Page 17 of Spark of Sorcery
“Jeez, what is it with everyone today?” I mumble as several people in a row knock into me.
“Freedom day,” Fly says.
“Yeah, but why all the excitement? We have a freedom day every Sunday. It’s no big deal.”
Fly shakes his head. “This isfreedomfreedom day. You’re allowed to leave campus if you want.”
“But there’s nowhere to go!”
“There is if you have transport. I suspect most of the shadow weavers are going back home.”
“And even that requires an audience does it?”
“I’m guessing you’ve never seen a shadow weaver’s set of wheels?” Fly says.
“Nope. Only the mayor owns a vehicle back in Slate Quarter and while some of the boys and girls used to drool over it, I never saw the appeal.”
“Well, Cupcake, this is likely to be a little different.” He grabs my hand and drags me along after the crowd. “Thrall coming through!” he chimes and people shuffle out of our way.
“I am not …” I hiss at him but I don’t finish my words because my attention is stolen by the sleek, elegant machine parked in the square in front of us. “Shit!” I mutter.
“Told you,” he says.
“I’ve seen pictures of vehicles like this but those seemed so fanciful and peculiar. I didn’t really believe they were real.”
“My parents have a vehicle,” Fly says, absentmindedly. “Nothing like this. Only shadow weavers could afford something like this.”
I spin around and grip my friend’s shoulders. “Are you going home for the next couple of days?”
“Me?” I nod and he shakes his head in response. “I haven’t been invited. Not that I’d want to go if I were,” he adds hurriedly. “It would take most of the day to get there and then I’d have to turn around and come straight back.”
We watch as the Smyte sisters come sauntering onto the path. They’re wearing matching short green dresses withlittle white sailor hats perched on their red heads. Behind them trails their thrall, his arms full of bags.
“I think it’ll only be the shadow weavers going home today.”
“Oh,” I say, as Henrietta waits for their thrall to open the door to the vehicle and helps her inside.
Fly bumps me with his elbow. “Don’t worry. They’ll all be back tomorrow in time for the ball.”
“Why would I be worried?” I say, watching Henrietta rev the engine of the machine, a cloud of smoke shooting from its exhaust, making the crowd of onlookers splutter. “I’m not going to the ball.”
“Don’t be silly. Of course, you are,” Fly says, as Linette climbs in beside her sister and the thrall is forced to cram into the tiny seats in the back with the luggage. I guess he’s going home with them – to Onyx Quarter. Does that mean I would have gone if I was playing nice with the Princes? Just like these sleek machines, I’ve seen pictures of Onyx Quarter too – they were as surreal looking as the pictures of the vehicles.
“Parties aren’t really my thing.”
The last door of the vehicle slams shut, and it darts forward, the vehicle heading right towards us and the crowd scattering and screaming. I yank on Fly’s arm and push us just clear of the vehicle’s path, Henrietta waving and smiling at us through the sparkling windscreen.
“I swear she did that on purpose,” I grumble, watching the vehicle careen off through the campus.
“Of course she did. She’s tried to kill you numerous times. If you just told Thorne Cadieux, she would most definitely stop.”
“I can look aftermyself.”
Fly mutters a few choice words under his breath, then takes me by the shoulders and turns me to face him.
“No offense, Cupcake, but have you ever actually been to a party?”
“Yes,” I say, insulted.
