“I’m not sure I follow, sir,” Keyla said. She tried to keep the frustration out of her voice. A week of visits to the Teknar townhouse had passed, and still she was unable to create the orb of light that would let her read Margaan’s words. A week of knowing there was more to his diary unread, calling to her.

She had tried the light of the sun behind Auldavulin’s. She had tried the light of her gas lamp, and of a candle. None of that revealed the magick ink he had written with. So each day she made her way to the Upper Ward and studied for a time with Mr. Teknar and Dekkar.

“I was not joking when I said the light was within you. Magick is inside all of us, miss Keyla,” Teknar responded. “Close your eyes. Cup your hands. Yes, good, like that. Now breathe, listening only to my voice.”

She did as he instructed, until the only thing in her world was the tenor of his instruction.

“Now, leave heat out of this entirely. Do not let it enter your mind. Fire makes heat, but it also makes a very different kind of light than what you will create. Fire is a natural light. This, this is magick. Leave your mind cold, void of any thoughts of heat.

There is only white light in your palms. See it in your mind. It is weightless, you will not know it is there, so imagine it so forcefully that you have no doubts in your mind that you have succeeded.”

Keyla stared at the back of her eyelids in the darkness, flashes of imagined color she knew had nothing to do with magick coming now and then, and focused. She’d seen the white light appear, sphere-like, in Teknar’s hand countless times now. She imagined that ball of raw magick forming between her own palms.

“You’re imagining this as if watching yourself from outside your body,” she heard Dekkar say from the chair next to her. “Stop that.”

“Dekkar is right,” Mr. Teknar said. “Magick exists within you, and so do you. You are not outside your own body, are you? You need to imagine this from within, not without. Perspective matters here, miss.”

Keyla still wasn’t used to be treated with respect. Nobody ever called her miss. She shook her head, pushing the thoughts away, and focused again.

She imagined seeing light through her eyelids, of it growing stronger from the direction of her hands.

Dekkar chuckled.

She opened her eyes, but the room plunged into darkness again. Wait! It hadn’t actually been dark before she’d opened her eyes. She’d done it!

Keyla closed her eyes again and brought the same imagined light to her hands. She pushed with her mind and body, as if imagining hard enough would make it happen.

She cracked one eyelid open, and saw it. A small ball of light had formed in her cupped hands!

She immediately shut her eyes again and focused, imagining it growing brighter and slightly larger, until it was the size of an apple.

Keyla exhaled slowly, and opened her eyes.

She could see Dekkar and Mr. Teknar clearly, as well as the rest of the office, despite the closed drapes over the windows.

Mr. Teknar guffawed. “Now she’s got it!”

“And it only took a week. Not the worst we’ve seen,” Dekkar added with a smile.

“It was so easy, in the end,” Keyla said, amazed at the light in her hands. “How could it possibly be this simple?”

“We think it has something to do with bloodlines,” Dekkar said with a smile. “Everybody can use magick to some extent, but there are those who do seem significantly stronger than others. Who were your parents?”

“I’ve no idea,” Keyla replied. “I never knew them. I’ve been alone for as long as I can remember.” She half expected the admission to make her feel sad, but she felt nothing. How can someone mourn a person they’ve never known?

Then again, she sometimes mourned Selah and Margaan.

Dekkar’s face took on a look of pity, but Teknar’s eyes narrowed in thought and he tapped his lip with one finger.

Keyla ignored them, let the orb of light fade, and then summoned it into her palms again. It was so easy, requiring little conscious thought, only a focused effort of will. As an experiment she separated her palms, the ball of light staying atop her cupped left hand. She imagined it first in her mind, then made a tossing motion from one hand to the other, willing the motion as she breathed.

The ball of light moved, as if thrown, to her other palm. She didn’t feel anything as it came to rest just above her cupped hand, but it seemed to follow her will, focused through her thoughts and actions. What else would she be able to do?

She felt like Selah and Margaan must have felt, when they first discovered the magick. Excitement raced through her as she realized the journey of discovery that lay before her. She’d be able to read the rest of Margaan’s diary! She had magick, something she thought would be forever outside her reach. Something, she realized as her mind sobered, that she would be killed for if ever caught. Street rats were not allowed magick.

“And now she realizes just what this means for her,” Dekkar said sadly. “And why we seek the change we do.”

“I don’t think she does, not truly. I don’t think we do either, at least when it comes to her,” Teknar said softly, his head cocked in that odd way again as he stared at her.

“Why do you do that?” Keyla asked.

He raised one eyebrow.

“Cock your head to the side, as if you’re listening to something we can’t hear.”

“Hm. Just an odd habit, I suppose,” he replied.

Keyla knew there was more to it. Did he hear voices, the way she sometimes did?

“This is fortuitous, in any event,” Teknar said, changing the subject. “The Margaanites will meet here again tomorrow. Will you be joining us?”

“Of course,” Keyla replied, her mind already on other things. She would be able to start reading Margaan’s journal when she returned to the distillery tonight, and she’d be able to read it after dark without wasting fuel! In fact, if she practiced enough, she may not need gas ever again. She stifled the smile that tried to come to her lips at the thought.

“An hour after sundown, then,” Teknar said as they rose from their chairs to walk toward the stairs. “I assume reaching us will pose no trouble for you, little thief,” he said with a smile.

Keyla shrugged. “Not a problem.”

Dekkar and Keyla descended the stairs, then he opened the door to show her out. She turned back and waved to Mr. Teknar, who returned it from the top of the stairs.

“Until tomorrow night then, miss Keyla.”

“Tomorrow,” she replied, then nodded to Dekkar and stepped outside.

“Oh, Keyla,” Dekkar said as she reached the second step.

She turned back to find him holding out a small pouch to her.

“What is this?” she asked, accepting it from him.

“A gift from Mrs. Teknar. You’re spending time in her house, after all.”

“I haven’t even met her yet,” Keyla said as she began to open the small bag.

“No, but she knows of you.”

Keyla’s eyes widened in surprise. Inside was a small bottle of what looked like perfume, and a handful of coins. She looked up at Dekkar.

He smiled. “You may be a street rat, but Mrs. Teknar doesn’t feel that it need be obvious when you’re here with us. We all play our parts in public, but in private we’re equals, are we not?”

Keyla nodded, closing her mouth when she realized it was open.

“So play your part, street rat. But buy some fresh clothes for when you visit us, yes?” He smiled and shut the door.

Keyla looked down at her scuffed clothing, and lifted an arm to smell her shirt. She didn’t notice anything off-putting, but maybe they had? She’d never been embarrassed about being a street rat before. Is that what she was feeling now as her face seemed to heat up?

She pushed out a shaky breath and shook herself. After pulling the drawstrings of the pouch tight, she shoved it into her pocket and began the trek back to Auldavulin’s.

As Keyla walked she pondered over her newfound magick. She could create light, and so easily! When she lost focus it went away, and so practice was in order, but the actual act itself had felt so effortless.

Could that be what she did when she wanted to go unnoticed, as well? Some kind of magick that let her fade into the shadows? She could create light, after all. Perhaps there was magick with darkness as well.

Though sometimes she was in a crowd, or otherwise not near any shadows, so maybe she really was just a forgettable person, small and easy to write off for most folk.

As she climbed the ladder in the sewer up into Auldavulin’s, she began to plan the next day. She would visit Madame Toussaud’s as a legitimate customer, and purchase clothing that would let her blend better in the Upper Ward.

She would need to be careful with it though, as it would be incredibly out of place in the industrial district where Auldavulin’s was. She would need to transport it and change in an alley so as not to attract the wrong kind of attention in either location.

All worries over the clothing fled her mind as she pried up the floorboard next to her bed, and pulled out Margaan’s diary. It was time to read.