Midlife Magic - Victoria Danann Page 0,27

drink.”

After trying to process that for a few beats, I continued down my list. “Fie?”

“Now there’s a story,” Maggie said. “As you probably guessed he’s not originally from ‘round here. Immigrant wind devil from someplace in the Middle East.”

“Wind devil,” I repeated, remembering the gust of wind that almost blew me over just as I was entering the pub and encountering the unelected Mayor Mistral. I looked at Lochlan. “And you are…?”

“Elf.” He smiled when he said it as if he’d won a prize.

I looked at Maggie with raised eyebrows.

“Fae,” she said.

“I’m going to need to brush up on my magic.” Which was a wry overstatement since I’d never had enough magical knowledge to ‘brush up’. “Notions and Potions?”

I hadn’t noticed that Ivy had left, but I turned toward the door when I heard light footsteps. She joined us, tall, wingless, but just as beautiful.

“Aoumiel? The witch?” Ivy asked.

I turned to Ivy. “Is that what she is?” Ivy nodded. “And by that you mean she’s a magical entity?”

Ivy nodded again. “Why do you ask that?”

I looked at the other three faces around the table. “Can I be frank to the point of gossip?”

The eagerness on their faces led me to believe I had carte blanche to dish the dish.

“Some people where I’m from use the term ‘witch’ to describe a person who’s cold or unfriendly.”

“Well, that sounds like our Aoumiel,” Maggie said. “She fits the bill whether you’re talking magical or mundane.”

“The things she sells though…” I began. “They’re, um, mundane, is it? Fit for human consumption?” Lochlan, Maggie, and Ivy all looked suddenly busy studying the wall paneling or pulling at threads on clothing. “Are you saying she gives actual real charms or curses or whatever to humans?” The silence persisted. “Do they know?”

That got Maggie engaged. “Oh no. If they knew, we’d be gettin’ a far cry more tourist traffic than we’re wantin’.”

Lochlan jumped in. “You’ll not be needing to adjust any insurance claims on her behalf.” He chuckled at his own joke.

I didn’t laugh.

“But these things don’t harm anybody.”

“Oh, nooooooooo,” Maggie said in a way that was far too insistent to go unnoticed. “No one who does no’ need a wee adjustment or two.”

“I don’t know what that means and I don’t like the sound of it.” I looked around the table. “Do you have a system of rules, or laws, or best practices maybe? Something that governs your behavior beyond disputes with other, um…”

“We do no’ have laws like mundies if that’s what you’re askin’,” Maggie supplied.

“I’m guessing that’s short for mundane people? That’s what you call humans? Like me?’

“Well,” she said, “‘tis certainly no’ what we call you. You’ve been elevated above the lot of us. Whate’er you say is what goes. For as long as you live.”

“You really sidestepped my question. Other than disputes, does the magical community have some kind of code that regulates behavior?”

“Yes,” Lochlan said. “But there’s not much to it. It’s mostly along the lines of ‘do as ye will so long as ye harm none’.”

“I see.” I reached for my mug, but it had gone room temperature.

“Would you like a warmup?” Maggie was already reaching for the pot.

I looked at the coffee in my mug.

“Let me get you a fresh one,” Ivy said and hurried away to the kitchen.

Truthfully, I was feeling like taking the cap off the bottle of Baileys and chugging it straight.

“The magistrate doesn’t function as enforcer, Rita,” Lochlan said. “The magistrate decides disputes and…”

“And what?” I demanded.

“And punishment,” he said quietly.

“Okay. There have to be guidelines for that! Right? Like, a hundred dollars for every ten miles over the speed limit? Something like that?”

Ivy giggled. “We don’t do dollars.”

I looked at her thinking she’d missed the point as artfully as a teenager. “Sorry. I meant, um, pounds.”

“We’re not quibblin’ over currency, Ivy,” Maggie admonished.

“I know,” Ivy said. “I just thought she’d like to know that people will look at her funny if she says dollars. Sorrrrry.”

“What’s worrying you, Rita?” Lochlan asked.

“That I’m completely unequipped to be judge…”

“Sit or preside as judge,” he corrected.

“And listen to disputes.”

“Hear complaints,” he corrected.

“See? You’re making my case!”

Everyone else laughed. The legal reference sounded like a joke, but it was unintended.

“Please believe me, in time these things will seem so insignificant as to be irrelevant. The Powers That Be are never wrong about the choice of magistrate. You’re the right person in the right place at the right time.” He glanced at Ivy and Maggie before retraining his attention on