Indigo Magic (5 page)

Orville Gold, genie historian of Feyland

THE CROWD OUTSIDE
was gone, even the injured. Not so much as a single gnome remained.

I found it odd that none of my neighbours came by to ask after me. My father had built this home in a secluded spot but it wasn’t secluded enough to be truly isolated. Had Lily used more radia to throw forgetting spells on those who might have seen the attack? It seemed unlikely, but why else would everyone in Galena ignore what had happened?

I shrugged off my gloom as my friends and I made plans. While Meteor went to the Crown Library, Leona and Andalonus were going to explore Oberon City to see what was happening there. We agreed to meet the following evening in my mother’s room.

Alone, I picked up the indigo bottle. The glass felt bland and cool, as if it held nothing more than sand. Appearances could be so deceiving. Wasn’t that often shown in the stories humans told their children? The frog is really a prince. The beauty has a cruel heart. The crippled old woman asks for shelter and, when turned away, proves to be a powerful fairy with a curse on her lips.

‘We’re going on a journey,’ I told the bottle, and wrapped it in a yellow scarf that had belonged to my mother. I too would research the powder, but my way would be different to Meteor’s.

I took the plainest woven bag I could find – black with
a
grey border. Placing the bottle inside it, I stuffed more scarves around it before I slung the long strap around my neck. Then I created a spell of disguise to change my colouring. I turned myself from a lavender fairy with purple eyes and wings into a green-skinned fairy with black eyes and hair, and grey wings. The spell would last till I reversed it. It cost me twenty-five radia.

I brought to mind a certain sleazy café. ‘Transport me to the Ugly Mug,’ I said.

In less than an instant, I arrived. The Ugly Mug looked the same as it had the last time I’d been there only a few days before. Rough gravel paved the ground around a building made of unmatched stones and sloppy mortar. The copper door was so tarnished that not a bit of it shone, not even the grimy knob.

Meteor would be angry if he knew I was here. The owner of the place was none other than Banburus Lazuli – known as Laz – who had trussed me inside the troll cloak and turned me over to Lily Morganite for a reward of 50,000 radia.

Laz didn’t have much in his favour, but he did have two things. One, he had never received that reward. Lily double-crossed him, which made him hate her. And two, he had turned the Ugly Mug into a place where endless streams of secrets trickled into his long ears. As I had tried to convince Meteor, Laz
knew
things, and I wanted answers.

I moved the bag holding the indigo bottle to my hand.
Clutching
it firmly, I opened the café door. Sagging hinges squealed. Inside, the place was dimly lit by wax candles burning in globes half covered in soot. No fey lights here, but the aroma was heady – a mix of the forbidden flavours of cocoa and coffee from Earth.

I made my way past tables crammed with customers, ignoring brazen genies asking me to share their mugs of cocoa. Laz was in the back playing cards with four genies and a gnarled leprechaun who wore a crumpled old cap with a pitiful red feather. When I came close to their table, Laz looked up. His eyes narrowed for an instant. Then he went back to the game.

I wondered what the leprechaun was using to back up his bets. It couldn’t be radia. Unlike fairies and genies, leprechauns could not transfer their magic. If they could, Lily Morganite would never have left them in the Iron Lands. She would have mined them like rubies.

But if not radia, then what could Laz be hoping to win?

He showed all his blue teeth in a smile, and made his bet: ‘Two cases of that new stuff you’re drinking. I call it LeMoCo – the finest blend of cocoa and coffee from the far-flung reaches of Earth. And may I remind you, there’s also a case of Terrabon candies to go with it.’

The four genies scowled at their cards. One, brown-faced with limp yellow hair, spoke up. ‘Why is it, Laz, that every time the pot’s this rich, you always seem to win?’

Laz picked up his own mug and took a long swallow.
‘Makes
up for all the dangerous trips I take to Earth to get confections for you ungrateful trogs.’

The genies shook their heads and tossed their cards. The brown-faced fellow muttered, ‘Last time I called a bet like that, I spent a month washing the floors of this filthy den.’

Laz nodded and shrugged, then rapped the table with a fist. ‘Meechem, do you call?’

The leprechaun cleared his throat noisily. ‘Got nothing left.’

‘Well,’ Laz told him, ‘if you like the look of your cards and you want to call my bet, I would accept that cap you’re wearing.’

So. The cap was what Laz wanted.

Meechem shook his head. ‘Don’t want to part with my cap. Been in my family fifty generations. Special, it is.’

‘Mud in your eye.’ Laz pushed a large mug towards the leprechaun. ‘Have another cocoa.’

Meechem took a hearty sip. His cap sure didn’t look like much.

‘Call?’ Laz asked again, voice patient, smiling as if he and Meechem were great friends.

Sighing, Meechem took off his cap and laid it on the table. ‘Call.’

Laz spread his cards face up.

I knew nothing about what made a winning hand, knew nothing of cards beyond Beryl’s warnings against them. She always said I should beware; that card games, like other vices
imported
from Earth, had ruined many a genie and more than a few fairies.

They would not ruin Laz, at least not tonight. When Meechem saw Laz’s cards, the corners of his mouth drew down so far I thought his lips would slide down his shaggy white beard into his neck.

Laz reached for the cap and crammed it over his stringy grey-blue hair. Somehow, it fitted him, though his head was noticeably bigger than Meechem’s. ‘Come back again,’ he said. ‘You’re always welcome.’

He stood, and so did the other genies, but Meechem laid his head down on his arms. As Laz passed him, he patted his shoulder.

‘Something I can help you with?’ he asked as I hovered in front of him.

‘I’d like a word.’

‘Just one?’

‘Privately.’

He shrugged, grabbing his mug from the edge of the table. ‘Follow me.’

As I hurried after him, everyone we passed had something to say.

‘I thought you only robbed human cradles!’ hooted a snaggle-toothed genie.

A fairy with red eyes lifted her mug. ‘Stolen beans!’ she cackled.

‘Fly while you can, little fairy,’ advised a leprechaun.

Laz led me out of the door and round the corner of the café to a bare patch of gravel – the same place we’d talked the last time we met. Now it was dark. Above, a few stars tried to shine through the overcast night. They didn’t cast enough light to see another building a little way off, even more rundown than the Ugly Mug. But I knew it was there, just as I knew that fifty wingspans back, the border wall of the Iron Lands snaked along the ground.

Laz leaned against the café wall and raised his mug to me. I recognized the scent of coffee. ‘Terrible disguise,’ he said, and took a drink.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, Zaria Tourmaline, that it’s a rotten disguise, and I hope you haven’t been trying to hide from anyone who matters.’

‘But—’ I looked at his cynical smile. ‘How did you know?’

‘Did you forget we’ve met before? Next time, you might consider changing your features along with your skin colour.’

I pressed my lips together.

‘Don’t look so woeful. I’ve done you a favour letting you know your disguise isn’t worth a single radia, let alone twenty-five.’

I frowned as he chuckled.

‘What brings you?’ Laz tipped his head back and poured the dregs of his coffee down his throat. ‘Flattered as I am to
get
a visit from you, Zaria, I assume you didn’t come here for my company.’

Trying to look casual, I put my hand in the pocket of my gown to touch my wand. ‘I have questions.’

Laz rubbed his empty mug against his cheek and sighed. ‘I’ll give you the first answer for free, Zaria.
I don’t know where your family is
. If I did, I would try to take you for every last radia you’ve got.’ He let the mug hang from one finger. It swayed back and forth. ‘As to any other question you may have, I’ll give you each answer for two hundred radia.’

What a trog he was. ‘Too steep,’ I said. ‘
Fifty
radia.’

A glint of greed showed in his eyes. ‘Maybe this once, then. Ask away.’

T
HERE IS ONE METHOD FOR FEY FOLK TO GAIN MORE RADIA
. T
HIS IS DONE BY TAKING A TRANSFER FROM SOMEONE ELSE’S WAND
. D
EPENDING UPON HOW MUCH RADIA IS AVAILABLE, IT IS POSSIBLE TO TRANSFER ANY AMOUNT FROM ONE WAND TIP TO ANOTHER
.

T
RANSFERS OF RADIA FROM WAND TO WAND CAN ONLY BE DONE VOLUNTARILY
. N
OT EVEN A COMPULSION SPELL CAN FORCE ANYONE TO TRANSFER THEIR MAGIC WITHOUT CONSENT
.

F
AIRIES AND GENIES WHOSE LIVES ARE DRAWING TO A CLOSE MAY DECIDE TO TRANSFER THE REMAINDER OF THEIR RADIA RESERVES TO ANOTHER
. I
F THIS IS NOT DONE, THE AMOUNT OF RADIA LEFT UNUSED AT THE TIME OF DEATH DISAPPEARS FOR EVER
.

Orville Gold, genie historian of Feyland

I ALMOST BURST
out with my most urgent question for Laz, but then thought of something else. ‘I want an agreement. I get the same rate in the future. Any question for fifty radia, anytime I want. And you swear on your
wand
to tell no one what we talk about.’

If he swore on his wand and broke his word, the wand would turn against him. Not even Laz would take that lightly.

The genie’s eyes moved back and forth. ‘All right,’ he said slowly. ‘But it can’t be an open-ended agreement. For three days, I will answer any of your questions for fifty. And I swear on my wand to tell no one what gets said.’

Knowing my luck with Laz, on the fourth day I would have an important question only he could answer. I should bargain for more, but I was tired and I doubted he’d budge. ‘Done,’ I said.

He yanked his cap to a more jaunty angle. ‘First question?’

‘Tell me what you know about the troll cloak you used to capture me.’

He laughed a snorting chuckle. ‘It seems I was deceived about that cloak, since you made it disappear.’

‘What was it supposed to do?’ I didn’t like wasting a question on something I already knew, but I wanted to hear him say it again.

Laz scratched his shoulder. ‘It was supposed to make it impossible for you to use magic. And create pain that would get worse with any move you made.’

‘You didn’t care about my suffering?’

‘That’s your third question, Zaria. And it seemed like a good idea at the time.’

As anger flared along my wings, I drew my wand. Laz eyed it, but didn’t seem as nervous as he should have been.

‘Changed your wand, I see,’ he said.

There was a long pause, and then I smiled at him. I’m sure anyone watching would have called it a grim smile – it felt grim on my face. ‘What magic is in the cap you wear on your head?’

Laz looked at me as if I had just cheated in a card game. ‘No enchantment cast by anyone in Feyland can affect me while I wear it.’

I returned his look. ‘So even Lily Morganite can’t get to you again?’

‘Correct.’ He blew out a breath. ‘That’s
five
questions, asked and answered. Pay up now or our bargain is off. Two hundred and fifty radia.’

Trolls and pixies! Although it was I who had blurted out two questions I didn’t intend to ask, I felt as if Laz had tricked me.

I lifted my wand and infused it. He drew his own, which was brass with a lapis tip. Touching mine to his, my anger surged as I felt the magic of two hundred and fifty radia leave me and pass to Laz.

‘More questions,’ I told him. ‘Have you seen Lily Morganite since the last time I was here?’
Question one
.

He grinned, satisfied with an easy answer. ‘No.’

‘If the troll cloak had a residue,’ I said, ‘what sort of magic would be in it?’

‘Residue?’ Laz sounded alarmed. ‘Residue,’ he repeated. ‘What do you mean? You made the cloak disappear.’

‘But if there
had
been a residue—’

He dropped his mug; it cracked and broke in pieces. Pressing both hands against the wall behind him, Laz stared at me. ‘What have you done?’ he whispered.

‘Me!’

‘You.’

‘What have
I
done?’ I flew at him, stopping just short of ramming into him. ‘What did
you
do? Sold me out, as if I were a case of cocoa.’

He was shaking his head and running his hands through his stringy hair. ‘Who has this … residue?’ His voice was so hollow I wanted to whack his head to see if there was anything left inside. ‘Tell me Lily Morganite does not have it.’

‘She doesn’t.’

He seemed to recover a little – he stopped propping himself against the wall.

‘I kept it,’ I said, glad I wasn’t bound to tell him everything. If I revealed that Lily had a few grains, he might quit breathing right in front of me. ‘Tell me what it does and how I can get rid of it.’ I knew it was two questions, but maybe he wouldn’t notice.

‘The
aevum derk
,’ he said, pitching his voice very low. ‘I never believed …’

‘What did you call it?’

‘Aevum derk. The death of magic. It’s said that a pinch
can
destroy any spell or enchantment, no matter who or what it comes from.’ Laz, the most blasé of genies, shivered like a bug in a storm. ‘How much do you have?’

‘A tall bottle. It’s almost full.’

‘A bottle. How did you know you should store it in glass? How did you know that only glass can contain aevum derk?’

I shuddered. I hadn’t known. In truth, it was only luck that had led me to gather the aevum derk into a glass bottle. I shuddered again, realizing that I could easily have destroyed myself, my friends, and the entire High Council of Feyland. They had all been close by at the time.