Zahli

By Ashley Abbiss

Zahli’s life is quiet, ordered, and very ordinary. ‎She runs a magic shop with her cousin, selling the ‎things people need to perform their spells. Now and ‎then, she might spend an evening at the tavern with ‎friends. That’s about as exciting as life ever gets, but ‎that suits her just fine. ‎
Until the day she learns that her cousin plans to ‎have her murdered.‎
Forced to run for her life with only what she can ‎carry, Zahli finds her way to the hideout of the ‎remaining magi.‎
Before Wuntril was conquered by the Ladrisians, ‎the magi were the nobles of the country. Master ‎magicians of legendary power, they used their abilities ‎in the service of the king.‎
Now, they do what they can for their people. ‎They offer Zahli a place stay, the opportunity to train ‎with them, even justice in her trouble with Eldra. ‎
Magic has been her life, and now she has the ‎opportunity to learn from the very best, people who ‎toss magic around in a way that other practitioners can ‎only dream of. ‎
It’s an exciting prospect, but she feels uneasy ‎about accepting all this when she has nothing to offer ‎in return. However, she discovers that her knowledge ‎of lower grade magic and even her status as a ‎commoner, actually do give her something to ‎contribute. ‎
Even the magi, experts in magic, can learn from ‎what she knows. Now, she can stay and study without ‎feeling that she’s taking undue advantage.‎
But there are some among them who are planning ‎an uprising in which they hope to sweep the ‎Ladrisians out of Wuntril once and for all. ‎
Twenty years ago, the infant Zahli was orphaned ‎when her parents were killed while participating in ‎another such uprising. Zahli always swore she would ‎never make that mistake. Rebellion didn’t work. It ‎didn’t get rid of the Ladrisians, and most times, it just ‎ended up hurting her own people.‎
Yet now, she finds herself inexorably drawn into ‎this one, almost against her will. ‎

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ashley Abbiss
• Release date: May 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9780463923276

Ashley Abbiss

Hello there. I’m Ashley Abbiss. ‎I live and write in beautiful New Zealand, where I live with one large dog, who looks nothing ‎like Friend from my Daughters of Destiny books. She is, however, almost as intelligent and definitely as ‎opinionated, and if she can’t quite speak in the way Friend does to Niari, that doesn’t really ‎hold her back much!‎I write fantasy, mostly of the epic variety. Let me say right up front that if you’re looking for a quick read, you’re in the wrong place. But if you like a substantial, ‎satisfying story that you can really get your teeth into, stick with me. I may have something ‎you’ll enjoy. There’s no graphic sex in my books. If that’s what you want, you’ll have to look ‎elsewhere. There is violence, and there is swearing, though mostly of the ‘s/he swore’ variety, ‎nothing overly graphic or offensive. I also write about strong, independent female characters, ‎so if your taste runs to something more macho, or something more frilly and helpless, this may ‎not be the place for you. ‎I’ve always loved wandering in different worlds, be they fantasy or science fiction, although ‎lately I tend to prefer fantasy. The only proviso is that they have to be believable worlds, ‎worlds that feel real, that have depth and scope – and they must, absolutely must be fun to ‎visit. I read for escape and entertainment, and I don’t really want to escape from this world ‎into one even grimmer. Trouble, tension, and danger I can deal with, what sort of story would ‎there be without them? Where would Pern be without Thread, Frodo without Sauron, Harry ‎Potter without Voldemort? But there has to be hope, and there has to be a light touch. Happy ‎ever after does have a lot going for it, even if initially it’s only a very small light at the end of ‎a long, dark tunnel. My personal favourites include Tolkien's Lord of the Rings trilogy, Anne ‎McCaffrey’s Pern series, and the fantasies of David Eddings, and lately, they’ve been joined ‎by J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter and a few others. Of those, David Eddings was probably my ‎greatest inspiration.‎I began to wonder if I could create my own world, one just as believable and multi-layered as ‎theirs. Could I create a world with its own history, geography, social structure, deities, and all ‎the rest? One that hung together? That a reader could believe in? It became a challenge, one I ‎really wanted to see if I could meet. So I dusted off my writing skills, learned a few more, ‎cranked up the imagination, and got busy. I’d always been good at creative writing, but ‎though I’d made a few attempts to write after I left school, none of them came to anything. ‎That was until I started writing fantasy. Suddenly, I knew I’d come home. ‎I quickly discovered that I’m not the sort of writer who can plan a book (or a world!) before I ‎start. I just can’t do it. But I can create characters, and suddenly the characters took on a ‎reality of their own and took over the stories, often to the extent that they actually surprised ‎me. And the stories worked. Their world worked. Sometimes I had to go back and fix the ‎odd contradiction, but mostly it worked and was very natural and organic. Even though my ‎first attempts were pitiful, I knew I’d found where I belong. I persevered, I learned, I wrote. ‎I discovered that the characters are key for me. Once I get them right, they tell their own ‎story. I was away. There were dark days during which my stories became my refuge, my ‎characters my friends. And I kept writing. There were happy times when I didn’t need a ‎refuge, but my characters were still my friends, and they drew me inexorably back. I kept ‎writing. ‎And now, I hope my characters may become your friends too, my worlds ones where you also ‎like to walk; perhaps even your refuge from dark days. Come join me in a world where magic ‎is real and the gods are near, where beasts talk and men and women achieve things they never ‎dreamed they could. But most of all, come and have fun! ‎Happy reading.‎Ash.‎

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

I was feeling a bit exasperated. I’d thought my ‎cousin was right behind me, but I’d been down in the ‎shop for at least five minutes, and there was still no ‎sign of her. What on earth was she doing up there? I ‎stopped in the middle of laying out the money for ‎giving change and stomped back to the stairs up to the ‎living quarters above the shop.‎

‎Aren’t you ready yet, Ellie? I yelled up the ‎stairs. Hurry up! We have to open the shop in half an ‎hour, and we still have those candles to take care of.‎

‎Keep your hair on, Eldra said, appearing at the ‎top of the stairs at that moment. There’s not that ‎much of a rush.‎

Really? We had the candles to do plus all the ‎usual preparation for opening, and we were already ‎running late. And she thought there was no rush? I bit ‎my tongue to hold in certain comments that I might ‎regret later. I loved Ellie very much, but I could wish ‎that she was a little less casual about some things.‎

Eldra was just about to start down the stairs when ‎a large grey wolf pushed past her and bounded down, ‎almost knocking me over as he reached the bottom. I ‎managed to grab the newel post just in time.‎

‎Wodor! I shrieked as I struggled to keep my ‎balance. ‎

The wolf skidded to a halt, claws scraping on the ‎wooden floor, and spun about, eyes gleaming with ‎mischief.‎

‎You should walk on all four feet like a wolf, he ‎said, seeming almost to chew his words as his muzzle ‎twisted to form them. It’s a much more sensible ‎arrangement. Far more stable.‎

I rolled my eyes. I don’t have four feet, I have ‎hands, which are much more useful, I said tartly. I ‎looked at Eldra. And the day you decided it would ‎be a good idea to make that wolf able to speak was a ‎black day in history! ‎

‎Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Zahli, Eldra said, ‎waving a hand as she came down the stairs. ‎‎Everyone teaches their animal to talk.‎

‎Wrong, I said as I followed her along the ‎passage towards the door to the shop. Everyone gets ‎us to teach their animal to talk. And they only started ‎doing that after you did it to Wodor.‎

‎And look at what we make out of that, Eldra ‎said triumphantly. It’s one of our biggest money ‎makers, and you know it.‎

‎But you don’t even need a familiar!‎

‎So? Eldra shrugged. Who said I had to need ‎him? I like having him around. ‎

I sighed. Most people who have familiars have ‎sensible ones: dogs, cats, birds, rats, things like that. ‎Only Eldra had to have some great wolf shedding ‎everywhere and ripping up the furniture with his ‎claws. And she didn’t even need him. She was plenty ‎powerful enough that she didn’t need any help with ‎her spells. ‎

Not that familiars really help, of course. They’re ‎just glorified pets, really. The most they offer is moral ‎support for the magician. Stroking or cuddling them ‎relaxes and soothes the magician as they contemplate ‎what they’re intending to do. ‎

Which does seem to help a lot of people, I have to ‎admit. It’s probably not really surprising that some ‎firmly believe their familiar actually does help them do ‎the magic. If nothing else, it’s better than having to ‎admit that you’re anxious enough to need moral ‎support.‎

For a moment, I indulged myself in contemplating ‎life without Wodor. No almost being knocked over ‎every time he moved, no having to pick up wolf fur all ‎the time, no having to pay out a chunk of our income ‎to feed the beast. Wouldn’t life be wonderful?‎

Part of me exulted in the thought. Unfortunately, ‎another, slightly more honest part, knew I’d miss him ‎almost as much as Eldra would. Pest though he could ‎be, he was also a heart-stealer, and his antics were as ‎amusing as they were annoying.‎

He really didn’t cost that much to feed. He did ‎have an enormous appetite, but he mostly fed himself ‎on his nighttime forays into the forest around the ‎town. He did shed and scratch the floors, but he was ‎also a very efficient guard dog, so I suppose it all ‎balanced out and he earned his keep.‎

‎Zahli, are you coming? Eldra called from the ‎shop. I thought you were the one who was in a hurry ‎to get on with this?‎

I jumped, realising that I’d stopped walking while ‎I was thinking. That’s a bad habit of mine. I get so ‎caught up in whatever I’m thinking about that I forget ‎what else I’m supposed to be doing. ‎

It’s earned me a reputation as a daydreamer, ‎which I absolutely hate. It simply is not true. I’m not ‎daydreaming, I’m thinking. That’s a downright insult, ‎but Eldra would be dragging it out if I was any longer ‎getting there. So now, I hurried forward.‎

The familiar smells of the shop tickled my nose as ‎I walked through the door. It was a smell ‎compounded of the rich but slightly dusty aroma of ‎the dried herbs and spices we sold, along with the ‎various scents of the candles and oils, combined with ‎the smell of wood polish and a faint overlay of dust. ‎

It was a smell I’d grown up with, as familiar as ‎breathing. Walking into it always felt like coming ‎home, somehow. It always lifted my heart and made ‎me feel comforted and reassured.‎

Eldra and I had been raised by our mutual aunt, ‎Glorsa. We’d both lost our parents at a young age, and ‎Glorsa had been good enough to offer the two ‎orphans a home. I’ve always been incredibly grateful ‎to her for that. ‎

She owned and ran this shop, and Eldra and I ‎grew up right here, first playing on the floor when we ‎were tiny, and then helping in the shop and learning ‎the magical lore that our aunt began to teach us as ‎soon as we were old enough.‎

Paradoxically, it was lore for others, not for us. ‎Everyone was capable of magic, of course, but just ‎like any other ability, there was a range of magical ‎aptitude in the populace. Magic was all about ‎imagining what you wanted to do, and then engaging ‎your magic to make it happen.‎

Some magicians could toss power around at will ‎and used it frequently in their daily lives, for ‎everything from doing the housework and cooking a ‎meal, to creating things out of nothing. ‎

The best barely needed money because they could ‎just create what they wanted as they required it. There ‎were stories of the magi, a class of nobles who ‎provided magical support for the old king, that were ‎quite fantastic. ‎

Practitioners at that level of skill were few, ‎though, and so far above the rest of us that they may ‎as well be a different species. And like an athlete, they ‎had to practise constantly to remain at peak ‎performance. ‎

Most people found magic taxing in varying ‎degrees and couldn’t manage too much at a time. That ‎might be because they were less talented or just ‎because they didn’t bother to practise, but the result, ‎in either case, was the same: a weak magician. ‎

For most of us, the concentration required to do ‎anything significant became exhausting after a while, ‎so much so that normal activities like household ‎chores were actually easier to do the normal way and ‎magic was saved for special applications. ‎

In fact, at least half the population had trouble ‎either with picturing what they wanted to do in ‎sufficient detail or with holding that vision in their ‎mind while they engaged their magic to make it ‎happen. ‎

It sounds easy, doesn’t it? Just think of what you ‎want to do, and then engage your magic and make it ‎happen. In practice, however, most people need a ‎great deal of practice before they can see what they ‎want clearly enough to instruct a spell. ‎

A spell will give you exactly what you imagine. ‎And I do mean exactly. In one way, of course, that’s a ‎very good thing. We don’t really want uncontrolled ‎magic being set loose about the place. ‎

The drawback, however, is that you have to ‎imagine every detail of what you want clearly, and ‎that’s not actually all that easy to do. Most of us are ‎rather fuzzy thinkers, and it takes a great deal of ‎effort to get a clear enough picture for a spell to work. ‎

Take a loaf of bread, for instance. To make one by ‎magic, you have to know exactly what you want. That ‎means, not just bread, but what kind. Do you want a ‎yeast bread, or something more akin to a tea bread or a ‎muffin, or even a flat bread? White or wholemeal, or ‎something else entirely? What size? What shape? ‎

How dark should the crust be? Should the inside ‎be light and fluffy or dense and chewy? Should it be ‎sweet? Salty? Bland? Should it contain fruit or nuts or ‎seeds? Or should those things be on the outside? ‎

You see what I mean? There’s a lot to think about, ‎even in something as seemingly simple as that, and ‎you must get every detail right or the spell either ‎won’t work at all or will give you something other ‎than what you intended. ‎

Even for those with strong magical ability, getting ‎enough detail into their mind picture is what trips ‎people up nine times out of ten. It’s our fuzzy thinking ‎and propensity to make assumptions that causes the ‎problems and makes magic more exhausting than ‎doing things the old-fashioned way. ‎

To overcome this, most magicians use magic ‎sparingly, and when they do use it, the majority use ‎written spells and various aids, known as elements, to ‎help them concentrate, build their picture, and focus ‎their magic. ‎

Debate raged among the experts as to whether the ‎use of elements was really necessary, or whether it ‎was possible for people to learn to do without them. ‎In other words, was it due to inherently weak magic ‎or simply a matter of learning to concentrate better ‎and build better mind pictures? ‎

Since there’s no way to quantify magic, it didn’t ‎seem to be a question that would ever be answered ‎definitively. However, there had never been a case ‎that I had heard of where someone had been able to ‎leave off using elements. ‎

Not that I was aware of anyone who tried, to be ‎honest. In fact, people generally stuck to the same ‎type of element and proudly referred to themselves as ‎herbal magicians, or crystal magicians or whatever ‎their chosen element was. ‎

There existed a whole field of literature consisting ‎of books of spells containing ‘recipes’ for how to use ‎your chosen elements to best obtain the result you ‎were after. One could just follow a recipe, rather like ‎baking a cake. ‎

As long as you were happy to do only those things ‎there were spells for, which still offered you a huge ‎range since there were literally thousands of spells ‎available, you didn’t even have to think about how to ‎design a spell. ‎

You just found a recipe and plugged in the values ‎you wanted. Most spells were customisable. They ‎gave you the basic outline, and you then added the ‎details you wanted in the appropriate places. ‎

There were often lists of adaptations and the ‎elements required for each at the beginning of a book. ‎Once you’d customised it to your satisfaction, the ‎spell would tell you which elements to use and what ‎to do with them. I’m quite sure that was part of the ‎attraction. Humans are generally lazy given the ‎chance.‎

There were several classes of magic: herbal magic, ‎crystal magic, candle magic, wand magic, shape ‎magic, written magic, and scent magic were the main ‎ones, although there were also a handful of other, ‎lesser-used ones. Our shop existed to supply those ‎elements and the spellbooks to go with them.‎

Eldra and I, however, had never been trained to ‎use elements. Our aunt had insisted that we didn’t ‎need them and would become dependent upon them ‎if we once started to use them so, although our ‎business was selling them, they were forbidden for us.‎

I’ve never been sure if it’s due to Aunt Glorsa’s ‎insistence that we not use them or just natural talent, ‎but neither Eldra nor I have ever needed any help to ‎do magic once we got the hang of how to cast a spell. ‎

I admit it was a struggle at first, and we were ‎probably later than other girls our age to become ‎proficient, but it was definitely worth it in the end. ‎We’ve never needed the elements that others find ‎indispensable. ‎

We’re what are classed as natural magicians, ‎which simply means that we don’t need elements in ‎order to work. The ones who do, in case you were ‎wondering, are called elementals.‎

Actually, when I was younger, I went through a ‎stage of feeling guilty that we sold elements to other ‎people that we didn’t need ourselves. It seemed ‎fraudulent, somehow. But eventually, I realised that ‎the people to whom we sold those things really did ‎need them and that someone had to sell them. ‎

Aunt Glorsa’s shop was reputed to be the best in ‎the region. People came from the outlying villages and ‎even other towns to buy their magical supplies from ‎us. They insisted that they did better magic with Aunt ‎Glorsa’s stuff.‎

That was because she shared her power with her ‎customers, although few, if any, probably realised it. ‎Even Eldra and I didn’t learn that secret until we were ‎about ten and proficient enough at magic that our aunt ‎started roping us in to help.‎

Every item sold in the shop was ‘charged’, ‎imbued with a little bit of magical power that ‎contributed to the spell it was used for. No wonder ‎people said that Glorsa’s stuff worked better. It did.‎

It was a tradition that Eldra and I were proud to ‎carry on once our aunt was gone and we owned the ‎shop. It helped to enhance the reputation of the shop ‎and lead to greater profits, of course, but it also felt ‎like giving back. ‎

We were talented magicians making a living from ‎the less able. But we were also sharing our power to ‎make the spells those less talented magicians cast ‎work better. That felt like a fair trade.‎

The shop was popular, which meant we made a ‎decent living, and our customers got better magic. ‎Everyone won. That seemed like a pretty good way to ‎run a business to me. Which thought brought me ‎neatly back to the present time.‎

‎Where are these candles that need charging, ‎Zahli? Eldra was asking.‎

‎Right there, in that box on the table, I said, ‎walking up and reaching inside. Here. You do the ‎mauve, blue and green, and I’ll do the pink, yellow ‎and white.‎

‎What about the other colours? Eldra asked. ‎‎Aren’t there any red, purple, orange, dark greens and ‎blues or whatever?‎

‎Those were the ones we did yesterday, ‎remember? I asked them to ship the lighter colours ‎separately, so they didn’t rub against the dark ones ‎and come out looking dirty like the last lot. It took ‎ages to get them looking good enough to put on sale, ‎even using magic.‎

‎Oh, right. You always have these things so ‎organised, Zahli.‎

‎Well, I try, I said modestly.‎

That was my forte. I organised the deliveries, both ‎incoming and outgoing, kept the accounts, stocked the ‎shelves, all that sort of thing. Eldra was the creative ‎and social one. She dealt with most of the customers ‎and was a wonderful saleswoman.‎

She also did the beautiful displays in the big bay ‎window and in the centre of the shop that showcased ‎this or that product or service and was most often the ‎one who came up with the idea for a new product or ‎service, like the one to make people’s pets able to talk. ‎

Although having said that, I also contributed an ‎idea from time to time, and while fewer in number, I ‎like to think my ideas were well thought out and ‎worth listening to. One or two of them had been very ‎successful. Each of us had her own strengths, and we ‎seemed to complement each other quite well. ‎

For instance, some magicians have fairly rigid ‎ideas about which herb or colour or scent should be ‎used for a given application, and often look to books ‎and readymade spells for their work. I mostly dealt ‎with those. ‎

I made it my business to know what was in the ‎various books we sold. The circumstance that some ‎magicians need elements and spells and some don’t ‎has always fascinated me. Even now, I like to study ‎the way other people work. ‎

Perhaps one day, I’ll answer that burning question ‎about whether elements are actually necessary or ‎whether it’s just our own belief and the way we’ve ‎been taught that makes them so. ‎

‎ ‎

CHAPTER TWO

But I digress. Because of that interest, I pretty ‎well knew what was in the books, and I could almost ‎always point a practitioner to the correct volume for ‎what they needed and then lead them to exactly the ‎right tools for the job. ‎

‎ However, there is another class of intuitive ‎workers, for whom the identity of the appropriate ‎elements is more fluid and often varies depending on ‎what feels right at the time. ‎

They still mostly use written spells, but they ‎interpret them to suit themselves. Eldra was ‎marvellous at helping them decide which colour or ‎scent or whatever would work best for them.‎

Chalk and cheese, our aunt used to say of us. And ‎yet, we rubbed along very well together and had ‎grown up as close as sisters. And in the business, we ‎made a good team, each one’s strengths ‎complementing the other.‎

Working together, it didn’t take us very long to ‎charge the new candles. After all, it wasn’t as though ‎the aim was to fill them up with power. It was more a ‎subtle hint, just a touch that would add that extra little ‎spark to a practitioner’s spell. We weren’t trying to do ‎the work for them, just help out a bit.‎

All each really required was a touch of the hand ‎with our internal magic engaged and the job was ‎done. Then, Eldra put them on the shelves while I ‎entered them in the inventory, finished laying out the ‎money for making change, and generally got things ‎ready for the day’s trading. ‎

Eldra used a bit of magic to dust the shelves, then ‎unlocked the door and grabbed the broom. She could ‎have swept the floors by magic, too, of course, but ‎that was a job she liked to do herself. She said it set ‎the right tone for prospective customers if they saw ‎someone sweeping. It made the place look well-kept, ‎she said. ‎

I had never been able to decide whether my ‎cousin liked sweeping or just liked putting on a show, ‎but she did it every morning without fail, and had ‎been doing so ever since she was old enough to wield ‎a broom. Eldra seemed to take some sort of comfort ‎from the ritual. ‎

I had long ago decided that I was never going to ‎really understand my cousin. But that was okay. I ‎didn’t need to understand her to love her or to ‎appreciate the fact that Eldra was more than happy to ‎do things I considered the greatest chore. ‎

I knew Eldra felt the same way about the ‎bookkeeping and other things that I enjoyed doing. ‎But again, that didn’t matter. We made a good team, ‎that was the bit that counted ‎

Eldra finished her sweeping and opened the door ‎to sweep the dust out into the gutter. Then, she came ‎back in, turning the sign on the door to ‘Open’ as she ‎did so. She put the broom away, and by the time she ‎got back, our first customer of the day was already ‎coming through the door.‎

‎**********‎

‎Have you noticed that man? I murmured to ‎Eldra a bit later. ‎

We were halfway through the morning. The shop ‎had been quite busy that morning, but one man had ‎stood out to me. He’d been standing around for about ‎half an hour, but he hadn’t bought anything. He ‎didn’t even seem to be looking at the merchandise. ‎

Instead, he just stood there watching as people ‎came in and made their selections. Which would have ‎been fine if he hadn’t looked as though he had a bad ‎smell under his nose. I mean, if he didn’t like the ‎shop, why didn’t he just leave? The door was right ‎there.‎

‎What man? Eldra asked.‎

‎That one who just stands there, sneering at ‎everyone. I’ve been watching him and he’s ‎intimidating some of the customers. I’ve seen several ‎looking at him sideways, and some have left without ‎buying anything. We could do without him driving ‎our customers away, especially since he doesn’t seem ‎interested in buying anything himself.‎

‎Hm, I had noticed him, but I hadn’t noticed that. ‎I think I’ll go have a word with him.‎

So saying, Eldra headed straight across the shop ‎to where the man was standing. I tried not to cringe. ‎She was a lot more confrontational than me, and I ‎hated it when she did that.‎

‎Can I help you? she asked boldly.‎

‎I hardly think so, the man said, wrinkling his ‎nose as he looked around. ‎

‎Right, Eldra said. I’ll leave you to sneer at the ‎merchandise in peace, then. She turned briskly about ‎and stalked back to the counter. ‎

‎Eldra! I hissed, horrified.‎

‎What? Eldra said. I’m supposed to stand here ‎and watch him behave like that in the middle of our ‎shop and not say anything? It’s downright rude. If he ‎doesn’t like what we sell, why is he here in the first ‎place?‎

‎Sh! He’ll hear you.‎

‎So what? If he wants to come in here being rude, ‎that’s his lookout.‎

‎He’s coming over! I whispered in panic.‎

‎You ladies run this shop? the man asked briskly, ‎striding up to the counter.‎

‎Yes, Eldra said. ‎

‎I was told a woman named Glorsa lived at this ‎address, the man said. ‎

‎Glorsa was our aunt, I said. She used to own ‎this shop, but she died just over a year ago.‎

‎Dead? the man said, seeming somewhat ‎discomposed. May I ask how she died?‎

Personally, I thought that was a bit rude.‎

‎It was an accident, my cousin said. She liked ‎to walk along the cliff path outside of town, and she ‎must have slipped and fallen. Her face tightened ‎slightly. The edge is unstable, and dangerous if you ‎get too close. She must have stepped too near without ‎realising.‎

‎And she ran this shop? the man asked, looking ‎about with that sneer on his face again.‎

‎Yes, Eldra said flatly. Why shouldn’t she? She ‎had to have some way to make a living. Do you have a ‎problem with our shop?‎

‎No, no, of course not, the man said hastily. I ‎was just asking.‎

‎Right, Eldra said coolly. Well, now you know. ‎Glorsa owned and ran the shop until her death. Now it ‎belongs to Zahli and me.‎

‎I wasn’t aware that she had any children, the ‎man said. ‎

‎She didn’t, I said shortly, beginning to be ‎annoyed by his questions. He obviously hadn’t even ‎listened to what I’d said before. We’re her nieces. ‎My mother was her sister, and Eldra’s father was her ‎brother. ‎

There might have been a tiny bit of ‘what the hell ‎business is it of yours?’ in my tone. This man was ‎nothing if not nosy.‎

‎Illeka and Tonnis? the man asked sharply.‎

I blinked. How did this man, who I was quite sure ‎I’d never met before, know my mother’s name? ‎Especially considering that she’d been dead for over ‎twenty years.‎

‎Yes, Eldra said, sounding just as startled as I ‎felt.‎

There was a bit of an awkward silence, which was ‎broken a moment later by the door of the shop ‎opening and one of our regular customers rushing in. ‎He was a farmer from out of town a little way, and he ‎was panting as though he’d run the whole way. ‎Although his mule was standing outside at the ‎hitching rail, so I knew he hadn’t. He must just be ‎upset.‎

‎Oh, Miss Zahli! he cried, hurrying across the ‎shop. I hope I’m not interrupting anything important, ‎but I have a cow who’s struggling to give birth, and I ‎need to cast a spell to help her. Times are tough at the ‎moment, and I can’t afford to lose a cow and calf ‎both, but I can’t find the right spell in the book I have. ‎Do you have anything that would help?‎

I hurried out from behind the counter. You’re a ‎crystal magician, aren’t you? I said as I began to lead ‎the way to the shelves where the spellbooks were ‎kept.‎

‎Yes, he said, nodding happily. All my family ‎are: father, grandfather, great grandfather, and on ‎back. Generations of lore, we have.‎

I nodded. See what I mean about people being ‎proud of what kind of magician they are? It’s part of ‎their identity.‎

‎I’m pretty sure I have just the thing, I said. I ‎just have to remember which book I saw it in.‎

I walked up to the shelves and called on my magic ‎to levitate the two books I wanted down from the ‎high shelves where the crystal magic books were ‎stored.‎

‎I can never get over how you and Miss Eldra do ‎that, Miss Zahli, my customer said, shaking his head ‎as he watched the volumes float down through the air ‎and settle on the small table we kept for just this ‎purpose.‎

‎Just a different way of working, I said casually. ‎‎Now, let’s see. I grabbed the first book and began ‎to leaf through it. I didn’t see what I was looking for, ‎so I turned to the other one. And here we are, I ‎said. ‘A spell to ease birth’. That should do the ‎trick. ‎

‎I would imagine so, the farmer said. ‎

I engaged my magic again to make a copy of the ‎spell for the customer. That was most often how we ‎sold our spells. We did sell books, quite a few of ‎them. Almost every household had a least one ‎covering the basics, and some people had large ‎collections of spellbooks. But books were expensive, ‎and few of our customers could afford to buy a whole ‎new one just for one spell. ‎

‎One silver, I said as I handed it over. You’d ‎better check that and make sure you have everything ‎you need before you leave.‎

‎Oh, yes, he said, eagerly perusing the spell. Jet, ‎clear quartz…I don’t have any green agate, and I ‎don’t believe I have any bluestone. The rest I’m okay ‎for.‎

‎I have those right here, I said, crossing to the ‎crystal display and selecting the appropriate stones. ‎‎Hire or buy?‎

‎Hire, please, Miss Zahli, he said.‎

That was something we could do with things like ‎crystals. They tended to be expensive compared to ‎herbs or coloured ink and things like that, but of ‎course, the upside of that was that they could be ‎reused. ‎

So, to save our customers from having to fork out ‎a lot of money on a crystal they might only need once, ‎we hired the less commonly used ones out by the day. ‎Purists claimed that they didn’t work quite as well as ‎a crystal one was familiar with, but they obviously ‎worked well enough, because hiring was a popular ‎option. ‎

So much so that Eldra and I made more out of ‎hiring them than we did out of selling them outright. ‎Magicians would generally have a collection of those ‎crystals they used most often and then hire the rest as ‎needed. I led my customer back to the counter and ‎wrapped the two crystals up for him. ‎

‎That’s two silver, I said. ‎

I took the money and placed it in the box under ‎the counter where we kept the day’s takings. ‎

‎Don’t forget, the stones have to be back by this ‎time tomorrow, or it’ll cost you another day’s hire. I ‎grinned. Besides, I’m interested to know how you ‎get on, and to know that the calf is safely born, and it ‎and the cow are both doing well.‎

‎I won’t forget, Miss Zahli. Thank you.‎

My customer left, and I turned back to the ‎counter.‎

‎What happened to Mr Nosy? I asked, looking ‎around. ‎

‎He left, Eldra said. He looked really startled ‎when you levitated those books down, and then he ‎turned around and rushed out of the shop.‎

‎Why? I asked, eyebrows rising.‎

Eldra shrugged. You know as much as I do.‎

I shrugged. Maybe I scared him off, I joked. ‎‎I’m not surprised that he was astonished to see me ‎do real magic. I got the distinct impression that he ‎thought because we run a shop for elemental ‎magicians, we must be elementals ourselves. And it ‎was quite obvious that he looks down on elemental ‎magicians. Snob.‎

‎Well, he’s gone now, and hopefully, he won’t be ‎back, Eldra said. Weird that he wanted Aunt Glorsa ‎after all this time. He can’t have known her that well, ‎surely, or he’d have heard that she was dead.‎

‎I don’t know, I said. How did he know the ‎names of both our parents if he didn’t know her ‎well?‎

‎Yeah, that is strange, Eldra said thoughtfully. ‎

There was no time for further discussion because ‎we had a sudden influx of customers, and we were ‎both kept busy for the rest of the morning. I ended up ‎stuck with one woman who usually dealt with Eldra, ‎and I’m quite sure she palmed her off on me ‎deliberately. ‎

The woman in question was a candle magician ‎who worked intuitively. That meant she chose the ‎colours of the candles she wanted to work with ‎according to whether she felt they were right for the ‎task, not because some recipe or theory stipulated that ‎that colour was for this purpose.‎

CHAPTER THREE

Intuitive working is one of the main arguments ‎put forward by those who believe that elements aren’t ‎really necessary, that it’s only that the magician ‎believes them to be necessary that makes them so. ‎

They point out that if a pink candle works this ‎time and a green one the next in the same spell, it ‎means the colours really have nothing to do with it. ‎And this, they say, proves that elements aren’t ‎necessary.‎

I’m not sure how I feel about the whole argument, ‎to be honest. I can see their point about the colours, ‎although the difference in choice of colour, in my ‎experience, is never that extreme, for one thing. ‎

A practitioner might exchange a green candle for ‎blue, yellow or perhaps even a blue-violet, but not for ‎something as extreme as pink. Most times, they’ll ‎merely go for a particular shade of the required colour.‎

And the theory tends to regard the emotional ‎reliance on elements as neither here nor there, but from ‎what I’ve seen working in the shop for years, it’s ‎actually crucial. ‎

Whether it’s really a law of nature that some ‎magicians require elements to make their magic work ‎or not, the simple fact is that, as long as they believe ‎they do, then they do. And that’s all there is to it, as ‎far as I can see. ‎

One can theorise all one wants about these things, ‎but that doesn’t change the reality. And the reality for ‎many magicians, possibly the majority of them, is that ‎without the right elements, they can’t do magic.‎

But anyway, this particular woman was a ‎nightmare. She’d decided she needed a blue-green ‎candle. Not blue, not green, but between the two. ‎None of which we had in stock. People tended to ‎prefer definite colours for their spells, not in-between ‎ones, and we weren’t going to bother stocking colours ‎that didn’t sell. ‎

I nipped out the back on the pretext of looking ‎through the stock and created one. I was quite proud ‎of myself as I presented it to her, but she informed me ‎rather snippily that it wasn’t the right blue-green. She ‎was very sensitive to the vibrations of colour, and she ‎couldn’t possibly work if she didn’t have just the right ‎colour.‎

I tried to get her to describe the colour she ‎wanted, thinking I’d ‘have another look in the ‎stockroom’ and ‘find’ it for her. But her replies were ‎vague to the point where I began to suspect that the ‎only thing she was really sensitive to was the ‎opportunity to dramatise herself.‎

After wasting a good twenty minutes on the silly ‎woman, I returned to the stockroom, created six ‎candles in every shade of blue-green that I could think ‎of, from aqua to the deepest teal and from bluer to ‎greener, and then presented them to her.‎

I informed her quite firmly and just a little tartly ‎that these were all that were available, and if they ‎didn’t suit, she’d have to go elsewhere. I also ‎suggested that maybe she could use two candles in ‎different colours instead of one. The combination, I ‎said, may be the way to get just the right colour ‎vibration.‎

I then left her making up her mind (hopefully!) ‎and stomped off to serve another customer, trying ‎desperately to get my temper under control. The ‎woman was beyond irritating, but it wouldn’t do for ‎that to spill over to some other completely innocent ‎customer.‎

An hour later, everyone was suddenly gone, and ‎the shop was empty again except for Eldra and me. ‎We quickly locked up before anyone else could turn ‎up, turned the sign on the door, to ‘closed’, and ‎headed upstairs to grab some lunch.‎

‎You gave that horrible woman to me on purpose, ‎didn’t you? I demanded once we were seated at the ‎table with our food. ‎

Eldra snickered. I must say, you handled her ‎very well.‎

I glared. If she thought tossing me a compliment ‎was going to make it all right, she had another think ‎coming.‎

‎Oh, don’t be like that, Zahli, Eldra said. We ‎were run off our feet. What was I supposed to do? I ‎don’t get to choose who comes into the shop when.‎

‎That had nothing to do with it, and you know ‎it, I said. ‎

I wasn’t about to let her away with this. Eldra can ‎be a bit domineering, and she’ll walk all over people if ‎they let her. I’m more retiring. I prefer negotiation to ‎confrontation. ‎

But growing up with Eldra had quickly taught me ‎to stand up for myself. If I didn’t remind her now and ‎then that I wasn’t her doormat, I’d have no life of my ‎own at all.‎

‎All right, she surrendered. I’m sorry. It’s just ‎that I knew she always takes an age, and I had four ‎other intuitive workers waiting to be advised, so I ‎thought if I gave her to you, that would be about ‎even.‎

I thought that over for a few moments, but ‎honestly, having dealt with the woman, I could see ‎her point. Grudgingly, but I could see it.‎

‎I was thinking about that guy who came in ‎looking for Aunt Glorsa, Eldra said, apparently ‎feeling that it was time to change the subject. ‎

‎Oh? I said, concentrating on my food.‎

‎Yes, I wondered if he maybe had something to ‎do with the Freedom Fighters, you know. That would ‎explain how he knew both our parents and Aunt ‎Glorsa. They were all in that, weren’t they?‎

‎The Freedom Fighters? I asked. They’re all ‎dead, aren’t they? The Ladrisians cleaned them out ‎twenty years ago when they crushed all resistance. ‎That’s why we’re in the straits we are now.‎

‎Aunt Glorsa was still here until last year, Eldra ‎said. I imagine there were a few others who got ‎away, too.‎

‎Yeah, but I don’t think Aunt Glorsa was ever ‎really an active part of it, was she? I know the ‎Ladrisians hunted down and killed anyone who stood ‎up to them.‎

‎I don’t know. But she knew all about it, so she ‎must have at least been on the edges of it. Maybe this ‎guy was, too.‎

I shrugged. Whatever. I don’t suppose we’ll ever ‎see him again, so I can’t see that it really matters.‎

Eldra gave me an exasperated look. You’re so ‎parochial, Zahli. Aren’t you even curious?‎

‎Not really. I can’t see anything to get excited ‎about in an old acquaintance of Aunt Glorsa’s turning ‎up looking for her. And there’s no need to be ‎insulting.‎

‎Sorry, Eldra said in that tone that meant she ‎wasn’t at all. ‎

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