The Great Ellini (Book One of The Powder Trail)

Chapter Five: One Unguarded, Happy Moment

Despite Robin's mood swings—despite fearing that at any moment the knife would be back against his throat—Jack loved his combat training with Robin.

He had been awful to begin with, always losing concentration and letting Robin trip him up whenever he saw Ellini watching them. But now, he liked nothing better than showing off in front of her.

He knew he was doing well because he'd overheard Robin and Ellini talking in the kitchens while he'd been in the scullery, trying to clean mud off his boots.

He hadn't meant to leave the door ajar on purpose. He just liked to keep an eye on Ellini and Robin when they were together, in case they argued or—or something. Anyway, it was nice to catch a glimpse of Ellini when he was engaged in unpleasant tasks. She could make dried mud sparkle like gold leaf.

His ears pricked up when he heard his name, and he edged closer to the door, still scrubbing ineffectually at his boots.

"He's good," Robin was saying. "Very good, actually. Might even be great, if he stops pining after you and applies himself."

"He's not pining after me," Ellini replied. "I told you, he's immune. It's something to do with his short attention span."

Ellini talked to Robin in a strange, factual, emotionless way. With him, she didn't seem nervous or apprehensive—perhaps because she knew exactly what he was going to do, and it couldn't be any worse than what he'd done already.

"He doesn't look immune, Ellini."

"I'm telling you—"

"And you've got no reason to lie?"

Jack pressed his eye closer to the gap in the door, trying to keep both of them in his sights.

Ellini had turned away from Robin and stomped over to the dresser. She wrenched open one of its drawers and took out a flat, silvery object, which she balanced on her palm and held out for his inspection.

"It's a compass," said Robin flatly.

"It isn't pointing north, is it?"

Robin frowned at it, and then leaned from side to side experimentally. "It's pointing at me."

"That's right. It's a magic detector. I got it from the Shetland traders on the Royal Mile. It shows where my magic is, and who it's working on. You take this out when Jack's in the room and, I guarantee, it will not point at him. I can tell who's affected by me."

Robin took the little compass, clutched it in his fist, and paced around the kitchens. After a while, he said, "I'm sending him to Gargotha."

Ellini stared. "The man with four arms? The one who said he'd kill you if you sent him another sub-standard student?"

"I said he was good, didn't I? Don't make a fuss about it."

For a second, Ellini seemed to forget her determined calm, and smiled at him triumphantly. "I said he'd be good, didn't I?"

Robin gave a short, bleak laugh. "You? You just wanted him because he played piano. And, if he doesn't keep those dexterous fingers to himself, I will kill him, Ellini."

Ellini was completely unfazed. "Experiment with the compass. You'll see that it works. You'll see that I'm right."

***

The next morning, Jack sought out Myrrha, who was a reliable informant, even if she tended to tell him much more than he'd ever wanted to know.

He didn't ask her about the compass, or the mysterious fact that it didn't point to him. Maybe it was because Ellini was supposed to awaken a man's earliest experience of love. After all, she had been his earliest experience of love—the first tender touch he'd ever known. If her magic only harked back to herself, did that cancel it out? Did it mean it wasn't magic at all?