Page 115 of The Tribes of Magic
I nodded at Jareth in acknowledgement, then stepped up to Rhett. “Ok, let’s go.”
“I don’t think I can make it. I’m horribly wounded.” Rhett pretended to limp. He tried to sound pitiful too, but he was clearly having way too much fun. “You’ll have to carry me.”
A few of his teammates laughed.
I ground my teeth. “Fine.”
I grabbed Rhett and tried to pick him up. He was even heavier than he looked. Somehow, I managed to balance him over my shoulder. I started walking toward the Clinic.
Each step was harder than the last. My magic was burning off, along with my adrenaline. And Rhett wasn’t helping. He was doing the famous dead-weight attack, making himself as heavy as possible. Dragging out my misery. He was so annoying. When I finally made it to the door of the Clinic, I was so tempted to bang his big head on the doorframe on the way in.
I didn’t. I didn’t want to sink to his level. So I set him down on his feet, careful not to add to his injuries.
I’d never been to the Clinic. It was very clean, very sterile, and very shiny. The floor looked like a super-glossy black-and-white chessboard. Bizarre paintings hung on the walls. A rune was at the epicenter of each picture. I recognized them as the runes Sorcerer Knights used to cast magic, but I couldn’t read any of them.
“I will be with you in a moment,” a Sorcerer Knight called out to us from the other side of the room.
The cot he stood over was occupied by an Apprentice covered in burns. Using an ornate pen, the Sorcerer Knight drew runeson the burnt Apprentice. Every rune healed a section of the boy’s skin, until there weren’t any burns left.
“You may go,” the Sorcerer Knight told the Apprentice. “But remember: the next time you decide to play with fire, make sure there’s water nearby.”
“Killjoy.” The Apprentice said the word with a smile, then he jumped off the cot and skipped out of the room like he hadn’t been completely covered in burns just a few moments ago.
The Sorcerer Knight tucked his pen into his shirt pocket. When he turned to face us, I got a better look at him. He was about nineteen or twenty and had black hair. The sides of his head were shaved short, but the hair on top was long—with the tips dyed the same shade of crimson as his outfit.
“The first few weeks of the year are always so full of injuries,” he said. “Too many injuries caused by crazy kids who can’t control their magic.” His brown eyes locked on to me, then narrowed. “Can you control your magic?”
The honest answer was no, but I knew that wasn’t the answer he was looking for.
The Sorcerer sighed. “Take a seat on one of the cots. And just so you know, there’s absolutely no spell casting allowed in here. OnlyIam allowed to do magic in here. For everyone’s safety.”
“I can control my magic,” Rhett insisted.
The Sorcerer gave him a brief once-over, then declared, “Your injuries would suggest otherwise.”
“That’s her fault.” Rhett pointed at me.
The Sorcerer’s black brows peaked. “Oh? Did the girl half your size beat you up?”
I choked down a laugh.
Rhett glowered at the Sorcerer. And cracked his knuckles.
“Super-strength counts as doing magic.” The Sorcerer pulled out his magic rune-writing pen. “That’s a little FYI for yourbenefit, just in case you were planning on trying something stupid, Muscles.”
“And if I were?” Rhett made himself big. “What could you do about it?”
“Nothing, I’m afraid. No one’s found a cure for stupidity yet.” The Sorcerer gave him a breezy smile.
I snorted.
Rhett spun around and hit me with a glower that was probably supposed to look intimidating. “Something funny, cupcake?”
“It isn’t you who’s funny, in case you’re wondering.” I gave my eyelashes an innocent flutter.
Rhett clenched his fists.
“None of that now,” the Sorcerer said. “No need to get irritable because she’s more powerful than you.”
