by Julie Abe
I finally got a good look at her. White paint was smeared onto Charlotte’s hair, as if she’d aged seventy years. Dots of gold speckled her right cheek like freckles. To top it all off, she had a splotch of red on her nose. I giggled. “You, um, might need to clean up a bit.”
“What?” She hurried over to the orphanage and did a double take when she saw the reflection of her paint-splattered face in the window. I found a handkerchief and tossed it over to her. She caught it with her left hand and began rubbing at her face furiously.
I pointed and called, “Ooh, you missed a spot on your forehead.”
Charlotte glared. “Stop looking at me. Look at your sign instead.”
I smiled to myself. Only she would do something nice and pretend to be prickly after. I circled around the counter and sucked in my breath with awe. Charlotte’s artwork was beautiful.
Eva, Semi-Magical Repair Witch twinkled in gold cursive letters against the wood. The words had a faint white outline that made the sign shimmer. On the planks, it looked like the sun rising on the morning sea.
Below my name, she had painted in red: Sometimes all you need is a pinch of magic.
When I propped it up on the counter, my storefront sparkled. I breathed out, “Rin said you were good, but this is amazing. Thank you.”
“Sure.” She shrugged nonchalantly, yet her eyes shone brightly. “And you’ll help me with the flyers, right?”
“Charlotte!” the old woman screeched out the window. “I need you to clean up now!”
“On my way!” Charlotte called. “Eva, go to the stores around the docks and the town square, okay? I know where the smaller shops off the main street are, so I’ll take care of those. Sign up each shopkeeper for their stall, and write down what they’re going to sell. And if you see any out-of-towners—you know, the people who don’t quite look like they belong?—give flyers to them, too.”
I wondered if I looked like an out-of-towner to her. “Got it!” I gathered up the flyers, smoothing out the curling corners. My heart beat faster. I’d been to a few festivals back in Miyada. But Auteri was famous for its Festival of Lights.
COME ONE, COME ALL
TO AUTERI’S REALM-FAMOUS, ONE-AND-ONLY
FESTIVAL OF LIGHTS!
“Oh, Eva?” Charlotte said, pausing.
I looked up. “Yes?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Um, thanks.” She spoke so quickly it felt like a breeze on a humid summer day, gone in a flash.
Charlotte disappeared into the orphanage before I could respond.
Something welled up in my chest. Charlotte trusted me to help her. I would do all I could to not let her down. Starting with delivering the flyers to all the shops.
I tapped my wand to the stack of flyers and funneled that strange, ticklish feeling in my chest into my words. “Deliver to shops with speed. Up, down, around town, for a friend in need.”
The flyers rustled. Slowly, the papers lifted in the air, swirling around me. My hair tickled my neck. I’d never really done a spell like this before.
I snapped my wand toward the town. With a crack, sharp as thunder, the flyers shot across Auteri. The seagulls screeched and swooped away, protesting the strange papers soaring through the sky.
I waited for the flyers to plummet straight into the waters, or fly out to Okayama.
But—I sucked in a breath—the flyers swirled around town, shooting down here and there, as if they were on a mission. As if… as if the spell had worked.
I leaned out to look at Seafoam Sweets. A flyer was stuck on the window, proudly advertising the Festival of Lights.
I sat back on my crate, stunned. I’d done it. Bit by bit, my magic was growing stronger. I was nowhere close to Mother or even Conroy, but in these past few days, I’d taken one step closer to my dreams. Ember jumped onto my lap, filling my heart up with a peculiar warmth. As I blinked, my insides sloshed like the waves.
“Darn water,” I muttered. “The spray is making my eyes all damp.”
Ember poked me straight on the nose, as if he saw through all my excuses, and curled up tighter on my legs.
Now I had to sign up the shopkeepers for their stalls—and figure out some way to protect Auteri from the Culling. Maybe I could even do both at once, and ask the townspeople for their ideas. After all, they’d know best how to help the town. I gripped my wand and took a deep breath, as magic tingled up my spine.
CHAPTER 16
CORN AND CLOUDBERRIES
The morning fog swirled around me and Ember with every step. I adjusted the straps of my knapsack, full of extra flyers and the festival scroll. Seafoam Sweets hadn’t opened yet, and sailors huddled in groups, taking swigs of steaming tea to wake up or slowly loading boats. Once we passed the beach and stepped onto the wood dock, Ember circled around me, crying softly.
“What is it?” I asked. The outline of a man appeared in the mists, standing still as a statue. It was the strange man from before, staring at something in the waters. A parchment flower was sinking, its petals sagging under the weight of the water. The man’s sunken eyes followed the blossom as the currents gently pulled it away toward the open sea, until a wave swallowed the paper under. Then the man’s gaze set on some point beyond the cliffs I couldn’t quite discern.
I shivered and turned, checking over my storefront. Ember jumped onto a crate and poked his nose at the glass jars, probably looking for something to chew.
“Don’t you dare even think about it.” I plucked him away from the jars. “I didn’t leave you in the cottage because I knew you’d make a mess, and don’t you start here.”
He let out a huff and tucked up into a cozy ball.
I sat close to Ember, stealing what warmth I could. I propped up the sign so that Charlotte’s painted letters glimmered in the fog: Eva, Semi-Magical Repair Witch. Grinning, I threw back my shoulders and straightened up.
And just as quickly, I slumped.
To the right, from where the beach met the wood platform of the docks, a man and a woman walked toward me. I could recognize that stiff, regal walk anywhere.
It was Mayor Taira and her secretary, Kyo, deep in conversation. And they were heading straight toward me.
“I’m… I’m not ready to face her.” I grabbed Ember and ducked under my crates, huddling below the counter. I hoped she hadn’t noticed me yet. My flamefox squeaked in protest, but I shook my head furiously at him.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I growled under my breath. “I’m not hiding.”
I peeked around the edge of the counter and exhaled. Ember stared. “Okay, I might be hiding.”
There was a very good reason to avoid the mayor. If she asked me, “What good have you done for my town?” it would be very difficult to come up with an answer. I bet if that happened, Kyo would march me to the next boat out. The mayor’s steps drew closer and I didn’t dare breathe. Had she seen me?
Then the orphanage steps creaked as she and Kyo climbed up. I sucked in my breath. If she turned around, she’d catch sight of me. She rapped twice at the door and it swung open quickly.
“Welcome, Mayor Taira,” Charlotte chirped. She had never sounded that happy to see me. “We’re putting on a kettle for your tea.”
“Good morning, Charlotte,” Mayor Taira responded, her voice smooth and velvety. “Don’t worry about the tea, I won’t be staying too long. I have a few more inspections along the waterfront.”
“Didja bring us toys, ma’am?” a boy’s voice asked eagerly. “I cleaned up the main room, like you told me to.”
“Hikaru!” snapped Charlotte.
“What?” he said. “All the other kids in town get nice toys for their birthday. We get blankets.”
An older woman said nervously, “My apologies, Mayor Taira. Hikaru is just…”
The orphanage kids wanted toys. Maybe I could do something for them. I tucked away that idea for later. I strained to hear her reply.
The door groaned as it opened a crack, and my heart pounded in my che
st. “Glad to see everything is going well,” Mayor Taira said. “Well, shall we go to the town square, Hikaru? I can buy you a corn cake, as long as you help me bring some back for the rest of the orphanage. I’m sorry I didn’t bring any toys this time.”
My stomach grumbled at the thought of food. I missed my father’s croissants.
“I’m ready!” Hikaru piped up. The door flew open.
“Curses!” I breathed out.
If I stayed here, Mayor Taira would definitely see me as she walked down the stairs to leave. I scrambled to my feet, placing Ember on the ground.
“Let’s go!” I hissed to my flamefox, who was chasing his bushy tail around.
I snuck around the corner. Ember stood in front of the shop with his head cocked at the man at the edge of the docks, who still stared out at the sea.
“Come on,” I begged, waving him over. Finally, he trotted over just as the door swung open. I hissed, “Now, run!”
Ember and I darted down the path, zigzagging through the cobblestone side streets. Finally, fifteen or twenty dizzying turns later, when I was absolutely lost, I stopped, rubbing at the stitch in my side, and looked around.
We were in the middle of the main square, with the town hall looming over us. Around us, three-story-high buildings had balconies at each window, and people hung up lines of colorful shirts to dry in the summer sun. On the ground floor, shops were starting to open up. As I passed by, each store beckoned like a doorway into a new world.
Ember pointed his muzzle down a path where a briny smell wafted from the docks, mingling with the soap-scented laundry. He wanted to go back and sunbathe.
“Not until she’s absolutely gone.” I planted my feet on the ground.
But while I was in the town square, perhaps I could get started on signing up shopkeepers for the festival. So that if I did meet the mayor, I would have something to show for my time here.
“Come on, let’s go to the first store,” I said, pointing at the grocer’s. The man in front was already sweating from the morning rush, his gold tunic damp, and he apologetically tugged his cap tight on his dark curls, asking me to come back later.
I moved on to a store that didn’t seem too busy yet. The wood sign on top only said CORN. A specialty store, perhaps? The store next door had a sign with CLOUDBERRIES painted in the same red and orange swirling letters. Maybe these were both specialty shops.
I stepped through the doorway, and my mouth dropped open in surprise.
I was in a cornfield. In a store. In the middle of town.
Or, at least, that’s what it looked like. Slippery corn silks and husks sheeted the dirt floor. All around me, everything was corn-infused. Shelves were crammed with anything corn-like imaginable. There were even cornstalks growing in the corners of the shop. I ran my hand over a corn-shaped pillow and silk socks woven into the pattern of corn, with each kernel embroidered in gold thread.
Up by the register, steaming golden corn cakes rested on a rack, filling the shop with an irresistibly buttery smell. Ember growled with appreciation.
“What do we have here?” A short, thin woman with thick black hair rounded the register. She had a squeaky voice that reminded me of a field mouse, if mice could speak. The apron over her gold tunic was embroidered with corn cobs.
I pulled the festival scroll out of my knapsack. “Would you like to sign up for your stand?”
She snatched the paper out of my hand and mumbled to herself as she read it. “I haven’t decided what I want to sell at the festival.…”
“If you’re not sure, I can come back,” I offered, and she nodded. But before I turned to leave, I paused. “Oh, and if you don’t mind, I was wondering… The mayor asked for help preparing for the Culling. Is there anything that particularly needs protection?”
“Protection? I hope that Council doesn’t think the Culling will hit here.” The woman frowned, her thin nose twitching like a mouse. “The last Culling hit Kelpern, and that blizzard caused a lot of water damage even to us. I guess something to waterproof the buildings with that magic those witches and wizards have got.” She squinted at me, as if finally noticing my pointed hat. “Are you a witch?”
I heard Mayor Taira’s rich, honeyed voice right outside and froze. I glanced at the decadent corn cakes on the counter, and all the blood leached from my face. She and Hikaru, the boy, wanted corn cakes. Of course she’d get them from the one store that specialized in corn.
“Curses!” I groaned. I spied a tall, thin door in the wall, probably leading to the shop next door, and I ran over to tug at the knob. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”
“Don’t you dare open that,” the shopkeeper said with sudden force.
I stumbled backward, knocking over a stack of corn-scented candles, complete with engraved corn husks. “Okay, okay! But please don’t say anything! Pretend I was never here!” I said frantically, piling the candles back onto the shelf.
Mayor Taira stepped inside the shop, and I dove into a patch of stalks, yanking Ember after me.
“What are you—Oh! Mayor Taira!”
“Hello, Trixie,” Mayor Taira said, with Hikaru trailing in her wake, running his hand along the shelves. “How’s Trina doing?”
“It’s such a pleasure to see you!” The shopkeeper fawned over her. “I assume Trina is her normal cranky, miserable self.” She directed those last few words toward the door between the shops, which, I realized, had been nailed shut all along the edges. Someone thumped on the door.
The mayor sighed. “I wish the two of you would get along like you used to.”
Ember crawled into my lap, his pink tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, content for a flamefox that had just run circles around town. He started panting, but I quickly shushed him.
“It would’ve been nice to have a broom so that I could escape,” I whispered pointedly, as he wriggled happily. “Now be quiet!”
Hikaru turned and stepped closer.
I didn’t dare breathe, but Ember peered back, rustling the stalks.
Hikaru’s eyes widened. “It’s the witch!”
“What was that?” Mayor Taira called. “You want a corn cake, don’t you?”
Please, please, please, I begged Hikaru silently, putting a finger to my lips. He scrunched his nose up, staring at me.
Mayor Taira cleared her throat. “Hikaru?”
His eyes glittered. “Mayor Taira, guess what?”
My stomach plummeted.
“Yes, Hikaru?” she asked, far more patiently than I would have ever expected.
“I…”
I dropped my head and prepared to crawl out.
“I want a thousand corn cakes!”
I nearly fell out of the stalks with relief.
Some very long minutes later, Mayor Taira and Hikaru headed out, the boy sending me one last wink, with huge bags of corn cakes teetering in their arms.
“I’m gonna eat twenty,” Hikaru promised her, his voice fading as they walked into the morning crowds. “All in one bite.”
The cornstalks shifted and Trixie poked her head in. “So, do you mind explaining why you decided to hop into my display, witch?”
My cheeks burned as I crawled out and plucked corn silk off my skirt. “I, um, I’m not one of Mayor Taira’s favorites right now. She doesn’t exactly enjoy seeing me.”
“Who are you?” Trixie frowned.
“Apprentice Eva Evergreen, here to serve Auteri.”
“Well, well, the seaweed girl! So that’s why you were asking about the Culling, huh?” Trixie crossed her arms, squinting. “Aren’t you a little young?”
“I’m on my Novice quest!” I straightened up. After all, her frizzy hair barely reached the top of my witch’s hat.
Trixie cackled. “Aren’t you a precious one!”
Then someone pounded on that door I’d tried to open earlier.
“I’ll be as loud as I want!” Trixie shouted at the door. To me, she asked loudly, “Got any spells to shut up that pest?”
<
br /> Angry footsteps pounded, shaking the ground. Then a silhouette loomed in the front door.
“You there.” The newcomer drew her eyebrows into a fierce frown at me. “Tell that human-sized gnat to be quiet.”
Trixie huffed. “Witch, tell that human-sized horsefly to get out of my shop.”
“Are you twins?” I looked between the two of them, at their same thick black hair and exact same height. They even had matching gold-colored tunics with pockets on the sides, but Trina had cloudberries embroidered on her apron.
They had to be twins.
“Absolutely, definitely not,” Trixie said automatically.
“There’s no way I’d be related to someone obsessed with corn all the time,” Trina scoffed.
“How could I be twins with that pest who’s infatuated with cloudberries? It’s not like those stupid globs are anything special. Bluebells and honeyberries and saffronberries are all far, far better than cloudberries.”
The twins started speaking over each other, extolling the virtues of corn or cloudberries.
An old woman leaned on her cane in the entrance. “Trixie, do you have fresh corn—” She took one look at the arguing twins and hurried away as fast as her wizened legs could take her.
“Wait!” Trixie called, but the old woman had scuttled deep into the crowd. She narrowed her eyes. “I’ve lost a customer all because of this berrylike blob. Isn’t there a spell that’ll make her behave?”
I froze. “Do you want me to enchant the two of you?”
“Whatever it would take to stop this chaos,” Trixie snapped, moving her hand somewhere in the vicinity between her and Trina. “I am tired of my corn being disregarded.”
Trina blew her lips out. “Pfft. Go ahead, cast magic on us. Even a spell can’t make me like these boring stalks. My cloudberry concoctions are realm-famous, and corn will never compare.”
My eyes widened. If I helped the twins with their relationship, Mayor Taira would love that, wouldn’t she? I mean, even the mayor said she wanted them to reconcile. And after I figured out some fix to prepare Auteri for the Culling, she’d definitely have to agree that I was helping out the whole town.