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04: Daciana
It was barely noon, and Daci was already tired of the marketplace. She leaned on the counter of the stall, wondering why she hadn't found a job that kept her indoors most of the time. If it wasn’t the heat of summer or the chill of autumn, it was the sleet of winter and the endless rain of spring.
She glanced at the two people running the stall with her, glad to see their discontent was just as obvious. Adela and Leven had taken to her immediately after she moved out of her parents’ house. Their parents had been Deply immigrants as well and owned a small orchard. They sold whatever they didn’t eat themselves at the markets three times a week and welcomed Daci's help. And it wasn’t all bad. They weren’t friends, but they were friendly. Pleasant. It was good enough.
“Stop wasting apples,” Adela said in a bored voice.
Leven paused in peeling an apple in thin, curling strips to glance at her. “It's bruised, calm down. Want some?”
Adela shook her head. “If I never have to look at an apple again it’ll be too soon. Daci, do you know how many things you can make with apples?” She ticked them off on her fingers. “Apple pie, apple cider, apple sauce, sliced apples with every meal... Dad tried to bake apples into bread, and it almost worked, so I think he’s going to try again...”
Daci was humming along in amused sympathy when she sensed it. Tasted, more like, something sugary mixed with the tang of salt. She frowned at the crowd, trying to see where it was coming from. Sugar and salt, in her experience, more than likely meant a child in tears. But that was hardly something ordinary in a market.
This was Daci’s power, her blessing and her burden, her gift and her curse. Some people got to steal air and make fire and call down the rain and move things with their minds. If she wasn’t careful, she got nothing but endless waves of emotion from everyone around her.
Dangerous, bloodthirsty magic users, indeed.
Bitter as she sometimes was about her magic—if she was going to be something that could get her killed, she thought she should be able to do some damage in return, but no—she rarely ignored it. The world often ran low on kindness, and she spent most of her time making up for it where she could. If someone was upset, she could at least try to help. If it was nothing, it was nothing.
“Daci, are you okay?” Adela asked.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, moving around the stall as she tried to focus her power and find the source of the feeling. It wasn’t easy; Daci also believed it was rude to go poking into other people’s heads, so she didn’t practice much, but she could get a general sense of the right direction.
“You know we’re here for another couple of hours, right?” Leven called after her. “You need to help us clean up.”
“I’ll be back,” Daci said absently, not even sure he heard her.
As she walked, she couldn't shake the feeling of eyes on her. She was sure that somehow everyone who looked knew she was using her magic. No one had ever been able to tell before, but it felt charged and dangerous to be doing it in the open. She touched the pendant at her throat, a dancing wolf, and prayed for luck.
She dodged between a few people, following her magic, and spotted a small girl standing by herself. Her arms were wrapped around her waist as she turned in slow, confused circles. She couldn’t have been older than five or six, just a little lost pup without her pack.
Daci made sure the girl noticed her approach and bent down so they were closer to eye level. “Hello, love,” she said softly. “Are you lost?”
The girl chewed on her lower lip and looked everywhere but at Daci, and then shook her head.
“Are you sure? Because I don’t see your parents around, and it’s pretty dangerous and scary being alone out here."
“You’re by yourself.”
Daci laughed. “Well, I suppose I am. But I’m a good bit bigger than you, aren’t I? Do you need some help finding whoever is here with you?”
The girl mumbled, “I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers.”
“Alright then. My name’s Daci.” She stuck out her hand. “What’s your name?”
The girl looked a little hesitant, but she shook it. “I’m Pia, but my daddies call me Pip a lot.”
“Okay, Pia. Were you here with your daddies?”
She nodded. “I was with my papa, and he told me to stay where I was, but I didn’t, and I didn’t mean to go far away but then I didn’t know where I was anymore, and I tried to find my papa but I couldn’t and—” Daci choked on a sudden surge of the salty sweetness. “And I got real scared.”
Daci nodded. “That does sound scary. Do you know what kind of things you and your papa were looking at last?”
While Pia worried at her lower lip, Daci stood up and started to guide her through the crowd. She cast out her magic to feel for parental worry or fear, anything that might lead her to Pia’s papa.
“We were gonna buy bread,” Pia said finally.
That wasn’t too far from where they stood; Daci felt a little surge of hope, her own this time. “Alright, honey,” she said, “I’m gonna pick you up so you can see if you spot your papa for me, okay?”
Pia backed away a step. “Nuh-uh. I’m not s’posed to let strangers pick me up. I gotta bite ‘em if they do. My daddy said so.” She bared her teeth at Daci. “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers, neither, but...you’re nice.”
“I think your daddy’s right, so we’re gonna listen to his advice and just walk together, okay?”
Pia nodded, and they kept moving. They didn't get far through the thick crowds before the sickly-sweet taste clawed its way up the back of Daci’s throat again, sharp with fear. Pia was starting to cry again. Quickly, Daci maneuvered them out of the worst of the crowds and crouched down in front of her.
Before she could say anything, the little girl blurted, “I’m sorry! I’m not s’posed to cry anymore. I’m a b-big girl now so I gotta be brave, and brave girls aren’t supposed to cry! I tried really hard, but I don’t know where Papa is, and he might leave, and I’ll never find ‘im—”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Daci said. “Pia, who ever told you brave girls don’t cry? Everybody cries sometimes. Everybody gets scared.”
“Nuh-uh,” Pia said. “Not my daddies. They’re not scared of anything.”
“Pia, I bet your papa is very, very scared right now because he can’t find you. You know how you're scared because you’re lost? They feel the same way, I promise. And that doesn’t make them any less brave, you understand? Being brave isn’t about not being afraid; it’s about doing things even when you are afraid.”
Pia sniffled and nodded.
“And you know something else? I think you’re real brave, too. I bet everyone else in the square thought you were so brave and calm standing there, you didn’t even need any help.”
“But you noticed,” she protested, wiping at her eyes.
Daci glanced around. No one was looking at them, and the noise of the street was loud enough to hide their conversation. Little girls deserved magic, didn’t they? Good magic, dancing wolves to protect them and stars wheeling overhead and strange feelings settled on their tongues. Maybe if more of them got it, the world wouldn’t hate it so much.
Regardless, it was an irresponsible idea.
Daci was a bit tired of responsible ideas. She’d had eighteen years of them.
“Can you keep a secret?”
With huge, round eyes, Pia nodded.
Daci leaned closer conspiratorially. “I’m magic. I can sense other people’s feelings sometimes. It’s how I could tell you were upset. I wouldn’t have known otherwise.” Suddenly, something sharp and cold and tasting vaguely of sage stabbed in the back of her throat, making her shiver. “And right now? I think we’ve found your papa. He’s very worried about you."
“Really?” Pia brightened immediately. Daci reined in her magic to avoid a wave of happiness that tasted like fresh cream. “Where?”
Daci followed the magic, guiding Pia until the little girl screamed, “Papa!” and darted into the crowd.
Daci barely managed to keep her in her sights until suddenly a man lifted her into the air and spun her in a circle. As she caught up to them, she could hear Pia babbling about being lost and meeting Daci and, thankfully, not magic. The man thanked Daci profusely even as she assured him it was no problem at all. Finally, with his daughter safe in his arms, he disappeared into the crowd.
Daci glanced around to get her bearings and realized she wasn’t too far from her stall. Mentally, she prepared apologies and plausible explanations as she started back. Then two matching tastes of cinnamon and burnt things sizzled in her throat. She hesitated. Something was wrong.
Her stallmates were staring at her. Leven’s face was devoid of emotion. Adela’s shoulders quaked with rage.
“Adela,” Daci began with no idea of where to end.
“You lying little bitch,” Leven snarled. Several people slowed to stare. The paring knife he used to peel apples glinted dangerously in his hand, a silver claw.
“I heard what you said,” Adela said in a low, dangerous voice. “I thought something was wrong, so I followed you, and—” She broke off in a humorless bark of laughter. “Something was definitely wrong but not the way I thought. You’re magic, and all this time you were letting us think you were normal?”
There was a collective gasp from the crowd, a stumbling, confused clamor as it fell away from Daci. She twisted to look at them, scanning the wall of bodies that hadn’t been there a moment before. She was dizzy. Trapped. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears, and she shivered, cold despite the heat without the press of community around her.
“Leven,” she whispered, “please—”
His hand moved, and the flash of silver was the only warning before he sprang. He was fast, and Daci was stiff with fear, and in a second, he was on her.
The tension snapped. Daci scrambled to her feet as the crush of people returned, tearing at her dress and her limbs and her hair. She lashed out like a wild thing, an animal hunted, and managed to break free. There was no thought in her head other than away, away, away.
She was free for a breath before they caught her again, hands snatching at her dress and yanking her back. This time, as hard as she fought, she had nowhere to go.
Leven appeared above her, his knife glinting in the waning afternoon light. Daci screamed as he brought it down, twisting desperately away. It was no use. Searing pain ripped through the left side of her face, slashing from her eyebrow to her lips. She screamed again. The gash tore wider around her mouth, blood dripping across her tongue.
She ripped one arm free to knock Leven’s hand aside, cutting herself in the process. Daci rejoiced for a second as some people scrambled for the lost knife. Hands came off her to reach for it. She snatched her chance and ran.
So many people were screaming. Hot, thick blood flowed down her face; her left side was blind. She stumbled down side streets, praying for another minute of protection, one more little miracle. She had to get away, get home, get somewhere safe.
She should’ve known that with magic, nowhere was safe. By the time she got to her tiny first floor apartment, the vicious pack had already arrived. They'd smashed the windows, and glass glittered on the street like a deadly snow. Two people were trying to smash in the door while the rest attempted to tear the place apart brick by brick.
A loud, deep bark echoed through the apartment, and a few people fell back. Daci sobbed in relief.
“Alarik!” she cried. The word was agony, but the bark in return was worth it. “Come here, boy!”
A giant wolf-dog sailed through the broken windows, avoiding the glass shards below. Hands grabbed for him, but he avoided them neatly. He streaked across the street and pressed his head into Daci's stomach with surprising gentleness. She could hardly see, her face was on fire, and she might not live to see dawn, but it felt good to run her hands through his fur.
“Good boy,” she whispered. “Let’s go.”
Alarik, the marvelous creature that he was, needed no more prompting to run. Daci leaned some of her weight on him as they snaked through cracks and shadows. They were heading deeper into the slums of the city, the parts the Ach liked to pretend didn’t exist. Alarik slowed, hesitating, and Daci wiped blood from her face. The snarling, snapping pack thundered behind her. No time to think. She tugged her wolf-dog toward an alley, tucking them into the refuse and darkness right before the pack thundered past.
She sank down against the wall. Alarik licked her uninjured cheek. Daci played with his ears, trying to think. She couldn’t hide in this dank alleyway forever, and she also couldn’t let herself keep bleeding.
She hunted around for something sharp and found a piece of broken glass. Making a note to watch where she stepped, she used it to cut a strip off the bottom of her dress. Tying it around her head was a fruitless endeavor, so she gave up and pressed it to her face. It didn't matter in the end. The injury wouldn't kill her, but infection from this alley might.
Where could she go? Half the city would soon be on alert and searching for her. She could go back to Deplyae, but crossing the border undetected was going to be all but impossible. She tipped her head back, gazing at a slice of summer sky between the jagged edges of sagging roofs. Alarik whined and pushed his head under her arm.
Daci kissed his nose. “I know, buddy. I know. We’re gonna figure it out somehow.”
He whimpered again, unconvinced. Privately, Daci agreed.