Selene Moonshadow's Arc

Chapter 7 of 9

The wizard cleared the table and set two bowls of water at its edge. He drew a line of ash between them. "First bowl strips the coat," he said. "Second bowl catches what falls out. Miss the timing and the coat snaps back on tighter. Then it is welded to you." Selene took her wand from her belt. The crack down its length was still there, wrapped in wire. She set the two halves of the holed stone on the ash line. "Speak the half-name into the first bowl," the wizard said. "Only the half. Then lift the wand and pass it over to the second bowl before the water stills. One motion. Two workings." She tried it dry. She said "Sel—" at the first bowl and swept the wand across. The wizard shook his head. "Too slow. The coat is already back on you. Again." She tried again. The wizard tapped the table when her hand was late. Marcus sat on the hearthstone and watched, arms folded. He said nothing for an hour. Then, "You're leading with your wrist. Lead with the elbow. Wrist follows." She changed her arm. The wizard grunted once, which was as close to approval as he came. By dusk her shoulder ached and the half-name felt heavier in her mouth each time she said it. On the twentieth pass the water in the first bowl went cold under her wand. The wizard leaned forward. "Again. Now." She said "Sel—" and swept. The wand crossed the ash line. Something thin and pale peeled off the stone halves and dropped into the second bowl. It curled there like a shed skin. Under it, in the first bowl, a shape moved. Not letters. A shape. Selene did not look at it. She did not have to. She lifted the wand clear. "That," the wizard said, "is the working. Do it that way when the shadow is in the room. Not before. Not after." Marcus exhaled. "She's got it." Outside, the raven on the roof beam gave one hard call. Then another. Marcus was on his feet before the third. "That's not a warning for weather," he said. He crossed to the window. "Something's on the path." Selene wrapped the stone halves and the two bowls in cloth and pushed them into her coat. Her hand shook. Not from fear. From holding the motion so long. The wizard stayed in his chair. "You have the working. You do not have time to practice it twice." A knock came at the door. Soft. Polite. A voice she knew called her name through the wood — Rowan Puck's voice, from a cottage two ridges and a mountain pass away, where he could not possibly be. Marcus drew a short iron rod from his knapsack and looked at her. "It's here," Selene said.