Chapter 10
“As in they could be witches?” Sienna said, softly, as they walked down stairs. Although her tears were dry, he could see that she was still nervous, which he cursed Nathaniel for. He wasn't going to assure her time and time again she would be fine. They would be fine. She had to learn to find courage within.
“They are born with magic,” he said. “You know as well as I do that being born with magic does not bring you through the tests.”
“Like me,” she said, and he sighed.
“Yes, little one, like you.”
The change in her mood from earlier was evident, and he hoped that there would be enough food to distract her from what Nathaniel had caused her to dwell on.
He hadn't expected to walk into a dining hall full of children. He expected a place like this to have a tiny available cafeteria, with yesterday's food being served. The dining hall was larger than most of the building, taking up the entire floor of the basement. There were at least twenty children eating, running, yelling, and, to both their amazement, using magic. They used magic for everything picking up their forks, choosing their food, and even throwing a piece of food or two at each other, with giggles.
“Oh my.” Sienna put her hand to her mouth. She could only imagine such behavior in her youth, which would instantly get her into trouble. Trained witches would not be allowed to have such lavish displays of magic, for any reason. If they did, they would be punished. Witches were supposed to use their magic only for good, and not display it for reasons that didn't serve nature. “Did you know there were so many?”
“I didn't,” Desmond admitted. “I know you can't feel it, but their magical signature is odd. But then, I've never felt children this old who were completely untrained.”
“Do you think they are too old to be trained?” Sienna asked, and Desmond eyed her.
“Is that the first thing that comes to your mind? That they should be taken away from their life here?”
He wasn't asking it harshly, but rather, curiously. Sienna was certain of her answer.
“Of course. They are witches. And what kind of life to they have here?”
“They are orphans. They have jobs, they are provided living expenses. I suspect they were sought out for their powers and brought here. They talked about a boss named Pedro, and I'm not sure whether he's the good sort to protect orphans…”
“Or the bad sort to take advantage of them,” Sienna answered. “They seem…happy. I mean, he put them up here. Can you imagine having a job that young?”
“As in, being a witch?” he asked as they sat. Both of them knew it was best to first observe and then interfere as they felt needed. However, it was only a few moments before they were given a plate of food, thrown down in front of them by an apparently disgruntled waitress.
“Is everyone here upset?” Sienna asked under her breath. Desmond quirked an eyebrow at her, but said nothing. That was, without a doubt, Nathaniel's brand of humor However, they soon found that they weren't left alone to their meal.
The disgruntled innkeeper approached. “Why aren't you eating?”
“Uh…” Desmond did a quick scan of the plate, and saw, to his surprise, that everything was fresh.
“These children come here to be treated well. I will not have it any other way under my watch.”
“That's so kind of you,” Sienna said, with a smooth smile. “Are they often here?”
“Their conditions aren't the best,” the innkeeper admitted. “But Pedro, he's good to take care of them.”
“Is he?” Sienna asked. “The children have been telling me wonderful things about him.”
“He is,” the innkeeper said. “He doesn't want to see lost children go astray. Wants them to be able to pick their own paths.”
“But are they not witches?” Sienna asked. “Isn't there a school for people like them?”
“Schools like that are dreams,” she replied. “For the rich, for those who can fit in. These children are orphans from bad families. Now, eat.” She pushed the plate toward Sienna. “You're thin.”
“She's all right,” Desmond put in, but he could see there was going to be no choice in the matter.
Sienna pressed forward, wanting to see if she could get any more information.
“Would this Pedro know where to get parts?” she asked. “I'm thin because I'm sick, and I need to get home.”
That seemed to catch the innkeeper's attention. Her eyes lingered between Sienna and Desmond for a long moment.
“Maybe,” she said. “Eat.”
She turned and left, but Sienna had a feeling that her watchful eye was going to be on them all evening.
“You did well, Tiro,” Desmond said. “You made a step in the right direction and I did not say a word to assist, if you noticed.”
“I noticed.” She picked up her fork. “But—” She took a deep breath, poking at the carrots. Desmond drew the line at her making herself sick, and reached over, but she pulled away. “We're going to insult her if I don't. And if that is one step closer to getting these parts before we all die on this frozen rock…then so be it.”
He didn't stop her. He knew that he could probably argue or order her to step away from the plate, but they both understood that it would help.
“A bit,” he said. “A little bit shouldn't hurt you, not with the magical suppressors we have you on.”
“I never thought of that, actually,” she said. “Would they help?”
“Here's to being in a medical textbook,” he said, picking up his dirty water glass.
It didn't take long for the children to notice the strangers among them. They were friendly and outgoing, which told Desmond that their working conditions were not terrible. If they were abused, they would not be smiling and playing so eagerly in such a public space.
Sienna found a little girl tugging at her arm shyly within the first five minutes. She looked down, smiling as she took what was her first bite of a real vegetable in a few years.
“Yes?” she asked.
The girl pointed to a ball, which had rolled under the table. Sienna bent to get it and then paused.
“Can you?” she asked. “With your magic? I'm sure you can.”
The girl grinned, and reached her hand out.
Sienna watched in awe as a pink stream of magic shot, encompassed the ball, and pulled it back into the girl's hand. She moved her leg as it brushed her, feeling the warm magic of another witch for the first time in years as well as the chewy carrot.
The look on her face when she felt magic made Desmond's heart sink. In Sienna's mind, there had never been any other path, besides being a witch, serving the magic. She had only ever dreamed of it, and she had dreamed of it before they had even given her the path to achieve it.
There were a few more children who came over to play, and Sienna managed to ask one of them when the infamous Pedro was coming back for them.
“Tomorrow morning,” said one. “We will go back to work.”
“Are you excited?” she asked, and the boy, who couldn't have been more than eight, gave her a toothy grin and flicked his wrist.
“Of course. I love using magic.”
“Me, too,” she said, before she could even think. Desmond's head flew up, and she bit her lip. The boy, however, looked excited.
“You are a witch too?”
“I am,” she replied. “Sort of.”
“You should meet Pedro then,” the boy cried. “He will have job for you.”
“Oh?” Sienna asked. “When?”
“Tomorrow He comes at dawn.”
“Then I'll be here at dawn,” she answered, and the boy scampered away, happy enough. She turned to Desmond, who gave her an approving nod.
“Easy enough,” he said. “The hard part will be in the morning. Would you consider going alone?”
“Alone?” Her eyes widened. “Why would I go alone?”
“Because it is you gaining their trust, not I,” he said. “If I am with you…”
Her confidence instantly shrank, and her shoulders lowered.
“I don't know. Maybe. I don't know. Can we see how I feel?”
“It is the best course of action, Tiro,” he said. “And one day...”
“One day you won't be here,” she said. “Why do you keep repeating that? Is there something you aren't telling me?”
He briefly considered whether this was the moment to have the conversation that he had been holding back on. But he decided, surrounded by screaming children, that it probably wasn't.
“You should stop eating,” he said, at last. “There's rations in the room.”
“Do you think that's enough to satisfy?” Sienna asked, simultaneously pushing back her plate and yawning. “Oh, my.”
“It's been a long day,” he said, scraping at the remains of his own plate. “And dawn comes early. If you're ready, we should head upstairs.”
“You don't think staying and talking to them would help?” she asked, as she rose. He stood, as well, stacking his plate under hers.
“What do you think?”
She paused, analyzing the situation.
“I don't think it will help any more than it already has. We need to talk to Pedro to get more information.”
“I agree,” he said, steering her gently out of the way. The innkeeper was still watching, leaning over the counter, but she only gave him a nod as they walked out. Whatever her thoughts were, she wasn't about to shove more food down their throats.
“Should we call Nathaniel?” Sienna asked.
“No,” Desmond replied. “I spoke to him already, and I want him to focus all his energy on keeping Eliza safe.”
“Safe?” Sienna picked up on the word. “Is he in danger?”
Desmond had felt a brief surge of adrenaline from his bond with Nathaniel, but he had not felt any danger, and so he kept it from her.
“He's all right,” he said.
“Would you tell me if he were not?” Sienna asked, as she grabbed her rut sack and headed to the bathroom to change.
“Of course,” Desmond replied, sitting on the bed on the other side of the room. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Fine,” she called. “Maybe the drugs do suppress everything. That would be wonderful, to eat normal food again.”
“It would,” he said, half-distracted.
The fact that their Tiro could no longer tell whether her Maestros were in danger was a saddening fact, and only brought home his reasoning for the coming days. It wasn't that he couldn't continue any more. It's that they hadn't been continuing for a long time. Years, if he was honest with himself. There had been no advancement in skill, no quests that climbed up in ranking, no nods from the Jurors. It was just them and Sienna, stagnant for all of them, unless he put a stop to it.
She was asleep within minutes, her lithe body close to the wall, and her eyes closed, peaceful as he lingered by the window.
Where could she go? Where would she want to go? Who would take in a witch without power, a fragile dreamer?
And would he be damned forever for what he did to her, the broken promises he made?
Maestros were supposed to protect their Tiros, and he was confident only in the fact that he was protecting her from a lack of future. The only way to move forward was to separate, and there was no way to do it painlessly.
Creator, forgive me, he thought.