Starsinger

New Friends

A wide hallway led from the ballroom to a suite of locked doors, each carved with a different symbol Delia didn't recognize. The people of the Virtue Isles spoke mostly Zareyman due to their proximity to the realm's northern coast, but the refugees who'd settled the free states came from everywhere, and this was a language she did not know.

The whole building oozed with magic, she realized, spells layered onto walls and doorways and precious artifacts lining the corridors. Delia let her fingers linger on the rough stone, tracing the outlines of the workings with green fire. She sensed spells against eavesdropping, illusion buffers, even a thin force spell designed to prevent a fragile vase from being touched by errant hands. Nothing sinister. Nothing that would cause her nose to itch and a headache to throb at the base of her skull, the way it was doing right now.

She could still hear music drifting out from the party as she slipped down the corridor, careful to walk with the air of a person who had every right to be where she was.

Delia tried to follow her sense of unease. She turned left, and came across a row of unmarked doors. One was wide open. She crept closer.

It was a spare bedroom, with four stacked bunks and a simple dresser tucked into one corner. The rug was threadbare and plain. Across each bed the sheets were tucked neatly, undisturbed.

The prickling pain in Delia's skull bloomed hotter, and this time there was a flavor in it she recognized. A wrongness. A void. She placed one hand on the doorframe and closed her eyes. Emerald light licked out from her fingertips as she traced the whole room, searching for that empty, clawing sensation.

Something snatched at her free wrist and Delia's eyes snapped open. She twisted her arm free but slipped as she spun away, slamming back into the wall.

"Oh, no, it's alright!" A young woman with large brown eyes and a rounded figure stared up at Delia, holding her hands open to show she had nothing to hide. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's alright. I scare easily," Delia lied. The woman wore a simple crocus-blue frock, just like the servants Delia had seen in the ballroom. She offered the stranger her hand with a friendly smile. "I'm Delia. My mistress asked for salt to treat a wine stain, and I'm afraid I got completely turned around."

"Pippa," said the woman, smiling back. "There should be salt in the kitchen. I can show you." She started leading Delia back the way she had come. "Although, I've found vinegar works like a charm for dark stains."

"Really! I've never tried it."

Pippa grinned, pulling a thin vial of white vinegar from a pocket in her dress. "Here. It's saved me my position a few times, I think." For a moment her easy smile dropped away. She lowered her voice. "I truly didn't mean to sneak up on you, it's just... it's best not to be seen doing magic. Not here anyways."

A chill ran up Delia's spine. "I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, it's okay, I won't tell anyone," Pippa said quickly. She glanced furtively down the hallway and held one cupped hand to her lips. She whispered, and a tiny rose of golden fire sprang to life in her palm.

Delia sighed her relief just as a bubble of giddiness rose in her chest. Another mage. Before she'd been chased out of Glenburrow, she'd never imagined how good it would be to meet others like her, like Neal, to see for herself that she wasn't alone.

"Thank you for the warning," she murmured. "They don't approve of mages here?"

Pippa shook her head, and the golden flames dispersed. "It's not that. Master Mori used to have lots of hired mages to help him with his work but they—" Pippa shrugged and glanced away. "I don't know. One day they just started disappearing. Master Mori said they left to try their fortunes on the mainland, but none of them said goodbye. And then it wasn't just the hired mages, but anyone with the gift. I kept mine hidden, but the others—"