Drift: River of Falcons Book 1

Magus

A bird was singing somewhere nearby, but it was not a song Drift recognized. The song ended abruptly. Blinking, Drift sat up and stared at the unfamiliar room. Realizing where they were, she leapt up. The sky outside was brightening. It was almost sunrise.

Summer, who was standing at the door, turned and put a finger to her lips.

Drift slipped her sandals on, tiptoed over, and peeked out. She could see neglected garden beds, stone pathways, and stone walls with gates set in them. The gardens eventually ended at a tall building looming against the cloudy sky: The Palace.

As Drift studied it, a dark falcon launched itself from a balcony near the top of a central tower and rose into the sky.

"Magus," Summer whispered. She took Drift's hand and pulled her back. "With luck, he'll go elsewhere and we can slip back into the forest. I can't think why I slept so long."

"You were tired," Drift pointed out.

"It was more than that. Someone put a sleep spell on us."

"I slept hard, too," Drift said, "and I had strange dreams. There was a flock of crows chasing us—"

"Spirits!" Summer exclaimed. "He's coming right toward us. I've got to hide you!"

Drift spun around. There was nothing but the open room with its cobwebbed rafters. "Where?" she demanded.

"In plain sight," Summer said, producing scissors from a pocket. "Be still. Your hair has developed a bad habit of growing while you sleep." She hurried to trim it. "There," she said, slipping the scissors back into her pocket. "That's a start." She leaned down and gathered the hair clippings in her hands, laid them in the hearth, and chanted for fire. Nothing happened.

"You're drained after all those healings. Let me," Drift offered.

"No, I can do it," Summer said. She repeated the chant more loudly. This time the hair disappeared in a puff of flame.

Drift wrinkled her nose.

"Your figure doesn't look as much like a boy as it used to. I'm going to have to work on you. Stand still." She fumbled through her pockets again, this time producing several red beans and a black one. She handed the black one to Drift. "Swallow it," she instructed.

Drift raised an eyebrow. The bean was hard and smooth, one of last year's crop that they had saved for planting.

"Now!" Summer hissed, glancing at the door.

Drift popped it in her mouth and forced herself to swallow.

Summer extracted a lump of chalk from another pocket and marked a six-pointed star on the floorboards with Drift at its center. "I'm going to use spell-aids," she explained. "Like the village witches do." She stood up and put the chalk back in her pocket. "We need to make you seem like some ordinary boy from town who's come with another request for a healing."

"How would a boy from town have found you here?" Drift objected.

"Maybe he followed me. Be quiet while I work." She began to chant.

Drift frowned. She was starting to feel prickly. "Am I going to be invisible?" she asked.

"It's not a concealment," Summer said. "He'd notice that. Let me finish."

Drift waited while Summer completed the chant and walked around her, three times in one direction and three in the other. Finally she stepped back. "Not bad," she said, examining her handiwork.

"What did you do?"

"The most important thing is what I didn't do. An illusion or concealment wouldn't fool Magus for long. He'd feel the power of it and wonder why I was setting spells on a village boy. This is a minor adjustment to your appearance, that's all. Stay inside the chalk marks," she warned, "while I see where he is."