I nodded and smiled, but for the first time in my life, I didn’t really believe what Papa said. I didn’t think I could control the kind of anger I’d felt toward Uncle Earn. More than that, I was sure that I’d never be able to control the magic. I knew that the power I’d felt was just a beginning. What would I do when it grew stronger? I wouldn’t have a hope of controlling it then. But I could see that Papa wouldn’t understand.
Papa left me to myself for three days, to let any lingering effects of the magic-dampening spell wear off all the way. It was like I was sick all over again, only this time I was in quarantine. Finally, he started the tests he’d promised. First he cast a magic-detecting spell and made me work all the minor spells I’d learned at the day school, over and over. Then he did it again, with a spell for detecting a different sort of magic. That went on for about a week, and then he went over to the engineering department and borrowed a bunch of their instruments for measuring the level of magic in a spell and did it all again, and again.
I spent nearly the whole summer in Papa’s study, I think. Every time I cast a spell, I felt that lump of magic power inside me grow a little. It worried me more every time, until I found a way to sort of move sideways in my head so that practicing spells didn’t make the power grow.
In the end, the tests didn’t show anything unusual about me at all. Papa sat down and explained it all to me very clearly. The magic that had gone off at Uncle Earn had been a fluke; such accidents happened to young people sometimes, he said, especially when they were turning from childing to full-grown. People didn’t grow evenly; sometimes their legs got long and clumsy before the rest of them caught up, and sometimes they went wide, or skinny, from growing one direction faster than another. In me, the magic part had grown too fast and burst out without any control, but the rest of me was already catching up. Once everything was back in balance again, there was no chance of anything similar happening again.
The only trouble was that what Papa described didn’t sound anything like what I’d felt. Or like what I was still feeling. I tried to tell Papa that, but he only smiled and said I was worrying over nothing. How someone felt didn’t have anything to do with spell casting, he said.
Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with normal spell casting, but the way I felt about Uncle Earn had plenty to do with that spell burst I’d sent at him. And it was me switching from angry to scared that made it fall apart just in time; I’d worked out that much. But Papa just shook his head and reassured me, a little sharply, that according to all his tests, everything was completely normal.
School started up again, and if anything could have made things worse, that was it. The Settlement Office had been busy that summer, and a lot of families had gotten their allotments and moved West. They still couldn’t keep up with the people who wanted land, though, so Mill City was growing fast. There were a lot of new faces at the day school, even though a couple more parent associations had formed and started new schools in our part of town. I was the tallest girl in my class, and at thirteen I was also the oldest, and I felt awkward and clumsy and conspicuous. All of the new students knew about Lan being a double-seventh son, and they heard pretty quick that I was his twin. They all gave me curious looks when they thought my back was turned, which made me feel even more conspicuous.
For the first time ever, I had trouble with my schoolwork. I couldn’t remember the Columbian Presidents past the first five—George Washington, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, Eduard Baier, and Herman Augustus Morton. All my sentence diagrams went crooked, with the phrases coming off in the wrong places. I got the signs backward in my algebra. Worst of all, I started having trouble with my magic lessons. The spells I’d worked without any problems all summer began fizzling out, and I couldn’t get the new ones to work at all.
Two months after classes started, Miss Ochiba asked me to come back and see her after school. I thought I knew what was coming—a lecture and extra homework, and maybe even the threat of moving back another year, to study with the sixth-grade magic classes.
So I wasn’t prepared when Miss Ochiba closed the classroom door, waved me to a seat at the practice table, and said gently, “I am sure you know as well as anyone that your classwork has not been satisfactory this year. It is plain that the cause is neither lack of interest nor lack of effort. You are an intelligent girl, Miss Rothmer, and I should like to know what you think the reason is for your sudden difficulty.”
I burst into tears. Miss Ochiba handed me her handkerchief and waited. I gulped and wiped my eyes and the whole summer tumbled out of my mouth in a jumble: Diane’s wedding and the new students watching me all the time and Rennie running off with Brant and Papa’s tests and the spell I’d thrown at Uncle Earn.
Miss Ochiba listened without saying anything, and I couldn’t read the expression on her dark face. When I finished, she nodded and said, “I am not surprised that you are finding your studies difficult.”
“Papa says that how a magician feels doesn’t have anything to do with spell casting.” I felt torn. I wanted to believe what Papa had told me, but…
“Your father is an excellent magician,” Miss Ochiba said, “but his background is entirely in the Avrupan school of magic. Furthermore, he is accustomed to students who are older and less…volatile than persons of your age. I am a little surprised that he did not recall the incident with your brother.”
“The incident with—you mean when Lan got mad and floated William treetop-high?” I said. “How do you know about that?”
“Miss Rothmer.” Miss Ochiba gave me a look that was half amused, half reproving. “I teach magic to all of the students at this school, including your brother, all of your other siblings, and their friends as well. It would be more than surprising if I had
“But what does that have to do with me?”
“Three years ago, Lan lost his temper and cast a spell on William that should not have been possible for a child with little training and no practical experience. You are his twin sister. You lost your temper and cast a spell with more power behind it than you should have been capable of handling at your level of training and experience. I think the parallel is obvious.”
“I’m—like Lan?” I stared at her. “But he’s a double-seventh son.”
Miss Ochiba closed her eyes briefly. “And what else is he?” she asked in her teacher voice.
“He’s my brother,” I said, reacting automatically to the question she’d asked so often in class. “He’s my twin. He’s a boy. He’s thirteen, and the youngest of us. He’s—” I stopped. Saying that Lan was Papa’s favorite, and the one everyone always looked to and talked about and expected great things of, would sound petty and jealous. Only it was the plain truth. I’d just never seen it that way before, because I felt that way about him my own self.
“Exactly so,” Miss Ochiba said when I didn’t continue. “And he’s a few other things besides, and no doubt he’ll pick up more as he goes along in this life. In some ways, you are alike; in others, you are not. I leave it to you to sort them out. For the moment, that is not my main concern.”
I nodded uncertainly. Miss Ochiba tapped her fingers on the tabletop, one-two-three, one-two-three. Then she said, “Thank you for explaining. Now that I am aware of the situation, you need have no fear of any similar accidents occurring in my classroom, Miss Rothmer. Do you understand?”
I nodded again. Then I swallowed hard and said, “But what about everywhere else?”
“There is a Hijero—Cathayan technique that I believe you will find helpful,” Miss Ochiba replied. “It will take some time for you to master it, but I do not think that will be a problem. You do not lose your temper often.”
I hadn’t believed in Papa’s tests, and I hadn’t believed him when he told me everything was fine, but when she said that, I believed Miss Ochiba. I almost cried in relief.
Miss Ochiba gave a brisk nod, as if I’d said something, and stood up. “We will begin tomorrow, then. That is all, Miss Rothmer.” The next thing I knew, I was walking home in a daze, feeling hope for the first time since the start of summer.
CHAPTER 16
MISS OCHIBA’S CONFIDENCE IN ME, AND THE HIJERO—CATHAYAN concentration technique she taught me, were about all that made that year bearable for me. I did a lot better in most of my classes once I stopped fretting over maybe blowing someone up if I got mad. I still had trouble with magic, though. I was afraid of it—or, rather, I was afraid of what I might do with it. The book-work was fine, but at least half the time, when I started to cast a spell, the fear got in the way and it fizzled. The looks my classmates gave me went from curious to doubtful to sneering.
