“You carry that around with you everywhere?”
“I have to.” Dwayne stopped fingering the License Key and faced Magdala. “It’s not safe anywhere else.”
“Ha, I know what you mean.” Magdala held up her left hand where a small blue sphere had been set into the back of a green leather fingerless glove. It reminded Dwayne of her old blouse and trousers and the taverns, forests, and empty ancient cities she’d worn them in. “Neither of us can let what’s precious out of our sight.”
Her eyes met his.
“No,” Dwayne coughed and looked down at the License Key, “of course not.”
“May I hold it?”
“Sure.” Dwayne handed it over, holding in a shudder as her fingers brushed his.
“It’s warm.” Magdala muttered a spell, and her eyebrows lifted. “I don’t recognize the metal.”
Dwayne chuckled. “I’m not surprised. Normal metal doesn’t condense out of books. While I haven’t been able to investigate it much, it is obviously a powerful magical construct with a mind of its own. That’s weird enough, but… What?”
Magdala looked away. “Nothing. I’m just glad we’re friends.”
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Heat flooded Dwayne’s face. “Uh, okay.”
“Milady, milord,” the carriage came to a stop, “we’re here.”
“Let’s just put this away.” Magdala leaned over and slid the License Key into Dwayne’s right inside suit pocket. “And now you wait here.”
“What? Why?”
But Magdala had already exited the carriage. When Dwayne tried to see what she was doing, she stopped him with a raised hand.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Just wait.” Magdala nodded to someone he couldn’t see. “Okay, we’re good. Come on down.”
“Okay.” Dwayne exited the carriage, turned to Bradsbridge, and gasped.
The bridge was alight with color and filled with people. Because that morning Dwayne had worked with the laborers from the Plague District to set everything up, he knew exactly how many booths and tents there were, but that was like seeing a skeleton without the muscles, skin and fat on; he’d had no idea what Magdala and the theory group had planned. Now there were fountains gushing liquids of every color, children drawing with colored chalks that rippled from red to blue to purple with each stroke, life-sized ice sculptures of the First Water Sage Sabina marching up and down the bridge, and so, so much more.
For a long time, Dwayne didn’t speak, only stood there drinking it in. When he finally tried to express anything, all he came up with was, “This is…”
“I know.” Magdala looped an arm through his. “But you can’t be amazed yet. Come see what Miss Fletcher’s doing.”
She towed him over to a booth dominated by a tower that reach just over Dwayne’s head and was made of glittering, finger-length crystals that Nicole’s magic was delicately putting into place.
Dwayne gaped at it. “How?”
“I presume magic, milord.” With those sardonic words, Akunna joined them. She raised an eyebrow at Magdala. “Is this her? The nQe noble you won’t stop talking about?”