Page 22 of The Sorcerer's Thief
Nature, I can feel. Energy, I can channel to do my bidding. But people? I use sight, sound, touch, just like everyone else.
Not magic.
Reeling, I close my eyes and lock on to the coin’s position. To Cricket’s. Space bends and folds to my will, and I step through,straight from one point to another, as simple as crossing a threshold.
“Snail’s slime!” Cricket startles, dropping a handful of sticks. He’s camped next to a swiftly flowing stream, sitting on a rock and looking every bit as annoyed as I expected. “You scared me.”
“Couldn’t be helped, I’m afraid.” I wipe nonexistent dust from my coat to settle my nerves. The sense I had of him is gone, relieving me of a strange intimacy, neither wanted nor earned. “You’re such a jumpy creature. What were you doing?”
“Where did you come from?”
“Ember Crest, right where you left me. Have a nice day?”
“Without you? Of course.”
“Didn’t believe I could follow the coin like I said?”
“I don’t believe anything anyone says on principle. Now I know for sure that you can.” He shrugs. “Wish you wouldn’t.”
“Wishes are for children and the naïve, of which you’re neither.”
He’s made up a cozy camp. Bedroll laid out next to the rock he’s sitting on, bag splayed open with half its contents scattered on the old wool. A book, a map, the heel of a loaf of bread, and some knickknacks, likely stolen. They don’t look particularly valuable. A wooden carving of a cat, back arched, tail held straight up, a toy slingshot, some skipping stones.
Why bother stealing toys?
Not far away, a small horse munches on a patch of tall grass, completely unbothered except for a slow glance in my direction.
No, not a horse. A pony, really. And what’s wrong with her eye?
“You stole ablindpony?”
“Half-blind.” Cricket’s stare intensifies. “What’s it to you?”
What had the stable mistress said?Stole my best mount. Worth a pretty penny. Curse him for me when you find him, will ya?But surely she wasn’t speaking of this old nag.
Cricket must have told her to lie. But why?
I nod toward the old creature. “You paid for that pathetic excuse for a horse, didn’t you?”
Cricket narrows his gaze and glares. “Don’t talk about Slinger that way. We have an understanding. Besides, none of us are perfect, are we?” He glances pointedly at my missing fingers.
Touché.
If only he knew how much more imperfect I really am. I roll my shoulders, and the scar tissue where my wings should be loosens a fraction. “Never claimed to be perfect. Not even close.”
He huffs and flops onto his sleep roll, then shoves his belongings back into his bag. “I was hoping you’d take my leaving as a cue not to follow this time.”
“Alas, until the coin is mine, I cannot.” I sit in the spot he abandoned, leaving us face-to-face and me the taller. “What were you doing before I arrived?”
“Failing.”
“At what?”
“Magic.”
“Ah.” This could be an opportunity to earn a fraction of goodwill. Cricket is hard to read, and I’m unsure which method will procure his cooperation the quickest. “Perhaps I could be of assistance.”
“I’m not giving you the?—”
