Sliding into the window seat, I put my knapsack on my lap for warmth as I shivered from a breeze. One of the side effects of magic was that my blood always ran cold. I had tried to fix it with everything from spells to heated bricks on winter nights. Despite all my attempts, I still felt the chill, even with the warm summer air.
“May I?” From the aisle, a portly man gestured his wrinkled hand at the bench.
I nodded. “You’re welcome to sit here, sir.”
He sighed in relief as he eased a rickety-looking crate to the ground. I jumped when something scratched at the slats.
“Hush now,” the old man said, patting the crate.
The horn blew twice. Peering through the dirty window, I spotted my father, placing his arm around my mother as she leaned into him. “Do good, Eva,” my parents called, even though they couldn’t see me through the grubby panes. “Safe travels!”
A strange pang tightened in my chest.
I traced the outline of their faces on the glass. Their upturned faces disappeared into the crowd as the boat rumbled down the river, pushed by the fast-moving currents and the steam engine puffing thick clouds into the wind. The boat was scheduled to stop at a handful of towns before the river poured into the Constancia Sea, and then the route led south along the coast, pausing at a dozen more towns along the way.
Outside, the familiar plains and hills shrank into the distance. The grime made the scenery sepia-toned, like an old photograph.
I checked my pocket. My golden boat ticket peeked out, the letters shimmering even in the faint light:
ONE BOAT TICKET TO A TOWN IN NEED
FOR YOUR NOVICE QUEST
Council tickets were different from magicless tickets. Because Rivelle Realm had so few witches and wizards, a clever witch had the idea of using a charm to disperse us equally around the realm. There were all sorts of magical tickets—boat tickets and train tickets and automobile tickets, and I’d even heard that one wizard had gotten a horse ticket.
When the ticket sensed a town where a wizard or witch like me might be needed, it would tell me to get off. The paper would flash from gold to red and crumble into dust when the boat got to my new town.
A few minutes later, the boat attendant’s voice rang through the deck. “Next stop, Tsudanuma!”
I let out a yelp of surprise, and the creatures in the crate happily yapped in response.
What if—what if it was already time for me to get off?
If Tsudanuma was my new home… I would be close to my parents, but it was one of the moderately big cities, almost as big as my hometown. I’d be overwhelmed with requests from the instant I stepped onto the docks. Grottel would probably pop by just to laugh at the piles of requests I’d left unfulfilled.
I screwed my eyes shut before I could see my ticket.
CHAPTER 5
A MAGICAL MEND
Taking a deep breath, I peeked down. The ticket shone bright gold, and I slumped back into the seat with relief. This wasn’t my new town.
After the ship made a few more quick stops—without a flicker from my ticket—my stomach started growling.
I unbuckled my knapsack and the smell of buttery croissants wafted out. For a second, I felt like I was back at home, waiting for Father to pull the baking sheet out of the oven. The thought of my parents heading home without me made my throat tighten. I looked over to offer some to my neighbor, but he was snoring with his chin tucked on his chest.
Balancing my small jar of redbud jam in my left hand, I scooped out a ruby-red dollop onto a croissant. It melted in my mouth with a burst of vanilla and citrus, as if I’d captured falling redbud blossoms on my tongue.
Mid-bite, a scratching sound came from my neighbor’s crate. Then a wood panel on the box cracked loudly. A wet snout poked out, sniffing the air.
I tugged my neighbor’s sleeve. “Sir, um, I think your dogs are escaping.”
The man shot up, rubbing his eyes. “These troublemakers,” he growled, as a puppy popped its head out of the hole.
“Ohh, I’ve never seen a dog like that,” I said in awe. The pup had reddish-gold fur and pointed ears that were bigger than its foxlike face, with a white starlike mark on its forehead. Small white patches of fur were dotted above each eye, like little eyebrows, and its lips curved up in a clever smile, as if it was saying, Are you proud of me? I figured out how to escape this box!
A larger puppy with black fur craned its head out to look at the old man, whining. “That’s ’cause they’re not your average puppies,” the man replied, shifting the small glasses perched on the edge of his nose. “These are flamefoxes. They’re part fox, part dog, part flamethrowing nightdragon, and most days, they’re the worst parts of each.”
He lifted the bigger pup out of the crate, and it licked his nose. I yelped as he patted its tail—flames flickered around his hand. I’d only read about flamefoxes in books; they were the four-legged, very distant, and far more mischievous cousins of phoenixes and nightdragons.
“Here!” I cried, grabbing my canteen. “I’ve got water!”
He laughed. “That’s the trademark of a flamefox, missy. Their tails give off light, and sticking your hand in their flames just feels warm. It’s when they start breathing fire that it’s an issue.”
“Wow,” I whispered.
The smaller pup whimpered for attention, and when I looked at it, it seemed to crinkle its eyes in a smile.
“He’s probably hungry again.” The old man shook his head. “That one’s a bottomless pit.”
“I have pastries,” I offered. “My father overpacked my bag.”
“He’ll never leave you alone now,” the man warned. “This red runt isn’t interested in anything other than eating, sleeping, and causing trouble. His tail isn’t even producing flames. I’ve never seen a flamefox without a fiery tail, to be honest.”
I knew how the red flamefox felt. I was a witch who wasn’t very magical.
“Where did they come from?” I asked.
“I picked them up in Okayama. Their old owners thought they’d be cute, but this pup gnawed on everything in their house—including the house itself—like it was all his own chew toy, until their owners threw ’em out.”
The wood panel cracked in half as the red-gold pup stuck his head out again, eyes sparkling as he pushed his star-marked forehead under the man’s hand for another rub. The old man grumbled. “Dragonsharks! The darn crate’s no use if they’re not inside.”
“Want me to fix it?” I asked. My magic itched to be let out, like little bubbles in me that wanted to pop. I could repair this—hopefully. Mother guessed that I had a slight affinity for repair magic, so when I fixed things, my powers flourished. Well, as much as my pinch of magic could flourish. Mother’s affinity was creation magic, so she would have created a new, unbreakable carrier out of thin air with a flick of her wand.
I couldn’t make things out of nothing. But even if my magic was messy, I did my best to make it work.
“Are you really a witch?” he asked, pursing his lips. “I’ve only met a handful of you folks. And, well, you look so young.”
“I’m on my Novice quest.” I drew myself up as tall as I could.