Tangled Magick Read Free

said.”
    â€œUntil the stack of pancakes grows short, then,” Mae agreed. “Take care of Reed and Aletta and the Wedge.”
    Leif rose from the wagon and perched on the edge, one hand on the side, one foot dangling off. “I will.”
    He jumped from the wagon and ran down the path toward the bridge. When he was safe on its planks, he turned and waved. Mae waved back until the forest swallowed the wagon into its colorful autumn canopy. The dusty road twined through the trees. Mae peered into the shadows but saw no sign of trolls. A chipmunk, his cheeks stuffed full, scrambled across the road and disappeared into his underground nest. A ring of toadstools reminded Mae of the hobgoblins she’d created the day Luisliu, a rowan tree, had gifted her with a twig, which was now her wand. The hobgoblins lived at the edge of the Wedge; they helped Farmer Burrbridge herd the sheep up to the high grazing hills in the summer and helped Mrs. Lowknoll make cheese in the winter.
    All afternoon, the forest grew darker as clouds piled up in the gray sky. As the sun crept lower in the sky, raindropssplashed on Mae’s nose whenever the canopy thinned enough to let them through. She curled up under the tarp covering the cargo. At least the road would lose its dustiness if it got a good soaking. She studied the other hapenny traders plodding along on their ponies. Most of them had donned long oilskin jackets, which separated at the waist in order to protect their legs from the rain. Callum had a jacket like that stowed away in his bag too.
    The men in the caravan had started out a boisterous group. As they began the journey, they had cracked jokes and sung the old traveling songs. Now their faces were long, eyebrows pinched together as the wind picked up and drove the rain past their hat brims and into their eyes. Mae pulled her flute from her pocket and played something that would cheer them up.
    â€œ M ae.”
    Feeling a shake of her shoulder, Mae turned to her side. “Just a minute more, Callum.”
    He shook her again. “We are stopping for the night. Would you like something to eat?”
    Mae sat up, her flute rolling off her lap.
    Catching her little wooden instrument, the wizard chuckled. “I knew you couldn’t resist a meal.” He popped the flute into her palm and lifted her from the wagon.
    Mae dropped her flute in her pocket, rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and scanned the campsite. A simple cooking fire had been built up under the shelter of a large ring of trees. The ponies were corralled within a group of trees and were grazing at the brush. Cook Barley turned from the fire with a ladle in his hand. “There she is! Our own little wizard. Did you have a good rest?”
    Mae nodded sheepishly. “Yes, sir.” The last thing she remembered was playing the flute to cheer the traders up. The rocking wagon must have lulled her to sleep. Her stomach rumbled and her nose twitched as the smell of roasting chicken wafted under it. “Whatever you’re cooking sure smells good.”
    Cook Barley laughed. “Probably not as good as what Callum could magick up, but I did my best!”
    Mae slipped her flute in her pocket and shivered as Callum drew her closer to the fire. She perched on a fallen log that was covered with moss but relatively dry. Most of the traders were murmuring among themselves, but one smiled up at Mae.
    â€œThank you for the song, Maewyn.” Tory tipped his hat and winked. He was young, only a couple of years older than Mae’s fourteen winters, and he had curly red hair and a cute dimple in his chin. Her cheeks grew hot. She nodded in his direction but was saved from talking to him by an offered bowl of yellow squash and a roasted chicken leg. She whispered her thanks to Callum as he sat next to her.
    â€œHow much further is it to the first village of men, Callum?” Maewyn asked. She shoveled a bite of squash in her mouth.
    Callum