Back at the inn, Katrina was just stepping out the front doors, when she almost got bowled over by Sasha coming in from outside.

“Watch out Sasha!”

“Sorry.”

“Where is everyone?” Katrina asked. There had been nobody in the dining room for breakfast, except for Benny, who had only told her that her parents would be back from the ship later, and not to wander too far.

Sasha paused, although she looked eager to get on her way. “Salem’s still asleep, Gemma went exploring, and I just saw Bobby by the book shop with some girl.”

“There’s a book shop?”

Sasha nodded and tried to dodge around Katrina so she could head inside the inn.

“What sort of books?”

Sasha looked irritated at being stopped again. She shrugged. “I dunno. Spell books maybe. That way, next street over.” She pointed. She didn’t know if there had been spell books. It was unlikely. She just wanted Katrina to stop asking questions. She was on an important mission and needed to hurry. Katrina was quiet long enough that Sasha took her chance, darted around her, and sped off toward the inn kitchen.

Sasha poked her head cautiously through the door to the kitchen. Mary, the innkeeper was in there, doing some cleaning.

“Hello dear,” she said when she noticed Sasha. “Anything I can help you with?”

Sasha decided she might as well ask. She ventured forth. “I was wondering if I could get some milk. Just maybe one of those bottles?”

The inn keep’s eyes widened. “A whole bottle! Well, I suppose that’s okay, but what are you going to do with a whole bottle? That’s a lot for such a small girl to drink all by herself. Are you sure you don’t want me to pour some in a smaller container? I can you know.”

Sasha shook her head. “No, that amount is perfect. It’s for my siblings too, and um, some, err, kittens we found,” Sasha lied. “My parents wouldn’t mind if you just add it to their tab. They like kittens too.”

“Well I suppose, it’s not too expensive. But you make sure not to give all of it to those kittens you hear. You have some yourself and share with your brothers and sisters too.”

Sasha nodded.

“Good girl.” The inn keep handed her the bottle and Sasha took it with a sweet smile she knew all adults loved. Then, bottle of milk in hand she skipped out the inn door, off down the road, through the town, and into a strand of trees at the edge of the forest. All the while she softly sang a little nursery rhyme. A favorite in school yard clapping games, one with a rhythm so catchy, that few paid any mind to the words.

“One by the blade

Of a crescent moon.

She was laid to rest,

By her sister’s tomb.

One at dawn,

Never saw a noon,

The babe was blessed,

In her mother’s womb.

One by the rope,

A necklace on a tree.

She swung so fast,

She never saw me.

One in the drink,

Five, four, three.

She sank so soon,

She never caught me.

One by the flame,

Set alight.

Danced like the sparks,

Flew away with the night.

One by the horses,

She gave no fight.

Drawn and quartered,

Such a sorry sight.

One by the road,

Dumped in a ditch.

Buried alive,

At the hands of this snitch.

One by the ghosts,

They ended my pitch,

Made me sorry I drew,

Blades with a witch.”

Back in town, Katrina found the bookstore easily enough. There was no sign of Bobby or any of her other siblings. But it didn’t matter. She was curious what sort of books might be found in a place like this. She doubted Sasha had seen any spell books, not good ones anyway, but she had to take a look, just to be sure. Besides, maybe she would find something else worth buying. She had a small amount of pocket change for spending purposes.

The store looked dusty, even on the outside. It had been painted teal at one point, but now the paint was faded and chipped. The books in the window were large and leather bound. Their titles all written in a language Katrina did not know. The look of them raised her curiosity even more. Perhaps, Sasha had not just been making things up after all.

Katrina pushed her way inside. She noticed a bell connected to the door that probably once rang when people entered, but now the ringer had been removed so only silence lay before her. The store was full of almost ceiling high shelves and it smelt of mustiness and leather. And cinnamon? The further in, Katrina walked, the more her nose became assaulted with different scents. Sandalwood and other baking spices like nutmeg, wafted from somewhere. They seemed to change as she moved around the room. One particular corner smelt like aniseed.

There appeared to be no shop keeper, and Katrina wandered among the shelves free from oversight. She ran her fingers down the odd spine, caressing the leather as if it were still alive and she could coax their secrets out into her mind by shear will. Perhaps an appropriately infused book could do just that, but then the infuser would first have to read and know every word inside, so such an infusement would be of no benefit to them. It would be a truly selfless task. Or would it? She imagined creating an infused text book such that all of her friends at school could just hold the book and absorb it’s knowledge. Then they would all have more free time for social activities. Katrina imagined the kind of glory and adoration she would get for such a thing. Without meaning to, she smiled.

But then, it would undoubtedly require some sort of mind magic to accomplish such a thing. To store information and then direct it straight into the mind. And the book wouldn’t actually be useful, it would just be a prop. It would be easier to get information from a disk with a mix of technopathy and mindwalking magic, but that didn’t have the same aesthetic appeal that Katrina adored. Magic should be beautiful. Besides, even then, it was still a hard task and she knew no mindwalkers. And mind magic was one of the hardest magics to get right. Risky too. She could practically hear Bobby chiding her for even thinking about such things. But some people did it. Sorcerers did it. She just wished they were a little better at sharing how they did it. She eyed the books on the shelf next to her. Did one of these books hold the secret?

Titles ranged from the mundane, ‘Fairy Tales For Children,’ to the illegible, indecipherable text, that was no use to her. Then she saw one particular book. Blood red in colour, and stained with something that turned patches of the cover a darker brown. It looked well-used. She was drawn to it. It sat on the floor, under a high stack of books, just behind the glass counter.

She reached down and, holding the books above it in place with one hand, she yanked it out. The rest of the pile dropped down with a loud thud.

The book was heavy so Katrina stood and placed it on the counter. Despite the title being one of those that was in a language other than her own, she was surprised to find that she could read the words on the inside. It was indeed a spell book. Not just that, but it’s focus was on infusing, and there, in the title of one chapter, were the words ‘mind walking.’ Katrina flipped through, until she found the right chapter. She picked a random page a few pages in from the start of the chapter.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

The sentence at the top of the page read ‘Selection of the item for infusement is of utmost importance and it’s selection should not be understated.’ Katrina frowned. She hadn’t thought that the item mattered, at least, not beyond aesthetic purposes or ease of triggering. But this page seemed to indicate otherwise. ‘For a better infusment and more intuitive use, the infused item should be chosen such that purpose of the item reflects the purpose of the infusement.’ What did that mean?

She flicked through some more pages until the words ‘love spell,’ caught her eye. Not that she had anyone specific in mind, but the very idea of it, intrigued her. She ran her gaze down the list of ingredients.

“A beating heart!” she exclaimed in surprise. It wasn’t unusual for spells to require organs. It was the word ‘beating’ that gave her pause.

A shadow fell over the book.

“That’s not for your eyes.”

A hand reached down and slammed the book shut. It barely missed Katrina’s fingers.

“That book’s not for children.”

Katrina jumped back in alarm.

An old man stood behind her. She watched as he removed the book from the table, unlocked a cabinet behind the counter, and shut and locked the book inside. He turned back to Katrina. His hair was grey, thin on top, and poofy on the sides. He had to be at least 200 years old if not older. But his golden yellow-brown eyes were sharp as a 20 year olds.

Katrina sensed that this was not a man she could lie to, and while she felt some sense of power coming from him, she did not feel afraid. “I am not a child,” she replied calmly. While her tone may have belied an age greater than her 13 years, her youthful face and body could not so easily fool. She tried her luck regardless. “That spell, it listed a beating heart as an ingredient?”

He made a sound that might have been a laugh. “That is often the case, but it is no business of any child.”

“I told you. I’m not a child. I’m 18, and I’m a sorcerer studying at Myst.” She placed her hands on her hips.

The man started to laugh, and he did not stop for quite sometime, much to Katrina’s frustration.

Eventually he quietened down. “You look more 12 than 18, and if you really were a student of Myst, you would know that no student calls themselves a sorcerer, at least not until they’ve graduated. The student’s are called ‘mages.’”

“Oh.” Katrina’s voice fell. She had not known that. But then, “How do you know?” she demanded.

He chuckled again, although not for as long this time. “Because, dear child, I am a sorcerer. Or at least I was.” His face fell then and he looked a lot like his shop, dull and chipped. He started to turn away from her.

“You are?” Katrina asked in a quiet voice, afraid, unbelieving, and hoping all in one. Here she was, about to meet a real sorcerer. Her world felt like it balanced on the tip of a pin.

“Not any more.” He shook his head, and as he moved slowly toward the hallway at the back of the shop he spoke a last warning, “Go outside. Enjoy the sun. This,” He waved a hand at the piles of books, “Is no place for the young.”

Katrina saw her chance for learning real magic disappearing before her eyes. “Wait! You’re right, I’m not 18. I’m not 12 either. But one day I will turn 18, and then, then I will become a mage. And one day, I’ll be the best sorcerer you ever saw. You’ll see.”

The man stopped. He seemed to be thinking. Finally, without turning to look at her, he spoke. “You don’t want that world, kid. Trust me.”

Afraid that was all she was going to get, Katrina called out, “Why did you leave it?”

He made a strange sound. At first Katrina thought he was crying, but as it got louder she realised he was laughing again. She frowned.

He turned back to face her. “I didn’t leave kid. They kicked me out. Threw the book at me. Slammed it shut. Like I just did to you.” He gestured at the locked cabinet that held the red book. “Only, you didn’t have to lose your memories in the process.”

“They took your memories?”

He sighed. “Not all of them, but enough.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what happens when you disobey their rules. When you go against the grain. When you try to make magical education accessible for anyone, instead of just those that pass their tests.”

Katrina’s words tumbled out in confusion. “I thought the tests were there to make sure those who practice sorcery are capable of doing so without risk? Because it’s dangerous?”

“You think so? Then tell me girl, why do they require you pass a physical fitness test upon entry? Why do they test your ability to fight without magic?”

“They do?” Yet another thing Katrina had been unaware of. All these years, her sister, Gemma had been telling her that she should to learn to defend herself in a fight, how to block a punch, how to swing a sword. And all these years Katrina had brushed her off. She’d ignored the sword fighting lessons her father and Bobby had offered. She’d hidden behind her books, thinking she didn’t need brutality to get ahead, to achieve greatness. That there was a smarter way. Had she been wrong?

He chuckled. “You say you want to be a sorcerer and you don’t even know the entry requirements. How woefully unprepared you are.”

“So teach me.” Katrina clenched her fists and raised her chin. Fine, she wasn’t prepared, and she had a long way to go. But she had time. She could learn.

He sighed and studied her. “You’re determined. I’ll give you that. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into though. The reason they require young mages to be able to fight is so that once they learn the secrets that the sorcerers hold so dear, they can not have them taken from them. The magic the sorcerers study is powerful and very dangerous in the wrong hands. They have rules about how it is to be used. Rules built upon years of careful crafting and consideration. Aristocrats are not so refined. They’re power hungry warlords in fancy clothes while the average witch is deemed too incompetent to make wise decisions with such power.” He spat the last few words out as if disliking their implication. “Even elected politicians like those in Mercy, can not be trusted. Only a sorcerer, who’s ambition and skill has been tested, can truly be allowed access to such knowledge. But the aristocrats play by no rules. And so a sorcerer must defend their secrets on all fronts. Magic alone is insufficient. All it takes is one well-placed powerful borrower to make one vulnerable. So a sorcerer is tested, physically, intellectually, magically. And no secret or spell can be shared with a non-sorcerer. Not even a lover, nor a child. Not even to save a life. For an organisation that so single-mindedly pursues knowledge and the expansion of it, they sure do like to keep a lot of it to themselves.”

“But there are spells that exist in the world that people know about?”

“Aye, some things are hard to put back in the box once they’re out, and despite everything I’ve just said, sorcerers are not all powerful. They’re also horribly self-focused, narrow-minded, proud individuals. Spells get out. But not all of them are real, most of them are old, at best inefficient, and some are dangerous decoys, meant to trap or curse the caster. Beware a spell whose author you do not know.”

“If they’re so valuable and so dangerous, why do you hide them in here, out in the open, where anyone could find them?” Katrina gestured to the books. She was sure there were more spells in here now.

His shoulders slumped slightly. “Believe it or not, plain sight is sometimes the best place to hide something. Besides, this is a small, remote village, with little interest in sorcery. It has a nice beach, a lovely forest, it’s not a bad place to retire.” He gave her half a smile.

The he continued, “It’s not enough to just put together the ingredients of a spell. There are techniques that are taught to sorcerers that they do not write down. Alas I have forgotten most of them.”

“What do you remember?”

He narrowed his eyes at her.

“You said you wanted to share knowledge. That’s why they kicked you out?”

“Hmm.” A look of consideration crossed his face.

She waited, patiently while he thought. The pin her world sat balanced upon, wobbled. She breathed slowly, willing the world to fall in her favor, just this once, even if it never did again.

“Alright. I suppose. It could be interesting, to see where this road leads. I’ve not much left to lose and little love for this world anymore. But what I teach you, you must keep to yourself.” He paused, realising the irony in that statement. “Or at least, don’t go blabbing thoughtlessly about it. I suppose it would be silly to tell you not to share it at all. Maybe you can strike a different path, than either they or I. Find a new way. What do you say? What’s your power girl?”

“I’m an infuser.”

His laugh could be heard half the way down the street.

“I thought as much. Well, come on then. I’ll teach you something new.” He walked through the purple curtain that covered the hallway at the back of his shop.

Without even a moments hesitation, Katrina followed after him.

Miles away, on a ship, down by the salty sea, Amanda was trying to get Neko’s attention.

But the man was in the middle of a fervid song. He held up on finger of his strumming hand, indicating at her to wait until the song was done.

The sailors on deck whooped and whistled when the song ended and Neko set the lyre aside. “Have you come to join in now?” Neko asked Amanda.

Amanda shook her head. “Not right now Neko, and I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to stop playing, just while we’re here.”

The sailors that were nearby and caught her words, started to boo.

“What?” Neko looked confused.

She sighed and climbed up on the raised part of the deck, behind where Neko sat.

“Listen up!” she shouted. She waited until she had the full attention of all the sailors on board. Behind them, through the wheelhouse window, she could see both Shiv and Sirius glance up. “This may be a bit unprecedented but according to the townsfolk there are creatures living beyond the town who are drawn to music. Dangerous creatures.”

The crew started to mutter among themselves.

She raised the volume of her voice a little more to grab their attention back. “It may be nothing but superstition,” she admitted. “But regardless, I’d rather not take any chances. I heard enough last night to know there is something out there. Whether it’s dangerous or not remains to be seen but given it’s only a few days we’re here...” She trailed off as her voice was drowned out in the objections of the crew.

Neko looked up at her both sadly and sympathetically. Of all of them, he loved music the most, but he was also a good man who would respect a fair request.

A sudden hush fell over the crowd. Amanda looked up to see Sirius had come out of the wheelhouse and was walking through the crowd toward the front. When he reached Amanda and Neko, he stopped and turned. All eyes were on him.

He spoke firmly and deeply, without shouting. The crew listened. “While we are here. There will be no singing. There will be no music. And there will be no drinking.”

There was a groan at that last one, but they quickly hushed again.

“If any one disobeys this order, then there will be no drinking until we return to Little Rock. The entirety of the ship’s booze will be tossed overboard for the sharks to enjoy. Is that clear? If you wish to shorten this ban you’d best help to get this ship back on the water. Sable needs help with the sail, and there’s supplies that have shifted on the lower decks. General inspections, lookout, and regular cleaning duties need to continue. I also need a group of telekinetics to help move the boat, so group up, compare skill sets and sort yourselves into roughly equally balanced pairs of two. Shiv will help. If we get through the next two nights without incident and get off this beach, then I’ll shout you all drinks at the next tavern.”

There were cheers and whoops of laughter at his last statement.

“But any one man messes up, just one, and you all miss out. Got it?” He nodded at them, and they fanned out to find something useful they could do.

“Nicely done,” Amanda observed.

Sirius grunted. “I don’t like bribing them, least of all with liquor, but they should keep each other in line for the time being. I need to take care of some things here, mostly checking what’s moved in the hold. You might want to head back into town and check on the kids. I can meet you there, once I’m sure everything’s in order here.”

Amanda nodded. “Don’t be too late.”

Back in town, Gemma was practising her sword fighting stances not far from the inn, when from around the corner she heard some voices.

“What’s that you’ve got there?”

“Nothing.”

“Give us a look.”

“I’d rather not.”

Recognising the second voice as one belonging to her younger brother and without listening to the rest of the conversation, she dashed around the corner and thrust her sword up toward the face of the other party.