The monk led them into a small side room flooded with warm light from a tall window on the far wall. The light streamed from the surface of the water above them, visible just above the top of the window, providing enough subdued illumination to see a low table covered in small steaming dishes, the first real food they had seen since the pub. Large cushions were arranged around the table, one of which was occupied by a very small old woman wearing the same coarse wrap-around robe and pants shared by all the monks they had seen so far. Her age was hard to judge. Everything about her appearance from her papery skin to her sunken cheeks suggested age, but her straight posture, clear eyes, and fluid movements were a direct contradiction. The room smelt spectacular. There were side dishes of Kimchi, tempura, and what looked like boiled meats in some kind of hot sauce. Amy saw bowls of soup heavy with vegetables giving off a spicy savoury aroma that made her mouth water instantly. There were several piles of bread rolls, boiled potatoes, cheeses, and other treats with no obvious culinary theme.

The old woman gestured at them, ‘Sit. You can go now Lo.’

Her accent was different to Gregor’s, but like Gregor’s it was hard to place. It sounded generically European to Amy’s ears, infuriatingly non specific. The other monk gave a small, fast bow and exited the room, leaving them alone with their host. They took their places around the table. Amy looked at the dishes arranged for them and her stomach audibly rumbled. She hadn’t eaten for so long, but she resisted the urge to gorge herself. She did not feel any safer here than she had in the government murder dungeon.

‘Eat,’ repeated the old woman.

Her ‘eat’ felt more like an order than an invitation. Amy bit back on her hunger and folded her arms. Thomas, Baron, and Janik had no such reservations apparently. Baron was spooning Kimchi into his mouth so rapidly that red sauce was dripping down his chin. Janik was demolishing small boiled potatoes at the same pace. And Thomas had found a sandwich. Amy picked up a bread roll and bit into it. It was perfect. A crisp outer layer crumbled easily in her mouth and the fluffy insides tasted like butter. She thought she was going to cry. Only bread made with magic could taste like this. She hated how wonderful it was.

‘Not a thank you from any of you?’ said the elderly monk.

Amy stopped gorging herself on buns long enough to consider their host.

‘I appreciate the food. I’m maybe grateful for what might be a rescue. But we didn’t ask for any of this. We have been shoved around from evil civil servants to ginger kung fu monks with no control over any of it. Who even are you?’

The old woman sighed and looked down. ‘Kung fu monks … bulk or strength aren’t valued here, but Gregor’s order defends our interests in the outside world and we like to keep our tools sharp. But I don’t think he knows kung fu.’

Her gaze swung up, locking on Amy. ‘In a better world Amy, you wouldn't need to know who we are, you wouldn’t even know we exist. In a better world you wouldn't be here ungratefully gorging yourself on our food. Gregor took a huge risk rescuing you. And it was a rescue. You would be dead now if it weren’t for him.’

Amy felt she was losing control of the conversation. ‘How do you even know my name? What are you even talking about?’

‘I know all your names,‘ the monk said with a coldsmile. ‘Amy, Thomas, Baron, Janik. Knowing your name is the least of my abilities.’

‘Yes, yes, you’re very magic and special and can use the mighty forces of magic to learn names,’ said Amy. ‘You didn’t answer the question. But I understand that as a magic user it’s hard to fit everything in with all the bragging you have to do.’

‘You are here because of Gregor,’ said the Monk, continuing to ignore Amy’s question. ‘Gregor has been expressly forbidden from interfering in the affairs of the mundane world. But for reasons of his own he chose to rescue you. He is a powerful magic user but he is sentimental and thinks he is above our laws. Even the ones put in place for his own protection. This is not his first … debacle.’

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‘Rescue us from what?’ Thomas said, taking a brief break from eating sandwiches. ‘Don't you understand we have no idea what is going on?’

The monk switched her gaze from Amy to Thomas, and for a short time stared at him wordlessly. This was enough to bring Thomas’ sandwich consumption to a full halt.

‘Are you afraid of us?’ she said.

Thomas said nothing, he looked longingly at his half eaten sandwich.

It was Amy who responded. ‘Should we be? It’s clear you think we’re annoying, but to be honest it’s really not clear what you want from us.’

The monk ignored her and turned her attention to Janik.

‘You are a magician Janik.’ said the monk.

‘I know.’ said Janik.

‘Are you a powerful magician? Do people tremble in your presence?

‘No, I’m an alcoholic with multiple personality problems, some of which are probably disorders. But I’m a good magician.’

The monk smiled wordlessly. A smug smile that Amy had a strong desire to slap off her face.

‘What?’ said Amy, ‘Why are you looking so pleased with yourself.’

The monk continued to ignore her. ‘You don’t even know what magic is Janik.’

Janik stared at her for a moment, expressionless, trying to parse what the monk might mean. He felt so sober. He had no idea what was happening or how to proceed.

Then, for lack of any better ideas, in his best belligerently whiny voice he said ‘You don't even know what magic is Janik’

He put his food down. ‘That’s you, that’s what you sound like.’

Any snorted into her bread roll.

The monk raised a fist and slammed it down on the table. The sound of impact had no relation to the small wrists and boney hand that made contact with the table. It was sharp, amplified. It echoed through the room and Janik was thrown violently from his seated position into the air, landing with a crack half way up the wall behind him, and sliding down into a lump on the ground.

‘What the hell?’ shouted Amy, jumping to her feet. The monk had set no conditions and they were all looking straight at her and Janik when Janik had flown across the room.

‘What is happening?’ shouted Thomas, also on his feet.

The monk raised her other hand, and in a voice so unnaturally loud it made Amy’s eyeballs vibrate, shouted ‘Sit down!’

They all obeyed. These displays of magic, so open, no conditions, no demure averting of the gaze, felt obscene.

‘None of you know what magic is! You spend all your time arranging your trinkets and creating your little sparks. We have practiced magic for thousands of years, long before your priests and shamans started piling their bones and closing their eyes to turn stones into water. You have no idea what real magic is!’

The sense of threat was palpable. Janik let out a low groan from the corner. Amy, Thomas, and Baron sat silently, not even daring to look at each other. Long ingrained habits caused them to instinctively keep their eyes on the monk, even though it was becoming increasingly apparent that the norms and natural laws of magic were irrelevant here.

The monk continued. ‘We are part of an unbroken line of magic users that goes back thousands of years. Your restrictions do not apply to us, and if you aren’t afraid you should be. Your government is. They fear our power, they are terrified of it. But we are not the threat. We are not interested in you, we have no intention of harming you. Magically gifted or not, you are of no consequence to us. All we want is to protect those who are gifted as we are. The so called Department of Health and Aged Care covers up an agency that is solely focused on finding and killing real magic users. We find the gifted first. We invite them into our order, nurture and protect them.’

There was a pause while the small monk seemed to compose herself.

‘Are we gifted?’ said Baron.

The small monk looked surprised. ‘Deal lord no. Not even slightly.’

‘Oh, you aren’t going to nurture us then?’

‘I don’t even like giving you my Kimchi.’

She gestured towards Amy. ‘This one is sensitive. Very sensitive. We have to damp down the residual magic continuously to stop her throwing up on our floors.’

She turned to Janik. ‘You are … clever. But not especially gifted. You’re a hack. None of you are special.’

‘Ouch.’ said Thomas.

‘Despite your ordinariness however, the department thinks one of you is magically gifted. They are wrong, I sense no power here.’

‘No power! We’re all mid! We get it!’ shouted Amy.

‘No power at all.’ said the monk. ‘But that doesn’t matter. It’s irrelevant. They think you are gifted and they won’t rest until they have put you down.’

Another pause, the monk looked them over, and no one dared break eye contact.

‘We are not merciless,’ she said. ‘We are not them. You can stay here with us. We will find a use for you here, we will keep you safe.’

‘For how long?’ Baron asked.

‘If you step outside of our protection, if you leave this city, you are as good as dead. I am sorry. But for as long as you live now, you live with us.’