Page 117 of The Tribes of Magic
What crazy tales was Dante telling people about me? I’d have to have a talk with him.
“If I’d summoned a dragon to the General’s office, wouldn’t people have noticed?” I pointed out.
“Not if it was an inter-dimensional dragon,” Killjoy replied. “They look like the real thing but don’t exist in our plane of existence, so they don’t do you any damage. Well, besides scaring the snot out of you.”
My life had gotten so weird.
“There was no dragon, inter-dimensional or otherwise,” I said.
“That’s a shame.” Killjoy drew a few runes on Rhett’s head. “His injuries are not minor. How did he get them?”
“Jareth had us doing sprinting drills, and Rhett tried to ram me. I grabbed him and flipped us around so he hit the ground instead of me.”
“Well, that served him right for attacking a superior foe,” said Killjoy.
Rhett’s frown deepened. Angry wrinkles marred his forehead. Killjoy finished healing his head, then moved on to his ribs.
“You’re done. Run back to your mentor,” he told Rhett. “And don’t expect a note to excuse you from training. Being stupid doesn’t win you a free pass to do nothing.”
After Rhett marched off, Killjoy turned his full attention on me. “I have to admit, I find your magic intriguing. The power of all six Tribes. How exactly does your magic work?”
I sighed. “Most of the time, it doesn’t work at all.”
He tapped his magic pen against his wrist. “So you came here to have me fix your magic?”
“No, I came here because Jareth told me to bring Rhett in to be healed. But now that I’m here, maybe you could do something about the pounding headache threatening to crack my skull open? Rhett wasn’t holding back when he charged at me, so we collided hard. If you could do something about the pain, I’d appreciate it.”
He looked at me curiously.
“What’s wrong? Don’t you see the really big bump on my head?”
“Of course. What’s not to see? I’ll see what I can do about your headache.” He ushered me over to the nearest cot.
While he put on a new pair of gloves again, I took a seat. Then he started looking me over, searching my body for injuries.
“The Apprentices are getting more brutal every year.”
“It’s the way the training is set up. They turn us against each other. They turn everything into a competition. That breeds hostility.”
“Indeed it does,” he agreed. “I was in the second Blending, three years ago. Things were different back then. They just brought all the kids to the spirits and let the spirits choose. But things have changed. Now the Government decides which kids are allowed to go to the Blending.”
“They only select people they think they can control,” I said.
“Yes.” He fell silent as he continued to examine my injuries.
“So, you thought I’d come here so you could fix my magic?”
He smiled. “I was just making small talk.”
“Can you fix my magic?”
“You can only fix something if you know why it’s broken.”
“And do you?” I asked. “Know why my magic is broken?”
His gloved hands held mine. He flipped one of them over, then he used his magic pen to write something on the underside of my wrist. A glowing symbol, some kind of rune, pulsed a few times, then faded.
“There’s nothing wrong with your magic, Savannah.”
