Hapenny Magick (9 page)

The tree bent and swayed to the beat. Mae stared as the buds on the limbs unfurled into creamy white flowers. The center of each blossom formed a yellow star. Then the tree flung out a slender sprig, which landed at Mae's feet. She bent to pick it up, the flute's song fading into the forest.

Callum entered the meadow. “I should have known you two would be a perfect match. Luisliu is a mischievous tree.”

The leaves on the tree shook, as if it was laughing.

Mae pocketed the flute, then twirled the twig in her hand, inspecting the velvety star centers of the flowers. “Luisliu?”

“That's the name of the tree, Luisliu. I think non-magickal people call it a rowan tree. In the fall, it will be covered with beautiful red berries.” Callum patted his stomach. “The berries make a wonderful jam.”

Mae's mouth watered at the idea of making jam. She swallowed and gazed up into the tree's swaying canopy. “Sounds wonderful.”

“It is particularly good with goose.” The wizard chuckled. “It makes perfect sense that your wand would come from this tree.”

Mae blinked and stared at the sprig in her hand. “My wand?”

Callum unbraided the end of his beard, revealing a thorny twig of raspberry. “No other wizard I've ever met has a thorn-riddled wand. But it entangled itself around my leg, and I knew that it was meant to be.”

Mae smiled and gripped the twig tighter. “My wand!”

A breeze picked up as Mae hobbled back to the tree. She threw her arms around its trunk. “Thank you, Luisliu.” She patted the smooth bark.

Callum braided his wand back into his beard, and then put his hand on the top of Mae's head. “Come, Maewyn, it feels like there's a storm blowing in, and it's time for you to rest.”

“But I'm too excited to rest! I want to learn some magick!” She turned in a circle and gave the wand a flick with her wrist. “Kazoo!” The flowers burst off the twig, turning into white moths that fluttered to and fro.

“Oh, dear.” Callum's mouth quirked to the side. “It seems I've underestimated your magick. No more wand flicking until I can teach you some rules, or I fear you will be turning mushrooms into hobgoblins.” Callum turned away from the meadow. “Come along, Maewyn.”

Mae followed the wizard, but when she saw a ring of polka-dotted toadstools, she couldn't resist. With a picture in her mind of what she thought hobgoblins looked like and a little flick of her wrist, Mae tapped each toadstool with her wand. At first nothing happened. And then, one by one, the toadstools sprouted legs and scurried away. Mae was so startled she ran to catch up with Callum, ignoring the twinge in her ankle. She grabbed his shirttail and looked back. A cluster of little creatures with round features and gleaming eyes stared at her from the brush. On their heads, bulbous red hats with white polka dots bounced with excitement. The hobgoblins were just as she'd pictured them. She waved as Callum pulled her along, hoping they would follow her, but they scurried deeper into the woods. She hoped she'd see them again and that they would be able to keep dry in the storm. She supposed, though, that a toadstool had weathered many spring showers. A splash of rain fell on her nose, and the wizard picked up his pace.

Callum and Mae made it to the shelter of the porch as the storm began in earnest. Mae wasn't about to admit it, but she was a little tired. She rested in the bed in the room that was now hers. It wasn't her dreaming nook, but it was cozy enough. A half-drained cup of tea and three biscuits were sitting on a plate next to her. Her new wand rested on the table by the bed.

She reached for the wand and twirled it in her hand, this time being very careful to stop any images from forming in her mind. “Callum, should I whittle the bumps down on my wand?”

“Oh, no.” The wizard shook his head. “You must never use metal on a rowan tree or you will hurt its magick. The bumps will smooth in time from use.”

Callum picked up the large tome at the end of her bed and settled the heavy book in Mae's lap. “Knowing about the past helps us avoid mistakes in the future.”

Placing her wand by her side, Mae flipped open the cover of A Historie of Magickal People. Some of the pages had corners worn from the many fingers turning them through the years. She ran her hand over the yellowed paper, soft with age, and then she began to read.

Chapter Ten

The storm pounded the Wedge for two days and nights, plenty of time for Mae to worry about Aletta, who still hadn't returned.

She'd been reading, too, moving on from the Historie of Magickal People to Bits and Baubles for Beginners. The soft crackle in the hearth was a nice accompaniment to the rain drumming against the roof.

Callum was tying fishing flies. Downy black feathers were stuck to his beard. Mae heard him muttering curses under his breath more than once at the tangled red thread. With a big sigh, Callum put the flies aside and put another log on the fire. He glanced at the door and sighed again. The wizard hadn't said so, but Mae was sure he was worried, too.

Mae wiggled in the small, overstuffed chair Callum had magicked for her and snapped her book closed. Trina startled and unwound from her nest in Mae's curls where she had taken up residence. She climbed down to Mae's shoulder, her whiskers tickling the girl's neck. Mae gathered the squirrel in her hands and set Trina on the arm of the chair. “Callum, can you tell me what it feels like to change shape? Does it hurt?” She hadn't only been worried about Aletta; she'd been worried about the toadstools turned into hobgoblins, too.

The wizard sank into his chair before the fire. He rubbed his hands over his eyes. “It doesn't hurt, exactly…and Aletta says you get used to it. She once explained the feeling as a bit like the popping sensation when your knuckles crack.”

“It would be awfully useful to be able to change into something different than a hapenny.” Mae peeked at Callum through her eyelashes.

“Aletta has called Verdan Gripora useful as well, but she's not especially fond of her magickal strength.” He chuckled, lost in thought for a moment. “I suppose she would feel differently if she transformed into a nobler creature.”

Mae shrugged her shoulders. “I like pigs. Do you think Aletta will teach me?”

Callum rubbed his whiskery chin. “I don't know, Maewyn; it's tough magick. Perhaps we should stick to the more basic spells for now.” Callum tapped his finger on the end of his nose. Mae bit her lip with anticipation. She turned her ears forward and made her eyes as round as possible.

The wizard sighed and smiled. “How can I say no with you looking at me like that?” A belly laugh rippled through the cottage. “I guess it won't hurt to see if you have a tendency toward a Verdan Gripora or a Kiptar Liftan. It does seem to fit with the blossoms turning into moths and such.” Callum clapped his hand on the arm of the chair. “You're feeling well enough for this?”

Mae nodded. Her stomach flip-flopped with excitement… or maybe it was hunger. Breakfast had been quite a while ago.

Callum pointed to the kindling pile. “Hand me that twig there.”

Mae jumped from her seat—her ankle didn't even twinge today—and pulled the stick out of the pile. She handed it to the wizard.

He held it up in the firelight. “What does it look like to you?”

Mae raised her eyebrows skeptically. “It's a twig.”

Shaking his head, Callum clicked his tongue. “No, I asked what it looks like, not what it is.”

Mae scanned the dips and swells of the bark on the twig. At first the twig looked like an ordinary twig, but then she found a couple of bumps and a little knothole. If she let her imagination go free, she could almost see the face of a weasel, the bumps being brow ridges and the knothole a cute, black nose.

The twig twinged in Callum's grasp. “Yes, that's it,” he whispered. “Now use your wand.”

Mae pulled her wand from her apron pocket and settled the tip on the twig. Two beady eyes stared out from the rough surface, blinking at the firelight.

A furry paw swiped at the knothole nose. One end of the twig waved like a tail.

Trina scampered up the wizard's arm and hid in the brim of his hat, where Beau was watching with wary eyes and shivering whiskers.

The front door jolted in its casing and then blew open. The weasel squirmed from Callum's grip and scrambled up the bookshelves.

Aletta swept in on the rain-laden wind. The raven followed, gliding to the top of Callum's chair. The stormy entrance of her two friends made Mae forget about the weasel. Aletta's usually neat hair was frizzy and sticking out from under her hat in every direction. The tail of her cap drooped sadly to the ground.

“What we need,” Aletta announced, “is a weather wizard!” She seized her hat and flipped it onto a peg behind the door. “I don't suppose Mae is one of those?”

The wizard wrung her hair in the doorway and snapped her fingers at the mop in the corner. The mop sprang to life and sopped up the rain from the entryway, then went after the dripping woman.

“No, no!” Aletta said in a singsong voice. “Go away, you twig-brained mop!”

Mae giggled as Aletta shooed the mop away and latched the front door. She was relieved Aletta had finally returned.

Callum gestured to the weasel peering out at them from the bookshelves. “We were just doing a little test. Seems our Maewyn has many talents. Though Vedar Frodliker, or a weather wizard as you so plainly put it, doesn't seem to be one of them. Kiptar Liftan, however, may be on the top of the list.”

“That's a wizard that can bring something to life,” Mae said. She cringed at the thought of the toadstool creatures running around the forest. Had they found shelter from the storm? She hadn't thought about that when she'd left them behind. “I read about some famous Kiptar Liftans in A Historie of Magickal People.” She patted the red book in her chair. “I didn't read about any Hybilia Frodlikers in the book though, Callum.”

Red splotches grew on Callum's cheeks. “That's because Hybilia Frodlikers rarely do anything noteworthy.”