Beggar Magic

by Burke, H. L.

  Leilani frowned at her friend. Zebedy was the inquisitive one, the one with a thousand questions about everything. Leilani couldn’t comprehend how she could let a mystery go so easily.

  Zeb stuck her pen back into her hair. “I should go to bed. I told Fellow Brash about my research, about people hearing the Strains differently. He wants me to interview junior fellows from all the manors and see if different specialties attract listeners of different sorts. It's a privilege for me to pick my own project for my second day.”

  “I’m tired, anyway.” Leilani stepped behind the paper privacy screen she had brought from home. With Keris married and Leilani gone, her parents hadn’t needed it any more. She slipped out of her uniform and into a white cotton nightshirt and loose bloomers. When she emerged, Zeb had changed into a long nightgown and corralled her flyaway hair into a tight braid. She handed Leilani back her journal.

  “Maybe after I’ve been here a little longer, Fellow Brash will trust me enough to lend me the strain-o-graph. If I can find the dead spot and measure, maybe the Strains were just really quiet, not gone.”

  “That sounds like a plan.”

  At least it's something.

  Zebedy slipped into her bed and lowered the wick on the lamp until it glowed a soft red. Leilani tucked herself in and turned towards the wall, preferring the darkness. The Strains had a new sound tonight, like water flowing over tinkling crystal. Even though she was Common, Leilani couldn’t imagine a world without them. She wished Zeb understood that.

  Chapter Ten

  The next morning Leilani followed Zeb from manor to manor and listened to young Highmost describe the Strains. The answers were markedly different. While all Highmost seemed to hear the verbal component that Leilani never had, many put more stock in the musical qualities. Some claimed the Strains were represented by a single instrument. A few said it wasn’t music at all but more natural noise, like wind through the leaves or rainfall.

  One wild eyed youth at the Art Manor reported that the Strains never stopped laughing, and he didn’t particularly like it.

  Leilani was glad to be out of the Research Manor for a bit. The guard from the night before had been on duty, and when she spied him in the hallway, her heart stopped and her face turned red. He had smiled and winked at her. She wondered why. Was he not going to tell anyone? Reporting–or arresting–someone for breaking and entering seemed like what a guard should do. Why smile when he probably thought her a criminal? The Strains' mood didn't match her own, which was also disturbing. When she saw him, they gave out a happy, playful sound, almost like a child laughing. Even hours later, they sounded like merry frogs croaking in spring time. Leilani wished they'd choose something more calming, but they always had minds of their own.

  “Civics next.” Zeb’s face pinched, her nose wrinkling like a sneezing cat’s.

  “They can’t all be like Vicky,” Leilani said.

  “One thing you learn growing up in the manors: different specialties attract specific personality types until we’re all living like flowers in a garden: the pink blooms in one bed, the blues in another. Civics attracts number crunchers, linear thinkers, little Vickys. I bet they hear the Strains in minor keys.”

  Leilani glanced down at her notes as they walked towards Civics. “I don’t know. Art seemed fairly diversified in the way its fellows hear the Strains.”

  “That’s Art. They get all the odd ones.”

  Past the grand entrance to the Civics Manor lay a wide, open foyer, shadowed by marble pillars. A small group of junior fellows waited inside, standing in a straight line. Zeb rolled her eyes.

  A bearded man strode to meet them. “You must be Zebedy Brightly. Fellow Brash told me you’d be coming. I asked among the junior fellows for volunteers. Hopefully, eight will be a large enough sample.”

  “Thank you. This is very organized. It won’t take long.”

  The man departed.

  Zeb pointed to a long, marble bench against the wall. “Please sit down, and I’ll interview you one at a time. I want to be sure you aren’t subconsciously influencing each other’s responses, so please, do not discuss your answers amongst yourselves. Why don’t we start with the young lady on the right.”

  The other junior fellows filed over to the bench, and Leilani and Zeb took the girl across the room, to an alcove office with an empty desk. Leilani opened her notebook to a fresh page and reached into her bag for her markstone stick.

  “Can you list your name and age for me?” Zeb asked.

  “Pasha Flats, sixteen,” the round faced young woman said. Leilani scribbled this down.

  “Thank you, Miss Flats.” Zeb drew herself up taller. “All we need is for you to describe the way the Strains sound to you.”

  “Oh, I’ve never thought about that.” Pasha bit her bottom lip. “Usually they are voices, but different than other voices, as if they are talking underwater. When they aren’t ‘speaking’ they kind of just bubble, like now. Now they are bubbling.”

  Leilani stopped to listen. To her the Strains sounded more like twanging fiddle strings. She then smiled at Zeb. “Not minor chords, then?” she teased.

  “What? Oh, no, they are never like that.” Pasha furrowed her brow.

  A shadow fell across them. Leilani glanced over her shoulder and found a tall, gangly young man with short dark hair and sharp brown eyes. He raised his heavy eyebrows. His wide mouth curled into a mocking grin. Zeb turned, her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. Leilani caught his gaze. He had gorgeous eyes, the kind that made her want to keep looking.

  “Hi there, Whistles,” he said in a deep voice that would’ve been more appropriate for a man ten years older.

  Zeb stiffened and her expression became unnaturally bland, as if she were trying very hard not to react to something. “Vicky, it’s been awhile.”

  Leilani averted her stare. The last year certainly had caused some marked improvements.

  “I heard you were doing a study of some sort and thought I might volunteer.”

  “You aren’t a junior fellow,” Zeb said.

  “I didn’t realize that was a requirement.”

  Zeb looked at Leilani who shrugged. Zeb tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear then crossed her arms. “I suppose data is data. Thank you for your time, Miss Flats.”

  Pasha bowed her head to Vickers. “Good afternoon, Fellow Buffet.”

  “Hello, Miss Flats. I will see you at the meeting this afternoon.”

  Pasha hurried away.

  “Meeting?” Leilani asked.

  “She’s on my project team. Civics Manor has me mapping out portions of the manor tunnels. We’re considering renovating them to be navigable again.”

  Zeb gaped. “You’re only in your second year. How do you have a project team already?”

  “I’m a promising, hard working member of Civics Manor, that’s how.”

  “You mean your father put in a good word for you.” Zeb sniffed.

  Vickers frowned. “My father hasn’t given my career a second thought since I chose Civics over Healing. Now, this study, what is it about?”

  “The Strains.” Zeb uncrossed her arms. “How people hear them differently.”

  He scratched his head. “Not particularly practical. What is the real life application?”

  “Knowledge is an end to itself. Do you want to help or not?” She tapped her foot.

  “It was just a question. No need to get defensive.” He glanced at Leilani. “I remember you. You’re the one who found her in the woods that time she wandered off. An aide now?”

  Leilani nodded. Her initial reaction to him had quieted. She still found him to be attractive, but his expression was so serious. She couldn’t help comparing him to the guard with his sparkling, mischievous eyes. Zeb drew nearer her friend, so close their arms touched, a sullen stare upon Vickers.

  “So this study?” He reached into his pocket and took out a pair of wire framed spectacles. He positioned them on his nose, furthering his studiou
s look. Zeb’s body shook dramatically enough that Leilani felt it and reached out to steady her.

  “All right, state your name and age,” Leilani said, hoping to distract from Zebedy’s sudden discomfiture.

  “You know my name and age.”

  Zeb narrowed her eyes at him.

  He grimaced. “Vickers Buffet, eighteen.”

  “That is Buffet as in to hit someone repeatedly with a blunt object? Correct?” A smile played about Zeb’s mouth.

  Vickers smirked at her. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “Not really. Did you get that, Leilani?”

  Leilani quickly scratched out the information. “Vickers Buffet, eighteen, likes to hit things repeatedly with blunt objects. Check.”

  Zeb snickered before continuing her questions. “So describe how the Strains sound to you.”

  Vickers rubbed the back of his neck. “They talk, not a lot, but on occasion when I need them to.”

  “One voice or many?”

  “Just the one, deep voice, gravelly, like an old man. Having multiple voices talking around my head would be maddening. Is that what they sound like to you?”

  “This isn’t about me.” Zeb shook her head even though she had once told Leilani she had identified upwards of twelve different voices in the Strains. “Any other sounds? Music?”

  “When they don’t have anything to say, they just drone, a low buzzing, a bit like music, I guess, but very subtle and in a minor key.”

  Zeb shot a glance at Leilani who swallowed a grin.

  Leilani wrote down the response and looked up. “Is that what they sound like right now?”

  “For the most part. They’re always a little livelier when she is around. I remember that from our debates.” He eyed Zeb, who looked at her feet. He stepped closer to her. “It has been a long time since our initial squabble. I’ve been meaning to extend an olive branch.”

  “I don’t carry grudges,” Zeb said.

  Liar, Leilani thought. “That’s all we need for the study,” she said, hoping to end the interaction before it became awkward.

  Vickers shifted his gaze from Zebedy. “I suppose I should let you get back to work then. Maybe we’ll run into each other again soon, but if you need anything, you know where to find me.” As he spoke his eyes wandered back to Zeb. Leilani decided the glasses made him look old. The Strains twittered as he walked away.

  Zeb huffed. “The nerve of him. Waltzing in here as if we were old friends.”

  “Don’t tell me he’s still your nemesis.” Leilani scoffed.

  “Perhaps that was a little dramatic of me, but I was young.” Zeb tugged on her braid. “Anyway, we were never friends.” Still her eyes remained on him until he disappeared down the hallway.

  “He is kind of good looking, if he keeps the glasses off,” Leilani said.

  “No, the glasses are good. They make him look scholarly. I like the glasses.” Zeb’s brow furrowed. “Why are we talking about Vicky like this? A man like him probably picks his girlfriends through mathematical equation. We need to focus.”

  Leilani called the next junior fellow over and the study continued.

  Chapter Eleven

  When they got back to Research Manor, the sun hovered just behind the city walls.

  “Dinner will be soon,” Leilani said. “Maybe we should turn in our findings tomorrow.”

  Zeb shook her head. “Fellow Brash keeps late hours. I’m sure he’s still in the workshop. We can at least show him what we collected.”

  They walked up the path towards the workshop. The muffled sounds of raised voices echoed through the door. Leilani stopped. “That sounds like a fight. Maybe we should come back later.”

  Zeb found toeholds in the brick wall and pulled herself up to peek through a low window. She gasped. “That’s Highmost Cogg. Why is he fighting with Fellow Brash?” She leaped down, her face tightening.

  “Highmost Cogg?”

  “I really need to give you a lecture on manor hierarchy. He is the senior-most fellow and head of Research. Like your guildmasters, I suppose.”

  “So Brash’s boss?” Leilani climbed up to glance inside, ignoring her better instinct to mind her own business. A small, balding man in a brass buttoned long coat had stationed himself right beneath Brash’s chin. He glared up through round-lensed glasses. His mouth flapped open and closed.

  Leilani eyed the window latch on the other side of the glass. Not Strain-proof. Even beggar magic such as hers would be sufficient here. She coaxed the Strains. The latch jiggled open, and the window raised just a slit.

  “You’re useless!” Cogg’s shrill voice darted through the window. Leilani dropped down and crouched beside Zeb. “All your projects are fluff. You need to focus on what I give you, or what reason do I have to keep you around? Are the amplifiers ready yet?”

  “No but–”

  “Of course they aren’t!” Cogg sounded like a whistling kettle, full of hot air to the bursting point. “Because if they were, I’d have them at my fingertips. What was our deal, Brash?”

  “That I would focus on the amplifiers, but sir, people want to see progress. If I don’t work on public projects, they’ll question–”

  “You don’t need to concern yourself with the public eye. You are invisible, remember?”

  Leilani winced. She didn't even like Brash, and Cogg's words seemed unnecessarily harsh to her. In Common circles, such insults could lead to blows. She glanced at Zeb.

  The young Highmost’s face shone red, and her fingers clenched. “He shouldn’t talk to him like that . . .”

  “Next time I’m here, the amplifiers had better be ready. If not, everyone will know how worthless you are. Even if I have to tell them each individually, they’ll know.” Beside them the door knob twisted.

  “Oh, blast! He’s coming out.” Leilani looked around. A door stop lay beside the path. She darted over and stuck it under the door jamb, wedging it shut.

  “By the Manors! What is wrong with this door?”

  The girls scampered away and watched from around the corner as Cogg dislodged the obstruction with the Strains, and stomped down the path to the Observatory.

  Cold relief swept over Leilani. “Thank the Strains, that's over. Let’s get inside,” she said.

  “Yes, follow me!” Zeb dashed into the workshop.

  Leilani’s mouth dropped open. “I meant the Observatory.” She groaned and hurried after her friend.

  Zeb ran up to Brash and placed her hand on his shoulder. The fellow’s eyes widened.

  “Miss Brightly? What are you doing here so late?”

  Leilani held forth her notes.

  “Oh, your research project.” Brash rubbed his forehead. “I will look over it tomorrow. Just leave it on my desk.”

  Zeb drew her hand back but kept peering at her mentor with big, sympathetic eyes. “Are you sure you're all right?”

  Brash cleared his throat and looked away. “You heard my dressing down, didn’t you?” He gave a half-hearted laugh.

  “He shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.” Zeb shook her head ‘til her braid swung like a pendulum. “You are a valued member of the manor.”

  “Thank you for thinking so, but unfortunately, manor politics don’t always work in my favor. Highmost Cogg measures a fellow’s worth on completion of assigned projects, and mine are desperately behind schedule.”

  “Perhaps I can help.”

  “Unfortunately, this isn’t something I can pass off to a junior fellow, even one as exceptional as you, Miss Brightly.”

  Zeb’s mouth curled into a slight smile then formed a straight line.

  Leilani stepped closer. “What are amplifiers?”

  Brash’s face reddened, and his mouth hardened. “I am sorry, but I cannot speak about this.” He snatched the notepad from Leilani’s hands. “You should both leave. Now.”

  Zeb’s face fell. “But–”

  “Good night, Miss Brightly.” Brash turned away.

  Zeb’s
shoulders slumped. Leilani scowled at Brash’s back then reached for Zeb’s arm. Zeb shook her off and stalked out of the workshop.

  Leilani’s breath felt hot. “You know, just because your boss was ill-tempered with you, doesn’t mean you should pass it on to Zebedy.”

  Brash faced her, eyes wide. He didn’t speak, so Leilani continued.

  “She thinks the world of you, no matter what that bully Cogg thinks, and we were just trying to help. Snapping at Zeb makes you as bad as Cogg.”

  Brash stroked his beard. “You are outspoken for an aide. Be careful. Not all Highmost are as tolerant as myself. Some expect the Common to respect their betters.”

  Leilani’s face burned. “Betters is a matter of opinion.” She rushed out before he could respond. He's no better than the rest of them. Why does Zeb trust the snob?

  “Hey, Miss!”

  Leilani jumped. She glanced back and saw a small framed man leaning around the corner of Brash's workshop. She paused as he ambled forward, looking this way and that. It took a moment to put a name to the face: Brash's aide, the kowtowing fellow with the squeaky voice.

  “Kasan, isn't it?”

  He smiled and nodded. “May I walk with you for a bit?”

  “If you want to,” she said. She looked towards the workshop door. Brash didn't emerge. Good.

  “I didn't catch your name, but I'm not surprised. Aides don't really need names, do we?” Kasan said as they began to walk.

  Leilani narrowed her eyes at him, uncertain if he meant it as a joke. His mouth stayed placid, neither frowning nor smiling, which made it impossible for her to reach a conclusion.

  “It's Leilani Weaver.”

  Kasan looked down at his shuffling feet. Leilani suppressed a groan, regretting her decision to walk with him. At this rate she'd never catch up to Zeb.

  “A word of advice, you're in the Highmost world now. We Common who are fortunate enough to gain such positions, well, it can be hard to learn how to fit in. You seem to be outspoken. This might not be the best place for you.” He glanced up.