“Head to Zab’s and crawl into a ball and cry? I think my offer is better, at least by a little bit, don’t you?” He held up his fingers, leaving the slightest bit of air between them.
I started walking. “Fine. But just so you know, I wasn’t going to cry. I was going to crawl into a ball and have tea, thank you very much.” I had a rule against crying, and it wouldn’t be broken because of one bad day filled with a lot of sneers and refusals.
“That’s only because you don’t cry,” he said, looking at me like he knew things. “But if you were the type to cry, it would be game on right now.”
It was unclear whether he was trying to tease me out of a bad mood or just amuse himself. Either way, it was working, so I’d take it.
“How do you know I don’t cry?” I asked. No matter how he wanted to portray it, he didn’t know things. We’d never been that close, and I was a closed book. I kept it that way until I was sure you weren’t the type of person who dog-eared the pages or broke the spine. I’d taken too many dings to let just anyone flip my pages about.
“I was there after one of your attacks, remember? You know, the whole…” He put his hands to his throat and made a choking noise.
Oh yes, what a nice reenactment of the night an invisible monster nearly choked me to death. Clearly, there was nothing off the table when it came to Oscar’s personal amusement.
“How could I forget with such a glorious reminder?” I asked.
“If you weren’t all weepy-eyed after that one, pretty good odds you don’t cry easily.”
Maybe he did know a few things. He was definitely observant.
The longer we walked, two things became very apparent. One, Oscar didn’t have that annoying habit of Hawk’s, where he’d be a few feet ahead of me. At least Hawk hadn’t corrupted his friend in that way. Two, just like Hawk, people cleared the street for Oscar. It wasn’t quite the same “make a break for it” kind of berth, but there was definitely an area of magical respect, you might call it. Or maybe plain old fear, because when I looked around, the nods were still coming but the sneers had stopped almost completely. Now I had to decipher friend from foe by impartiality. It was an improvement. I was a tough girl, as Oscar had implied, but I wasn’t made of steel. I’d taken enough dirty looks to fill my glass ten times over today.
“Hey, do you know what a Nowhere witch is? I’ve never heard of it. Is that a different name for Whimsy witch or something?”
There was a heavy lag before he answered. “You already heard about that, huh? Guess it’s not a surprise.”
“What’s it mean?”
“I’ll tell you, but only because you’re not a crier, so don’t prove me wrong.” He glanced at me, seeking confirmation he wouldn’t have a bawling mess on his hands.
“Like you said, I don’t cry. Now tell me.”
“It’s what people call witches who don’t belong anywhere. You’ve got no home. You’ve got nowhere. Typically it’s been reserved for witches who don’t have any magic left because they can’t stay in Xest any longer.”
Whoa. That one hit a nerve. I hadn’t thought anything he could say would make me actually want to cry, so why were my eyes burning? I wasn’t going to go back on my word, but this was a little tougher than I’d thought. I might still have magic, not that I’d been using it, but I didn’t have a home. I was straddling two worlds right now and didn’t seem to belong in either.
“Hey, you’re not getting funny on me, right?” Oscar asked, watching me as if he sensed the little swarm of bees attacking my eyes.
“Not at all. Just curious why they would call me that.” I rubbed the back of my hand across my nose while clearing my throat.
“Maybe they think you won’t last long after that wall you made in the Unsettled Lands. They probably think you’re nearly used up.” Oscar shrugged, as if he didn’t think that would be a problem.
I tripped but caught myself fast enough that I didn’t need any help staying on my feet. What if they were right? What if I didn’t have much magic left? I hadn’t even tested out my magic in months, if you didn’t count accidentally jumping into every puddle I’d seen. That hadn’t worked before I left Xest, so I hadn’t worried about it not working then, too.
But shit. What if I had fought to get back here and I was running on fumes?
“Hey, you’re tough, remember?” Oscar reminded me.
“I’m fine.” I was, or would be soon.
“Okay, well, you better be. If you let what those losers said get to you, I’m going to have to rethink my opinion. I don’t like that many people, and I was just on the brink of thinking you might be okay, but if you let some ass take you down that easy, I might be wrong.”
He might’ve still been talking, but there were more important matters. Could I still do magic? Had I run out? Rabbit had told me that most witches did. Why would I be different?
“Tippi, what are you doing?” Oscar asked, his voice firm and loud.
“Oh, nothing,” I said, tucking my hand back in my pocket. This wasn’t the time to experiment.
“You didn’t run out,” he said.
He might know some things, and he might be perceptive, but that had been an easy one.
“How do you know?”
“Because that wall would’ve wiped out nearly anyone who wasn’t an infinite. The fact that you’re standing here breathing tells me you still have magic, but if you’d like me to confirm it…”
He grabbed my wrist and yanked off my glove, wrapping his hand around mine. The sizzle of magic intermingling was instant.
He dropped my hand. “You’re fine. More than fine. You might have more than is good for you.” He handed me back my glove while shaking his head. “I knew he was underplaying it,” Oscar said, more to himself than me.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, clasping my hands together, wishing there were some way to self-test.
“Ask Hawk.” He laughed, leaving me wondering while he opened the door.
I looked up, realizing we’d stopped in front of a building with darkened windows and no sign. It was a bar of sorts. Hawk had brought me here what seemed like ages ago to meet some of his people. It was the only place I hadn’t begged for a job in today, mostly because it didn’t look like it was open for customers, or people that hadn’t been stamped and approved by Hawk.
The place was dimly lit, with a scattering of candles around the room and a smoky haze that seemed to be a permanent fixture in the place.
There were only a handful of people inside. A couple of guys sitting in the corner that looked up as we walked in, who nodded in our direction, and a man wiping down the bar. He had a face that looked like it had been dried and tanned a thousand years ago, black hair pulled back, adding to the severity of his expression.
Oscar grabbed a stool, and I took the one beside him.
“Oscar, what can I get you two tonight?” the barman asked as he gave me a once-over.
“Zark, I’ll have an ale, and something hot for my friend here.”
Boiling sounded good right about now. I wasn’t sure anything else would remove the permafrost from my limbs.