Spellslinger (Spellslinger #1)(55)

‘Shut up. It hurts.’

She ignored me and went on. ‘I mean, is it like one of those Jan’Tep magic words? “Ouch, I say to thee – nothing shall penetrate my magical Ouch shield!”’

‘Stop it,’ I said, still scratching at my arm, preferring the pain to the itching, but then it hurt so bad I yelped out loud.

‘Quit scratching, kid, you’re going to make yourself bleed and the cut’ll get infected.’

I held up my forearm to look for blood, but saw none, just the dirt and grit from the ground outside the oasis. I knew every twist and turn in the tattooed sigils of those bands, had spent countless hours and days begging for them to spark. Even in the darkness of the street, I sensed something had changed. The silver inks of the first band no longer lay flat and lifeless. They moved, a tiny, subtle movement, a delicate dance of magic beneath the skin.

‘Kid?’ Ferius asked.

I blinked, trying to see better, desperate to prove to myself I wasn’t imagining it. Oh please, I begged my ancestors. Please don’t let this be a trick. As I’d done thousands of times before, I set my will upon the band.

Nothing happened, and I saw that the sigils weren’t really moving at all. I felt such a deep, biting sense of disappointment that my eyes filled with stupid, childish tears. Even though I tried to hold it back, a sob escaped my lips.

‘Relax, kid,’ Ferius said.

‘You don’t understand! You never did! This is all I’ve—’

‘No, I mean it. Shut up and relax.’

All of a sudden I understood what she meant. When I’d first seen the change in the band on my forearm, I’d become elated, but you can’t exert your will on the fundamental forces of magic when you’re excited, just like you can’t when you’re crying like a baby. It takes calm. Control. Command.

I closed my eyes to stop myself from paying attention to the band itself and instead sent my focus inwards, calling forth the power that would attach to the silver sigils, willing the tiny tattooed links between them to break apart, freeing the magic inside me. I didn’t rush, didn’t think about how long it was taking or the fact that Ferius was still holding me in her arms or that I had no friends any more or that if I failed I’d become … I let it all go. I stopped asking myself if I had the magic of my people. I was done asking.

‘Hey, kid, look.’

‘I know,’ I said, my eyes still closed. I didn’t need to look at the sigils because I already knew they were glowing with magical force.

‘Which one is that?’ Ferius asked.

I opened my eyes, and then drew clean, beautiful air into my lungs before I said the single, awestruck word: ‘Breath!’

Ferius was looking down at me, not smiling exactly, but at least she wasn’t making any stupid jokes. I let myself stare at the silver sigils of the breath band, the tiny, beautiful symbols shining like stars on the canvas of my skin, each one representing a different form of breath magic I could now cast.

I had sparked a band.

I reached out with my other hand towards one of the glow-glass lanterns above us and pushed at it with my will. A soft light began to emerge, slowly pushing back against the darkness around us. It wasn’t much, in fact it was barely anything at all, but it was there. It was real.

I wasn’t Sha’Tep.

I wasn’t broken.

I had magic.

As the glow of the lantern began to warm my skin, I caught Ferius’s eye and was surprised by what I found there. She was staring at my face. ‘Aw, kid, no …’

I knew I probably looked a mess. I’d taken a beating that was so bad I could barely feel my cheeks or open my eyes from the bruising. But I still resented her for not having the decency to at least pretend to share my happiness. To the hells with her Argosi ways and her spite for my people. Still, I was feeling generous. ‘I know it looks bad,’ I said. ‘Guess even with magic I’m going to need you to teach me how to fight.’

Ferius opened her mouth but then closed it again. She hoicked me back up, the muscles of her face tensing as if I’d just got a whole lot heavier. ‘No, kid, now I’m going to have to teach you how to run.’





24


The Mark


‘Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?’ I asked again.

We had finally reached the first of the seven wide marble steps that led up to the entrance of my family home. I felt my sense of elation over breaking the breath band fade a little as the thought of the punishment awaiting me behind those thick double doors ahead of us sank in. I had snuck out of my father’s house without permission, set free one of the creatures my people most feared and despised and struck my fellow students. When did I become such a terrible son?

‘I can stand on my own,’ I muttered.

‘Take three deep breaths, kid,’ Ferius said as she set me down.

‘What good will that do?’

‘It’ll keep your voice from sounding thin and whiny when you talk to your parents.’

As if that’ll make any difference. Why hadn’t I just run to find one of the city guards when I’d come upon Tennat, Panahsi and Nephenia torturing the squirrel cat? That would have put a stop to it without setting the little monster free and ruining my life. There was a knot in my stomach. Back at the square I’d thought I was doing the right thing, but now I had to explain it to my parents without sounding completely insane, and all I could think was that maybe I was insane. Mages don’t attack other mages to save a creature whose favourite food was probably Jan’Tep babies. But if I hadn’t saved the animal, if I hadn’t fought against my friends, would the breath band have broken? Would my parents balance out my crime against the rewards to our family?