Hidden Magic

by Melinda Kucsera

  Arms wrapped around her brother, she listened to the birds overhead as they rode to Tovias and closer to the mark.

  And closer to my life changing forever.

  They stopped several times—both to give their horse a break and to ensure they didn’t overtake the wagon somewhere ahead—and as the sun grew closer to the horizon, the trees thinned and farms sprung up alongside the road. Dressed as hired hands, neither of them hid as they traveled, though once they stopped when a farmer offered them some day-old bread.

  “Figgered ya need it, bein’ on hard times and all,” he’d said with a frown.

  It wasn’t until they’d neared Tovias that Shendra realized what the farmer had meant, and she chuckled.

  “Something funny?”

  “We’re gonna ride into town lookin’ like the world’s worst fighters—us sharin’ a horse with no saddle and a young mount at that. Two light bags ’tween us, and they’re like to think us on the run.”

  Bredych slowed their mount with a curse. “That will set too many eyes on us. We’ll have to ditch the mount and approach on foot. Least that way we look more like the fighters we’re supposed to be.”

  This time Shendra cursed. She should’ve thought of that as it was on her to strategize the optimal ways in and out of the location.

  After she dismounted, he followed and gave the horse their last apple. As the gelding munched on it, Bredych placed his hand on her shoulder. “Hey, you’re not going to think of everything. Not the first time out anyway.”

  “But an Amaskan can’t make mistakes like that. It’s how you end up dead.”

  “True, but this is why you aren’t alone. You won’t be sent on a solo job for a good year or two. There’s still plenty for you to learn before that happens,” he said as they followed the wagon’s trail toward the wall.

  A guardsman held up his hand at their approach. “Names and purpose of visit.” Their cover story as two swords-for-hire looking for work had him nodding as he scribbled something down on a piece of parchment before waving them through the gate. Shendra remained silent as the city of Tovias rose up around her.

  From the way the ruddy brick along the buildings’ edges didn’t crumble to the cobbled road leading through the town’s center, traces of wealth wove its way across Tovias. Even with the sun setting, the tallest building stood out as the grand center of activity with its three stories and balconies wrapping around three of its four sides. Women and men of varying ages and states of dress draped themselves across the railing as they waved to passers-by.

  Rather than follow the cobble street towards the Lady’s establishment, Shendra steered them towards the local Guild where a burly man sporting a bushy, red mustache stood. “Welcome to the Mercenary Guild. Fair work for fair pay. What can I do to help you?” he asked.

  She fetched the scrap of parchment carrying the Guild’s crest and handed it to the man. It listed their fake identities, which the burly man read over while shifting his gaze between the parchment and their leather armor. They wore nothing fancy, but the armor carried enough nicks to speak of the action they’d seen.

  He handed the parchment back with a frown. “We’re rather short on jobs in Tovias. Is there something specific you’re looking for?”

  “We’re passin’ through on our way to the capital. Perhaps ya could give us the name of a decent inn?” Shendra asked.

  The man relaxed with the question. “The Two Fish Inn is just down the road. Nothin’ special, but the beds are comfortable and Sally’ll treat you right.”

  “Our thanks,” said Bredych, and they turned away from the Guild.

  Once out of earshot, Shendra said, “He really didn’t wanna give us work.”

  Bredych nodded. “Perhaps with Lady Essia all but in charge, they stick to their own. Something to report back to the Guild.”

  “If we were Guildsmembers perhaps.” Shendra snorted. “What do I care if he’s crooked?”

  Up ahead lay the Two Fish Inn, a good six buildings away from Lady Essia’s. The inn was rough in comparison. No brick lay out of place, but the sign out front carried a touch more sun fading, and the front door lacked a fresh coat of paint.

  “You never know when you might need this identity or the Guild again. Everything that concerns your merc persona concerns you.” Her cheeks grew warm at his chastising, and he raised his voice as they neared the inn and said, “So glad the Guild could recommend a good place.”

  The bar matron who ran the place lacked a fresh coat of paint as well. Her blouse bore multiple stains, and her oily hair was tied back at her nape with a jagged scrap of leather. No smile greeted them as they entered the tavern on the first floor, though Sally did nod in their direction, and when Shendra reached the bar, the bar matron pointed to a sign overhead.

  One notch a night was more than most inns, but in a town like Tovias, everything was bound to cost more as the city served as a main thoroughfare for those traveling to the capital of Sadai. Without complaint, Shendra removed the necessary coinage from her bag and placed it on the counter.

  “Just the one night?” asked Sally.

  “Hopin’ to find work that’ll have us travelin’ on rather quickly. Iffen we need another night, will that be a problem?”

  Sally shook her head. “Long as you pay, I’ll find ya a spot. Might be on the tavern floor, but I’ll find ya a place. Take the last room on the left.”

  Shendra took the offered key and set off towards the stairs at a pace that spoke of too long in the saddle and not enough rest. Once behind closed doors, she dropped the facade and turned her attention to the room.

  “You lucked out,” said Bredych as he pointed at the room’s lone window. “First plan it is then.”

  While Bredych rattled on about the plan, she paced the room. One bed in the corner was easier to defend, and yes, the lone window would allow them to exit the inn without being seen, but something about the room set Shendra on edge. When she neared the window, the street below was well occupied at this time of the evening, but what would it look like come midnight?

  “Did ya notice the torch lights outside?” she asked, and her brother paused, small travel bag still in his grasp. “Plan one has a complication if this street remains busy and lit.”

  “Nothing we can’t handle.” Bredych dropped his bag on the floor before stretching out across the bed. “Wake me up in a few hours if you need some rest.”

  As his eyes closed, she dragged a raggedy chair over to the window where she took a seat to wait for midnight. Typical Bredych—complete relaxation in the face of danger. Shendra frowned as she watched the Lady’s establishment across the road. Only a few men entered through the front doors while the rest scuttled by, their heads downcast as they passed.

  Two hours burned away before the women on the balconies retreated indoors, and another hour before the street below quieted. Several torches remained burning, and when she cracked open the window, their oily stench wafted up to her.

  Once the moon was high in the sky, a young man on stilts lumbered from torch to torch where he stamped out most of the flames. The street fell dark. Shadows moved in the windows of Lady Essia’s as upstairs guests were “made comfortable” and downstairs guests were served an assortment of liquor and conversation.

  Shendra closed the curtains to their room before returning to her travel bag. While her brother slept, she shed her hired-hand outfit for the form-fitting clothes of the Order, black fabric that covered the skin, yet breathed and stretched as she moved. Black sleeves and leggings ended in tapered silk, and she pulled on toed shoes and fingerless gloves next. She bound the ends tightly at her wrists and ankles and wound another wrap about her waist and face, leaving only her eyes visible.

  She left the jar of grease beside her shed clothing and nudged her brother with her foot. When he woke, he nodded once in complete silence before fetching his own clothing. More practiced than she, he donned his wraps quickly while she peeked through the window.

  He in
dicated his readiness by placing the grease jar on the window ledge. Eyelids and fingernails were covered in the black concoction, though not the fingertips. Not if they wanted to survive the night. Shendra listened at the window and hearing nothing, leaned her head outside. No one passed by on the streets.

  It was time.

  Being her trial, it was up to her to lead the mission, and with that, she swung one leg and then the other over the window ledge. The rooftop, while well-shingled, was slick enough in the summer humidity that she crept across it with care until she reached the other side. Shadowed and silent, this side of the building almost touched the building next door’s rooftop, and she stepped across the gap with ease. Her gaze flickered between the roof and the street below, and behind her, she was sure her brother did the same. Four rooftops later, the space between buildings stretched further than two horses head to tail, and Shendra paused.

  “What is it?” Bredych whispered.

  When she pointed at the gap, he took a few steps back before running toward the edge. Shendra winced at the thump as he landed, then slid to a stop safely on Lady Essia’s roof. Showoff, she mouthed, and like a child, he stuck his tongue out.

  Her leap across the space was both quieter and more elegant as she rolled on her toes to keep from sliding, yet she crouched as low to the roof as she could, a motion echoed by her brother as they waited several heartbeats. No one in the closest room moved, at least not in their direction, as the room’s occupants continued their rhythmic dance between the sheets. Shendra gestured for Bredych to follow her as she slipped beneath that window and then a second one. The third window held no flickering candlelight, and she poked her head above the ledge.

  Nothing moved from within the room. When she crawled through the open window, the floor chilled her slippered feet, and she suppressed a shudder. Her breath clouded the air before her, and with a frown, she glanced over her shoulder.

  Bredych sat on the window ledge, one foot posed to touch the floor and the other a mere six inches from the wood surface. His face, a frozen mix of concentration and shock, didn’t move, nor did his chest rise and fall with the motion of breathing.

  Rather than run toward him, Shendra remained still as the hair on her arms stood on end. Someone or something was in the room with them. A slight hiss sounded to her left, followed by a familiar long snout as the chathula slinked into view. The creature stopped a few inches from her brother, a sound escaping it that was half-laugh, half-hiss.

  Fear kept her rooted in place. Probably a boon as she would’ve giggled at the idea of a laughing cat. It turned to face her, intelligence and a hint of malice in its slitted eyes.

  “Breaking into the Lady’s home. Tsk-tsk.”

  Her mouth grew dry in one heartbeat. One thing to have a laughing cat, but quite another to have a talking one.

  “The Lady would rrreward me with fresh fish if I brought her your hearrrts.”

  The way its r’s rolled further added to the chathula’s oddness, and Shendra held up her hands. “I-Is my brother still alive?” she asked.

  Another laugh escaped a wry, toothy grin. “For the moment.”

  “How is he…still?”

  “My magic holds him in stasis. It’s a helpful way to stop one’s prey from escaping.”

  At the word, Shendra’s skin prickled. Magic was old, something written about in hidden myths and legends. Only the Thirteen possessed powers and they were gods, not cats. “Are ya a god?” she whispered.

  “No, what I am is hungry.”

  The chathula paced between the siblings, its whiskers twitching as it licked its mouth. If Shendra could force the cat to the right, all she need do is knock her brother backwards through the window. It wouldn’t be their first eight-foot fall off a roof. Either way, it was loads better than remaining inside with the cat. As if the creature knew her thoughts, it stopped between them, sitting on its haunches in a rather cat-like manner.

  Shendra held up her hands in front of her. “If yer hungry, perhaps we can help. Does the Lady feed ya fish? There’s fresh fish comin’ through Sadai’s ports on the daily. We could arrange for ya to—”

  “Magic doesn’t require fish but blood.”

  “I didn’t ask ’bout magic but about you. What does a great chathula like yerself desire?”

  Its crimson tongues flicked out where they froze in place, forgotten. “It has been a while since we tasted fish…”

  “If ya let us go, I’ll bring ya the freshest fish you’ve ever tasted.”

  The creature shook its head. “He stays here. You can retrieve the fish.”

  For a moment, Shendra hesitated, and the creature’s eyes narrowed as long claws tapped the wooden floor by Bredych’s feet. “Ya won’t harm him while I’m gone?”

  “I am a being of my word.”

  She gave her brother one last look before squeezing between him and the window. Once on the rooftop, the overwhelming urge to flee the city of Tovias left a sour taste in her mouth. Since when would the unknown have me willin’ to leave my brother behind?

  Her trembling legs left her sliding more than climbing down the roof, and she landed on the dirt below with an oomph and a roll. A quick glance told her no one was outside to have seen her fall, let alone heard her, and she tucked herself into the shadows cast by the tall building. While Tovias wasn’t a port town, it lay close enough to the Harren Sea that salt and brine pierced the air when the wind blew. The local fishmonger was bound to have something fresh enough to please the cat-like creature holding her brother hostage.

  Of course, at this hour, everything but Lady Essia’s was closed.

  Shendra crept through the shadowed streets until at the town’s edge, she located what she sought. No fishy smell caught her nose—only the slight smell of sea water that drifted from beneath the shack’s door. The exterior displays were empty of anything worth stealing, and the overhang covered whatever rested in the window sills. The door knob, a simple thing of bronze, was locked to the touch, and she glanced over her shoulder once before retrieving her lock pick rod from a small pouch at her waist.

  It’d been intended to pick the lock to Lady Essia’s room, but instead, she extended the thin, metal rod into the lock, notches facing up. She pushed it upward and listened. When the spring failed to compress, she pulled the rod out a smidge and repeated the procedure until the door unlocked. Shendra hesitated before entering, her ears alert for the sounds of someone moving. Silence was the only answer to the opening door, and she slid inside, careful to place her feet gently. The trickle of street light left little to see, though it glinted off a metal handle ten feet ahead.

  Rather than leave the fish out where they’d spoil, a fishmonger would often store day-old fish underground in cold water. Hands stretched out in front of her, she moved passed a few barrels toward the tiny shack’s rear and stopped when she spotted the metal glinting again in the light. The handle lay at her feet, and she gave it a good tug. The wooden door opened, exposing a small hole in the ground. Even with the summer heat, the ground kept the water cool enough that she winced when her fingers reached into the darkness. Something slick brushed past her fingers, then another as she grabbed hold of it.

  How many fish would a chathula want to eat? To be on the safe side, she fetched six from the stock below ground. Without twine to keep them together, she slid them tail-side-up along her lock pick rod with a frown. Seemed a waste of a good tool, but with no other choice, she set back in the direction of Lady Essia’s, her fish rod resting across her shoulder.

  One of the Lady’s women stood out front, and Shendra sidled along the building’s left side until she stood below her brother half-frozen in the window. She couldn’t climb with the rod outstretched, but even without it, there were no crates or trees with which to pull herself up to the roof. Not even a trellis leaned against the building—almost as if the Lady had thought of the dangers of an exposed, open window. “Pssst, kitty?” she whispered, then flinched as a large shadow crossed overhe
ad.

  In the dark, the chathula’s frame made a much more imposing figure as it leapt down from the rooftop, its canines visible as steel-like glints. Its nostrils flared as its head bobbed in her direction. “I smell fish,” it purred.

  She’d barely moved the rod before the creature was on it, purrs and snarls punctuated by ripping flesh. All six were devoured in a matter of a few breaths, and once done, the chathula used a paw the size of her head to clean its muzzle. A dozen or more heartbeats passed before Shendra cleared her throat. “Will ya please release my brother?”

  Its gaze shifted from relaxed to alert as it turned to face her. “What is your business with the Lady?”

  The lie stuck to her tongue, and when Shendra opened her mouth, the truth flowed too easily. “Lady Essia’s no lady. She deals with the buyin’ and sellin’ of girls. We’ve been sent here to ensure that stops. How did ya do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Force me to tell the truth.”

  The chathula shrugged. “It’s a side-effect of my magic. My travel companion came here to purchase women for his homeland across the giant sea. Why is this a concern of yours?”

  Shendra stiffened. “It’s wrong to sell people. People have the right to be free, as the Thirteen have declared. Surely a creature like you would understand.”

  Rank like death, its breath warmed her face as the creature moved closer. “What would I understand of the ways of humans? It is not my caring what they do with each other.”

  “And if someone were to steal yer cubs and sell ’em to someone? What then?”

  Its eyes shifted almost silver in the small light trickling from Lady Essia’s. One paw lifted, its sharp claws extended in Shendra’s direction, and she held her breath as one claw touched her jaw. No tattoo marked her flesh, not until she passed this test and became an Amaskan would she earn it, yet the chathula drew a circle below her ear. Blood trickled down her neck, but she remained still.