by Julie Abe
When I got to the foot of the ramp, the attendant paused. “A witch?” She had jet-black hair clipped at her shoulders in a sharp bob, and a bottle-green, fitted uniform with sharp trimmings that matched the honey-brown of her eyes. She looked maybe ten or so years older than me, but the way she spoke made her seem much older.
“Yes, Apprentice Evalithimus Evergreen, going to my new town for my Novice quest.” I tried to match her mature, assured air, but it didn’t quite seem to fit.
The attendant examined my golden ticket, glinting under the bright sun, and then neatly punched a hole into the corner. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Apprentice Evergreen.”
“Oh, everyone calls me Eva.”
She smiled as she handed back my ticket. “I’m Rin. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”
I tipped the edge of my hat. “Thank you.”
Inside, the boat was cool and dark, like diving into deep water. Dust motes danced in the faint light streaming through the dirty windows. The lower deck was packed with people settling into oak benches long enough to sit two or three people. I skirted around a businessman and his rustling newspapers, past a family arranging their rolling trunks under the benches, and to the first empty bench.
Sliding into the window seat, I put my knapsack on my lap for warmth as I shivered from a breeze. One of the side effects of magic was that my blood always ran cold. I had tried to fix it with everything from spells to heated bricks on winter nights. Despite all my attempts, I still felt the chill, even with the warm summer air.
“May I?” From the aisle, a portly man gestured his wrinkled hand at the bench.
I nodded. “You’re welcome to sit here, sir.”
He sighed in relief as he eased a rickety-looking crate to the ground. I jumped when something scratched at the slats.
“Hush now,” the old man said, patting the crate.
The horn blew twice. Peering through the dirty window, I spotted my father, placing his arm around my mother as she leaned into him. “Do good, Eva,” my parents called, even though they couldn’t see me through the grubby panes. “Safe travels!”
A strange pang tightened in my chest.
I traced the outline of their faces on the glass. Their upturned faces disappeared into the crowd as the boat rumbled down the river, pushed by the fast-moving currents and the steam engine puffing thick clouds into the wind. The boat was scheduled to stop at a handful of towns before the river poured into the Constancia Sea, and then the route led south along the coast, pausing at a dozen more towns along the way.
Outside, the familiar plains and hills shrank into the distance. The grime made the scenery sepia-toned, like an old photograph.
I checked my pocket. My golden boat ticket peeked out, the letters shimmering even in the faint light:
ONE BOAT TICKET TO A TOWN IN NEED
FOR YOUR NOVICE QUEST
Council tickets were different from magicless tickets. Because Rivelle Realm had so few witches and wizards, a clever witch had the idea of using a charm to disperse us equally around the realm. There were all sorts of magical tickets—boat tickets and train tickets and automobile tickets, and I’d even heard that one wizard had gotten a horse ticket.
When the ticket sensed a town where a wizard or witch like me might be needed, it would tell me to get off. The paper would flash from gold to red and crumble into dust when the boat got to my new town.
A few minutes later, the boat attendant’s voice rang through the deck. “Next stop, Tsudanuma!”
I let out a yelp of surprise, and the creatures in the crate happily yapped in response.
What if—what if it was already time for me to get off?
If Tsudanuma was my new home… I would be close to my parents, but it was one of the moderately big cities, almost as big as my hometown. I’d be overwhelmed with requests from the instant I stepped onto the docks. Grottel would probably pop by just to laugh at the piles of requests I’d left unfulfilled.
I screwed my eyes shut before I could see my ticket.
CHAPTER 5
A MAGICAL MEND
Taking a deep breath, I peeked down. The ticket shone bright gold, and I slumped back into the seat with relief. This wasn’t my new town.
After the ship made a few more quick stops—without a flicker from my ticket—my stomach started growling.
I unbuckled my knapsack and the smell of buttery croissants wafted out. For a second, I felt like I was back at home, waiting for Father to pull the baking sheet out of the oven. The thought of my parents heading home without me made my throat tighten. I looked over to offer some to my neighbor, but he was snoring with his chin tucked on his chest.
Balancing my small jar of redbud jam in my left hand, I scooped out a ruby-red dollop onto a croissant. It melted in my mouth with a burst of vanilla and citrus, as if I’d captured falling redbud blossoms on my tongue.
Mid-bite, a scratching sound came from my neighbor’s crate. Then a wood panel on the box cracked loudly. A wet snout poked out, sniffing the air.
I tugged my neighbor’s sleeve. “Sir, um, I think your dogs are escaping.”
The man shot up, rubbing his eyes. “These troublemakers,” he growled, as a puppy popped its head out of the hole.
“Ohh, I’ve never seen a dog like that,” I said in awe. The pup had reddish-gold fur and pointed ears that were bigger than its foxlike face, with a white starlike mark on its forehead. Small white patches of fur were dotted above each eye, like little eyebrows, and its lips curved up in a clever smile, as if it was saying, Are you proud of me? I figured out how to escape this box!
A larger puppy with black fur craned its head out to look at the old man, whining. “That’s ’cause they’re not your average puppies,” the man replied, shifting the small glasses perched on the edge of his nose. “These are flamefoxes. They’re part fox, part dog, part flamethrowing nightdragon, and most days, they’re the worst parts of each.”
He lifted the bigger pup out of the crate, and it licked his nose. I yelped as he patted its tail—flames flickered around his hand. I’d only read about flamefoxes in books; they were the four-legged, very distant, and far more mischievous cousins of phoenixes and nightdragons.
“Here!” I cried, grabbing my canteen. “I’ve got water!”
He laughed. “That’s the trademark of a flamefox, missy. Their tails give off light, and sticking your hand in their flames just feels warm. It’s when they start breathing fire that it’s an issue.”
“Wow,” I whispered.
The smaller pup whimpered for attention, and when I looked at it, it seemed to crinkle its eyes in a smile.
“He’s probably hungry again.” The old man shook his head. “That one’s a bottomless pit.”
“I have pastries,” I offered. “My father overpacked my bag.”
“He’ll never leave you alone now,” the man warned. “This red runt isn’t interested in anything other than eating, sleeping, and causing trouble. His tail isn’t even producing flames. I’ve never seen a flamefox without a fiery tail, to be honest.”
I knew how the red flamefox felt. I was a witch who wasn’t very magical.
“Where did they come from?” I asked.
“I picked them up in Okayama. Their old owners thought they’d be cute, but this pup gnawed on everything in their house—including the house itself—like it was all his own chew toy, until their owners threw ’em out.”
The wood panel cracked in half as the red-gold pup stuck his head out again, eyes sparkling as he pushed his star-marked forehead under the man’s hand for another rub. The old man grumbled. “Dragonsharks! The darn crate’s no use if they’re not inside.”
“Want me to fix it?” I asked. My magic itched to be let out, like little bubbles in me that wanted to pop. I could repair this—hopefully. Mother guessed that I had a slight affinity for repair magic, so when I fixed things, my powers flourished. Well, as much as my pinch of magic could flourish. Mother’s affinity was c
reation magic, so she would have created a new, unbreakable carrier out of thin air with a flick of her wand.
I couldn’t make things out of nothing. But even if my magic was messy, I did my best to make it work.
“Are you really a witch?” he asked, pursing his lips. “I’ve only met a handful of you folks. And, well, you look so young.”
“I’m on my Novice quest.” I drew myself up as tall as I could.
Suddenly, the red-gold pup wriggled out and jumped onto my knapsack, snuffling loudly.
“My croissants!” I yelped and dove for my pack. The man grabbed for the pup, raking his hand against the edges of the broken wood, crying out in pain.
The red-gold flamefox lifted one paw to jump into the aisle. I dove, snatched the flamefox—it felt like I was grabbing onto a fire-warmed brick—and shoved him and his friend back inside. I could’ve sworn the red flamefox rolled his eyes. Then I plopped my knapsack on top of the hole.
I turned to my neighbor and sucked in my breath. A wicked gash extended from his palm up to his elbow.
“May I cast a healing charm on you?” I offered hesitantly, pulling out my wand.
“Ooh, the witch is performing magic!” a boy called out. Heads popped up from all around the boat to watch, and my cheeks burned.
Ideas for enchantments flickered through my mind. Slow as you go might backfire and make the whole boat stop.… There had to be another spell I could use.
The old man winced looking down at his arm, but he shook his head. “Please, could you help with the crate first? They’ll escape again.”
My chest tightened as I quickly examined the crate. There was never a one-size-fits-all spell. Mother created clever charms, sometimes in rhymes, that made her magic more focused—though she didn’t really need it. She and Grottel were the only ones in the realm who could utter one- or two-word spells. I couldn’t use her incantations, though. When I tried her enchantment for making dust fly out of the house, the dust swirled around in the corners and clumped up. By crafting my own incantations, I created a spell that was all mine, and that connected to the magic in my blood far better than borrowing charms. This was why it was so important for me to venture out on my own to become a Novice Witch.
At my side, the old man was pale, wincing again as he pressed a handkerchief to his gash. I had to fix the crate, fast. Pulling my own handkerchief out of my knapsack, I laid it over the gap.
“Knit, whipstitch, mend.” I tapped my wand on the cloth. This charm patched up minor tears I’d gotten in my dresses after falling asleep a few too many times from overextending my magic—but I wasn’t sure it would work in this pinch.
Pale blue light flowed out of my wand, and the handkerchief stretched and knitted to the wood, and when I knocked on it, it was stiff. I sighed in relief.
“Ah, thank you, missy,” the man croaked. His forehead gleamed, and sweat beaded on his bulbous nose.
“Er, are you sure you’re okay?”
“Strange, eh?” he said faintly. “I run a wild-beast shelter, yet I get woozy from a speck of blood.…” He held his arm out and turned his face away.
The cut looked surprisingly deep, and splinters were embedded in his skin. He grimaced and tried to make light of it. “When you get old like me, a simple cut isn’t so simple anymore.”
I tried to smile, yet I couldn’t. The next stop was still half an hour away—what if I couldn’t heal him?
I’d fail my quest before I even got off the boat.
“You can do it!” the boy called, his eyes shining. Around the boat, passengers bobbed their heads in agreement.
All I had in mind was a spell I had used on paper cuts, not wounds the full length of my arm. Still, I couldn’t think of anything else. I chanted, “Heal a slice that isn’t so nice.”
I chanted the charm again and again, and a surprising amount of magic poured from me until the splinters had eased out and only a faint pink scar remained.
“You did it!” The riders on the boat cheered for me and I blushed. Thankfully, most of them, deciding the show was over, sat down or went back to their newspapers.
“Ah, thank you.” The old man clutched his arm, splotches of color returning to his cheeks. “You don’t mind if I rest a bit, do you?” Without waiting for my answer, he closed his eyes with a wheeze of relief.
Moments later, as he let out a gentle snore, the flamefoxes started whining. Fearing they would wake up the old man, I fed them bits of flaky crust through the cracks, saving one last croissant for later. Their soft tongues tickled as they lapped up every speck.
The attendant stopped by. “Nice work, Eva,” Rin said.
“Oh.” I smiled at her. “I just did what any witch or wizard would’ve done.”
Rin tugged at her cap as she headed down the aisle.
I released a deep breath. Before boarding, I had been wound up and excited, but using magic had sapped my energy. I curled up against the window and yawned.
A ticklish feeling in the back of my mind reminded me of the ticket in my pocket. But the drain on my magic tugged at me, and the boat rocked me gently into a peaceful rest.
CHAPTER 6
THE TOWN OF LIGHTS
I was having a lovely dream. I had set up my own magical repair shop, and customers kept pounding at the door, flooding me with requests. Please help me fix this, Elite Witch! cried my guardian. Even my mother knocked, calling out, Eva, we need a repair that’ll save us from the Culling! I flung open the door and—
“Eva? Eva?” A salty breeze tickled my nose, and I rubbed my eyes. Rin, the boat attendant, leaned over the seat, her luminous honey-brown eyes twinkling. The old man with the flamefoxes was already gone. “Time to wake up, little witch.”
The knots in my neck protested as I sat up. The boat bobbed up and down instead of jetting through the waves. “W-why’ve we stopped? Did we make it to the sea?”
Rin glanced around. “What do you mean—oh!” She tilted her head back and laughed. “We’re at Auteri!”
“Auteri?” I echoed. “The home of the Festival of Lights?” The curtains were drawn on the windows, so I couldn’t see outside.
She beckoned me toward the door. “Come outside, you’ll see.”
It was too quiet. A creeping sense of dread crawled down my spine. “Doesn’t this boat keep going?”
“You mean you’re not supposed to be here? Auteri is the last stop of the route. The next boat won’t head back toward Okayama until morning.”
Her words rang in my ears. Last. Stop. I shot to my feet. The cabin was empty except for me and Rin and a handful of crumpled sandwich wrappers in the aisle, tumbling in the gentle wind.
My heart plummeted as sweat beaded on my forehead. Where was I supposed to have gotten off? Was I at the wrong stop?
“Maybe my ticket will show—” I dug into my pockets.
They were empty, except for a fistful of dust. A breeze blew and the remains of my ticket fluttered away in the cool air.
“Well, then.” Rin stared at my trembling hands and then cleared her throat. “I guess that means you’re meant to stay here, right?”
I curled my fists in the folds of my skirt. It felt as if I was drowning in the black depths of the sea. I gasped for air, but I couldn’t breathe, as if water flooded my lungs.
How was I supposed to figure out where I had to get off? My ticket had blown away in pieces, and I couldn’t scry like a fortune-telling witch.
“Come along, everyone in Auteri will be excited to meet you!” Rin waved at me to follow her. My knapsack tugged down on my shoulders, feeling heavier than it had in the morning, though I’d finished off nearly all the croissants and a jar of jam.
I gripped my hands around the straps of my knapsack. All I had to do was find a town that didn’t have a witch or wizard. The ticket was just a guide to help me find a town. As long as I fulfilled the requirements of the quest, I could stay as the town witch.
There was only one moon’s time left, and I needed each and ev
ery day to win over the town leader.
I had to stay here.
A few people walked through the cabin—a group of cleaners pushing their rattling carts along the aisles and stray passengers yawning and heading out to the deck to disembark. Most of them were tourists with wide floppy hats and big rolling trunks. Unlike me, all of them looked like they expected to be here.
“Eva?” Rin called, from outside the door.
I stood as straight and as tall as I could, the way Mother would. It felt like I was barely treading water, but at least I wasn’t sinking into the sea. Breathing deep, I whispered, “I’m a witch, just like Mother. And I’m going to keep my magic, too.”
With that, I followed after Rin.
The moment I stepped outside, a blast of salty air hit my face. Above, pricks of stars glinted in the vast red-purple evening sky. But bigger than the sky was the rippling water.
Back at home, we had a stream that trickled next to the garden, and we always traveled down to Okayama by riverboat. The other shore had been a stone’s throw away. I’d never seen anything like this.
I gasped. “Is this—”
“The one and only Constancia Sea.” Rin grinned at my astonishment. I ran to the railing and leaned over.
Taking a deep breath, I gazed out at the splendors. Water stretched out and out, until it mixed with the sky at the faraway horizon. I turned around and gaped at the strange new world in front of me. On the other side of the ship, rocky cliffs reached toward the sky, looming over us. Beyond some of the moored boats, there was a gap in the cliffs, about the length of five sailing ships, as if the rocks were two hands reaching for each other yet forever apart.
Through the opening, a town was nestled in a bay. Skiffs zipped to and fro, ferrying cargo and passengers to land. Inside the bay, it looked like a witch had cleared out a circle within the cliffs and filled it half with water and half with land.
“Why don’t we dock by the town?” I asked.
Rin shook her head. “The ships can’t make it into the rocky shallows, so we have to switch to a smaller boat.” She handed me a pair of binoculars from her pocket. “Go on, take a look at Auteri.”