Page 38 of Minor Works of Meda

“Let’s try this way.” I led us out of the open harbor. We took off down a narrow, twisting alley.

It cut a winding path through rows of tall stone buildings, then spat us out on the shoreline again, this time by a seawall rather than the bustling harbor. We walked for another half a block until we reached a fishmonger’s. It was an open-air shop, with no front wall. The stench inside was strong; I would’ve walked right past it if it hadn’t caught Kalcedon’s interest. He didn’t say anything, but I caught him looking and saw his steps slow.

I wrinkled my nose and peered in at the tables of prawns, fish, and squid. At the back, an iron griddle rested over a long flame. Fish, chunks of onion, and whole cloves of garlic sizzled in oil. A mustached man tended the food.

“You can’t eat that. It’ll turn your stomach,” I whispered to him, breathing in the stinging scent of the hot iron. Kalcedon glared at me and pointed at the row of steaming clay pots behind the man.

“Ask him if everything is iron-grilled,” Kalcedon commanded. I looked at him flatly. He shook his head subtly, lips curled down. “Please,” Kalcedon growled. I sighed and walked into the bright shop, leaving him in the shadows outside.

The answer was no, as it turned out, and a half-hour later we were perched on the seawall outside the shop, little clay pots swaddled in cloth to keep them from burning our hands. Kalcedon sniffed his food carefully and took a small bite. His eyebrows rose.

“We should buy spices for home. I think they use things here we don’t get on Nis.”

I hesitated, taking a bite of over-hot food. The spice prickled my tongue and made my nose ache.

“I might not go back.”

I saw him frown.

“Of course you will. What else would you do?”

“Well. You know. The Temple,” I said, and stirred my food. “If I can figure out the sigils on the Ward, maybe…”

He set down his pot a little too sharply and frowned at me.

“I don’t get it. Why would you want to be somewhere they don’t want you?”

I could have asked him the same thing, about wanting to belong in a terrible, painful village like Missaniech. But I had a million reasons. Books. Power. People who could teach me more about magic. The ability to cast great enchantments, enchantments that would only make Kalcedon roll his eyes.

“They don’t know me yet,” I muttered. “They'll want me.”

“They’ll spend the whole time looking down their noses at you. You’re barely a witch.” This felt different from his usual teasing. Barbed. As if I needed a reminder of his power, when it was constantly around me.

“Oraik was right,” I muttered. “You really don’t have to be so mean.”

“Oh, for…” he exhaled hard. “Sorry, o delicate flower. I didn’t realize you were so easily bothered. I’ve never known someone as powerful as you. You overflow with magic. To look upon you is to feel the sun. You—”

I pursed my lips. “You’re beyond fixing.”

He glowered and answered, “let’s find an inn.”

I returned the pots inside. Kalcedon strode off down the road, leaving me to catch up. I jogged down the winding seawall road, lantern-lit shops to the right, curtains and awnings and painted doors. Stone and sea to the left, a black shape that shifted to pound against the city. Soon I was walking beside him, trying to match his long-legged, swift stride.

There was a faint flicker of magic overhead. We both felt it and paused. I tipped my chin back and watched as a swarm of pale glimmering shapes passed far above us. They were gone as quickly as they’d appeared. Kalcedon took a step back to see them better, his shoulder brushing against mine.

“What was that?” I breathed, as he stayed tight to me instead of moving away.

“Starflits,” he said with wonder. “I think those were starflits. They must have crossed over, when it was down.”

“Are they dangerous?”

He stopped staring at the sky, empty now, and looked down at me instead. His shoulder stayed against mine.

“I don’t think so. They’re just birds, really.”

The idea of fae birds overhead was lovely for about ten seconds, until I wondered whether anything or anyone else had crossed. We kept walking.

We passed by five inns that Kalcedon decided looked too expensive. At last I spotted a rickety wooden door with a picture of a cup and bed hanging over it.

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