Fortune's Fool - Mercedes Lackey [100]
It was in this mood that the paper bird found her, darting down from the sky like an attacking wasp to hover in front of her nose.
She forgot all about the roses in a surge of shock and elation. “You found help!” she breathed. “Show me what they say!”
The bird unfolded. The inside of the page was blank.
She faltered. “But—you did find help!”
The bird folded itself back up and bobbed madly.
Suddenly it dawned on her. “They can’t write!”
The bird bobbed again.
She had specified that her Champion be able to read—but not write. Perhaps there just hadn’t been anything to write with…not everyone would think of writing with a bit of soft lead, or a piece of charcoal from the fire—or maybe they didn’t have a fire, or lead around.
But the bird was unfolding and refolding itself, and when it was done, it was no longer a bird, but a tiny paper dragon. Her eyes widened.
“A dragon is the Champion?” Affirmative bobbing. Now moving so fast it was a blur, the bird unfolded, refolded, and became a man—then a balalaika—then a dragon again. She frowned over that. “A dragon—wait—two dragons? And a man—not Sasha?” It had become a bird again, and the bird was bobbing affirmatives like a mad thing. “Oh, little bird, you did well!” she crowed, and the bird dropped into her hand, just paper once more. She tucked it into her waterproof envelope just as she “heard” the Jinn swiftly approaching. The wretched thing was infernally sensitive to magic—or at least, to the magic happening around her. Or maybe it was only to spells in use. Or maybe it was spells he didn’t recognize.
She felt him looming over her, but did not turn around. “Were you wasting magic again?” he growled from directly behind her.
“There was a wasp,” she said shortly. “It stung me, and I purged myself of the poison. Would you rather I sickened?”
He grunted; she sensed him turning on his heel, and felt him leave.
But he did not leave the castle; she still could not tell exactly where he was, but she knew he was near enough to be within its walls. She decided to wait things out in the garden. There was no point in rushing to the others with her news, especially not if he had suspicions of her.
The others—there were ten of them now. Klava was not the only human; there was a young gypsy hedge-witch, and a girl who talked to animals without ever having tasted dragon’s blood. There was a bear-girl who was just as irritated at being taken as Lyuba was, if not more so. And there were two creatures from a Tradition that Katya did not even recognize; a fragile girl wearing what looked like a wedding dress, and a silent dark-eyed, dark-haired girl who had yet to say a word to any of them—not that she seemed hostile, just very wary. Katya had her suspicions about the one in the wedding dress; she had the notion that the poor thing was a ghost, and not a girl at all. If that was true, then there was an escape for her, and as soon as the Jinn was gone and she was able to relay her news, she was going to try talking to the poor thing.
As for the dark one…she had no clue at all. The Jinn must be straying far afield to have gathered that one in. Katya didn’t blame her for being wary; in her shoes, Katya would have been the same.
The humming faded and finally vanished. She left off her gardening, dusted off her hands, and headed for the shared room. By now it was rather full, but no one really wanted to move out. Probably they all felt safer together. Katya certainly liked having the others about. True, the Jinn’s guards and servants had never offered any offense, but they had also never been given the opportunity to.
There must have been something about her that alerted all of them as she stepped in through the doorway because they all fell silent and looked at her expectantly.
She nodded and smiled. “We have Champions,” she said simply.
They were all