Inkblots: A Tale of Magic, Adventure, and Romance

IX. Nighttime Mischief

Alia had to tell someone--anyone. She pleaded sickness and ran to Master Rubart's chamber, but he wasn't there. Nor were Masters Calimbar, Rogerd, or Josin. Desperate, she rushed along the hallway to a door she normally avoided at all costs.

With a deep breath, the slim girl knocked. "Head Scribe?" she called shakily.

There was no response. After another moment of confused waiting, Alia did what any sensible, scared girl would do. She ran to her mother.

It was dark and chilly as Alia picked her way along the path toward the cottages, and she shivered, wishing she'd brought a cloak. The stars shone down in a beautiful spiral, but they felt distant and cold. Alia wasn't used to being out at night, and when a wind gust rustled the rose bushes next to her, she jumped in fright. Finally, the well-tread dirt path grew comfortingly soft under her feet, and the dark squares of the small houses loomed up before her against the sky.

Alia scurried to the third on the left and tapped at the door. All was silent. She tapped again.

"Mami?" she whispered. "It's Alia." Still, no one stirred inside the small room, and Alia's stomach began to clench in fear.

She knocked, the short raps echoing deafeningly into the still night around her. "Mami? Mother!" she called in alarm.

The door to her right swung open suddenly, making her jump. "By the Book! What is it!"

Alia peered over, recognizing a small, elderly female form. "Miss Eldi, I can't find my mother!"

"Well of course you won't be finding her here! Not at this hour! Gods above, Alia, don't you know anything? Everyone knows Merle's to be found over at Bain Shoemaker's at night."

"What?" Alia's words came out so breathlessly she was surprised they were audible.

"You ought to be in bed with a man yourself, you ask me," grumbled the old woman. "Not out causing a ruckus at this ungodly hour. I don't know what that education of yours is good for if it don't even teach you common sense."

With that, the door slammed back shut, and Alia was left standing on the doorstep of her mother's empty cottage in shock. Bain Shoemaker? Alia tried to remember if she'd ever even met the man. Vaguely, she recalled a beard and a leather apron, but that was it.

Why wouldn't her mother have told her if she was seeing a man? Had they really grown so distant? It hurt to think that the only family she had was keeping secrets--and Alia was a grown woman. She could surely be trusted to hear her Mami's inner hopes.

As she trudged back toward the Librum, a wind picked up again, stirring the tree-branches all around, and when an owl hooted overhead, Alia lurched in terror. It's just a bird. Calm down, foolish girl, she thought--but she dug around at the side of the path until she'd found a stick to wield. It was about the length of her arm, and wouldn't be much protection, so Alia indulged herself by enchanting it. The few bits of magic I've picked up ought to be worth something.

Lower lip pinched between her teeth, she used her pinky's tiny tip to draw the sigil delicately onto the wood. Strengthen. They used it on cutting boards in the kitchen, and it had been the first sigil Alia learned. She completed the last tail of a loop, and the sigil gleamed bluely before her as expected--but then before her horrified eyes, its lines began to writhe and it dissipated with no effect.

Just a mistake, she thought frantically. But then it shouldn't have lit up. "Just a mistake!" she murmured, making the words an urgent mantra as she redrew the sigil. Every line was perfect. It glowed--and then it writhed apart.