said using incantations to smooth the pour is stupid, because that’s trying to force your will onto the materials against their nature, and almost nobody can do it unless they’re really powerful, so you shouldn’t bother trying. It didn’t make any sense anyway. You’re an incantations-track junior, but you got assigned a magic mirror? That doesn’t happen.”
I gave a snort, more than half a snuffle: my nose was running. It happens to me.
Aadhya kept going, talking faster; she sounded almost angry. “That phase-control spell—you said you burned through it in a couple hours after dinner. Meanwhile the seniors who are thinking about bidding, they’re all discussing if they can learn it in time for graduation. Besides, that whole book is a crazy big deal. Luck like that doesn’t happen. You had to do something really horrible to get it, or really amazing. And you were so wiped out Sunday—and Todd wasn’t hallucinating, no way. A maw-mouth is the only thing that would have freaked him out that hard. He could survive anything else.” Then she asked, “Where’d you get the mana?”
I didn’t want to talk. My throat was really sore. I reached over to my little box and opened it and showed her my crystals; the two cracked ones and the dull drained ones next to the primed empties and my last nine full crystals. “Push-ups,” I said briefly, and shut the box again and put it away.
“Push-ups,” Aadhya said. “Sure, why not, push-ups.” She let out a bray of a laugh and looked away. “Why aren’t you telling anyone? Every enclave in the world is going to be drooling over you.”
The half accusation in the words made me angry and want to cry at the same time. I got up and got my little half-full jar of honey off my shelf. I take it to meals every weekend for the chance of a refill, but it’s hard to get, so I use it sparingly. But this called for it. I whispered Mum’s throat-soothing charm over a small spoonful and washed it down with the last lukewarm swallow of water in the glass before I turned back to Aadhya and stuck out my hand down at her, mockingly.
“Hi, I’m El. I can move mountains, literally,” I said. “Do you believe me?”
Aadhya stood up. “So you do a demo! You should’ve done one freshman year, just asked some enclavers to spot you the mana. They’d be fighting to have you on their teams—”
“I don’t want to be on their teams!” I yelled hoarsely. “I don’t want to be on their teams at all!”
I LOVE HAVING existential crises at bedtime, it’s so restful. I lay awake for at least an hour after the final bell, staring furiously at the blue flicker of the gaslight by the door. Every five minutes or so I told myself to unclench my hands and go to sleep, with no effect. I tried to get up and get a drink of water—Aadhya felt bad for me being mental, I suppose, so she’d gone with me to the loo so I could refill my jug—and I even tried doing some maths homework, and I still couldn’t fall to sleep.
I’ve been bellowing at Mum about joining an enclave ever since I was old enough to work out that when enclave wizards from as far away as Japan are turning up at your yurt for advice, it probably means that they would be happy to have you in-house. After the scratcher attack, she even went to visit one. She wouldn’t look at London, but she tried this old place in Brittany that specializes in healing. She picked me up from school that afternoon and said, “I’m sorry, love, I just can’t,” and only shook her head when I demanded to know why. I told her flat-out I was going into an enclave after I graduated if I could get one to take me, and she just looked sad and said, “You’ll do whatever’s right for you, darling, of course.” Once—I still feel a bit sick about it remembering—when I was twelve, I even screamed at her in tears and told her if she loved me she’d take us to an enclave, and she just wanted something to get me so nobody would blame her and it wouldn’t hurt her perfect reputation. Three mals had tried for me that afternoon.
She kept a calm face on with me, but then she went back to the trees and cried herself sick