Lost Magic (The Swift Codex Book 3) by Nicolette Jinks Read Free Book Online
Authors: Nicolette Jinks
catch up with you.”
“But they'll eventually chase us into a trap,” I said, less out of fear and more because that's what I would do if I were hunting myself. “So we'll have to be careful about creating predictable patterns.”
“I'm not bound to abandon my territory,” Mordon said, his eyes forming vertical pupils.
Before he would do more, I took his arm and snuggled against him while a flying carpet at a rapid descent dodged a flock of songbirds. “I didn't expect you would. But I would like a back-up plan.”
“Our back-up plan is that I shift into dragon form and kill them all.”
I laughed at the simplicity of it, not that it was necessarily very funny, or that he'd said it as a joke. “And if you aren't there?”
We approached the edge of the walkway and waited while a carpet unfurled itself from the deck and uncoiled to meet us. Beneath my feet, it was solid enough, a little springy. Having Anna had given me fresh worries about the possibility of it failing one day. So far there had been no incidents, though.
“If I'm not there, you shift into your dragon form and kill them. Or take flight. Whichever appeals to you at the time.”
Being on the solid wooden dock was a relief, but I didn't relax until we were in the center of the walking path lined with merchants who hooked their moveable decks up to the dock. It was sort of like the pictures of a marina, I mused, every stall like a ship. Hopeful shopkeepers called out their wares.
Merlyn's Market was an enclosed ecosystem. It might as well be called that. The only way in or out was through portals. Leif had once said that the market had started out as a standard box canyon in the middle of the desert, but I'd never have guessed that now. Permanent portals had moved in, lining the walls of the canyon with their storefronts from top to bottom, walkways going around and around. More pathways were in the center, sprawled this way and that like someone had given a child the option to draw out the floors using a game of Tetris. The top was sealed off, to keep out the weather and prying eyes. Spells held artificial lighting so the market stayed open at all times to accommodate every time zone.
“Where does the festival take place at?” I asked, wondering why the decks themselves were so dead while the carpets bustled with activity.
“All the way down, Ma'am, upon the floor,” answered a cheerful shopkeeper with fat cheeks and beady eyes. He motioned to his produce. “Rune Gourd or Turban Squash? They're fresh from the field.”
“Not today, thank you,” Mordon said, steering us toward the standing platform where taxi carpets waited for customers with bags tied to their tassels for receiving payment. It sounded like a much better idea than making our way slowly down many sets of carpet stairs, even if I wasn't fond of riding the carpets.
Mordon handled the cash. I'd gotten good at working the till, but I still triple-counted everything. Where we'd inherited the monetary system, I had no idea.
The biggest unit was a dinaire, a coin imbued with an authentication spell while it was cast. We also had sevens, which were a seventh of a dinaire. Beneath them were nobbles, thirteen nobbles made up a seventh. Lowliest of all were pennies, a hundred to the dinaire. Why we bothered with pennies when there were a total of 91 nobbles to a dinaire, I had no idea. Other than pennies had been an experiment to convert the magical community into using a standardized system—it had only made things more complex, but they stuck around anyway. Prices in the shop were usually written something like this: 1d2s11n2p. To the frustration of all too many customers, I made up most of the change with pennies, as I hadn't figured out how to do anything more complex yet.
The carpet charged us a dinaire, a seventh, and ten nobbles. Highway robbery, but today wasn't a lazy day for the taxis and so long as no one
“But they'll eventually chase us into a trap,” I said, less out of fear and more because that's what I would do if I were hunting myself. “So we'll have to be careful about creating predictable patterns.”
“I'm not bound to abandon my territory,” Mordon said, his eyes forming vertical pupils.
Before he would do more, I took his arm and snuggled against him while a flying carpet at a rapid descent dodged a flock of songbirds. “I didn't expect you would. But I would like a back-up plan.”
“Our back-up plan is that I shift into dragon form and kill them all.”
I laughed at the simplicity of it, not that it was necessarily very funny, or that he'd said it as a joke. “And if you aren't there?”
We approached the edge of the walkway and waited while a carpet unfurled itself from the deck and uncoiled to meet us. Beneath my feet, it was solid enough, a little springy. Having Anna had given me fresh worries about the possibility of it failing one day. So far there had been no incidents, though.
“If I'm not there, you shift into your dragon form and kill them. Or take flight. Whichever appeals to you at the time.”
Being on the solid wooden dock was a relief, but I didn't relax until we were in the center of the walking path lined with merchants who hooked their moveable decks up to the dock. It was sort of like the pictures of a marina, I mused, every stall like a ship. Hopeful shopkeepers called out their wares.
Merlyn's Market was an enclosed ecosystem. It might as well be called that. The only way in or out was through portals. Leif had once said that the market had started out as a standard box canyon in the middle of the desert, but I'd never have guessed that now. Permanent portals had moved in, lining the walls of the canyon with their storefronts from top to bottom, walkways going around and around. More pathways were in the center, sprawled this way and that like someone had given a child the option to draw out the floors using a game of Tetris. The top was sealed off, to keep out the weather and prying eyes. Spells held artificial lighting so the market stayed open at all times to accommodate every time zone.
“Where does the festival take place at?” I asked, wondering why the decks themselves were so dead while the carpets bustled with activity.
“All the way down, Ma'am, upon the floor,” answered a cheerful shopkeeper with fat cheeks and beady eyes. He motioned to his produce. “Rune Gourd or Turban Squash? They're fresh from the field.”
“Not today, thank you,” Mordon said, steering us toward the standing platform where taxi carpets waited for customers with bags tied to their tassels for receiving payment. It sounded like a much better idea than making our way slowly down many sets of carpet stairs, even if I wasn't fond of riding the carpets.
Mordon handled the cash. I'd gotten good at working the till, but I still triple-counted everything. Where we'd inherited the monetary system, I had no idea.
The biggest unit was a dinaire, a coin imbued with an authentication spell while it was cast. We also had sevens, which were a seventh of a dinaire. Beneath them were nobbles, thirteen nobbles made up a seventh. Lowliest of all were pennies, a hundred to the dinaire. Why we bothered with pennies when there were a total of 91 nobbles to a dinaire, I had no idea. Other than pennies had been an experiment to convert the magical community into using a standardized system—it had only made things more complex, but they stuck around anyway. Prices in the shop were usually written something like this: 1d2s11n2p. To the frustration of all too many customers, I made up most of the change with pennies, as I hadn't figured out how to do anything more complex yet.
The carpet charged us a dinaire, a seventh, and ten nobbles. Highway robbery, but today wasn't a lazy day for the taxis and so long as no one
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