Over The Sea by Sherwood Smith Page B

worse.”
    â€œAnd Kwenz is gone now, you say?”
    â€œNo, I think he’s here. Glotulae has sent messengers that way, some traders reported to me just this morning. She wouldn’t send messengers to his guards or servants.”
    â€œUh oh. So this old geez knows magic.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd he’s got a lot of warrior-creepos.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd they want to take over Mearsies Heili.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd you don’t have an army?”
    â€œNo. The Wessets can raise a kind of militia, but I don’t seem to have any influence over that. I did try, but the mayor of Wesset North smiled and nodded like he was patting my head. I know my mother never bothered with them, and he was angry that I might start taxing them again. So I can’t really do anything there, but I do know this: if people get killed, then I have failed my job,” she finished, her brow puckered.
    â€œSo there’s just us girls. Watching out over everything.”
    â€œJust us.”
    Well, I’d always wanted a life of adventure, I thought.
    But nothing felt quite real yet, and so I laughed. “Maybe we should start those magic lessons at once!”

CJ-1966

EIGHT — My First Plan
    â€œSo black magic is what villains do, right?”
    We were back in Clair’s magic chamber, where all the magic books were kept. There weren’t nearly as many magic books as there were books in the library, just down the hall. That one looked like the kind of library I was used to. There she had all the records of the kingdom, plus other ones. All these books were hand-written, too.
    But she’d only showed me them, and before I could ask if there were any good ones written by girls my age, we’d gone on to the magic chamber, and she took some books off a low shelf.
    â€œWe’ll get to kinds of magic in a bit. First, here’s your practice book,” she said. “I keep these blanks here for practice, and for records, but you know what, I haven’t begun to keep records. I don’t even know where to start.” She wrinkled her forehead again. “I guess I ought to start with those awful days before my mother died, but every time I think about it, I can’t write about it.”
    â€œI like writing,” I said. “Want me to try?”
    She looked relieved. “I’d be grateful if you would.”
    â€œBut I don’t know everything you do. Especially your government stuff.”
    â€œI already have someone who writes down the government stuff. Just write what you see and do. That’s good enough. Someday maybe I can read it and add bits. I think I could do that.” Clair nodded. “But I’d like an account of our lives. There’s so much about grownups in the records, and I learn a lot, but I can’t help thinking there should be records for future kids who might have the responsibilities that I — that we — have.”
    â€œGot it. About us,” I said.
    And that’s when these records began.
    Clair touched the blank book. “So. This here will be your own practice book, for you to write down spells you learn, or figure out, the way you need to write it down in order to remember best.”
    I took the bound book she handed me. The stiffened cloth cover smelled like some kind of plant. The paper was a little see-through; I found out later that most paper in this part of the world was made out of rice and boiled-down rag. The rice grows plentifully pretty much all over the world just above and below the equator — or Fereledria, as it’s called here, as it’s all mountain on land, and kind of its own realm. That is, there isn’t any king or queen (that we know of) but it’s got a weird twisty kind of space and time, and the people who live there aren’t humans.
    â€œHere’s a quill, and ink,” she added, handing me one of each.
    â€œQuill,” I