CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The play began. An elf strutted out onto stage, his clothes shabby and common. He declared loudly to the crowd about his humble origins and the tedium of working on the farm. His lineage was only known as far back as his grandparents, being a nameless farmer like so many others. I rested my chin on my palm heavily. Not another farm boy story...

This farm boy, however, had forgotten ancestors that were sorcerers. He was Enchanted, and discovered this while reciting some poetry. Although the initial casting had been problematic, it led to him having to prepare for a Proving, the journey all sorcerer elves go on between childhood and adulthood.

The kids sitting off to the left pretended to cast spells on each other. When one of them tripped, the fake spell casting session boiled into an all-out brawl. I couldn't tell if they were fighting within the family, or if all the bored kids from the seats nearby had decided to join in.

The exhausted mom unlatched her younger boy's clinging fingers from a braid of her hair and kept staring forward. I'm pretty sure she wasn't even watching the show, she was enjoying being able to sit down.

"Why do elves have so many kids?" I asked, watching the chaos.

"Why do the ungifted Elves have so many children?" Winsor asked, grimacing at the tired mom. "I dare not venture upon their motivation." He cast his hands over the unsuspecting crowd and spoke a spell: "Unruly children who fight and bite, you know your behavior is not right. With the crowd sit and cheer, with others' enjoyment do not interfere."

I watched, awed. Dozens of kids stopped beating the snot out of each other and sorted out seats. Some even sat on one another's laps, cooperating quietly.

"But as to the sorcerer elves, the answer is readily apparent, isn't it?" Winsor asked after the spell was finished.

"What?" I blinked.

"The large families of the sorcerer elves, they are easily enough justified." He gestured toward the stage, the heavy bottom of his sleeve swinging out dramatically as he did so. "When one considers The Proving."

I watched the play. The elf was in a training sequence, throwing small 'fireballs' at a beast made of burlap and hay tied to the end of a broom swung around by a wizened old coach. The actors were using simulated magic. Despite all the Arcanacrats in town, they weren't going to get a real sorcerer to perform in some town's play for the ungifted. The fireballs exploded into harmless bits of colored fluff that rained down on the audience, which the kids in the front row grabbed anxiously from the edge of the stage, laughing and giggling.

"The woman to whom I alluded earlier, the one I am fond of... she will set off for her own Proving this fall." Winsor mused sullenly. "Her family's already lost five children. Three elder brothers and two elder sisters. She who holds my deepest affections hostage would have been saved if she had been able to marry a firstborn sorcerer, but the groom made their would-be marriage day ruinous as he does all days. In consequence, she must Prove like all her siblings before her." He inhaled sharply. "...and that directly will lead to her demise. A flower crushed senselessly beneath the foot of arbitrary fortune and ill tempers."

"People die on Provings?" I scrutinized the stage. "But... all the Provers I've ever heard of were great and powerful sorcerer elves, they demolished the dragons."

"I have observed that the truth is never extracted from only the words spoken, but also the silences left unsaid." Winsor chided me. "There isn't much motivation to spread the reputation of the Provers that fail. Nay, the elves quietly mourn their lost children and hope the next in line will be successful." He turned toward the stage, but his eyes were distant. "It may be brutal, but the ones that survive truly make their society magnificent. It's been said that Majikast main population is elves... sometimes I wish that human sorcerers did Provings as well. Every generation we grow in number but fall in glory.."

The elf on stage was now standing in front of a sign that said 'Contractors.' I'd passed by plenty of Contractors in my journeys, usually only in the largest cities. I may have even passed one in Blythe already. From what I could tell, you sold yourself into indentured servitude in exchange for a one-time spell from a powerful sorcerer. I'd always wondered how they decided who was worth a sorcerer's spell, and now I knew. Their main purpose was to get completely loyal mercenaries for these Proving things. Huh. I watched intently through this part, mostly out of curiosity. I had once attempted to venture into one of those places, but my dad had stopped me with his last ounce of strength.

It was only a few moments later, as the play went into a silly comedic relief skit about our farm boy elf, a Boeren (a large wooly boar-man from the north), and a fairy fighting over what to have for dessert that I realized what Winsor had last said.

"Humans doing Provings? What, you want to fight a dragon?" I asked. The hero was now journeying through a fake tundra, flour raining down on him from out of sight at the top of the stage. He pretended to slip and fall, and the crowd burst into equal parts laughter and gasps of empathy.

"It's more... I'd like to see my elder brother try."

The play dragged on for a few more minutes, with them battling bandits, savage Boerens, cave elves, and other setbacks. Winsor's attention waned.

"Would you fancy a diversion?" He asked.

"What, this play not doing it for you?" I asked. He huffed.

"An amusement involving magic." He emphasized.

"Oh, sure!" I said. "By all means, go ahead!" He searched through the sky, and found a fairy carrying a carton full of popped and sugared wheat flakes. He pointed at her.

"Wings that are cooperative, let one become inoperative." He said. The fairy was confused for a moment, and then spun in wild circles. It lost control, and the flakes went spilling all over the audience like snow. Some of the kids laughed, but many adults protested as the food got stuck in their hair. I'd never seen a fairy fly so silly before, and laughed. I laughed even harder at its high pitched, ridiculous wail. My eyes clamped shut as I shook. I heard Winsor's faint, wheezy giggles beside me. Through my joyful tears I saw the random, erratic pattern collapse into a plummet and the fairy tumbled into the crowd.

I stopped laughing, taking a second to catch my breath. She didn't come back up.

"Hexes and ice, is she going to be okay?" I asked, standing up and glaring into the chaos.

"They."

"What?"

"A fairy is a they, not a she or he. They are born only in nature when beauty accumulates in an unpolluted place and is seen by someone of a pure heart, emerging from flowers. They don't need a physical sex." Winsor lectured me. "They're impossible to breed because of that. I'm surprised your master sorcerer or sorceress never explained that to you."

"Are they going to be okay?" It felt unnatural to use they for a single individual but I wasn't going to argue with the expert.

Winsor shrugged his shoulders inside of the massive robe.

"Both their health and their death are equally probable. The spell should wear off in a few seconds, but they may have gotten trampled if those ungifted weren't minding their steps."

I inclined my head toward where the fairy had fallen. Okay, so it wasn't so much like me. How could a creature that didn't even find ladies of its species sexy be like me? But still... they were nice. Like... trampling the flowers they were born from, it seemed a shame for harm to come to them.

I spotted them crawling up someone's shirt, pale skin bruised. They touched at their wing tenderly and tried fluttering it. Then they took off. I was watching their flight and gasped. I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath until the relief made me light headed. I jolted when there was a sudden shout from the crowd.

A massive form burst out from the curtain on stage. A dragon! At first I thought it would be three or four guys sharing a suit, but then it stood up. The dragon was tall, its head as high as the top of the stage's curtain. The legs were tight and muscular. The scales, made of cloth and bits of glass, were hit by the sunlight. The audience shrieked and cheered as the bright twinkling beams cast across their eyes. Winsor's head tilted, and I wondered if he saw anything as all of that hair fell across both of his eyes. The dragon took one step forward, feet clicking loudly. This was a nice costume. Though, who did they get to fill it ou-

Mallow.

That was Mallow in that dragon costume. I tried to confirm. I glanced up to the face to search for her telltale orange eyes. No go, the head was a fake, the real head far below it at the base of the extended neck. I knew that gait anywhere. That was Mallow.

The dragon-Mallow lunged forward at the actor-elf. He threw some more fake fireballs, and then mixed it with some swordplay. The battle was silly and dance-like. Mallow was much less coordinated than the elf actor. I actually saw him huff in irritation at one point when Mallow accidentally hit him across the face with her costume tail as she dodged one of his attacks.

"Wow..." Winsor leaned forward, propping his elbows onto his knees and resting his chin on the curled fists of his hands. "When one sees a sight as breathtaking as that figure one cannot help but to be mesmerized."

"Yeah?" I asked. Maybe this kid wasn't so much of a kid after all...

Dragon-Mallow and the elf boy fought. At one point she knocked him back, and he fell. His fake spell went skittering across the stage and fell off the edge. The crowd gasped in surprise, and from the actor's furious swearing, I figured this was just as shocking to him. Mallow swayed inside of the costume, satisfied with giving the crowd what it wanted, even if it ended up making the other actor furious.

"Her height is extraordinary. It wouldn't surprise me at all to learn she was fifteen, no, sixteen feet in total. "

"That's pretty close." I said. It'd been awhile since I'd measured her; after a certain age it stopped being fun and made her depressed.

"It's evident it is indeed only one person." Winsor said. "That suit hugs tight to her sides. One beautiful form instead of two clumsy ones."

I was glad it was just one person, I didn't particularly like the idea of some person's hands all over Mallow's thighs or their crotch on the back of her neck. Still, I wasn't a big fan of the fact that her figure was clearly visible.

The form of annoyance was familiar. I tried to place where I had felt it before...

"If only that dratted costume were not interfering with my examination of such a fine creature," Winsor intoned.

Ah, that was it: Mallow talking about boys. Mallow and boys didn't go together.

"Eh." I said. "She might be grown with magic."

Winsor dragged his gaze from the stage to scold me.

"That would be a fine disappointment if the case, though it would be unusual for the Avalons to exert themselves for something like this. Especially with the commander of Blythe's quarter guard being such a stickler for efficiency." He finished off his apple, licking the last sticky strings of caramel from between his fingers. "I am quite confident my original assumption will be charmed with truth on its side. Call it animal instinct."

"If she really was that tall, she'd probably be too much woman to handle." I said, trying to dissuade Winsor's quickly growing interest. The last thing I needed was some weird sorcerer pariah making the moves on my Mallow. She's such a ditzy icicle she'd probably fall for even the clumsiest executed pick-ups lines.

"You forget yourself, this is me we are speaking of." He smirked. "Duties that would give an ungifted pause are of no consequence to a sorcerer."

A wave of revulsion crawled up my spine at the idea, and I shook my head.

"She could be hideous."

"In regards to her face? Perhaps, but what relevance is that?" Winsor asked me, his brow wrinkling in confusion.

I stared at him and he stared back for a long moment.

A thud on the stage caught our attention. Mallow pretended to die, dragging it out a long, long time. The wood of the stage actually shook when she collapsed, roaring and screaming in one breath. The actor-elf stepped onto her side in triumph, pretty hard too judging by Mallow's postmortem swear and elbow jerk to hit his ankle. He bit his lip and finished the last of his lines. The kids and adults alike clapped their hands and cheered.

"Let us satisfy our curiosity, shall we?" Winsor suggested. He stood and chanted a spell. The crowd to the right of us parted, spilling into the rows both above and below us clumsily and with much shouting. However, there was a path clear for us to walk along. I walked, feeling a mixture of pity for Winsor's victims but amusement at the odd poses they'd been thrown into.

Walking through the crowd with Winsor was like walking with Mallow, except without the blatant staring. People parted on either side before they knew it, and even when they glanced to see who was passing them, made no effort to reclaim their former spots. Maybe it was the odd smell of the sorcerer that encouraged them to keep their distance; it had certainly taken me a few minutes to get adjusted. Or was he famous around here? It was so weird no one said anything...

Backstage access was as easy as walking around a corner. There I saw a curtain held up higher than the others. Winsor moved his head oddly, craning his neck. I realized he was trying to see between the cracks of the curtain, the little pervert. I 'tripped' and bumped into him, knocking him out of viewing range of any potential breaches in the curtain.

"Frigid wretch, watch yourself!" he swore at me. I did an overeager bow and apologized relentlessly, not even stopping for breath between the 'sorry's' and 'forgive mes.' His face went from fumingly furious to a self-satisfied smile. "Oh, I am nothing if not magnanimous. You're forgiven." He said after about thirty seconds. As if remembering, he peered toward where the extra-tall curtain had been.

Mallow emerged, dressed in her usual bandages and vest. She was grinning down at the many people scurrying about, and didn't even notice me before she went chasing after one of the stage hands.

"Hey, when do I get paid?" She demanded.

"I don't think we should pay her." The elven actor from the play peaked his head out from behind a stack of boxes, where he sat on one and tied his shoes.

"I worked really hard out there!" Mallow growled at him. With her leaning over him imposingly, his shoulders shot up.

"Yeah, worked really hard on s-screwing up the play, maybe." He said, but his words faltered off into quietness near the end as she stared unblinkingly at him, casting a shadow over his frame.

"It appears that my confidence was not ill placed. She matches the descriptions I've read of Moon Giants," Winsor said. "She is a treasure. If only they were seen by admirers rather than victims, the bustling backstage instead of the burning village, we would understand their raw grace and power so much the better." He gave a smitten exhalation and admired her from head to toe. I tried to get Winsor's attention, but he was hopelessly lost. Thankfully there were about six people between us, otherwise I was pretty sure he would have reached out and tried touching her.

"Ah, but I'm sure her power pales in comparison to your own. So much so that it's not even worth concerning yourself with her, Enchanted One—"

"I..." Winsor cut me off, only to stop speaking and shake his head. He grabbed some of the black locks that hung across part of his face and tucked it behind his ear. A bunch of them immediately fell free, but his eyes were at least both visible now. Was... was he trying to be more confident? "Am I sorcerer or am I merely a man? It is my duty to investigate opportunities like this. I shall speak with her. Yes."

I wanted to keep them apart. I took a step forward and opened my mouth. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw the shoe guy from earlier. His shouting cut me off before I even began.

"I don't think I've ever seen a dragon quite so stylish, not to boast... What'd you think of the outfit? " Bernard asked. Mallow's head swiveled around in confusion at all of the short people around her until Bernard came into view.

"Yeah, that was the most fun I ever had earning coin," Mallow said. She then, to my horror, immediately dropped the money into Bernard's hand. He counted the coins.

"Hmm, you're still short," he said. Mallow's shoulders sagged, and he waved his hands. "Not by much, though! It's very impressive you've got this much together!"

"So I'm really close?" she asked.

"Very, very close!" Bernard encouraged. "I'll start on them tonight, I'm so confident you'll be able to raise the rest."

Mallow's entire face lit up, a smile breaking across it of such deep satisfaction. She hadn't looked so pleased in a long time.

"Oh thank you!" she said. "That dragon costume you made was awesome! Thanks for sizing it up so I could wear it."

"Ah, it was my pleasure. It is much easier to size up clothes than a person." Bernard explained. Then he stared straight to the left of me. "What are you doing here? I didn't think you had interest in anything social." Bernard frowned, and then smiled. Not his charming salesmanly smile; this twist of the lips made me irritated. "Oh, is it because it's for children? That must have appealed to your sensibilities."

I took a step back from the sullen but nonetheless incredibly powerful sorcerer next to me. His dark circled eyes went wide, and I watched as color rose up from the neck of his robe to his cheeks.

"I've a right to be at any event I choose this festival, haven't I?" His voice sounded choked. I noticed Mallow was now staring at both of us. She mouthed a silent question to me, but I couldn't read lips and only shrugged.

"I suppose, though we'd all be perfectly happy if you'd stick to your usual routine and stay scarce." Bernard sneered. "I saw your handiwork on the benches out there."

"Did you? How fortunate, I fear that with your current habits it may have been the only magic you've seen in weeks." Winsor replied, and he threw his shoulders back.

"I don't know about more magic, but I certainly noticed a lot of unhappy faces and bruises. You know that ungifted doesn't mean inanimate, right? Those people have feelings."

"I didn't hurt anyone." Winsor protested. "It was gentle levitation."

"How'd you like it if someone did that to you?" Bernard asked.

"I could not fathom what that would be like." Winsor's tone was icily sarcastic. "Unfortunately all I know is being levitated and then abandoned on wind swept roof tops several stories up, or on narrow, dusty ceiling rafters for hours... The many mirthful childhood afternoons I passed that way would give me no insight into the utter misery of being nudged from one bench to another equally suited bench. I am forever indebted to you, innocent Bernard, for showing me the error of my ways. My ignorance was so thick and powerful that nothing short of your pure and compassionate intellect could slice through its dark recesses.—"

"Who are you?" Mallow asked, glaring at Winsor. He stared back at her, eyes wet. His vision swept the space. He now realized that it was not just him and Bernard, but everyone in the vicinity hearing this squabble. And everyone was staring at him. He tried to jut out his chin, but I caught a reflexive crinkle in the muscle there. His pallid skin had gone completely red.

"Ugh, I've better things to do than.. than this!" He shouldered past me, hissing under his breath about hypocrisy. I watched his odd, pitch-black clothed back as he left. Not into the crowd, as it parted around him, but into the distance and around a corner.

Mallow was smiling at me and Bernard was watching me frostily. What? He didn't like it that I was hanging around Winsor?

"So you saw it, dad?" Mallow asked. I offered her my biggest, toothiest grin.

"It was so charming! I wasn't expecting to see you on stage." I said, switching gears. "Your debut!"

"It was really fun! I mean, I know sometimes I help you in your sales, but this was..." She breathed in and out, glowing with pride. "So different! So fun! Even if the other actor was a jerk," she said. "Too bad there's not too many parts for a Giant, huh?"

"Yeah, too bad." I consoled.

"You found your way here." Bernard stepped up to me.

"You helped my dad catch the play? You're so nice Bernard. Talented and nice, that's like, super rare."

Bernard chuckled.

"Ah, I'm afraid I can't take all the credit for any charm I may have. I could only attend your performance now because the two lovely ladies in employ are working on orders this very moment for me, implementing my master plan." He grinned at Mallow, a crescent of white teeth beneath the bristly mustache.

"Bernard! Buddy, how are my boots coming along?"

Bernard staggered as a young man came up behind him and wrapped his properly plump arm around Bernard. Only a wave of slicked back hair peeked over Bernard's shoulders until the young man popped his head up all the way. Bernard quickly recovered, spinning to see the man's face, though how he focused on that instead of the tall, slicked back hair I'd never know. What was in it to make it stand up like that? Animal lard? Candle Wax? Magic, probably. It was always magic.

"Ricardo?" Bernard punched the other in his poofy, ornate sleeve.

"I sent my Assistant to this utterly overrated, horrendously overpriced, garishly ostentatious shoe shop earlier with an order, because despite it being all those things, everyone else was doing it. I wasn't going to be the only one without a Bernard of Blythe pair of shoes at the next Proving feast...." Ricardo insulted Bernard with a tone so warm it was obvious to even me, who had just met him, that he was riling up an old friend. "...but Juris, that's my Assistant, said there was a wait. I knew that couldn't be right; my best buddy would never put me on a waiting list..." Ricardo schmoozed. " ... so I had Juris executed." A bark of a laugh. Bernard rolled his eyes and shrugged Ricardo's arm off him.

"I can see him right behind you. You've had the same Assistant since you were twelve. I think I'd recognize him. Afternoon Juris." Bernard intentionally leaned around Ricardo and waved at the Assistant. Juris muttered an afternoon to the ground, but a small smile tugged at his lips. Juris was dressed to not stand out, opposed to the flowery outfits of other Assistants I'd seen milling around. Only the precise silver stitching on the mute colored clothing gave away the quality.

Ricardo leaned forward, blocking Juris from Bernard's view.

"So there IS a waiting list for your best friend; the friend who helped you prove your mettle at summer camp despite risk to self? Who charted and explored the woods behind your manor on spring afternoons when the ground was thick with entrapping mud? Who introduced you to your first cabaret girl who thought magic was irresistibly alluring?"

"No waiting list for my best friend, but for my... what, fourth, fifth best friend, there might be." Bernard teased. "All of those experiences were so-so; no one asked you to put yourself at risk collecting those potentially poisonous spiders that you dropped on my sleeping face. Also, said cabaret girl was particularly possessive. Let's go back to the shop and see how badly those missteps hurt your friend's ranking."

Bernard waved curtly to Mallow and me, before ambling away from backstage. Ricardo's eyebrows shot up dangerously close to his absurd poof of hair, eyeing Mallow right before he too walked away. Thankfully it removed the majority of that offensive hair poof from my view.

"If that's how it's going to be, maybe I'll go see Winsor instead," he shouted after Bernard's back.

"You go do that. I'm sure it'll go about as well as it did when we were kids."

"What, he cannot hold a grudge about the itching powder dogs we sicced on him all the time if you're over the spider thunderstorm. Plus, it'd be in bad taste to stay here for the party and not at least wish him well."

The press of bodies and general chaos of the set being disassembled ate the rest of their words, although being tall, I could still see them for a while, Bernard greeting lots of people as he walked. It was like he knew the whole town despite selling luxury items most couldn't afford.

Mallow's stomach rumbled. She dropped a heavy arm over her tummy.

"Ugh, I skipped lunch," she whined. "Dad... I'm broke."

I smirked at her out of the corner of my mouth.

"Guess it's up to good old dad to pick up the tab this time too?" I asked, and we walked toward where the smells of food were strongest from the street vendors. We ended up getting a special treat. I bought Mallow a whole roast chicken and settled for the pair of drumsticks for myself. She was pretty undignified trying to eat the chicken while walking, but she didn't want to stand still. I was satisfied that I had tracked her down and she was no worse for wear. Maybe the bandit incident earlier had me on edge after all?

"I heard from some of the other people working on the play that there's a circus of exotic animals behind the blacksmith's." Mallow said around a mouthful of greasy chicken skin.

"Exotic?" Often times such displays ended up being little more than misplaced farm menageries that absolutely no one would wonder at. Mallow and I were stopped when a man in a dark black tunic with a thin, whip-like mustache cut in front of us. He clenched the handle of a wooden bucket in one hand, foamy bubbles spilling over the edges as he indelicately stomped across the street. He stopped at a stall's wooden sides. Words were painted in cheap, already flaking paint. 'Missing. Boy. Age 8. Blonde hair, brown eyes. Reward. Name: Chrys.' I'd seen some missing writings and posters before so it wasn't hard to figure out the text besides the name. The man in black began to scrub at the words with a cloth, the cheap paint sliding off with only a few grunts of effort. His uniform reminded me of the men attending the teleporter cage, closer up I could see it was embellished with golden thread.

"There's also some pretty high stakes card games being held around town too. In the pub near the library—" Mallow pulled my attention back to the conversation of recreation.

"There's a library here?"

"Not a big one. Bernard said that the Avalons built it so they'd have somewhere the keep the book loans from the larger libraries in the Arcanacracy. Bernard says Avalons read a lot since they're not allowed to do anything fun."

"Card games sound like a good way to lose money."

"Bernard says that the Avalons are going to be there, so..."

"Can the Avalons even play?"

Mallow slurped the last bit of fatty meat of one of the wing bones, and then tossed it over her shoulder onto the street.

"I don't think so? Bernard said they mostly monitor matches, if asked. I guess it's exciting to watch too?" Mallow shrugged. "I can't bet, totally broke, but you could."

"You and the irritating shoe guy are friends now?" I asked, swatting a fairy out of my face that was trying to sell me some mint candies. My mind went back to Bernard. How much had they talked about while she was ordering her shoes? The fairy chirped that my breath stank before zipping off.

"He's not half as annoying as you." She patted my shoulder and I staggered. "He's nice."

"He's only nice to you because you're giving him money. He's rotten to everyone else."

Mallow snorted. "Says you. He's also incredibly skilled. You didn't see the inside of his shop, but—"

"Halt!"

I froze from years of instinct. The last thing you did when you heard halt and couldn't tell where it was coming from is run. I'd once been stabbed with a pike for taking off for a minor offense. Mallow stopped next to me.

Two men approached us. Their clothes were bizarre, but not completely ancient like Winsor's. They wore tunics with sweeping sleeves of an unnatural, bright scarlet hue. The sparks flitting from their boots on the ground hinted that a constant stream of magic was the only thing keeping the dirty streets from ruining the pure color.

On their faces sat hooked masks of red leather with large glass orbs for the eyes. The ornate cloth that wrapped around the top of their heads and then spilled down on the sides and back prevented me from seeing an inch of skin on them. The taller one approached me, and the other stepped up to Mallow. Reaching up, he grabbed Mallow's wrist with tight red gloves.

"Watch it!" she said.

"Do you have the proper paperwork for her?" The taller of them said to me. His syllables were choked with the Majikast accent.

"Ah, I am Azark, a sorcerer's Assistant. She is my Assistant, Mallow." I did a small bow but kept my eyes facing upward The two men in red twitched their heads toward each other, the hooked masks making them bird-like. "May I ask who you are, and of course, your papers if you do intend to delay us? I don't mean disrespect, but you are not in the uniform of the town guard of Blythe." I had avoided their question entirely. I'd never been asked for her papers before. I didn't even know you could have papers for Moon Giants.

"Agent Quarzimi! Isn't it amusing how he presumes to question us? When we hold all the power and him nary a charm. The aroma of magic from his beast is strong, but he is nothing, utterly ungifted." The shorter one, holding Mallow, laughed. His voice sounded local but refined, somewhat like Winsor's in the inflection of the words. "And to think that sorcerers as we would ever accept a permanent position in an insignificant backwater such a Blythe."

"Agent Goldwynn, you dishonor your host and embarrass me with your display," Quarzimi said. The other, apparently Goldwynn, attempted to jostle Mallow out of frustration.

"Do that again and I'll smash your head in." Mallow grumbled.

"Your fists versus my ability to warp reality in a few syllables. You are as imbecilic as you appear if you think there is any hope of you coming out the better in such a confrontation," Goldwynn snapped.

"Agent Goldwynn, we needn't argue. Once the truth is known, I am sure they will cooperate." Quarzimi's voice sounded weary. He moved one of the large sleeves and opened up the vest on his chest. It revealed a small golden disc. I caught my breath. "We are from the Centralized Magical Arcanacracy's Arcana Enforcement Agency. We've already had to confiscate several forbidden grimoires and alchemical reagents that have been brought into Blythe under the pretext of the Age Day celebration."

"But... ah." I smiled. "Mallow isn't a present." I nodded toward her. "She's my Assistant, not intended for magical reagents or ingredients or whatever."

"Yeah, but thanks for assuming I'm wandering around waiting to get chopped up." Mallow said sarcastically.

Ignoring Mallow, Agent Quarzimi continued.

"Testing on sentient creatures is against the Arcanacracy's central tenets," Quarzimi said. "And so is trading sentient creatures. Sentient being defined as the ability to communicate the idea through speech, writing, or signing that they have a desire for freedom and the capacity to cooperate in civilized society, either Arcanacracy or their own that does not infringe on the domain of the Sublime Cosmotic Incanteror."

"Though she might not qualify as civilized," Goldwynn said. He lifted the corner of the extra cloth that fell down from the notch at Mallow's groin. "This barely qualifies as clothing."

Mallow raised a fist, but I stepped forward and grabbed her hand. Her lip trembled, large tears swelling in her orange eyes.

"Since I don't intend to trade her, do I need papers? She travels of her own free will." I had to wrap this up quick. I didn't want these creeps to know how much they were upsetting her.

Quarzimi shook his head.

"No, you do not need papers if you do not intend to trade her or claim ownership. And there is no statute saying that is it illegal to be a Moon Giant, just to trade them or their parts."

"Accurate enough, but that is only because there's no precedent," Goldwynn said. "This is the first Moon Giant who's managed to mingle with people without eating them. The others are kept sensibly behind bars."

Mallow jerked her arms away from Goldwynn but didn't glower at him. I saw through the yellowish white strands of hair that she was trying her best not to cry. Her eyelids were scrunched up.

"What you asked me was a trick question. If I would have said yes, that would mean I'd made a contract of ownership, which is illegal on its very premise." I was trying to sound impressed rather than annoyed. "You were very intimidating so I wanted to say yes, but lying would have given you the very cause you needed to arrest me and take Mallow. We would have been incarcerated not because of her being a Moon Giant but because deceiving the CMA AEA is one of the highest penalty crimes."

There was humor in Agent Quarzimi's voice as he replied.

"Ah, you're surprisingly aware for an ungifted." The beaklike mask pointed at Goldwynn. "We have reached the end of what we can do here, Agent Goldwynn. Let's move along."

"I still don't like your impertinence," Agent Goldwynn said, frustration and hostility inexplicably in his tone. We hadn't done anything to him. "Just because there's not a law today doesn't mean there won't be one tomorrow if you get on the wrong side of me."

Quarzimi had already walked away, and Goldwynn had to jog to catch up. They were two pillars of blood in the crowd, the fabric shivering around them. Their conversation continued as they left, with Quarzimi chiding Goldwynn for presuming to have the powers of Codifier. I put a hand on Mallow's hand.

I tried to think of something to say, but no words came. Her arms shuddered as she trembled from the struggle to keep her tears in.

"Attention! Attention!" A young boy ran by waving a flag in the air. It slapped me in the face, and I had half a mind to lunge after it and yank it from his bratty little hands. "Attention all! Tournament! Witness battle with no risk to self, mostly!"

"That sounds more fun than goats or cards," I said. The corners of Mallow's mouth twitched, glad of the distraction. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and swallowed.

"Maybe to you. I've been in combat twice recently and it's not the most fun thing in the world."

I felt a pang of empathy for Mallow. She had been having it pretty rough over the last few days, and I hadn't really ever given her a chance to recover. I finished off my chicken, and licking my fingers clean, contemplated what to do next.

"Whatever you want." I conceded. "After all, you provided me so much entertainment with that play, I feel like you've earned your choice." Maybe reminding her of how well she did in the play would take her mind off of those Arcana Enforcement jerks.

"You know, maybe..."

"Tournament! Tournament! Our four beloved Avalons face off in combat! Who will win? Who will walk away with only a broken nose?!" The flag boy ran past us, this time in the opposite direction. Mallow and I met eyes instantly, having the exact same thought.

"Considering that one of those icicles in silver armor shot me with an arrow the other day..." she said. "I think seeing them get punched in the face actually sounds pretty fun."

"Definitely." I concurred. We quickly moved toward the tournament area, which was ironically, after making several right turns, exactly where Mallow's play had been. We must have been walking and talking longer than I thought, as the props and everything else associated with the play had been taken down. Now there was only the benches surrounding a small level pit in a semicircle. This time it was standing room only, and the unfortunate effect of the raised benches being it was hard for those in the rows that were meant to be walked on to see over the heads of those on the rows meant to be sat on. Mallow managed to elbow our way in, people retreated from any potential contact with her, so that I had room on one of the benches, while Mallow had the walkway behind me. She was still way taller, but crouched down a little bit.

An announcer declared the tournament one last time. I recognized the voice enhancing spell that had been used earlier to break up the riot over the food.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Blythe and beyond, we are excited to have you here today! Nothing gets the blood boiling like a good battle, and who better to duke it out than our very own Avalon Quarter Guard?" He threw his arm back, and four Avalons walked into the semicircle, two from each side. They all wore heavy armor and carried large, and I was assuming primarily ceremonial, swords. The swords pulsed gently with magic. "All four shall compete today! Only one shall be the winner!"

I elbowed Mallow. She lowered her pointy ear close to me, and I muttered into it.

"No matter who wins, they're all losers, right?" I said. She snickered and then stood straight up again. She watched them intently. The announcer called out names, and as soon as he did, I saw bets taken on who would win. I also noticed, examining the crowd, that although there were many kids sitting upon peoples' shoulders, the crowd was primarily adults.

"Wow, I've never seen them in person before," I said, pointing at a group of Boerens, about six in all. They were tall, several feet shorter than Mallow but much larger than the average man. Their skin was covered in a woolly layer of fur, and their faces had odd snouts and tusks curling out from under their lips. Fairies worked in pairs to sell them large drinks every few moments that they would dump over their heads.

"Boerens?" Mallow asked. "They're mostly from up north right?"

"Didn't they cover that in that play of yours?" I asked.

A hat passed to us. I passed on betting, before I felt Mallow's heavy hand patting me on the shoulder.

"Give me fifty coin," she hissed.

"For what?" I asked.

"I'm going to bet."

"I thought we agreed these guys were all losers?" I said scornfully. Mallow pointed a finger down to the center at one of the Avalons.

"Yeah, sure, I guess. But that one feels... less... losery than the others. Come on, fifty coin."

"Just fifty?"

"I'm sure he's going to win!" Mallow argued.

"Are you betting or not, lady?" the man who owned the hat asked. I handed Mallow the money, which she put down, and the man moved on down the group.

"Okay, now who did we bet on?" I asked.

"Sir Osoro," Mallow said.

"I wasn't listening, which one was that?" The name sounded familiar.

"The most handsome one," Mallow said, smiling more widely than she probably knew.

There were four handsome figures in armor. I recognized Freckles from earlier that day. I noticed for the first time how diminutive they were relative to their armor. I figured the difference between their armor and what normal guards and warriors wore was compensated for by magic. Must have weighed a good three hundred pounds in the pauldrons alone.

"So, what do you think?" she asked.

"I think I don't know what you consider handsome." I admittedly freely.

"That one, the third one in from the right." She pointed. I moved my gaze, and then focused on the one she said. Oh, he was a little darker than the others. His hair was... black, maybe dark, dark brown? Pulled back into a ponytail. He waved and flashed a grin at the crowd that didn't touch his distant eyes. Recognition stung me suddenly. He was the boss, the one that told Freckles not to help us. Sir.... Sorrows? Sir Borrows? Sir Osoro! That was him.

The matches were all one-on-one. I hadn't known what to expect. Avalons had roughed me up plenty of times when I was selling my dubious wares, but I'd never seen them fight someone else with magic. I guess I had expected lots of flashy explosions, sparkles, flying flames, and sending each other across the arena with levitation spells.

Surprisingly enough, they didn't use magic that much. I guess the spells took too long to say aloud? Half the battle was rolling far away enough to chant something before you got cut off, which they did frequently. The crowd would laugh or chatter each time it happened, relishing in the limited ability of magic. Though... the spells they cast beforehand, to enhance strength and speed, were pretty effective. The most disappointing one was a spell that rendered sword blows nonlethal.

Sir Osoro won his first fight and then went up against the other winner. I was getting bored, knowing there was absolutely no chance that I was going to see some light-hearted blood spilling. Mallow's eyes were locked onto the fight. I clamped my hands over my ears as she screamed.

"Go, Sir Osoro!" Her fists were pumping into the air. My ears rang as I moved my hands away and checked for my own blood. No damage. The cacophony kicked into overdrive as everyone continued cheering. Then, I had an urge.

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