“Um . . .” Anne said. “It’s just . . . You don’t get uncomfortable when I’m near you, do you?”

I looked at her in surprise. “That’s a weird question. No, why?”

Anne looked away. “Mages . . . usually don’t like it if I’m close to them.”

“Why not?”

“You know . . .” Anne stopped and started again. “People show their feelings in their bodies. The tension, the way they move . . . If they’re afraid or uncomfortable I can see it.”

I looked at Anne, puzzled. “Okay.” I had the feeling she was trying to tell me something, but I wasn’t sure what.

I heard the sound of the back door from below. “Vari’s back,” Anne said before I could check. She got up, taking the plates to the sink. I thought about asking more, but I could already hear Variam running up the stairs and decided to leave it for another time. A second later Variam came in, and by the time we’d sorted out who would get to use the shower first I’d forgotten about it.

Chapter 2

chapter 2

Anne and Variam’s appointment was for eleven o’clock; they were seeing a mage who’d been recommended to me as someone who might be able to help out with their finding-a-master problem. After they were gone I went to wash up, found that Anne had done it already, and went downstairs to open the shop.

My day job when I don’t have anything life-threatening to deal with is running a business called the Arcana Emporium, the name of which is a long-winded way of saying “magic shop.” I don’t publicise that I’m a mage, but I don’t exactly hide it either, and one of the odd things I’ve learnt over the years is just how much you can get away with if you’re blatant enough. Hide something behind smoke and mirrors and make people work to find it, and they’ll tear the place down looking for what’s there. Put up a sign up saying magic shop, and no one believes you.

I still don’t know where most of my customers come from. I don’t advertise and I’m off the main street, so most of it has to be word of mouth. Every now and again I’ll Google my shop to see what people are saying about me and I swear I get the weirdest results. There are people out there who think I’m everything from a reincarnated angel from the pharaoh dynasties of Egypt to a thousand-year-old half dragon who’s secretly sponsoring a quest across time and space in an attempt to kill himself. (No, I don’t know why.) I suppose I should be grateful there isn’t any slash fiction. On second thought, I’m not going to look too closely just in case there is.