Tamora Pierce - Street Magic

You mean you didn’t want competition, Briar thought. He regarded his cup of tea. For a moment he wanted to give it a good, loud slurp, to annoy Jebilu. He got that urge under control along with his temper and gently sipped his tea. Sandry had taught him elegant manners, though he seldom used them. He supposed he was trying to show Jebilu he was both educated and mature, if not for his own sake, then for Evvy’s. When he was calm again Briar said, “That’s very well, but Evvy needs a teacher right now. It’ll be a while before she knows enough magic that her workings might conflict with yours.”

“Send her to Winding Circle,” Jebilu replied. “They seem prepared to indulge the young.” He smiled at Briar.

“She’ll get into trouble without a teacher,” Briar said flatly. “She’s run into it already. If she’s scared she’ll defend herself, and end up doing more harm than good.”

“My dear boy, I am a very busy man,” Jebilu insisted. He gave his tea another tiny sip. “My lord the amir keeps me busy inspecting the bridges, walls, fortresses, and dams around our fair city. With stone so ancient, problems arise. I would say, bring her here, but I am so rarely at home.”

“She won’t come here. She’s afraid to. You can teach her while you inspect whatever you must.” Briar put his cup down hard enough that the porcelain rattled.

“Impossible. I must not be distracted.” Jebilu looked at his pastry, then broke off a new piece, chewed, and swallowed it. “You should try these,” he said once he’d finished.

Briar got to his feet. “By the laws of Lightsbridge and Winding Circle you have to teach new mages in your discipline,” he insisted.

Jebilu smiled. “Winding Circle and Lightsbridge are far from here. If you think they will bestir themselves for a girl of no family, you are as deluded as the stone mages who fought my lord’s command for them to leave Chammur.” Seeing that Briar had blinked when he’d mentioned Evvy’s family, Jebilu broadened his smile. “If she had family and a proper place in the world she would not fear the palace. Neither would she rely on an eknub mage to present her case. Stone mages are a dav a bushel,” he continued. “She will find one sooner or later. After she leaves town, of course. She mustn’t stay and endanger my work.”

Briar was furious on several levels. Later, when he’d calmed down, he would be the first to admit he was vexed partly because the man hadn’t rolled onto his back like a defeated dog at the sight of the medallion. There was more to his anger than hurt pride, though. The thought that someone might drive away all potential rivals offended his sense of right and wrong. Rosethorn and Dedicate Crane had spent their adult lives in competition, but neither had made the other leave Winding Circle. Frostpine’s apprentice Kirel had always envied Daja’s magic, but he’d never even asked Frostpine to keep Daja away. Mages worked together or separately, but all had a right to work.

Worst of all was Jebilu’s dismissal of Evvy. The girl could be maddening, contrary, and rude, but she was a human being, with her own heart, mind, and power. It was as if Jebilu had said that no matter what she had, she would never count, simply because she was a poor orphan. He didn’t care that she survived a crueler world than that of this pretty citadel with its perfumed air and silk rugs. She deserved a chance to work her way out of poverty, as Briar had. Who was this pampered lapdog of a man to dismiss her?

About to inform Jebilu that in fact there was a representative of both Lightsbridge and Winding Circle in town, Briar stopped himself. I could argue this kaq around, he thought, using an extremely rude Trader word for someone valueless. He could do it, but he knew he would be upset and unsettled for the rest of the day. That wouldn’t be any good for his trees, and he had to get them ready for market in the morning.

I could do all that, he thought. Or I could give him to Rosethorn. It would cheer her up to give this sniveler what for, and she could use cheering up.

He grinned, showing all of his teeth. “I wish you would reconsider,” he suggested, his mild tone belying his grin. “If a member of one of those councils knew of this, you could find yourself in trouble.”

Jebilu’s face twitched as he thought quickly; Briar wondered what was going through that selfish brain. “Here.” The older mage searched through his robes until he found a purse in his sash. Opening it, he counted out coins: three gold chams. “I am not heartless. This will pay for her to go to Winding Circle and to cover her fees for a year or two. If she spends it carefully she may even get a wardrobe out of it—No,” he interrupted himself, “people like that simply have no notion of economy.” He inspected his purse, and added a silver cham to the gold ones. “She must not come back to me if she spends this without going to Winding Circle,” he told Briar, holding up a warning forefinger. “My good nature may be imposed upon once, but not twice. If she spends it on drugs, or fancy clothes, or drink, she will get no more. So.” He tucked the purse away and crossed his hands over the bulge of his stomach. “I have been more than fair, I think.”

Briar was breathless with rage. That this festering slug would judge a girl he’d not so much as glimpsed in the street… Briar’s magic surged against four years’ worth of barriers and controls, begging for him to loosen his grip, presenting him with images of this man as plant food or a trellis with big-thorned roses twining around his flesh. The vines in his hands rippled and twisted, looking for an exit The trees and flowers in the garden just outside begged to come in and swamp whoever had hurt their friend.

When the servant rapped on the door and opened it, Briar’s concentration snapped. Give him to Rosethorn, he ordered himself. She needs a blow up worse than you. He slammed a lid on his power before it could escape, reminded the vines in his skin that they had no woody stems to support them outside his body, and sent a wave of calm toward the garden. Only when he’d done all that, hard and fast so his green friends and his power would remember who was in charge, did he hear the bowing servant tell Jebilu, “—required in the Pink Audience Chamber at once.”

“I will not keep his highness waiting,” Jebilu replied struggling to his feet. “This pahan was leaving.” He waddled out as quickly as his tiny feet would take him.

The servant eyed Briar uncertainly. “ My lord pahari?” he inquired cautiously. “Shall I bring your horse?”

“Why bother to ask?” Briar wanted to know. “His royal roly-polyness just told you I was going.” He strode out of the room before he said anything worse. The servant, who looked as if he might be hiding a grin, trotted ahead of him to get Briar’s mount.

After a moment in the courtyard, Briar’s rage started to fade. When he could think, he realized he’d forgotten something. Stupid! he told himself. You left the money!

Anger flared again, equaled by horror with himself. Why hadn’t he taken it? He should have. It had been a bribe, after all, for him or for Evvy. Accepting it did not mean he had to do as the fat man had suggested, send Evvy to Winding Circle. He could put it in his own purse. Once he would have kept the coins without worry, and told himself that Evvy needed to collect her own money.

He’d thought he was past these moments when Briar Moss, student and mage, smashed into Roach, the Hajran street rat and convict he’d once been. Even Briar Moss understood the value of money—surely temple life and mage life hadn’t destroyed that for him! He could have kept it for Evvy, and be repaid for the bribes and the clothes.