“If I could summon more than pretty lights and juggling balls, I’d be delighted to be of service,” Patrick said. He leaned forward suddenly. I recoiled, but he was just plucking a coin from behind my ear. He flashed it at me, smiling, then started to spin it between his thumb and forefinger. “It seems awfully cumbersome, though. Hauling all those spellbooks around with you because you’re not sure which one you’ll need. Leafing through to the right spell when you’re attacked by a highwayman, for example. And then saying it in time.”
“I’m sure they prepare the enchantments beforehand,” I said drily.
“And ending up bald or toothless when you’ve defeated your enemy,” he went on. “Much worse than an ugly coat.”
“Hair, teeth, nails,” I recited. “Yes, they fall out when youcast, but they grow back. Magic requires sacrifice. You have to give up a part of yourself to cast a spell.” Mother had drummed this into me over the years, and my voice was confident. “It’s the only responsible way to use magic.”
“Responsible,” he murmured. “I see. And to whom are the mages responsible?”
“To …” I frowned. “To magic itself, I suppose. They have a duty to handle it carefully, and seriously.”
“We wouldn’t want people running around taking magic lightly,” said Patrick, flicking a speck of lint from the sleeve of his patchwork coat.
“Well, no. That’s how the Plague came about in the first place.”
“I see. And you believe that.”
“It’s not a matter of believing.” I gestured vaguely. “It’s the truth. It would be like believing in … potatoes.”
“Potatoes,” he repeated gravely, although the corner of his mouth twitched a little.
“It doesn’t matter whether or not I believe in potatoes. They justare.”
“But even the humble potato can take many forms,” he said thoughtfully. “Mashed, for instance. Or boiled.”
“You are poking fun at me.”
“Plague forbid. I am simply saying that which we take for granted can still surprise us with new and different manifestation. Like a potato.”
“Could we please stop talking about potatoes? I am just saying that magic requires sacrifice, and hard work, and study.”
“Sounds a little dull.”
It does, Baldbeak agreed. I glared at him.
“It doesn’t matter if it’s dull or not. That’s what you have to do. If it was as easy as … as plucking a coin from behind someone’s ear, then everyone would be doing it.”
“And would that be so terrible?”
“Yes.”
“Really?” His eyes widened with polite interest. “How so?”
“Because then just anybody could use magic! They wouldn’t have to be … to be qualified, or wise, or educated, or …”
“I see,” he said gravely, although I still had the sense that he was making fun of me.
“They could do harm, is what I’m trying to say.”
“Harm that wise and educated people wouldneverdo.”
I felt like I had been bested somehow, although I could not see how. He was quite the most irritating person I had ever met (although, of course, I had technically only met three other people that I could remember, besides Mother), and I just wanted him to go away. I stood, brushing the crumbs from my skirt. Baldbeak immediately started pecking at them.
“Thank you for the food,” I said primly.
“So formal,” he said. He stayed sprawled comfortably against the tree trunk. “May I offer a suggestion?”
“That depends on what it is.”
