By the time the books were finished, thirteen magical tomes towered over my head. I teetered to a side table, and Mother helped stuff them inside my knapsack. I snatched up my worn copy of The Guide for Questing Witches and Wizards, which I’d brought from home, and placed it carefully on top. “Did you have this many tomes during your quest, Mother?”
“If it sits, it fits!” As usual for Mother, she quickly thought of a spell to expand my knapsack further and waved her wand with ease. The canvas bag obediently swallowed up the books, though it was already crammed with food and other supplies. “I had a thinner book. But these are simply recommendations. You aren’t required to read all of them.”
“Books have a way of making themselves known,” Kaya added. “When they’re meant to be read, they’ll appear. When you need them, you’ll always be able to find the right book for you.”
With a swish of her wand, Kaya magicked the enchanted bookshelf away.
The second bell rang, chiming throughout all of Okayama. The sound echoed in my ears, as if it had rooted itself in my heartbeat. Mother met my eyes with a quick nod.
We needed to hurry to the Council Hall. I had to find out why I hadn’t been included in the Council’s letter to Kaya.
The list had to be a mistake.
CHAPTER 2
RIVELLE REALM’S COUNCIL OF WITCHES AND WIZARDS
My future depended on the Council Hall in front of me, a magnificent stone and glass building at the edge of the capital city. West of Okayama City, the Torido River split into two, as if the waters had been forced to flow around the magic-infused glass and head out to the sea in two separate paths.
Mother, Father, Kaya, and I hurried across the courtyard leading up to the shimmering building. Mother and Kaya stopped, bending in a deep bow toward the Council’s enchanted trees. I followed their lead, and the light flickering on the metal and glass leaves tugged at me, as if charming me to walk closer.
“We have to go in,” Kaya said, nodding toward the hall. I stopped, trying to resist the urge to inch closer to the trees. “There’s only one bell’s worth of time before the meeting starts.”
“We’ll head inside shortly,” Mother said, waving her along. My parents smiled at me. “Go on, take a look.”
I reached out to the Novice tree with a hesitant, quivering hand and whispered, “I’ll be up there soon.” When I ran my finger along the rough bark of the tree, it was cool under my touch. Eleven bronze leaves, engraved with the names of the realm’s current Novices, clanked in the breeze, ringing with a lonely sound. Knowing Grottel’s favoritism, he’d give Conroy his license before me. I would become the thirteenth.
Or, at least, I hoped so.
Spray misted the courtyard, coating everything with slick dew. In the shade of the hall and raised by the breath of the twin rivers, the five magical trees swayed in a line, their metal and glass leaves twinkling like chimes.
I whispered the names like a spell. “Novice, Adept, Elite, Master, Grand Master.”
Five levels. If—no, after—I passed my Novice quest, I had to fulfill the quests assigned by the Council to progress from Novice to Adept, Adept to Elite. Most witches and wizards stayed as Elites, unable to beat the three incredibly difficult quests required to become a Master.
Or pass the mysterious tests to become a Grand Master.
The magic in my blood tingled at the thought.
“I can’t believe it. My daughter’s going off on her Novice Witch quest,” Father said, nervously shoving his hands into the pockets of his sand-colored tunic. “You’re going to have your own guardian watching over you, and you’ll forget all about us.”
My throat tightened at his words. “It’ll only be a moon’s time. And I’d never forget your croissants or cakes, Father,” I reassured him, solemnly.
He let out a small laugh, and it felt like the faintest rays of sunlight had peeked out of the clouds. Mother patted his shoulder, probably itching to cast a spell to ease his worries, but it was against the Council’s laws to spell the magicless without their consent.
“I’d best get going, so I can be here when you get out.” Without magic, Father couldn’t go into the Council Hall; the current leader of the Council had decreed this years ago in his hungry need to control as much as possible in the realm. Now, the magicless were only allowed in if they accompanied the queen. The Council, after all, had been formed to serve all requests from the ruler of our realm. Father shot us one last smile as he headed out the iron gates, toward Okayama City, to meet one of his baker friends.
My eyes stayed glued to him as he hurried down the hill. Father disappeared into the crowds on the smooth, wide cobblestone road winding through spindly wood buildings, topped with vermilion roof tiles curved like nightdragon scales. Shopkeepers hawked their wares as the occasional truck puttered through. All roads led to the queen’s castle. The swooping pure crystal arches and glass spires of the castle shone like a heart in the center of the city. Someday, perhaps, I’d serve the queen. But if the queen’s castle was the realm’s heart, the Council Hall was the realm’s blood.
The branches of the Grand Master tree swayed in the wind and mist, catching my eye. It was at the far end of the line of trees, closest to the door of the Council Hall. The mere two leaves were on opposite sides of the tree. Hayato Grottel, head of the Council, had his marker on a branch that pointed out toward the sea. Mother’s was directly across, in the direction of our cottage in Miyada. A ray of sunlight streamed onto the tree, and I could make out Mother’s name, Nelalithimus Evergreen, cut into the diamond leaf and lined with gold.
Someday, I dared to dream, my name, Evalithimus Evergreen, would be on that tree with hers, sharing that very branch. And like Mother, I would serve the queen in one of her crystal spires. I took a deep breath, as if I could absorb the thick air that felt full of hopes and dreams, even though magic wasn’t in the land anymore, not in the way I had read about in history books: plants bursting with enchanted blossoms and rivers flowing with charmed strength. Magic had trickled out, year by year, and the number of witches and wizards had similarly dwindled.
“They were once full of leaves, you know,” Mother said, gazing at the Elite tree in the middle. “Ages ago, when magic floated in the air and was infused into the very soil of the realm, families were unsurprised when their newborns could charm their toys to life. Those children attended schools to help them hone their magic. Almost anyone could create a spell to mend a wound—or curse an enemy. Until magic seemed to shrivel away throughout the land, and the Council was created to organize the remaining witches and wizards.”
I couldn’t imagine a time when these tall, angular trees were heavy with enchanted leaves. The leaves, inscribed with the names of the current members of the Council, barely chimed in the wind. Even the Elite tree, the middle tier, held less than a hundred. According to the trees, just about two hundred witches and wizards covered the thousands of cities and villages in Rivelle Realm.
“We do not need the powerless vying for our roles,” a voice sneered over Mother’s shoulder.
Hayato Grottel.
The head of the Council towered over me, casting a dark shadow. He flicked his narrowed, hooded eyes past me, at the trees, like I didn’t exist. The twin rivers roared in my ears like a warning.