desk for support.
Frankie lost the outraged expression and laughed along with the girl. “Enough,” Frankie said. “So I may assume that you do not intend to flee in maidenly terror any time soon?”
Rhian shook her head. It was a few moments before she could trust herself to speak. “Sorry, Frankie, it’s just that I had trouble seeing you as an emissary of Beelzebub. The, um, plant mix smells rather nice.”
“I have a mix of air herbs in here—witch’s broom, holy vanilla, sweetgrass, lavender, and, of course, mint. I need to activate the spell now, if you can contain yourself? ” Frankie asked.
“Carry on,” said Rhian. “I’ll be good; I promise.”
“Well, please keep quiet and don’t do anything to break my concentration.”
The woman closed her eyes, and, stretching up her arms into the air like a Mexican priest hailing the Sun, she began to sing.
“Great Jupiter, cleanse the air,
Holy Indrus, give power of thought,
Swift Mercury, send agility of intellect,
“Sylphs of the air, grant concentration.”
Frankie repeated the song over and over, adding more of the herbal mix to the heater whenever the vapor flow diminished.
Scent drifted through the office. Rhian felt light-headed, and her fingers and toes tingled. She felt tired, so she sat on one of the swivel office chairs, rocking it gently. Frankie droned on, her voice retreating into the distance. Rhian closed her eyes and her head drooped. She drifted away and began to daydream.
Frankie’s voice was a distant murmur and was overlaid by the sound of leaves rustling in a breeze. The wind increased in force, gusts buffeting Rhian’s ears and whipping her clothes against her legs. She opened her eyes. She stood one leg each side of a great ridge that was surrounded by ice-capped mountain peaks. Splintered rock fell away precipitously each side of her for hundreds of meters, gradually disappearing into clouds.
Rhian could see as well as hear the wind. It caressed her with sub-zero icy tendrils, but she felt no pain. Faces in the gusts called to her, and she felt a compulsion to step off the ridge into empty air, to lose herself, to walk in the wind. She took a tentative step, adjusting her balance.
“Rhian.” Frankie’s voice sounded from a long way away. “RHIAN!”
Hands shook her shoulders and she opened her eyes.
“Snap out of it, Rhian. Air magic is very powerful in high buildings. Don’t go to sleep on me, honey,” Frankie said, smiling at her, “You had me worried for a moment there.”
The little oven was unplugged and looked quite cold. Rhian glanced at her watch and was astonished to see that she had lost half an hour. She rubbed her eyes.
“I must have dozed off. I haven’t been sleeping well lately,” Rhian said, by way of explanation.
“I know, honey. I heard you,” said Frankie, in a noncommittal tone of voice.
This was not a conversation that Rhian wished to pursue, so she changed the subject.
“Are we finished?”
“The air spell is finished but I still have to work water magic. Are you okay to continue?” asked Frankie.
“Sure, you go ahead,” Rhian replied.
Frankie moved her apparatus to the other side of the open-plan office, near to the washrooms.
“This is where the water is piped in from the ground,” Frankie said. She smiled at Rhian. “I will use water plants, coltsfoot, bulrushes, water lily, and mint for this spell,” Frankie said, getting another box out of her bag.
“Mint, again?” asked Rhian.
“Mint is a connecting plant that links water to the sky,” said Frankie. “It magnifies the effect of the two spells synergistically. That is why it was so important for us to get some this morning.”
She placed the oven on a metal tray on the carpet and knelt in front of it. Dropping the new herbal mix into the red-hot bowl, she sang again. This time, the vapor was heavier than air, flowing across the floor like mist.
“Great Poseidon, cleanse the waters,
“Coventina, give
Frankie lost the outraged expression and laughed along with the girl. “Enough,” Frankie said. “So I may assume that you do not intend to flee in maidenly terror any time soon?”
Rhian shook her head. It was a few moments before she could trust herself to speak. “Sorry, Frankie, it’s just that I had trouble seeing you as an emissary of Beelzebub. The, um, plant mix smells rather nice.”
“I have a mix of air herbs in here—witch’s broom, holy vanilla, sweetgrass, lavender, and, of course, mint. I need to activate the spell now, if you can contain yourself? ” Frankie asked.
“Carry on,” said Rhian. “I’ll be good; I promise.”
“Well, please keep quiet and don’t do anything to break my concentration.”
The woman closed her eyes, and, stretching up her arms into the air like a Mexican priest hailing the Sun, she began to sing.
“Great Jupiter, cleanse the air,
Holy Indrus, give power of thought,
Swift Mercury, send agility of intellect,
“Sylphs of the air, grant concentration.”
Frankie repeated the song over and over, adding more of the herbal mix to the heater whenever the vapor flow diminished.
Scent drifted through the office. Rhian felt light-headed, and her fingers and toes tingled. She felt tired, so she sat on one of the swivel office chairs, rocking it gently. Frankie droned on, her voice retreating into the distance. Rhian closed her eyes and her head drooped. She drifted away and began to daydream.
Frankie’s voice was a distant murmur and was overlaid by the sound of leaves rustling in a breeze. The wind increased in force, gusts buffeting Rhian’s ears and whipping her clothes against her legs. She opened her eyes. She stood one leg each side of a great ridge that was surrounded by ice-capped mountain peaks. Splintered rock fell away precipitously each side of her for hundreds of meters, gradually disappearing into clouds.
Rhian could see as well as hear the wind. It caressed her with sub-zero icy tendrils, but she felt no pain. Faces in the gusts called to her, and she felt a compulsion to step off the ridge into empty air, to lose herself, to walk in the wind. She took a tentative step, adjusting her balance.
“Rhian.” Frankie’s voice sounded from a long way away. “RHIAN!”
Hands shook her shoulders and she opened her eyes.
“Snap out of it, Rhian. Air magic is very powerful in high buildings. Don’t go to sleep on me, honey,” Frankie said, smiling at her, “You had me worried for a moment there.”
The little oven was unplugged and looked quite cold. Rhian glanced at her watch and was astonished to see that she had lost half an hour. She rubbed her eyes.
“I must have dozed off. I haven’t been sleeping well lately,” Rhian said, by way of explanation.
“I know, honey. I heard you,” said Frankie, in a noncommittal tone of voice.
This was not a conversation that Rhian wished to pursue, so she changed the subject.
“Are we finished?”
“The air spell is finished but I still have to work water magic. Are you okay to continue?” asked Frankie.
“Sure, you go ahead,” Rhian replied.
Frankie moved her apparatus to the other side of the open-plan office, near to the washrooms.
“This is where the water is piped in from the ground,” Frankie said. She smiled at Rhian. “I will use water plants, coltsfoot, bulrushes, water lily, and mint for this spell,” Frankie said, getting another box out of her bag.
“Mint, again?” asked Rhian.
“Mint is a connecting plant that links water to the sky,” said Frankie. “It magnifies the effect of the two spells synergistically. That is why it was so important for us to get some this morning.”
She placed the oven on a metal tray on the carpet and knelt in front of it. Dropping the new herbal mix into the red-hot bowl, she sang again. This time, the vapor was heavier than air, flowing across the floor like mist.
“Great Poseidon, cleanse the waters,
“Coventina, give
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