planned.”
They just stood side by side, staring at her.
Wren tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry. “I just don’t know what to do about you. If you don’t want to come with me, I don’t know how I can make sure she won’t do anything bad to you.”
Patka muttered, “You can make one of your spells to really turn her into a barnacle.”
Wren said, “Didn’t you listen? I can’t do that. It wastes magic, and it isn’t right.”
“Leaving a pirate is right?” Patka asked, crossing her arms.
“That’s for harbor masters to decide, or governors. It’s a matter of law, see? We don’t go around turning people into things.”
Danal gave her a wistful smile. “You could just pretend to. Tell her if she hurts us, she’ll turn into a barnacle overnight.”
Wren sighed. “You don’t want to come with me, do you.” It wasn’t quite a question.
“You could turn me into a princess,” Patka replied. “But you won’t.”
Wren’s eyes stung. “There’s so much wrong in that, I guess I could talk for a year but you’d never listen.”
But they were listening. So stop feeling sorry for yourself, and talk. “Magic doesn’t change the world. Not magic in balance. Magic only makes the world a little easier to live in, for all living things. Not just people. I can’t turn you into a princess. I can’t turn myself into a princess.” Wren thought of Teressa, and the responsibilities that had come too soon, too many, and far too hard. “Besides, being a princess isn’t as fun as you think.”
Patka said rudely, “You would know, of course.”
Wren shook her head, her throat tightening. She’d lost a friend over magic, of all things.
It was time to go.
She turned to Danal. “Will you help me boom down the gig? I think I can sail it myself.” Wren pointed at the cabin. “They’ll come out of that stone spell soon, and I want to be gone. She won’t threaten you anymore. I’m the target, now that they know what I am.”
Danal moved aft, to where the captain’s gig was suspended on davits over the stern. Two could control the ropes to lower the little boat to the water.
Patka suddenly joined them, and without a word the three worked, until the gig splashed safely in the water. Wren climbed down one of the ropes and dropped into the stern sheets next to the tiller, then peered back up at the two at the rail, sad, frustrated, and angry all at once.
“The real reason we never tell anyone we are mages,” she called, “is because the first thing people do is think of themselves. It’s their greed, not our power, that keeps us silent. Just think of that next time Cook raps your skull, Patka. Remember he rapped mine, too.”
Danal cut in, after one last anguished glance at his sister, “I’m coming with you. And I think we ought to let Thaddy have a choice. And Lambin, seeing he came on board with us.”
“Where is he, anyway?” Wren asked.
“Cook is holding him in the pantry,” Patka spoke, less angrily now. “Lamb is probably stuck at the back of the crowd below decks. I’m sure nobody would let him by.”
Danal peered over the stern rail at Wren. “How long are we safe?”
“Not much longer. That spell is very hard, even a partial one, and once it starts to fade off, it’ll fade fast. But tell the others if they touch you, they’ll turn into barnacles. It’s not true, but it might keep them off you for a little bit.”
Both heads vanished. Wren closed her eyes, pictured her knapsack, and transferred it, though the cost was a worsening of the headache throb. She had done far too much magic, after too long without practice. She needed rest, and soon. But if she remained alone, she would have to find the strength to step the mast on this gig, and then handle both sail and tiller.
A clatter at the stern rail above—one, two, three, then four heads popped over the rail above—the last one being red-haired Lambin.
“I ain’t stayin’ with no pirate.” Lambin slung
They just stood side by side, staring at her.
Wren tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry. “I just don’t know what to do about you. If you don’t want to come with me, I don’t know how I can make sure she won’t do anything bad to you.”
Patka muttered, “You can make one of your spells to really turn her into a barnacle.”
Wren said, “Didn’t you listen? I can’t do that. It wastes magic, and it isn’t right.”
“Leaving a pirate is right?” Patka asked, crossing her arms.
“That’s for harbor masters to decide, or governors. It’s a matter of law, see? We don’t go around turning people into things.”
Danal gave her a wistful smile. “You could just pretend to. Tell her if she hurts us, she’ll turn into a barnacle overnight.”
Wren sighed. “You don’t want to come with me, do you.” It wasn’t quite a question.
“You could turn me into a princess,” Patka replied. “But you won’t.”
Wren’s eyes stung. “There’s so much wrong in that, I guess I could talk for a year but you’d never listen.”
But they were listening. So stop feeling sorry for yourself, and talk. “Magic doesn’t change the world. Not magic in balance. Magic only makes the world a little easier to live in, for all living things. Not just people. I can’t turn you into a princess. I can’t turn myself into a princess.” Wren thought of Teressa, and the responsibilities that had come too soon, too many, and far too hard. “Besides, being a princess isn’t as fun as you think.”
Patka said rudely, “You would know, of course.”
Wren shook her head, her throat tightening. She’d lost a friend over magic, of all things.
It was time to go.
She turned to Danal. “Will you help me boom down the gig? I think I can sail it myself.” Wren pointed at the cabin. “They’ll come out of that stone spell soon, and I want to be gone. She won’t threaten you anymore. I’m the target, now that they know what I am.”
Danal moved aft, to where the captain’s gig was suspended on davits over the stern. Two could control the ropes to lower the little boat to the water.
Patka suddenly joined them, and without a word the three worked, until the gig splashed safely in the water. Wren climbed down one of the ropes and dropped into the stern sheets next to the tiller, then peered back up at the two at the rail, sad, frustrated, and angry all at once.
“The real reason we never tell anyone we are mages,” she called, “is because the first thing people do is think of themselves. It’s their greed, not our power, that keeps us silent. Just think of that next time Cook raps your skull, Patka. Remember he rapped mine, too.”
Danal cut in, after one last anguished glance at his sister, “I’m coming with you. And I think we ought to let Thaddy have a choice. And Lambin, seeing he came on board with us.”
“Where is he, anyway?” Wren asked.
“Cook is holding him in the pantry,” Patka spoke, less angrily now. “Lamb is probably stuck at the back of the crowd below decks. I’m sure nobody would let him by.”
Danal peered over the stern rail at Wren. “How long are we safe?”
“Not much longer. That spell is very hard, even a partial one, and once it starts to fade off, it’ll fade fast. But tell the others if they touch you, they’ll turn into barnacles. It’s not true, but it might keep them off you for a little bit.”
Both heads vanished. Wren closed her eyes, pictured her knapsack, and transferred it, though the cost was a worsening of the headache throb. She had done far too much magic, after too long without practice. She needed rest, and soon. But if she remained alone, she would have to find the strength to step the mast on this gig, and then handle both sail and tiller.
A clatter at the stern rail above—one, two, three, then four heads popped over the rail above—the last one being red-haired Lambin.
“I ain’t stayin’ with no pirate.” Lambin slung
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