They have her mama. They have her friends. They have every advantage. All she has is her loyal friend, her new kitten, and the talent of Antimagic.

The odds are even.

 

 

 

Chapter One
ALBION 1936

 

Part of eight-year-old Ruse’s skull and brain were missing. A sizeable space gaped where mouse brown hair, bone, and brain belonged. The little girl lying in a heap on the ground somehow still drew breath; however, her brown eyes were partially open. It frustrated her to be so still. She tried to speak, to call for help—but had no voice. It surprised her she felt no pain. A steady dribble of blood soaked the ground and stained the early summer grass beneath her. Her pale little hand held a broken tree branch; what was it for? Had she used it to fight her attacker? She couldn’t remember.

At twilight, a light rain was falling when Ruse heard Trent approach and declare he found her among the broken branches of the Great Albion Forest. Ruse decided it would have been a shock to any twelve-year-old. She heard him breathing heavily through his mouth. Ruse could appreciate why Trent’s scream was necessary. She just wished he hadn’t done so right by her ear. Still, the young girl found herself unable to interact with anyone when the rest of the search party approached. Ruse felt Trent pick up her hand and hold it. At the moment, Ruse’s head gave the impression it swam in a pool of its own blood. Most of the bleeding had tapered off, but what lingered remained an unsettling amount of fluid.

The untamed forest posed a real danger that a small child could be severely hurt or worse; all the children had been told to steer clear of it. Most didn’t pay attention to the warnings. The forest prevailed as a great place to let imaginations soar. In this vast area, castles were built, battles by kings were won, and even dragons were subdued. Actual events of concern only happened to other people, they reasoned. They were young and immortal, and nothing could stop them.

James approached as he talked to someone else. He was a professional teleporter who transported people and objects to other locations for the right price. He wrapped his long coat around the ailing girl as a barrier, but a single layer of cloth would not be enough.

An old bedsheet they found went on top of the coat, folded in several layers before James scooped her up and hugged her closely. He hit a predictable snag. Ruse imagined a thoughtful look of expectation came over his face like when he was working. He concentrated. Nothing happened. In spite of their precautions, it became quickly apparent he couldn’t teleport her to the hospital.

Another member of the search party said, “Not me.” He hastily backed away before anyone could speak up. “I need my talent pretty soon.”

Another member of the search party nodded in agreement. “I can’t take her for the same reason. James should take her. He’s already compromised.”

Ruse guessed there was only one woman in the search party. The woman wondered aloud if it held any worth for anyone to lose their talent for a time to help her. The child’s injury lingered, and no one knew if she’d live long enough for an ambulance to reach her.

A slow anger began to burn inside her. If they didn’t have the mettle to touch her, why did they look for her? James put her on the ground, covered in a coat and bedsheets.

The second effect Ruse had on magical people who touched her wasn’t discussed.

Ruse’s eyelids twitched slightly, unseen by the search party. They still argued behind her back. It wasn’t the usual argument where two adults would vie to take an injured someone to the hospital. This argument revolved around who should take her at all. Ruse didn’t blame them; she knew touching her enacted a toll most wouldn’t pay.

With promises to send an ambulance, James stooped down by Ruse’s twitching eyes and tucked the coat over her. The next thing Ruse heard was the creak of leather and the jangle of metal as someone mounted one of the keythong used to bring out the search party. James was a good rider, and Ruse had a light load for the keythong to carry; they headed out.

Keythongs resembled the mythical griffin with the body of a lion and the head and forelegs of an eagle. They lacked wings but ran twice as fast as the fastest thoroughbred and as strong as a draft horse. They were originally bred from actual lions and eagles decades ago with a little interference from a breeder whose talent to manipulate genetics brought him great fame and a grisly death from one of his own creations.

The onlookers reached a consensus that any attempt to get her to the hospital by keythong-back with such an injury would kill her. James, without Ruse, took off at a brisk trot. Ruse imagined his fox familiar trotted beside him. Once they were free of the forest, James would urge the keythong into a gallop, his familiar not far behind. He didn’t relent until they reached the hospital.

The search party abided near the child where she lay.

Ruse herself knew every person in the search party. They often told her she wasn’t an unpleasant child. She just needed space. Even now, when a stiff breeze tugged the sheet loose, Ruse noticed the members of the search party didn’t tuck it over her like James did. The cute little girl bore a talent that caused others to lose their powers and lose connection to their familiar for a time. Following that came a dose of mental depression. It wasn’t her fault; fate rolled the dice, and it was simply the power she carried with her since birth.

“Who’s going to tell Posy?”

Ruse would have nodded if she could.

“I think the woman of the search party should,” one of the other men volunteered. Ruse bristled.

The woman in the search party shouted, “Why me?”

“Because you’re both women,” the first man answered. Ruse bristled even more.

“So?” the woman snapped. “Posy is an equal opportunity executioner.”

“She’s a lawyer,” the second man pointed out.

“She’s nonmagical,” said the man who suggested someone other than himself ought to tell Ruse’s mother.

“She’s terrifying,” asserted another member of the search party. “Remember when she palmed the strongest guy in town?”

Ruse struggled, unable to say, “What choice did she have? He wouldn’t leave her alone.”

The ambulance, despite the fact it was pulled by two of the town’s strongest keythong, took an hour to reach them. It could go no closer than the edge of the forest; there were too many trees and stumps to fit the ambulance through. Unable to drive any farther, the ambulance crew had to make the last leg of the journey on foot. Luckily for them, Ruse’s tiny stature made the stretcher easier to negotiate.

The stick in Ruse’s hand fell from her limp fingers as they lifted her by the sheet into the stretcher. It hit the forest floor, dried blood caked near the tip.

Ruse remained quiet as they carried her back to the ambulance. The paramedics, at times, voiced fear they were transporting a body. Trent walked beside the paramedics, holding Ruse’s hand again after he jumped into the ambulance with her.

Safely loaded into the ambulance, half-wrapped in the now bloody sheet, Ruse moaned softly, one little moan, barely audible. The paramedics spoke to her loudly, assuring her she was safe and things were going to be all right.

Ruse slowly blinked.

“You’re going to be fine,” statements came from Trent. He never let go of her hand for the hour-long journey to the hospital of Five Trade Roads. Ruse felt him hold it until forced to let go as she went into the hospital proper.

An emergency surgeon and several nurses were on hand to receive her. Ruse watched as James took his coat back from the ambulance. It was stained with blood; Ruse guessed he would throw it in the trash.

An emergency nurse broke open a large glass ampoule and started a lactated Ringer’s solution IV on the girl as they raced her to the trauma center. Her vitals were good, someone said, to her surprise. The only difference between Ruse and a regular kid was the hole bitten in her head and the resultant anemia.

One nurse shouted instructions to bring blankets and pulled the isolation curtain around her. The emergency surgeon ordered a blood transfusion. Ruse’s eyes, open again, slowly closed as if to make the rest of the world go away.

When Ruse opened her eyes a minute later, the emergency team raced back and forth, bringing more lactated Ringer’s solution and bags of blood. A nurse daubed at the edges of Ruse’s wound.

“We need penicillin here,” the emergency surgeon directed. Eyes half open again, Ruse watched as an aide stood on a chair and tied a mask on the especially tall emergency surgeon, obscuring his features.

“Why bother?” someone else asked. “Why was medicine or supplies on someone who’s probably not likely make it through the night?

In response, the emergency surgeon brandished a lancet and pleasantly ordered, “Get out, Nurse Gunner, before I kill you.”

The nurse responded, “You’re acting unethically. I will report you to the Board for threatening me.” His voice made Ruse’s head hurt.

“And I’ll report you for obstruction of treatment to my patient.” The emergency surgeon flipped the surgical tool between his fingers before he drew his arm back as if to throw it at the nurse.

“What, do you know her or something?” The nurse backed into the curtain. Ruse wished he’d back away a little faster.

“Or something,” the emergency surgeon agreed. He looked down at Ruse and gave her a quick wink.

“Oh, don’t look to them for support.”

The emergency surgeon glanced up, head bent over Ruse as the nurse left the theater. The aide snapped two pairs of gloves on the emergency surgeon. The emergency surgeon went to work.

Another nurse brought penicillin.

So, I passed the first day.

On the second day, Ruse’s eyes were barely open as Healer Leo walked into Ruse’s recovery room sporting a pure-white jacket and a short blond haircut. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Ruse recognized the sound of a clipboard by now. She heard the sound of a pencil on paper as Healer Leo made a couple of notes and placed the clipboard back at the foot of her bed. Still feigning sleep, Ruse shivered at the cool metal of the stethoscope against her skin. She would have yelped if she could. The healer stood back up and held the stethoscope by his fingertips.

Someone bandaged Ruse’s head soon after she’d been admitted and treated. It gave her the appearance of being whole. The bloody sheet she came wrapped in found a new home in the biohazard dumpster out back.

“If the girl wasn’t antimagical…” For the umpteenth time, a perfectly good stethoscope rang against the sides of the trash bin. “But she is, and there’s nothing anyone can do.”

The woman who sat next to Ruse’s bed cleared her throat and glared at Healer Leo fiercely. Leo realized his misstep and turned red in the face. The woman continued to offer optical daggers at him.

“I mean—”

Ruse nearly grinned; no one messed with her Mama.

“I know what you mean.” The woman straightened up from her slouch. Her beautiful hair fell, disheveled, and she couldn’t be bothered to smooth the wrinkles out of her black suit.

Posy, Ruse’s mother, explained she had come from work when she heard from two search party members that Ruse had been checked into the hospital. It wasn’t unusual to see Posy’s office lit by lamps well into the night. The life of a successful legal practitioner requires many long nights.

Posy hadn’t left her daughter’s side since Ruse’s admission the night before. She sat, unmoving, in the chair by the bed.

Like most little girls, eight-year-old Ruse couldn’t be perfectly normal. Her stature remained small for her age. Her face, though pale, suggested her mingled Koryŏ and white heritage in the shape of her eyes, cheeks, and nose. Posy herself leaned towards a striking appearance, whereas Ruse leaned towards the plain. Posy stood tall with amber-blonde hair; Ruse remained small and shared the same color hair and eyes as deer mice. Posy moved with confidence; Ruse’s movements were unassuming. Posy’s tailored suits contrasted with Ruse’s preferred outfits of roomy, comfortable tunics and close-fitting leggings.

If Posy held any disappointment in her daughter, she hid it well. That Posy had affection for her stood out as obvious in her silent vigil. Some would say Posy’s affection and only that affection mattered.

Ruse heard James and the rest of the search party dropped in as a small group to check on her status. They wished Posy well, and they assured her they were there for anything she might need. Glass bottles clinked together.

Trent, wearing a coat too large for his frame, came around. He lingered, muttering he shouldn’t be afraid to touch Ruse again, but spent most of his visit whispering to her it would all be just fine in the end. Ruse nearly giggled when his breath tickled her ear. Adding on an apology, he finally reached out and patted her hand.

“We can make her as comfortable as possible,” continued Healer Leo. “We could do more if she weren’t what she is.”

Posy silenced the healer by looking past him without blinking. Ruse heard a sound near the opposite side of her bed. Posy stood up, tugged on her blouse, and went to the man standing not far from her bedside. If anyone could take her mother from her side, even for a brief time, it would be this person.

Leo took the opportunity to escape Ruse’s mother for a while.

Impeccably dressed, not a thread out of place, Diogenes appeared as if he’d just stepped away from a formal party.

No one knew his talent, or even if he had one at all. Far taller than Posy, dark-haired, and self-assured, he stood with one hand stuck in a pocket, the other holding the paper bird Posy had sent him about the accident.

The news often dropped an article about him. Ruse had heard townspeople say in low voices Diogenes could be a little mad and certainly a lot charming. Despite petty rumors, Diogenes remained the town philanthropist. He lived on a gated hill. Wealthy and single, he’d never shown an interest in any woman except Posy. People talked about how he rarely came out of his house, yet he left his house to see Posy and Ruse. They said he lived with a monster he’d named Ahmay. No one knew Ahmay’s true appearance. As an inspired genius and celebrated philanthropist, Diogenes still seemed only a little less intimidating than Posy.

“Is this your doing?” Posy’s tone was low and accusatory. “Did your precious Ahmay get away from you?”

Ruse lay still. She had heard Ahmay was a large black cat with feathered wings. She was pretty sure it didn’t eat newborn babies or bathe in the blood of virgins, as rumors said.

Ruse half-watched watched as Diogenes played with a cufflink. “Ahmay wouldn’t willingly attack a child,” he asserted over her. “Least of all Ruse. Ahmay is, believe it or not, too civilized. Just think of her as a large black cat but with manners and integrity. If your question is, do I know what happened, I don’t. I could ask my sister, but I haven’t had any contact with her lately.”

The next handful of words caused her ears to perk up.

“I’m sorry, Posy. This wasn’t part of our deal,” he said. “I in no way anticipated an interruption in my goddaughter’s development.”

Posy’s eyes narrowed as her mouth opened. For a moment, no sound came out. “How can you talk about our deal at a time like this?”

“Aren’t you concerned for yourself?” he asked callously. He stopped playing with his cufflink.

“No,” she snapped. “Besides, the times are different since we made that deal. I’m different. I don’t know what changed, but something did.”

She strode back to her eavesdropping daughter and left Diogenes in the hallway. Presently, he joined her in Ruse’s room. He seemed oddly calm for a man whose goddaughter might pass away or at least suffer lifelong impairment.

Ruse figured it was time to engage others, at least for a little while.

“Mama.” Her voice drifted up, wan and thin. She opened her eyes. They seemed blurry but functional.

Posy turned to her daughter and gave her a cheery smile. “Hi, sweetheart.” She put her hand over Ruse’s. “Look! Uncle Diogenes came to see you.”

“Hi, Uncle Diogenes.” Ruse yawned. “Mama, I want to play a game,”

“What game do you want to play?”

“I want to play ‘Who Could My Daddy Be?’”

“Are you sure?” asked the woman whose only child might not live the night.

“Yes.” Ruse’s eyes crossed.

“That’s our special game,” Posy reminded her. “No one else knows about it.”

“I know.” She yawned again.

Posy sighed. “All right.”

Jumping right, Ruse asked, “Is it the milkman?”

Posy pretended to think a moment, “Could be.”

“Or Saint Niklaas from Solstice?”

“Who knows?”

“The package delivery guy?”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“I know,” Ruse declared. “It’s Robin Goodfellow.”

“From Shakespeare?”

They went on for a few more minutes, with Ruse’s questions if various beings were her father, and Posy with no definitive answer.

Eventually, Ruse closed her eyes and seemed to simply fall asleep.

Diogenes pulled out a flask from his coat and offered it to Posy. “You play such a game?” He didn’t seem to judge but was curious.

Posy took a pull and gave it back. Ruse wanted to know what exactly was in the bottle. “As far as she knows, babies come from two people who are in love, and they find the baby under an apple tree. Or maybe it was a cabbage patch. I don’t remember.”

Ruse knew for certain that was not how it was done.

Diogenes put the cap back on his flask and stuck it back in his coat. “If there is anything not covered by your healthcare plan, I will handle it,” he assured her.

He leaned in and said in a quiet voice only Posy and one other could hear, “As far as I’m concerned, our deal is still on. It will be unless she terminates.”

Posy’s eyes widened. “Do you know something I don’t?” She didn’t even turn around.

“A little hope in the gloom.” Diogenes brought out a lancet behind Posy’s back and flipped it once. The man winked at her and then pocketed it. He took himself out of the room and presumably home.

Ruse heard someone slowly sip a bottle of something.

Healer Leo convinced Posy to lie down in the bed next to her daughter and try to sleep. She curled up under a blanket and lay on her side. The rest, uncomfortable and welcome, came with a sigh.

Ruse watched Posy’s eyes in the semi-dark. Sleep eventually overtook her.

Ruse didn’t die that night. Or the following morning. If anything, her breathing became stronger. She fully opened her eyes and took in the room. She sat up when Nurse Helen came into her room to change her bandages.

Ruse played with a small ampoule as Nurse Helen carefully unwrapped the bloody bandages around her head. Nurse Helen’s shriek for Healer Leo to come right away woke up Posy.

It could make one believe in miracles: the horrendous bite had disappeared clean, dry hair, and the whole skull was in place of the previous gaping hole.

Even in the face of an impossible recovery, Healer Leo remained reluctant to touch her. He wore a new stethoscope to replace the one he’d thrown away. Finally, he turned to Nurse Helen. “Did you touch her?”

Nurse Helen nodded. “Exactly what you would expect, regardless of whether she had a hole in her head or not.”

Ruse nodded.

Healer Leo sat near his patient. “Ruse,” he spoke in a soft voice, “how are you feeling? Do you remember what happened? What attacked you?”

Ruse reached for Leo’s hand, but he moved it away.

Posy didn’t fail to notice this. “Miserable hospital,” she muttered.

Ruse tipped her head, puzzled.

The hospital itself seemed rather nice, made mainly of brick and wood like most buildings and houses. It contained an emergency ward, a general ward, a maternity ward, a pediatric ward, a physical rehabilitation ward, and a permanent ward for the mentally afflicted. The hospital housed 1,500 beds total, making it the largest hospital in a fifty-mile radius. It staffed two senior magical healers, an apothecary healer, a midwife, and a surgeon on staff at all times, along with countless nurses, aides, and volunteers with familiars.

Familiars themselves were creatures who bonded to one person but needed to be sure if they were acting within the bonds of their own society.

Healer Leo made an excuse about adding notes in her file before he walked out the door.

Ruse thought her room appeared decent as far as hospital rooms went. Someone had painted a mural of multi-colored horses on the opposite wall.

She felt the touch on her hand before Posy came into view. “Going to the cafeteria,” Posy said softly.

After she left the room, a young man sauntered in. He walked as quietly as he could, with a big grin on his face and what appeared to be pajamas with little red and blue triangles on them. He wore slippers. He had a pale complexion, black hair, and big circles under his eyes, and he exuded an air of comfort, but not the way a staff member did. A toad hopped along behind him.

“I’m Healer Vincenzo.” He walked over to Ruse. “You may call me that. I am here to evaluate your mental state and make sure you’re mentally stable.” He peered into her face with narrowed eyes. “Now, why are you so sad?”

“Why would I be sad?” Ruse tried to look at where the hole in her head used to be. “I don’t think I’m sad.”

“Yes, you are.” He kicked off his slippers and stood barefoot on the floor. “You are depressed because you are sad. But you should feel your emotions. Feel your sadness and depression and use your coping techniques to get through. You are sad because you’re sad.” He made a fist and partially raised it up into the air.

Ruse sighed. “I think you have the wrong person, Vincenzo.”

Vincenzo dropped his fist. “Healer Vincenzo! Do not forget that I am a specialist. You must listen to me.”

“Hey, what’s your talent?” the little girl asked.

“I can move through solid walls once a day,” he said.

“I thought the talent of a healer is to heal.” Ruse’s eyebrows furrowed as a slight frown tugged her face.

An aide rushed in. “It is. He’s not a real healer. He moves through walls. It’s how he gets out of his room in the behavioral ward.” The aide coaxed Vincenzo to follow him and promised him a cup of tea as they ambled out of the room.

“I am a professional!” Vincenzo yelled down the hall.

Another aide picked up his discarded slippers. “He is a permanent resident,” he explained, “in the behavioral ward. He has delusions of healing, but he can’t even manage a bandage on his own.” The aide paused. “He didn’t say anything too offensive, did he?”

Ruse thought a moment. “He said it’s okay for people to suffer if they have coping skills.”

“Oh.” The aide ducked his head and shuffled his feet. “He does think depression is a blessing from the gods. Shows how people can overcome adversity and all of that.”

“Is he depressed?”

“No. At least, I don’t think so.”

“He’s messed up anyway, isn’t he? My mama is a lawyer. Sometimes, she works with messed up people in suits. Can’t Healer Leo help him? Vincenzo, I mean.”

The aide shook his head. “Everyone in the behavioral ward has an affliction that a healer can’t heal. The milder cases can live in society. But the harder ones are safer from everyone and for everyone in a more permanent setting.”

“Oh. I guess it helps to keep the Vincenzos in one spot.”

“I have to go, but nice to meet you.” He went out the door, Vincenzo’s slippers in his hand. He reached down and picked up Vincenzo’s frog. A little white dog, Ruse hadn’t noticed before, followed the aide.

The father of Fa, one of her friends, suffered from depression. He’d explained it to be similar to diabetes, a lifelong condition that could be managed with medication and possibly diet. It wasn’t anything to be afraid of; it simply existed. He’d opened up about his medication to his students.

Fa also suffered from depression, but the healer judged her to be too young to take medications, citing the lack of long-term clinical trials in children and unknown long-term side effects.

Vincenzo, whether he meant to or not, made a mockery of the condition.

****

Posy finished her tea and found a paper bird kiosk in the lobby. She filled out a message, watched as the kiosk worker folded a scrap of paper into a bird-like shape, and paid the man. He released the bird above his head, and they both watched while it flew through an open window and went on its way.

“This is going to cause trouble,” she murmured to herself. “If he knows about her head wound, Diogenes doesn’t need to see her anymore. Not that he sees her that much.”

She went back to check on her daughter. She found a note on the door. The head of the hospital requested a meeting at her earliest convenience, it said. Posy felt a headache coming on. She opened her mouth and roared.

When she opened the door, Ruse called out sweetly, “Someone wants a meeting?”

Walking down the hallways, Posy got turned around twice and finally asked a volunteer where the head of the hospital could be found. The volunteer kindly escorted her to his office.

Posy sat in the director’s office. It was smaller than small and made even smaller with the shelves on the wall full of healer books.

“There is no precedent for this.” The head of the hospital practically pulled his hair out. He waved his arms in such a way as to threaten to knock over his coffee cup. A former healer himself, he threw his hands up in the air over and over and shook his head. His eyebrows occupied the middle of his forehead. “I can’t even begin to document this phenomenon. Healer Leo has given his account, and it’s inexplicable.”

“Maybe he’d know more if he tried to touch my daughter.” Posy curled her lip.

“I’m sure you know why he avoided direct contact.” The coffee cup tipped over and hit the floor with a clatter. The remains of the coffee flew across the floor, a sad liquid dragon.

“The paramedics were willing to touch her,” Posy retorted. She crossed her arms, fairly convinced she smelled like dirty socks.

“Couldn’t be helped,” the head asserted. “Can’t the child recall anything?”

“She hasn’t said a word to me.” Posy tugged at the blouse she’d worn for two days straight. “She probably wants to go home.”

The head grew quiet a moment. “We should still do tests. Not only is this highly abnormal, we can see she hasn’t suffered any brain damage or impairment to her faculties.”

“What kind of tests?” Posy felt ready to unleash a banshee scream.

“You know. Tests.” The head shrank in his chair under Posy’s clenched jaw. “Coordination, cognition, memory, mental health. That kind of stuff.”

Posy did not soften her glare.

“We don’t have to get near her,” the head assured her. “Or they can all touch her. It depends on what you want.”

“It’s more a matter of what she wants.” Posy stood, somewhat mollified.

The journey back to Ruse’s room—accompanied by another aide to guide her—was lit by gas lamps that shone on images of birds, dogs, and cats of various colors posed as though they were playing.

Nurse Helen and a man dressed in a white polo shirt and dark pants were waiting in Ruse’s room. The man was doing magic tricks for Ruse, who clapped for them.

“This is Nigel,” Nurse Helen said to Ruse. “He works in physical rehabilitation and occupational therapies.”

Nigel had silver in his hair and short beard, tattoos all over his arms, several earrings, and a ring over his brow. He grinned at Ruse, who grinned back.

Nigel began his assessment. He asked her to follow the pencil in his hand with her eyes. It took half an hour to determine Ruse could walk, skip, and run. She buttoned a cotton shirt and laced and tied a boot’s laces. She navigated a drawing of a maze and completed a symmetrical drawing. She passed test after test until Nigel considered the test results to be satisfactory.

“You’re pretty healthy for someone who got her head bitten.” He made a few notes on her chart.

“You don’t have a familiar,” Ruse observed.

“Aye, well, I am nonmagical. I have no proper talent.”

Ruse hugged her knees. “My mama’s nonmagical,” she volunteered. “I don’t have a familiar, either.”

“Aye, well, sometimes a talent doesn’t show itself until you turn thirteen, so you have time.”

Posy caught Ruse’s eye.

“I know,” Ruse nodded. “But I’m antimagical, so I’ll probably never get a familiar.”

Nigel finished his notes, hung up the clipboard, and pulled out the marble, causing it to disappear and reappear several times. After helping Ruse back in bed, he took himself out the door.

A few minutes later, a woman of average height with short, dark hair and blue-green scrubs walked into the room with a ferret balanced on her shoulder. “I’m Healer Sabra,” the woman said directly to Ruse. She put her hand out.

Ruse demurred, tucking her hands close.

“I work in the behavioral ward as a clinical psychologist. Is it all right if I ask some questions?” Her demeanor seemed friendly and open, balanced with a professionalism Vincenzo lacked. She hadn’t opened Ruse’s chart.

“I don’t mind,” Ruse said. She smoothed out a big wrinkle on her blanket.

Sabra sat in a chair near the bed. “Okay! On a scale of one to ten, with ten as the worst, how do you feel today?”

“Okay, I guess.”

Healer Sabra crossed one leg over the other and clasped her hands over her knee. Ruse followed suit.

“Okay, that is good. But how do you feel?”

Ruse shrugged. “I feel fine.” She uncrossed her legs. “This position must just be for grown-ups. It’s too disagreeable for me.”

“But do you feel like a one, a three, a seven…?” Plainly, Healer Sabra had patience, used to dealing with children.

“A two, I guess.”

“How is your appetite?” Healer Sabra scrutinized Ruse’s empty plate for a moment.

“I ate an egg on toast this morning.”

“That must have been good. Is there anything you are concerned about?”

“If I’ll ever get a familiar,” the little girl stated. “You’re not a proper magical without one. That’s what my classmate Irina says. Though Irina says, I wouldn’t be a proper magical even with one. She’s mean.”

“I can see that’s important to you. It would be important to me, too. What about your concentration?”

“I just did stuff with Nigel,” Ruse said.

“Fair enough. Do you know who you are?”

“I’m Ruse.”

“What’s your last name?”

Ruse laughed. “We don’t have last names. They inspire prejudice against certain groups.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“The hospital.”

“Do you know the date?”

Ruse gave the date.

“Does two plus two equal five?”

Ruse thought for a minute. “Well, there’s an infinite number of numbers between two and three. If you pick two complimentary numbers in that range, such as two-point six and two-point four, then two plus two can equal five.”

Healer Sabra froze. She looked askance at Posy.

Posy shrugged and waved her hand in the air from her wrist. “She does that sometimes. Once, she deliberately failed nearly all her classes so she could point out the 1 C and the 4 F’s made carbon tetrafluoride.”

Healer Sabra blinked and asked the little girl a few more questions before declaring, “You seem fine to me.” She put several notes in Ruse’s chart and left with a nod.

****

Ruse felt quite ready to quit testing after the healer neurologist, the apothecary healer psychiatrist, the healer orthopedist, and the healer pediatrician had each examined Ruse from across the room.

After a brief time, Healer Leo paced in. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I need to have my question answered for my report on this case.”

“What question?” Posy narrowed her eyes.

Leo shivered at the expression on Posy’s face. Nevertheless, as he knelt by Ruse, he gave her a wide berth. “Do you know what bit you? Or hit you? Or whatever happened that day?”

Ruse grew thoughtful. She concentrated on the horse mural as if she could disappear inside it. “Something happened.” She grew pale and clutched her blankets. Living through a hole in her head was one thing, but facing whatever caused it was something else entirely.

Healer Leo nodded. “You were brought in with a terrible head injury. I want to know what hurt you.”

Silence.

“Ruse,” he tried again, “what is the last thing you remember? Before you woke up here.”

Posy interjected. “She must have gone outside to find little dragons or something when she finished up her dinner.”

A small brown bird flitted into the room. It landed inches from Ruse’s head. She smiled in delight.

“Get back,” snapped Healer Leo. The bird chirped once and flew out again.

“Ruse wouldn’t hurt your familiar,” Posy said with exaggerated patience.

“Oh, I know she wouldn’t mean to,” Healer Leo agreed. “But what happens to our familiar happens to us. They feel pain; we feel the same pain. Or do they not teach that at primary school anymore?”

“At primary school, they teach you not to be afraid of what’s different. In high school, they teach you to celebrate differences.”

Ruse interrupted. “Trent and his buddies were already there making a fort. But Trent shouted at me to go away.”

“Trent knew you were in the woods? Alone?” Posy, not an angry woman by nature, had found much to be angry about lately.

Healer Leo, remaining clinical, leaned in Ruse’s direction. “And what happened?”

“I heard a panther. I turned around, and it acted like it was trying to get away. Then everything went dark. Then I woke up before surgery.”

“A panther.”

“Yep.”

“You’re sure you saw a panther?” Healer Leo pressed.

“Big cat. Big teeth. Black all over. But it didn’t seem to want to bite me.” She paused. “Lots of black feathers, too.”

“Panthers have become pretty common in these parts.” Healer Leo made a note. “And they’re also unmistakable. I’ll have the Council decide tomorrow if we should track it down.” He made a few more notes on a clipboard. “What do you mean about black feathers?”

“Feathers that were black,” Ruse elaborated.

“Like the panther ate a crow?”

“No, more like a panther with feathers.”

“Are you talking about a kyorl?” Healer Leo shook his head. “Kyorl are extinct.”

Ruse frowned a bit. She knew the fabled cats with feathered wings were allegedly resistant to most mundane weapons and some magical ones. They were rumored to be almost human-level in intelligence. They were also, as Healer Leo pronounced so briskly, assumed to be extinct.

He stood, brushed the wrinkles from his trousers, and made more notes in Ruse’s chart. “Your test results are all within normal parameters. You’re free to go.”

They ran into Nurse Helen in the hall. “I’m so pleased to see you up and thriving. I’ll light a candle and thank the Lord of Creation for this miracle,” she promised. She gently touched Ruse’s shoulder. Despite the touch, Nurse Helen didn’t seem to mind having her powers sealed off for a time.

Posy’s eyes widened. “You’re Orthodox.”

“Both Healer Leo and I are, and a few others. There aren’t a lot of us, but it’s a beautiful service. You’re invited to attend whenever you like, too.”

“Oh, no, we’re humanists,” Posy said. “But, thank you anyway.”

Ruse waited as Posy ordered a cab to take herself and her daughter home. Ruse didn’t think she was up to the trek home on foot.

The cab, a standard brown car pulled by a single gray keythong, was a laid-back far cry from the muscle and speed of the ambulance that delivered Ruse to the hospital. The keythong strolled on, more than sufficient to take them home.

They did stop at Nan’s bakery for a chocolate chip muffin at Ruse’s request.

“Just a quick muffin,” Posy called out to Ruse. “I don’t want you tired out before we get home.”

The ride back home prevailed peacefully. In half an hour, Posy and Ruse arrived at their house. Ruse’s two best friends waited by the side of the house and started jumping up and down like over-caffeinated little dogs as the cab came within range. They let out loud whoops and rushed it, running beside the cab until it came to a stop.

Hana and Fa were both taller than she and protective, like big sisters. Hana, dark-skinned and dressed in red overalls, wore red lipstick—the redder, the better. She wore her hair under a kerchief, but the rest stuck out like a glorious dandelion in full bloom. Opna, her bumblebee familiar, zipped around overhead. Opna ran more than twice the size of a regular bee. Fa, who didn’t tan but simply burned in the sun, dyed the tips of her gray-blue hair a deep cherry red. Orfiel, her mallard duck familiar, followed the girls as he quacked to himself all the way.

A gentle shower of flower petals accompanied Ruse’s departure from the cab, a hallmark of Hana’s emotions. Posy paid for the cab and went ahead, leaving the girls to catch up.

“Flowers brighten up any festive occasion.” Hana offered her friend the bouquet that suddenly appeared in her arms. But after Ruse took them, they disappeared; she had that effect on magically-conjured things. Hana balled up a fist and punched her in the arm. “What do you mean, going into the woods on your own?” she demanded. “What if that panther had gotten you?”

“What does the newspaper say?” Ruse rubbed her arm and juggled more flowers until they vanished.

Fa piped up, “That you were attacked, probably by a panther, and regained consciousness in the hospital.”

“The news is so fast,” Ruse marveled.

“They posted the story at Town Square, same as always,” Fa advised her.

“I know it’s been a few minutes, but I have been visited enough.” Ruse sighed and let her posture droop.

Hana and Fa acted as if they’d been informed their friend’s head got bitten every day and marched her into the house and to bed. Posy, who often brought her work home, leafed through a docket as she invited the girls to stay for dinner. They politely declined.

Ruse’s home seemed perfect to her. Her own room at the top of the stairs took up half the house and gave her a space guaranteed free of bullies. The kitchen, always pleasant and good sized, with a capacity for a larger family than Posy and Ruse alone, took center stage. The dining room, a sitting room, and Posy’s room all sat on the other side of the kitchen wall near the stove. There were pipes for running water, a root cellar large enough to house a family of four, a wood-burning cooking stove, and an icebox. The large windows let in plenty of natural light. The loo stood a few yards away from the house to keep it from smelling anything up.

Ruse snuggled down in her own feather bed. Hospital beds were all fine and well, but there remained something special about one’s own double mattress.

Ruse awoke in the morning in the usual way: Posy pinched her toe. Ruse never did figure out why Posy targeted the toe. When she asked, Posy simply replied she did.

Ruse tried to roll over and moaned, “But I got my head bitten.”

Posy held a lamp aloft and announced, “You seem fine to me.” She held three large books. The top one said mathematics, the next one was biology, and the final one contained history. Posy voiced criticisms about the public-school curriculum as she outlined today’s lessons.

“I must be the only person in the world who has to go to school before I go to school,” Ruse groused. Nonetheless, she picked up the history book and turned to where they left off.