David Coe - Spell Blind

“I am not a ghost,” he said, making her jump again. “I am a runemyste. And you are a distraction to him.”

What a charmer.

“Never mind that. Tell her about the blockers.”

“If Ohanko were to take the Abri, he would no longer be able to cast spells. I would rather he train his mind and his magic, and keep his mind clear that way.”

“Abri?”

“The medicines that stop magic and protect him from the moon-times. Ohanko calls them blockers.”

“But he’s sick. Magic is driving him insane.”

Namid glanced at me, and a flicker of sadness crossed his watery features. “Yes,” Namid said. “As it did his father. Magic is a dangerous tool, and it exacts a cost. As he hones his craft the effects may be controlled. But this is his choice as well as his fate. If he chooses to give up his powers, it must be his decision, and his alone. I cannot force him not to take the Abri; you cannot force him otherwise. For now he has chosen to be a runecrafter, and he must live with the consequences of that choice. So must you.”

“No!” Billie said, fear of the runemyste giving way to anger. “Just because you say it’s his fate doesn’t make it true! You’re his friend! If you know where his magic leads, you should tell him to stop!”

“Billie-”

“Yes, I am his friend,” Namid said, his voice even as he regarded me again with that same sad expression. “But I am also his teacher, and I have a responsibility to the Runeclave, just as I do to him. Your world is a safer place tonight because of Ohanko’s magic. Do you deny this?”

Billie opened her mouth, then closed it again. After a few seconds she shook her head.

“If Ohanko was still a police officer would you tell him to quit rather than put his life in danger?”

“No,” she said, her voice low. “But this is different.”

“I do not believe it is,” Namid said. “There is magic involved, and since you do not understand the craft you think it is different. But is it really?”

Billie narrowed her eyes. “What did you say you were again?”

“A runemyste. My kind guard against the use of dark magic in your world, and we give aid to those who have Runeclave blood in their veins. We teach them to craft, we guide them in this battle against those who would misuse their powers. Ohanko is a runecrafter-a weremyste you would call him-of limited ability. He is learning to become more. But the moontimes will always be hard for him. There is no way to avoid this. Do you understand?”

She considered me, her forehead furrowing. Then faced Namid again. “Will he hurt himself?” she asked. “I’ve read that sometimes people with magic-they hurt themselves or. . worse.”

“He has not yet.”

Billie gave a wan smile. It was kind of nice to see someone else dealing with Namid’s cryptic answers and stubborn logic. “So,” she said after a some time, “maybe having someone around, someone who might check in on him now and then, wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”

Namid stared at her for a moment. After a few seconds he nodded, his waters softening. I thought I might even have glimpsed a smile on his face.

“I think I like her, Ohanko.”

“I thought you said she was a distraction.”

“I may have been wrong.”

My mouth fell open. “Well, Billie, that’s a first. You’ve gotten Namid’skemu of the K’ya’na-Kwe clan to admit that he might have been wrong about something.”

Billie grinned.

“Your humor is most peculiar, Ohanko. I like her, but you I am not so sure about.” He turned to Billie. “We understand each other now about the Abri?”

“I think so, yes.”

“Good. Farewell.”

He vanished, though for a long time Billie continued to stare at the place where he’d been standing.

“So, what else have you got?” she asked, turning to face me.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, you’ve got psychological problems, you’re a sorcerer, you hang out with that misty-ghosty thing-”

“Runemyste.”

“Whatever. I’m wondering if there’s more I should know before we go any further.”

“Are we going further?” I asked.

She took my hand. “I think I’d like to, yes. But slowly, Fearsson. We’ve got to take it slowly. I’m in uncharted waters here and I won’t lie to you: this all scares me.”

“I can understand that. Sometimes it scares me, too.”

We stood in silence, our eyes locked.

“So, is there more?” she asked.

“I can’t think of anything else. We’ve covered most of it in the last week or two.”

“Well, good,” she said. “Because I’m hungry, and I’ve had enough surprises for a while.”

“You want me to make you some dinner?”

“Right,” she said. “The one-armed chef. I’d like to see that.” She pulled me toward the door. “No, I want you to take me out. No dives this time. Someplace nice.”

“The dive was your idea,” I reminded her.

“Fine. I’ll choose this place, too.”

She led me out into the night, and I paused long enough to turn off the light and lock the door, content in that moment to follow her anywhere.