The Threads of Magic Alison Croggon (warren buffett book recommendations TXT) 📖

El’s building. By then people were out, hurrying to the bakeries for their morning bread or opening stalls in the marketplace. The sky was a clear, pale blue, letting fall its light like a blessing on the narrow lanes of the Choke Alleys. The tenements and run-down shops and taverns looked almost pretty, although it would take a lot more than sunshine to do anything about the smell in this quarter. It was going to be a perfect summer day.

Oni’s pace slowed when she reached Omiker Lane. It was a tiny street the length of six buildings, all in varying states of decay, and the sun hadn’t reached it yet. Oni wondered if it was just the coldness of the shadows that made her shiver as she sauntered along, pretending she was just another passerby.

Pip and El lived in a building in the middle of the street. Most of the windows were shuttered and the doorways were empty, aside from a cat that studied Oni balefully as she passed. She might have felt less uneasy if she had spotted someone who looked like an assassin. If watchers weren’t outside they were likely to be inside, and they would be more difficult to avoid.

She turned down Hangers Alley at the end of Omiker Lane and slid into a gap between two shops that was scarcely wide enough to admit even her slight body. The stench hit her like a wall: the buildings leaned in close together above her head, so there was nowhere for it to escape.

The ground was slimy with every kind of refuse, making her very glad of her boots. Oni drew her scarf over her mouth and nose to prevent some filthy winged thing flying in by mistake and grimly pushed on. There was nothing she could do about the smell, but if she breathed through her mouth it was easier to ignore.

After a few yards the gap between the buildings broadened slightly. She was now treading on bare, sour earth and the stink wasn’t so bad. On one side the noisome, stained walls were pierced with shuttered windows, which once had looked out on something other than another wall less than two feet away. The other side was completely blank. A tiny slit of sky above permitted some indirect light, but it was hard to see. At last Oni found what she was looking for: a copper pipe, green with age, trailed uncertainly down to the ground from the roof. Oni studied it dubiously. This, apparently, was Pip’s emergency back door.

She tested the pipe and found it was surprisingly stable, though slippery under her hands. She was about the same weight as Pip, so she figured it would probably hold. She took a deep breath and started to scale the pipe.

As Pip had said, it wasn’t a difficult climb: there were plenty of gaps in the stonework to hang on to. The higher she got, the narrower became the gap between the buildings. By the time Oni reached the third-floor shutters, the opposite wall was little more than a foot away. Her hands were aching and she leaned back, letting the other wall take her weight, and wiped her forehead as she studied the closed shutters. According to Pip’s instructions, this was the window to their bedroom.

She took out a knife from her belt and slid it up the gap between the shutters, lifting the latch that held them closed. And then, cautiously and slowly, she pulled one leaf open. This was awkward as the shutters opened outward and she couldn’t pull it all the way. To peek in the window, she was forced to climb down a little and twist herself around the shutter. She tried not to look down. It was a long way.

Pip and El’s bedroom. Two pallets, for sleeping. Some pretty things El had collected — a piece of floral material pinned up on the wall, a chipped china dog, three cups painted with roses. She could see the short hallway that led to the main room. She pictured it in her head: the chest and stools for eating, a fireplace with a hob for cooking. On the mantelpiece, a silver sauce jug with a curved handle that had once belonged to Missus Pledge.

Oni studied the shadows dubiously. Was the left corner a little darker than it should be? Or was that her imagination? She dared not climb inside without first ensuring that the room was as empty as it seemed.

It was going to be difficult performing magic when she was hanging by her fingernails three stories up, but she had no choice. She shifted herself around so she was squarely facing the window and then, making sure her feet were firmly lodged into crevices in the stonework, let go of the pipe, leaning all her weight on the opposing wall. When she was sure that her feet were stable, she drew out a little wooden box from a cloth bag that hung around her neck and flicked it open. Inside was a fine black powder that seemed to sparkle in the dim light. Oni dipped in her fingertip and put a little of the dust on each of her eyelids, and then carefully sprinkled a fine trail of it on the windowsill, mumbling the charm under her breath.

“Show these eyes what is hidden. Protect me from those who wish me harm. May all the beneficent spirits protect this child of light who asks so humbly for their help.”

She closed her eyes, waiting for the faint sting that meant the spell was beginning to work. Her pulse quickened and she felt an uncomfortable sensation of heat in her eyeballs, as if they were being cooked inside her head. It passed quickly. She breathed out and slowly opened her eyes.

This spell always made her feel slightly nauseous. A sense other than sight kicked into focus, making her aware of every living thing in the building. Objects that had seemed solid were now blurred and