The mood was not any less tense the next morning. Ilsra made her niece cook porridge, tutting all the time. After that highly awkward meal Iwy decided to take a swim in the lake, maybe wash some stains out of her clothes. Ilsra threw some mothball-smelling powder on her she called masking powder and asked her to take her fishing lures in when she got back.

  Triand finished preparing the second pot of tea, which her aunt found passable.

  “Well, we’re alone,” Triand said with the cheerful smile of one facing the firing squad. “Just let it all out.”

  “And let you off this easy?” Her aunt took a sip of tea. Her nose wrinkled briefly in mild disapproval. “It’s hard to look at you, and you looking so much like her. As if little Elmina had dragged her out of her grave. You’re around her age now, what she was when you left.”

  If Triand’s knowledge of genetics hadn’t been rudimentary at best by virtue of having been born some five hundred years too early, she would have cursed hers at this moment. “Whatever you think I did, just say it, because from my perspective, I only moved out and travelled.”

  “How are you?”

  “Oh no. I know that tactic. You’re trying to lure me into feeling safe.”

  “Do you prefer me gruff?”

  Triand shrugged helplessly. “It’s what I’m used to with you. You weren’t like this even with your own. Why do I always catch flak around here?”

  “My daughter is a decent, normal witch. Best midwife in Cardend. You, we had to rein you in a bit. You always had too much in you for your own good. Always messing about with new spells, and a new girl every week ...”

  “And here I was thinking that youth should be fun.”

  “And I see where it’s gotten you.” She sniffed. “Robes, a staff ... you’ve forgotten who you are.”

  “I haven’t forgotten a thing. I just realised I could be more still.”

  “So the magic you grew up with isn’t good enough for you.”

  “You know, it is, but that’s not even the point,” Triand said in the tone of an explanation that had “You’re our 1000th customer!” written on it. “All I wanted was to understand. Why some things work better than others and some work the same. Why sage’s so damn important, I mean, what’s in that damn plant, no one can explain that to me? Why’s there a large-scale salt allergy among the spirit population? What I always wanted to do was find, you know ... the underlying principles. How people can use magic more effectively. Why some can’t do much and some can turn reality upside down, all that. Why some can only use one kind of magic but not another. It’s like magic’s one giant stupid ocean that’s everywhere and makes no sense. There’s patterns in magic use, but no one up here is interested. I just want some options. Something more instant instead of waiting for a curse to take hold. Maybe something where I don’t have to mess with the moon or ask the Big Gal for help every time.”

  Ilsra threw her an icy glare. “The Great Mother doesn’t appreciate being called Big Gal.”

  “She can tell me that herself.”

  “Stop antagonising gods, Triand. It won’t end well.” Ilsra took another sip of her cup while maintaining furious eye contact. “We have reasons for working the way we do. Magic is no game.”

  “It could be.”

  “You were never fond of responsibility.”

  “The Lass to End All Lasses hasn’t given me this amount of curiosity for nothing.”

  “She doesn’t appreciate being called that, either.”

  “Look, I didn’t leave because of witch magic, or because I wanted to be a wizard, or because of a girl, or whatever you’re thinking. I left because you and mam were suffocating me. I get it. I’m not what you wanted. I’m not what either of my mothers wanted, I’m sure. You could have accepted that, called me a freak, and called it a day instead of ...”

  “Instead of trying to turn you into a decent person?”

  “I was going to say into a copy of yourself, but sure, let’s go with your version.” Triand turned her cup of now cold tea around in her hands. “Look, I know I’ll never make you understand where I’m coming from, so I won’t even try. And I just think you’re wrong. About most things. Let’s leave it at that.”

  Ilsra gave her the look of all older relatives who know in their heart of hearts that they are right and hope against all hope that the troublesome offspring will understand it when they’re older. She was her own brand of diplomatic about it. “What about that girl you’re leading astray?”

  This was not the subject change Triand had hoped for. “I’m not ... we’re not sleeping together.”

  “Then what are you doing? Why are you drawing a circle? Who’s listening?”

  The slightly younger witchard settled down again after checking the ceiling twice. “I don’t know, and I don’t want to find out.”

  “Well, I’ll be interested to hear this excuse.”

  “Listen for once, will ya? There’s a wizard war coming.”

  Ilsra remained unimpressed and vaguely disappointed. “So? They have one every fifty or so years.”

  Triand shifted in her seat. “It’s different this time. There’s one ... he plans to kill everyone who’s not a mage. Well, plans to blackmail everyone into serving him and then have them kill everyone who’s not a mage. Only he needs a magical item to do it.”

  “Does he have it?”

  “No. I do.”

  Ilsra let her head sink down on her hands. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

  “I have to destroy this thing,” Triand said almost desperately. “I’m going up to some ruins named Ermeres. There’s a crucible that can destroy it. That’s why I need Iwy. She’s stronger with fire than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

  Ilsra sniffed disapprovingly. “There’s nothing wrong with her power. It’s there. I can smell it. Just can’t control it even a bit.”

  “I know. I’ve been trying ...”

  “You could just drop that thing down a well, you know?”

  Triand found herself growing impatient, and that said a lot for someone who once got stuck underwater for six months. “So someone can find it again? Maybe not now but in a hundred years? It’s been used for thousands of years! I’ll put an end to it once and for all.”

  “This isn’t your fight. It’s a wizard matter.”

  “It’ll be all our fight if Acarald gets this thing, why does no one understand that?”

  “People have their own problems. We have witch hunters up here. Proper ones, too. Armed to the teeth. We have enough problems keeping everyone in the area safe.”

  “Yeah, I’ve met them, they’re after Iwy too.”

  Ilsra kept looking Triand all over, as if expecting the artefact to spring from her robes. “How come you even have this thing? Just give it to someone else to destroy.”

  “I can’t trust anyone to do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, one, in my experience most people are awful once you hand ‘em power, and two, I found it, it was my idea, I have to see this through.”

  Ilsra sighed like someone who knew that an arthritic badger would have been more qualified, but alas, Triand had gotten her hands on the artefact first. Triand, whose first and foremost magical ability was sheer bloody-mindedness. “You’re getting yourself in danger. Do you think this is what your mother would have wanted?”

  “The mam I remember always told me to do the right thing, even if it’s not nice or not comfortable.”

  “Don’t use her morality against me.” Ilsra didn’t look at her as she stood up to put the cups away. “There are so many things your mother asked me to do should I see you again, but letting you risk your own neck in a wizarding dispute was not one of them. For years I’ve prayed to all our Mother to bring you home. And now you’re here only to go on a suicide mission. If you’re going to leave, at least say goodbye this time.”

  There was a knock on the door.

  Living in a family of seven had taught Iwy to never just open a door. It led to unwelcome surprises. Especially if two people were at odds. Stumbling into the middle of an argument was among her personal top ten of awkward situations, not as high as the whole thing with Derek and the chicken, but definitely there.

  “Come in.”

  “I got the fish,” Iwy said as she closed the door.

  “Put them over there, please,” Ilsra said, massaging her forehead.

  The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. “Should I, uh, go practise something?”

  Triand didn’t take her eyes off the oak table. The surface seemed endlessly fascinating all of a sudden. “Yeah, try invisibility again. Still got the book?”

  “Yep.”

  “If you use any of my herbs for target practice, make sure to make them visible again.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Iwy all but fled the house.

  Ilsra looked after her. “At least try to keep your girl safe. She doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into.”

  “Yes, she does, I told her.”

  “Well, she’s not ready.”

  “She’ll never be at the rate she’s going.” Triand allowed herself a sigh. “Now, can we have a temporary truce so I can get some air?”

  “Fine. Don’t forget the masking powder when you go out. I need to make myself a calming brew anyway.”

  “You pronounced whiskey wrong.”

  Triand ran out the door before Ilsra could throw a slipper at her.

  Outside, Iwy heard the door slam. She made a patch of Ilsra’s herbs visible again and went after her master who was bent for the woods. “Are you alright?”

  Triand turned with a desperate smile. “No. Not even a little bit. But I think by tomorrow she’ll have it all out of her system and we can leave.”

  “We can leave right now. We don’t have to stay ... or do we?”

  “Ah, well, I guess I owe her a chance for a good yellin’. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go down to the lake and scream into the water for a bit.”

  Iwy watched Triand’s retreating back. No point getting involved in someone’s family matters, especially with a lot of ancient hurt feelings. It was like back when Ma and aunt Silv hadn’t spoken for a year about something one of them may or may not have said at their sister Emmy’s wedding.

  She missed the time when this had been the biggest problem in her life. Right now, she’d prefer that particular eggshell walk to trudging through the mountains and getting targeted by wizards. And they were always somehow in the woods. She hadn’t seen an open space in weeks. Couldn’t be healthy.

  Iwy sat down under a tree and pulled the Casebook out of her shirt. Maybe Triand wasn’t good at teaching magic, but her sneak lessons were unmatched.

  The book remembered exactly where its reader had stopped. She would reach the last third today. There had to be something in here. Not that she wouldn’t go on with Triand, of course. She had promised. But after that, this nonsense would have to stop.

  A drop of water fell on her page and Iwy looked up. It wasn’t raining. But Triand’s hair was still dripping.

  Iwy leapt up out of reflex and snapped the book shut. “How long have you been there?”

  “I know, sorry, it’s a library book,” the mage said. She seemed very calm, considering.

  “I can explain ...”

  “You can save yourself the trouble. It doesn’t say anything about how to catch depletion. As far as we know, it’s a spontaneous but non-contagious illness.”

  Iwy’s spirits sank like a ton of lead in still waters. “What? How ...”

  Triand half-shrugged. “Read it some weeks ago while you were sleeping.”

  “You knew?”

  “Where would I be if I didn’t know everything that’s happening around me?”

  “You’re not angry?”

  “Why would I? Never one to knock research, me. Look, I told you: You can’t just get rid of your magic. You’ve got this for life. All you can do is control it. But you can’t ... magic it away.”

  “No, that’s not how it’s supposed to go.”

  Dripping wet, Triand looked even more confused than usual. “Huh?”

  “You’re supposed to yell at me!”

  “Nah.” Triand walked back towards the cottage.

  Iwy followed bewildered. For a moment, she considered being angry because Triand had apparently been going through her things, then thought better of it. Technically, the book wasn’t even her thing. And what was the use, really? She was already so tired. “At least say something about putting your mission in danger.”

  “Nah.”

  “Is it because I can’t do much to begin with, so the mission’s been in danger from the start?”

  “You said that, not me.”

  “But it’s true, I can’t do anything. Even if I wanted to, I can’t do what you expect of me. You still got time to find someone else. The only times I did anything it didn’t end well, we got arrested, then they found out about your staff ...”

  “Growing pains. Why’s that bother you so much?”

  “Because I hate this!” Iwy caught her master by one big sleeve. Triand looked at her genuinely worried when she turned around. “I’d be glad to be rid of this thing. If you could absorb it out if me that would be ideal. I was fine. I had a decent life.”

  Triand tried to deliver a shoulder pat that was at the same time encouraging and comforting and failed at both. “You can still have that.”

  The apprentice crossed her arms over the book. Triand might have been clever when it came to finding loopholes in magic, but if there was a class about advanced knowledge of people, she’d fail it. “Not like it was before now that everyone knows.”

  The mage cocked her head to one side. “Wanna try a large-scale memory spell?”

  “Does it work?”

  “Kinda. Side effects include rashes, complete memory loss, sudden toads, and death.”

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Pass.”

  That was the other thing, there was no point to magic. You couldn’t just make it do what you wanted. No one even knew how it worked. There was no spell to make everything better. No matter what Acarald thought, living without magic was vastly preferable to not being able to do anything with it.

  Triand tried the pat again. She wasn’t getting better at it. “I know it’s a lot of pressure, but ... Well, you said your entire family are non-mages.”

  “I don’t know who’s the bigger threat to them, him or me. There’s so many wizards and witches and everything. You can deal with him before he even gets to us, right?”

  “Maybe, but ...”

  “But who protects them from me?”

  For a moment, there was silence, safe for the rustling of leaves and the distant waves of the lake.

  “Who did up until now?” Triand said, softly. Her apprentice kept staring at the ground, hugging the book to her chest for dear life. “There are better ways to not use magic. Just keeping it under doesn’t work.” The mage ran a hand through her dripping hair. “You can learn that. I’m not much help as a teacher, but I can help you find resources.”

  Iwy looked up, somewhere between hopeful and sceptical. “You’d do that?”

  “Yeah. Just use it once. Then go home and protect your family. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  “And now you’ll have to excuse me while I deal with mine.” Triand sighed as she entered the cottage.

  Iwy went back to the lakeshore. She’d never needed a distraction more in her life. Would it be cruel to turn a fish invisible? Probably.

  Ilsra lived at a nook of the lake where waves hardly reached the bank, but further out, when the wind came up, the sunlight rose and fell rhythmically. Iwy watched it for a while.

  Damn. Damn, double damn and a bugger. Iwy looked at the Casebook and resisted the urge to chuck it as hard as she could. It was a library book, after all. She picked up a stone instead and flung it at the waves. It was followed by so many others that entire schools of fish decided to take their business elsewhere.

  Damn.

  “Actually, Ilsra can wait,” Triand said behind her, giving Iwy her second near heart attack that day. “I wanna try something.”

  “At the lake?”

  “You can’t burn anything here.”

  Mostly, Iwy wanted to add. There was still grass and dry autumn leaves and wood. Granted, wood that might or might not be able to duck, but still wood.

  Triand bit her lip as if still making up her mind. It seemed like a desperate measure. “It’s an old trick I haven’t used in a while. We call it combining.”

  “Is it what it sounds like?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Iwy waited. “So ... do we need to hold hands or something?”

  Triand half-shrugged and extended both arms. “Yeah, sorry, it doesn’t work without physical contact.”

  “I’m not scared of you.”

  It was Triand’s turn to hesitate. “I’m also not sure how traceable it is, I mean, we got the masking powder, but ...”

  “Doesn’t have to be long,” Iwy said quickly. She’d rather just get it over with and get back to a good brooding session. “Just enough to see if it works at all.”

  “Right. Well ...”

  Iwy grabbed the mage’s hands. “Now what?”

  “Now you’ll feel a slight tingling.”

  Iwy did indeed.

  “Now you pick a hand you want to make a flame with.”

  “Right one, I guess?”

  “Let go. Now try to summon one.”

  Iwy stared at her hand, breathed out, and thought fire.

  She sprang back from the sudden eruption, almost breaking the connection.

  The tingling had turned to warmth, almost like hot water flowing from the mage’s hand to her own veins. It seemed to pulse, and the pulse quickened.

  Triand stared at the flame with a worried kind of pride. “I wanna know how big we can get it.”

  “I don’t!”

  “There’s enough water here.”

  “There’s still trees and ... and things.”

  “Oh, alright.” Iwy nearly slipped on the bank as Triand dragged her into the lake.

  “I just washed my clothes. And I have a library book.”

  “Give it to me.” Triand let the book vanish in an inside robe pocket somewhere level with her chest. It didn’t even leave an outline. “Well?”

  Iwy fought her rising fear down and let the flame come. In her veins, the pulse of Triand’s power quickened as the fire grew, one foot high, two feet, three. She’d never be able to do this alone. How much power did her master really have? Just as she thought that, the flame wavered and shrunk.

  “You lost concentration.”

  “I know.”

  Triand brushed a trickle of sweat from her forehead. “Alright like this?”

  Iwy nodded.

  “Good. Again.”

  Seeing as no persons of a shiny masked persuasion appeared, they kept practicing. Triand didn’t break the connection until Iwy’s flame faltered and her knees nearly buckled.

  She brushed Triand’s concerned hand away. “I’m fine. Just ... out of breath. Give me a minute.”

  “Still worried?”

  “I think that’s just my life now.”

  Triand was about to say something when Ilsra appeared on the lakeshore. “There you two are. What are you doing?”

  Triand started like a child caught elbow-deep in the sugar jar. “Practicing fire, aunt Ilsra.”

  Ilsra took one look at Iwy and another at Triand. “She needs a break. And in the meantime, you can help me start dinner. It’s getting late, in case you hadn’t noticed. It’s bad enough you made her miss lunch.”

  “I didn’t ... how long have we been out here?”

  “Long enough. Come along now, let her rest.”

  “You go on,” Iwy said to Triand. “I’ll just take a break and practice alone for a bit.”

  Ilsra nodded. “Good. Probably for the better if you don’t get in the way, Triand.”

  Triand began a half-protest, relented under Ilsra’s stare, and followed after her aunt.

  Iwy took a few minutes to just sit before her soaked clothes got too cold, as if the temperate spell was wearing off. It might work as a sort of motivation. I sure wish I had some warmth right now.

  Iwy waded knee-deep into the quiet lake again, just in case. She raised both arms and concentrated until her hands grew warm. There was a spark like from a tinderbox, but in her head.

  The flames grew slowly. Iwy let them retreat and reappear a few times, just to get a feeling on what worked, how it felt. Now to go further, further each time ...

  She thought she heard someone calling to her, but she ignored it. It could wait. Her knees growing weak could wait. Her ragging breath could wait. Everything could wait.

  The sky coloured in the west. Iwy took no notice. The fire never grew more than a few inches from her skin.

  It had been so easy with Triand.

  Whatever she did, she couldn’t convince the flame to grow stronger. It needed to be so much stronger. Like that time in the library, only ...

  Only once, she thought. I only have to use it once. Triand promised. Just once, just once ...

  The fire died.

  Iwy took a deep breath and started over but her hands remained cold. Maybe she just needed another break. She thought she’d heard someone call her name again but when she looked in the direction of Ilsra’s cottage, she saw no one. Iwy waded out and sat at the shore until she began to shake. She raised one hand.

  Not even a spark.

  When nothing continued to happen, she got up.

  And fainted.

  Iwy opened one eye. The other followed when the first couldn’t find any threats. Dry earth crunched under her hands as she pushed herself up.

  White smoke curled around her, the kind that never cleared. Remnants of wars long past ... wars that might have been fought with magic fire. It was the right place.

  Alright, she thought. Flame. As big as you can get.

  The sudden heat almost threw her off her feet. The flames leapt between her fingers, up her arms, her shoulders, around her head and down her body, probing, searching. An element looking for a master.

  “It’s ... fine,” Iwy said doubtfully, able to feel silly even in her own vision. “I’m not gonna use you for terrible things. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

  She tried to guide the flame into one hand. It followed hesitantly.

  “An element is never worried,” someone said behind her.

  The white smoke cleared. The wizard seemed to have been standing here since the beginning of time. His long form was clad in blue robes, his thin beard almost touching his belt. Iwy noticed he didn’t carry a staff. His hands were instead steepled in front of his chest. She looked up at his face and found she couldn’t; the hood of his robes hid it from view. It was likely bad form to ask him to push it back a bit.

  “The elements are our servants”, he said, the corners of his mouth barely visible in the shadow. It carried the slight smile of a teacher regarding a student that needed extra help. “They demand orders, not reassurance.”

  “Alright?” Iwy tried, wondering what would happen next. The flame still curled around her right hand.

  The wizard gestured. Iwy looked down the hill she now stood on.

  “The flame will follow your command.”

  Below her, smoke rose up as white buildings turned black with soot, barely reflecting the red and orange ocean that dove and plunged and danced in swirls in every corner, every street. The air filled with a high-pitched buzz.

  She knew that city. They’d broken out of the sanctum prison there only a few weeks ago.

  The buzzing sound grew higher and Iwy realised that it wasn’t the noise of the flames; those were screams.

  “There is a subtle beauty to the flame,” the wizard went on. “An elegance of movement, eloquent in its destruction. The colours seeping from its prey, turning to smoke and then nothingness. The ...”

  “Yeah, no,” Iwy said.

  He looked down at her and Iwy could practically see his monologue vanish into confusion. “What?”

  “I’m pretty sure this is a dream. I’m not sure what it’s trying to tell me, but you sound bonkers.”

  She turned and walked away from the spectacle. If this was supposed to make her powers stronger, looking at flaming ruins wasn’t going to do the trick. Quite the opposite. Was this a test of some sort?

  The wizard stepped into her way. “You could burn up the entire world.”

  “But I don’t want to. I didn’t even want to burn down a barn.”

  She walked past him, only to find him in front of her again. He held up a patient hand.

  “You may ... want this.”

  His other hand raised a sphere bigger than his fist, smooth like glass. Its red colour turned to black in the centre. Iwy had the distinct impression that it was staring at her.

  So this was the test.

  Under his hood, the wizard smiled. It was meant to look encouraging, but when Iwy looked again, it glinted like light reflecting off a knife. “It could be yours.”

  “No, thank you.” She wondered if the Eye really looked like this or if its presentation was just her imagination. She had never thought she had much of one, but it seemed to be doing a good job.

  “Just think what you could do ...”

  “Yeah, look, I get the idea. Big bad wizard with the artefact. Just go away!”

  The wizard stood his ground in front of her, his robes fanning out to either side like the wings of a gigantic bat. “Think how strong you could be ...”

  “This is just a dream. Let me through.”

  “The dreams of mages are never only dreams.”

  “I said, let me through.”

  The hills grew around her and from their tops a black tide poured down.

  Iwy turned to see her own frightened and angry face reflected in a myriad of masks.

  “Not on my land. Let. Me. Through!”

  All across Lake Familiar, the fireball was visible.

  “... and some knowledge isn’t meant to be discovered and that’s final.” Ilsra finished a very long talking-to.

  Triand had been listening with her face propped up on one fist. “You done?”

  “Almost. I need another calming brew.”

  “I don’t think it’s working.”

  Ilsra was about to say something snide when she caught a glimpse between the curtains. “It’s already past nightfall. Your girl has been gone an awfully long time now. You should go get her.”

  A sudden flash of orange light lit up the windowpane.

  “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing,” Triand said as she hurried outside.

  She found her apprentice on the lake shore, and just before her head was completely submerged in the water. Iwy came to coughing.

  “Can you hear me? C’mon, try to nod. Or blink. That’s it, let it out,” Triand added to the subsequent coughing and spluttering.

  Iwy tried to slap her master’s hand from her face, but her arm trembled and went limp bevor it even got that far. “S’matter? Wha’ happen’d?” she managed.

  “Seems you fainted. What did you do?”

  “I had this ... I think I was ... there was this man ...”

  “You’ll feel much better after some proper sleep,” Triand diagnosed as she pulled her apprentice’s arm over her shoulder. “C’mon, one foot in front of the other.”

  “Everything was burning,” Iwy mumbled. “I can’t go on with everything burning.”

  “We’ll teach you some water spells next chance we get, now keep moving.”

  “But everything,” Iwy went on. “Just ... everything ... he said something about the world ...”

  Acarald lay on the floor and blinked at the ceiling. Thankfully, the Inner Circle was not present to witness this; he’d already lost so many people this month.

  A mind-link was an old piece of magic, so old the shamans had used it. He was beginning to see why the practice had fairly died out. But that the girl could just throw him like that ...

  She looked exactly like the sorceress who had encountered her in Prey had described her, which was a bit anti-climactic. But it fit the prophecy. There was always a regular person in a prophecy. It was one of fate’s ineffable rules. He could only be more certain if she was also descendant from a long-lost line of royalty and someone inexplicably handed her a magic sword.

  And she had a mouth on her, which explained why she got along with Triand. Bonkers, indeed!

  He pulled himself up, righted his chair, and summoned the map. There it was, bright as day. The indicator for the girl’s fire. He leaned closer. He had expected it to be unusual, but not like this. This called for a certain amount of finesse. He probably wouldn’t be able to get this close to her mind again. Especially if Triand still accompanied her, which was likely the case. She was hard to get rid of. As far as he knew, he was the only one who had succeeded, albeit involuntarily.

  Acarald sank into the armchair behind his desk. He needed to think for a while.

  Triand was awoken by the sound of unearthly painful groaning. She rolled around to find her apprentice lying face down on the pillow. Even the back of her head seemed to sport a pained expression.

  “Morning. How ya doin’?”

  “Everything hurts, why did I do to this?” Iwy tried to move her right arm and by the sound that escaped her mouth regretted it instantly. Opening one eye was good progress already, as she scanned what she could see of her pillow. “I’m sore all over.”

  “Yeah, that’s what happens when you haven’t used your fire muscle in a while.”

  “Don’t call it my fire muscle, you’re making this weird.”

  “Mind moving a bit? I’m tryin’ to get up.”

  “Can’t move.”

  Triand sighed as she stood up and stepped over Iwy out of the tiny bed. She almost fell over when she reached the ground. “Shall I roll you out the door for breakfast?”

  “No, I’ll just live here now.”

  Triand shrugged as she stepped out of the room.

  Ilsra was already awake and busy with the tea kettle. “How’s the girl doing?” she said by way of greeting.

  “She’ll live.”

  “Well, I’m not spoon-feeding her, so tell her to get up.”

  “Iwy! Try moving one limb at a time!”

  The noise that followed from the storeroom sounded a lot like “Oh dear gods” and “Why, oh why, oh why ...”. Then a thud rattled the tea mugs on the shelf.

  Triand poked her head in the door. “I heard something fall.”

  Iwy had successfully moved herself from lying face down in the bed to lying face down on the floor. “Yeah, were my clothes.”

  “Sounded heavier.”

  “I was still in them. Little help here?”

  Triand performed a gesture and lifted her up in the air. She dragged her in the kitchen like a humanoid balloon.

  Ilsra tutted at them. “Oh, quit being so dramatic, you two.”

  “She’s in pain, Ilsra.”

  “So? A bit of pain never hurt anybody.”

  “That ... is literally what pain is, aunt Ilsra.” Triand helped her aching apprentice into a chair. “Maybe you need to stretch. You know, once you stop feeling cooked and spit out, we should go back down to the lake ...”

  Ilsra ladled porridge into bowls. Iwy managed to lift her spoon on the third try.

  The older witch watched her and sniffed, then shook her head. “Triand, if you want her to be able to use her power in this decade, you need to see the witch of the mountain.”

  “Which one?”

  This question seemed to irritate Ilsra. She made meaningful eyebrows. “You know.”

  “Old Goody Werth?”

  “No.”

  “Goody Deron? Is she still alive?”

  “No. I mean, yes, she is living. But not her.”

  “Bad Teeth Alliss?”

  “No.”

  “One Spell Nista? Sonja the Hatchet? Wiebke with the bad knee?”

  “Does no one around here use last names?” Iwy mumbled.

  Triand waved that away. “Last names are boring. Do you have one?”

  “Yes, it’s Evenwood.”

  “See? Boring.”

  “It’s not meant to be exciting, it’s just so everyone knows our farm is next to the woods. Like Yondbridge is so thrilling.”

  “Hey, it’s existed for as long as the bridge.”

  “Well, from another perspective you might just call yourself Beforebridge.”

  “Girls!”

  They looked up at Ilsra, who poked her cooking spoon at both of them. “I mean Old Heith. She recently broke with tradition and moved to Lirestoke, but I’m sure you remember her. She will definitely remember you!”

  “That was one time!”

  “What did you do?” Iwy said, still not entirely over the name issue.

  “She threw up on her,” Ilsra said in the kind of meaningful tone that so much as said outright it had been the Black Forest gossip topic for six and a half weeks.

  “I was four!”

  Iwy camouflaged a giggle with a spoonful of porridge. Triand glared at her aunt. “Don’t tell her all this. Think of my reputation.”

  “Your reputation as a drunk and a timewaster?”

  “Damn right!”

  Ilsra was about to say something sharp, but instead stopped and sniffed. “Is the stove still on?”

  “No, why?”

  “I smell burning.”

  She got up to check the fireplace. It had gone stone-cold. All three of them looked up. Ilsra tore up the small staircase to her attic bedroom. There was light in it she definitely hadn’t lit. “Get the bucket!”

  Triand was quicker than Iwy and her aching muscles. Thick black swatches already marked the slanted ceiling above Ilsra’s bed. Triand mumbled under her breath and aimed the bucket. A veritable tidal wave crashed onto the thatch, soaking it like a sponge.

  Iwy stared. Triand shrugged. “Spell to make it bigger.”

  “Why is my roof burning?” Ilsra said indignantly as the last curls of smoke poured down.

  “You only put a spell on against magic fire, not regular one,” Triand said as she clambered down the stairs to put the bucket next to the backdoor. “We should check on the forest, maybe it’s ...”

  Someone pounded on the door. It was the kind of pounding that had the same effect as a warning shot.

  Triand pushed a bundle of dry herbs aside and risked a look out the window. “Ilsra? You haven’t by any chance invited eight people with silly hats?”

  The flame Iwy had produced had been bright enough to be seen from the other side of the lake. Bright lights above the water weren’t exactly an unusual event for the locals; everyone knew witches lived in the woods. If someone didn’t expect witches in a mountain range called the Witchheads all you could do was give them a job as a snail herder and hope they wouldn’t hurt themselves. Strange occurrences and sightings were part of most weekdays. Sometimes people woke up in the middle of the night, closed the window shutters against the sudden glare, and mumbled, “Oh, it’s them witches again” before falling back asleep.

  The witch hunters were not, for the most part, locals.

  Ilsra peered through a crack in the dried herbs. It would take a lot of magic to get her garden back to its original condition, that much was certain.

  Another bout of pounding, this time accompanied by a voice trying to sound authoritative: “Open up!”

  Iwy nudged Triand. “Think they followed us?”

  “I don’t know, could be.”

  Ilsra rolled her eyes. “Oh please, don’t feel so special. They’re all over the place.”

  “Surrender the two witches!”

  Glass shattered. The wall above the hearth was now adorned with a trembling crossbow bolt. Outside, someone yelled.

  The old witch pulled the bolt out of the wall and regarded it thoughtfully for a moment. The air felt immediately warmer, and Iwy had nothing to do with it. “Well, you two have some place to go to, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but ...” Triand began.

  Ilsra reached into the pot on the fireplace and threw the last handful of masking powder over them. “You go on, I’ll hold them off.”

  “Won’t you need help?”

  “Please. They came to me. To my place of power. Someone needs to teach them a lesson.” She touched the spoon on her belt. The hair on everyone’s arms stood up.

  “There’s eight of them,” Triand tried to reason, something she was entirely unaccustomed to. “They might bring reinforcements. Just come with us, I’ll get us out of here.”

  “You want me to leave my own house because some men don’t know how to behave themselves? I don’t think so, my girl.”

  “Teleport?” Iwy said as she brought in their bags and Triand’s staff, ignoring the screaming pain for a few moments.

  “I hate this.”

  “It’s the fastest way,” Ilsra agreed. “I’ll add a throwing spell. They won’t see where you’re going.”

  Triand risked another glance through the window. The spell and the masking powder should make it hard for anyone to trace her. She just didn’t feel comfortable leaving Ilsra, who was getting on in years, after all. She’d definitely come back as a ghost if she died and Triand would never hear the end of it. “Are you sure?”

  “You had better tell me the truth about saving the world. If I find out you lied, I shall be very cross indeed.”

  Another window shattered.

  Triand took a deep breath before the hated teleportation. “Hey, Ilsra ... bye. I might not be back.”

  “Oh, stop talking nonsense and get going.”

  Finally alone, Ilsra poured herself a cup of tea and sat down. The swirling energy blew her curtains around, which somehow increased the ruckus in front of her cottage. The shouting outside grew louder as she sipped on the hot liquid. She should bring in some more carrots for the stew tomorrow. It had been a good year for carrots so far. They grew like magic.

  Someone kicked the door in.

  “Stand down, witch!”

  “What does that even mean? I understand standing up, but how in the world does a person stand down?”

  The witch hunter looked puzzled for a second but recovered quickly. He wasn’t having a good day. Setting fire to the thatch usually drove people outside. Now he had, for the first time in his thirty-five years, witnessed a nice, decent fire being extinguished through a roof. The thatch was still dripping. It didn’t make sense. He didn’t like it when things didn’t make sense.

  He drew his sword. Shackles dangled at his belt. “Where are the others? We have not come unprepared. Surrender!”

  Ilsra waved that remark away impatiently. “Yes, yes. You have swords and crossbows and whips and shackles. While I have a wooden spoon.” She grinned terribly. “I think I know who’s going to win this round.”