afterwards I was completely rooted.” I shrugged. “Didn’t get tired making the light just now. Don’t feel anything.”
“Nothing?”
“Well, the brooch got a little bit warm.”
The three of them were still staring at me as if I were some kind of mutant. I wished they’d stop it.
“Look! I’ve never done magic on purpose before. I’ve never known what I was doing before.”
Jay-Tee snorted. “You don’t exactly know what you’re doing now. You lit the room brighter than a thousand watts.”
“What use is light against that bitey golem thing, anyway?” I asked.
“Probably none,” Esmeralda said. “But I wanted to have some sense of what you can do. Now I know you need to learn control. Against the golem we’ll lay more protections, not light.” She opened the top of the cardboard box. It was full of feathers. Black, purple, dark blue, and green feathers. They looked like the ones that had been under my pillow.
“Jay-Tee, how do you make a protection?”
“I push a tiny bit of magic into the feathers or bones or whatever, and then, as quick as I can, I put them close to what I want protected. The magic wears off eventually.”
“How do you ‘push’ magic?” I asked.
“Exactly the same way we conjured light.”
“You just think about it?”
“Yes. But think softly , Reason,” Esmeralda said. “Think about the gentleness of a feather. Think little thoughts.”
“Not thoughts of nuclear warheads,” Jay-Tee said under her breath.
Esmeralda stood up. “Ready to go back over?”
We emerged out of the dark, cool house into the intense dazzle of the bright day—even the bitumen surface of the street seemed to sparkle. I watched carefully as Esmeralda locked the door: three locks, three keys, all of which turned widdershins.
None of us said anything, following Esmeralda like obedient little chicks. Tom carried the box of feathers. I held the brooch, still warm in my fingers.
6
Feathers and Chunder
Tom could tell that Reason wasn’t keen on going back
in the house. It wasn’t hard: her face’d gone a really weird colour. He lowered his sunglasses. Almost green.
“You can smell it already?” Tom asked. “It hasn’t gone away?”
Standing outside Esmeralda’s house, the late afternoon sun lanced down at them like hot angry spears. Coming out of the cold lesson house was always a shock on a hot day like this. Tom had to squint through his sunglasses; he could feel the sweat gathering under his armpits, on his forehead and upper lip, in the middle of his back.
Mere was examining the front door, not using magic. Even though she was wearing an old pair of jeans and a plain black shirt, she looked well groomed, neat, hair pulled back in a ponytail, in place of the formal chignon she’d had it in when she got back from work. Her make-up understated, but just so. Mere was not a bright-red-lipstick kind of woman. Tom tried to reconcile her appearance with the bomb-just-gone-off look of her room. He failed.
Reason nodded, then shook her head. “Psychosomatic,” she said, looking a little less green. “Just knowing that I might smell it again . . .” She trailed off, shrugging.
“Must be bad,” Tom said, just to say something. It was a pretty der-brain statement.
“Yeah.”
Mere stood up, opened the door. He and Reason followed her through, then Jay-Tee.
“I don’t smell it,” Reason said. She took several more steps forward and then gagged, her face turning a deeper shade of green. “Okay, yes, now I smell it. The kitchen—”
“Okay, let’s do it. Quickly!”
Tom ran down the hall. The thing was at the bottom of the back door, trying to squeeze past Jay-Tee’s matches.
“Drop the box, Tom,” Mere said.
Tom placed the box of feathers on the floor and knocked the battered lid aside, still staring at the thing by the door. It was glowing.
Mere squatted beside the box, thrust her hand in. “Come on,” she said. “All three of you.”
Tom grabbed the jade button in his pocket and
“Nothing?”
“Well, the brooch got a little bit warm.”
The three of them were still staring at me as if I were some kind of mutant. I wished they’d stop it.
“Look! I’ve never done magic on purpose before. I’ve never known what I was doing before.”
Jay-Tee snorted. “You don’t exactly know what you’re doing now. You lit the room brighter than a thousand watts.”
“What use is light against that bitey golem thing, anyway?” I asked.
“Probably none,” Esmeralda said. “But I wanted to have some sense of what you can do. Now I know you need to learn control. Against the golem we’ll lay more protections, not light.” She opened the top of the cardboard box. It was full of feathers. Black, purple, dark blue, and green feathers. They looked like the ones that had been under my pillow.
“Jay-Tee, how do you make a protection?”
“I push a tiny bit of magic into the feathers or bones or whatever, and then, as quick as I can, I put them close to what I want protected. The magic wears off eventually.”
“How do you ‘push’ magic?” I asked.
“Exactly the same way we conjured light.”
“You just think about it?”
“Yes. But think softly , Reason,” Esmeralda said. “Think about the gentleness of a feather. Think little thoughts.”
“Not thoughts of nuclear warheads,” Jay-Tee said under her breath.
Esmeralda stood up. “Ready to go back over?”
We emerged out of the dark, cool house into the intense dazzle of the bright day—even the bitumen surface of the street seemed to sparkle. I watched carefully as Esmeralda locked the door: three locks, three keys, all of which turned widdershins.
None of us said anything, following Esmeralda like obedient little chicks. Tom carried the box of feathers. I held the brooch, still warm in my fingers.
6
Feathers and Chunder
Tom could tell that Reason wasn’t keen on going back
in the house. It wasn’t hard: her face’d gone a really weird colour. He lowered his sunglasses. Almost green.
“You can smell it already?” Tom asked. “It hasn’t gone away?”
Standing outside Esmeralda’s house, the late afternoon sun lanced down at them like hot angry spears. Coming out of the cold lesson house was always a shock on a hot day like this. Tom had to squint through his sunglasses; he could feel the sweat gathering under his armpits, on his forehead and upper lip, in the middle of his back.
Mere was examining the front door, not using magic. Even though she was wearing an old pair of jeans and a plain black shirt, she looked well groomed, neat, hair pulled back in a ponytail, in place of the formal chignon she’d had it in when she got back from work. Her make-up understated, but just so. Mere was not a bright-red-lipstick kind of woman. Tom tried to reconcile her appearance with the bomb-just-gone-off look of her room. He failed.
Reason nodded, then shook her head. “Psychosomatic,” she said, looking a little less green. “Just knowing that I might smell it again . . .” She trailed off, shrugging.
“Must be bad,” Tom said, just to say something. It was a pretty der-brain statement.
“Yeah.”
Mere stood up, opened the door. He and Reason followed her through, then Jay-Tee.
“I don’t smell it,” Reason said. She took several more steps forward and then gagged, her face turning a deeper shade of green. “Okay, yes, now I smell it. The kitchen—”
“Okay, let’s do it. Quickly!”
Tom ran down the hall. The thing was at the bottom of the back door, trying to squeeze past Jay-Tee’s matches.
“Drop the box, Tom,” Mere said.
Tom placed the box of feathers on the floor and knocked the battered lid aside, still staring at the thing by the door. It was glowing.
Mere squatted beside the box, thrust her hand in. “Come on,” she said. “All three of you.”
Tom grabbed the jade button in his pocket and
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