air.
“Coming! Coming.” The door swung open.
“Oh wow, is it good to see you,” I said.
Her eyes sharpened. She glanced around and then slammed the door in my face.
Tempted to blast my way into her house too, I stepped away and stared sightlessly at my own feet. Was there a reason she’d be pissed at me? Something I’d said or done at our last meeting?
In the distance, a lilting tune filled the air with glittery notes that floated past me on the breeze.
Was Marantha being watched too?
I looked around, then realized that if anyone were spying on her, they now knew I was aware of it. Damn it. To my surprise, the door swung open. Marantha didn’t look any friendlier. “Here. Take your jewelry and don’t come back again.” She shoved a box into my hands and bang went the door.
Okay then. I slipped the box into my jean’s pocket and walked away, my senses on high alert. What was going on? Why hadn’t she wanted to talk with me, and what was in the box? I’d bet a million dollars it wasn’t jewelry.
From the corner of my eye, I saw movement. I stopped and turned, unwilling to let someone shadow me. I could always hop a quick hook home if I had to. Until then, I was going to find out who was there. Hands on hips, I said, “You need to go back to ninja school.” I heard the scuff of a shoe behind me and I had a bubble in place before anyone could throw magic at me. Someone cursed.
After a short argument held in furious whispers, two women stepped from behind a shaggy oak tree across the street. Two more popped up behind a bush, and a man slunk to the middle of the street from a shadowed yard. A tall woman with greying hair addressed me. “I am Kenda, Anforsa of the Council.”
For one wild moment, I so dearly wanted to say, “I am Xena, Warrior Princess.” Gulping back the sudden desire to giggle, I dug my fingernails into my palm, hoping to quell my laughter. “Yeah, okay.”
“What is your business here?” She leaned in, frowning. “What are you? I see human. Skriven. Chythraul. Fleshcrawler. Wild magic.”
Murmurs ran through her group.
“Yes,” I said. I could claim all those, though the wild magic part was interesting. Could she see it on me because of the time I’d spent with Kroshtuka, or some other reason?
“Let down your protection. It’s against our laws to put up a barrier against members of the Council.”
“Lady, you guys were the ones lurking around, hiding behind bushes. For all I knew, you were going to jump me. You can take your law, and shove it where the sun don’t shine.”
My lack of kowtowing—or perhaps my lack of fear—caused hard, flat lines to punctuate her mouth. “You are in violation of Council Law. All who walk our streets must register with the Council and declare their intentions.”
I wondered if ‘I intend to do whatever I damn well please,’ would go over well, and decided it would not. “Okay. So how do I go about,” I waved my hand, “registering. Or whatever.”
“You have violated our laws and must appear before the Council to answer for your crimes.”
“Oh really. And what crimes are those? Besides daring to walk around on your hallowed streets.” If this conversation didn’t get better in five seconds, I was so making a hook and getting the hell out of there.
If anything, she stiffened up more, until I worried she might be going through rigor mortis. “Our streets aren’t hallowed. But our laws are in place for a reason. We don’t allow Skriven to abide in our cities, for one.”
“Technically I’m not a Skriven.” I was an Originator. And not a real one, at that. “I’m just a human with a little something extra.”
“Humans don’t survive on our world,” she said in gotcha tones.
“They do if given domar berries.”
“Those berries are grown in wild magic, and therefore, aren’t to be trusted.” She shifted, and I tensed, but she didn’t offer to toss any magic my way. Her jaw worked as if she were tamping
“Coming! Coming.” The door swung open.
“Oh wow, is it good to see you,” I said.
Her eyes sharpened. She glanced around and then slammed the door in my face.
Tempted to blast my way into her house too, I stepped away and stared sightlessly at my own feet. Was there a reason she’d be pissed at me? Something I’d said or done at our last meeting?
In the distance, a lilting tune filled the air with glittery notes that floated past me on the breeze.
Was Marantha being watched too?
I looked around, then realized that if anyone were spying on her, they now knew I was aware of it. Damn it. To my surprise, the door swung open. Marantha didn’t look any friendlier. “Here. Take your jewelry and don’t come back again.” She shoved a box into my hands and bang went the door.
Okay then. I slipped the box into my jean’s pocket and walked away, my senses on high alert. What was going on? Why hadn’t she wanted to talk with me, and what was in the box? I’d bet a million dollars it wasn’t jewelry.
From the corner of my eye, I saw movement. I stopped and turned, unwilling to let someone shadow me. I could always hop a quick hook home if I had to. Until then, I was going to find out who was there. Hands on hips, I said, “You need to go back to ninja school.” I heard the scuff of a shoe behind me and I had a bubble in place before anyone could throw magic at me. Someone cursed.
After a short argument held in furious whispers, two women stepped from behind a shaggy oak tree across the street. Two more popped up behind a bush, and a man slunk to the middle of the street from a shadowed yard. A tall woman with greying hair addressed me. “I am Kenda, Anforsa of the Council.”
For one wild moment, I so dearly wanted to say, “I am Xena, Warrior Princess.” Gulping back the sudden desire to giggle, I dug my fingernails into my palm, hoping to quell my laughter. “Yeah, okay.”
“What is your business here?” She leaned in, frowning. “What are you? I see human. Skriven. Chythraul. Fleshcrawler. Wild magic.”
Murmurs ran through her group.
“Yes,” I said. I could claim all those, though the wild magic part was interesting. Could she see it on me because of the time I’d spent with Kroshtuka, or some other reason?
“Let down your protection. It’s against our laws to put up a barrier against members of the Council.”
“Lady, you guys were the ones lurking around, hiding behind bushes. For all I knew, you were going to jump me. You can take your law, and shove it where the sun don’t shine.”
My lack of kowtowing—or perhaps my lack of fear—caused hard, flat lines to punctuate her mouth. “You are in violation of Council Law. All who walk our streets must register with the Council and declare their intentions.”
I wondered if ‘I intend to do whatever I damn well please,’ would go over well, and decided it would not. “Okay. So how do I go about,” I waved my hand, “registering. Or whatever.”
“You have violated our laws and must appear before the Council to answer for your crimes.”
“Oh really. And what crimes are those? Besides daring to walk around on your hallowed streets.” If this conversation didn’t get better in five seconds, I was so making a hook and getting the hell out of there.
If anything, she stiffened up more, until I worried she might be going through rigor mortis. “Our streets aren’t hallowed. But our laws are in place for a reason. We don’t allow Skriven to abide in our cities, for one.”
“Technically I’m not a Skriven.” I was an Originator. And not a real one, at that. “I’m just a human with a little something extra.”
“Humans don’t survive on our world,” she said in gotcha tones.
“They do if given domar berries.”
“Those berries are grown in wild magic, and therefore, aren’t to be trusted.” She shifted, and I tensed, but she didn’t offer to toss any magic my way. Her jaw worked as if she were tamping
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