saw sorrow in his eyes, or maybe regret, but a moment later he had turned away from them.
“Archibald,” she called.
Archibald turned.
“Ben,” she said. “My father’s name is Ben.”
Chapter Four
In which a witch gets ants in her pants
Cassis paced back and forth across the peak of the bridge to the Wizard’s Ire, waiting for the Magemother to arrive. The city of Ninebridge was the magical marvel of Aberdeen. It got its name from the nine magical bridges that stood in a circle around the city. Each one rose high into the air and disappeared, and if a person walked past the midpoint they would be transported to the other half of the bridge, located a great distance away. Seven bridges connected seven distant cities in this manner. One bridge was broken and led to nowhere, while the bridge which Cassis stood upon led hundreds of miles to the north, to the most unwholesome place in the land. The Ire was far away, technically, but it felt strangely close when he was standing on the bridge. He stretched his neck restlessly. It wasn’t a feeling that he enjoyed.
A horn sounded at the foot of the bridge. He looked down to the soldiers far below him and saw that several of them were facing south, hands shielding their eyes from the morning sun. A giant black swan was descending from the clouds, headed right for the bridge. The bird alighted on the stone railing of the bridge beside the mage and Brinley jumped down from her back.
“Hello, Cassis,” she said warmly. “Let’s get this over with.” There would be no small talk today. She didn’t have time for it, and Cassis wasn’t the talkative type anyhow. The Mage of Metal was not unlike metal himself: hard, simple, and to the point.
He nodded, then led her to the gray curtain of mist which stretched from the floor of the bridge into the sky above. The side of the bridge that lay beyond the mist was not visible from here, or from the ground.
Magemother: The Complete Series (A Fantasy Adventure Book Series for Kids of All Ages) Page 33