Chapter 467: You’re Irreplaceable
“Nothing much.” Wendy forced a smile and kept her voice gentle. “Try to show everyone what you can do.”
“Yes…” The young woman held her breath and extended both hands.
What appeared on the other side of the hall was difficult to look at directly. Four figures — recognizable as the four of them — stood in a quiet tableau, two of them bent in conversation, mouths moving without sound. Then Paper, who had left the lobby some time ago, materialized beside Wendy’s double and crawled into the figure’s arms, revealing a sweet, unhurried smile.
Wendy reached toward herself without thinking. Her fingertips passed through.
After the illusion faded, the lobby was very quiet.
Scroll was the first to speak. “No wonder your sister fainted. That is… rather unsettling.”
“An ability that subjects an entire group to illusion is rare, but not unprecedented.” Agatha’s voice was measured, exploratory. “When I was with the Union, I knew at least two witches with similar gifts — one a Senior Witch from Starfall City.”
Wendy set aside what she felt and turned to the girl. “How many times a day can you use it? And can you control which moment in the past you show?”
Summer touched her own head, embarrassed. “About two or three times. And by ‘which moment’ — do you mean how far back?” At Wendy’s nod: “I’ve never tested it exactly. I think older memories take more effort…”
“Not effort — magic power,” Wendy said, softening. “You can feel it moving through you, yes? Like water, or perhaps fog. Your ability draws from it.”
“Magic power?” Summer repeated the words as though trying them on.
“There’s a great deal to learn about it,” Scroll said. “I’ll teach you everything in time.”
“Uh-huh.” Summer nodded.
Wendy had her use her full reserve for one more demonstration. The illusion that came was from a day and a half prior: the lobby lit warm, the sisters of the Witch Union arranged along the long table for dinner, voices and motion reproduced in complete silence. When Summer finally lowered her arms, she was panting, small beads of sweat along her brow.
Wendy noted the results carefully. She could not think of a single use for the girl’s ability. Her illusions only show the past — there’s no prediction in them. We’ll have to wait for His Highness to return. The thought settled with a familiar frustration. Roland had spoken to her of turning the Witch Union into a self-governing organization, of appointing her its director. But she was nowhere near as capable as he was of seeing the full potential in an ability like Summer’s. She could not think her way to the answer that he would find in minutes.
She was collecting herself to offer Summer some words of encouragement when Scroll touched her arm and stepped aside. Wendy followed.
“Were you about to tell her she could stay here,” Scroll asked quietly, “if she didn’t want to go home?”
“She probably didn’t lie about her background,” Wendy began. “Soraya made the identification, and everything matches. She only just awakened. She’s a non-combat type — even the Church couldn’t have predicted—”
“Magic power isn’t the only threat.” Scroll’s voice was careful, not unkind. “A dagger does the same work.” She paused. “The City Hall verifies residents but doesn’t inspect every household. A sudden awakening is, in fact, the most natural cover for access to the castle.” Another pause. “I know this probability is very small. But we cannot afford to lose His Highness Roland. Lady Tilly is also living in the witch building — if anything happened to her, his relationship with Sleeping Island would shatter, and everything he has built would be undone. The risk is too high.”
Wendy said nothing for a long time.
She knew Scroll was right. She knew the concern was reasonable. She knew it was not directed at Summer as a person but at the situation, at the gap between what they could afford to know and what they could afford to trust. She knew all of this, and it still felt like a punishment.
The first witch to awaken under Roland’s rule — awakened here, in his territory, because of what he had made this place — and they were sending her back.
“I understand,” Wendy said finally. “I’ll take her home.”
“I’ll come with you,” Scroll said, and her voice had something in it that was not quite an apology.
Outside the castle walls, Summer revived immediately. She took Wendy’s hand and began asking about the witches, about the lord, about everything she had seen and everything she hadn’t.
“Why are you so relieved to be leaving?” Wendy asked, after the third enthusiastic question about whether Nightingale was really as beautiful as the stories said.
Summer ducked her head. “I heard… that His Highness is quite fearsome. That he ravages all the women around him.”
Wendy nearly choked.
“I heard it many times in Eagle City,” Summer said, very quietly. “There are even folk songs. ‘The Second Prince is cunning, Prince Roland is lecherous, only Princess Garcia of Port of Clearwater is a good ruler.’”
“That,” Scroll said, with great interest, “is almost certainly Garcia’s own publicity. Quite inventive.”
“Is he… not that kind of man?”
“Of course not.” The color that rose in Wendy’s face was wholly involuntary. “You’ll discover very quickly that he’s a lord the witches can trust.”
They reached Summer’s street and knocked on the door of a two-story house in the residential quarter.
Summer’s mother opened it.
“Mom, I’m back!” Summer threw her arms wide.
“How did you—” The woman’s eyes fixed immediately on the two strangers behind her daughter. Her voice shifted to something guarded and rapid. “Did she do something wrong? Why don’t you want her?”
“His Highness hasn’t yet returned, so—”
“She can wait in the castle for His Highness to return.” The interruption was impatient. “Summer is very obedient. She may be a little slow, but she will do anything you ask.”
“Ma’am, the Witch Union isn’t—”
Scroll’s hand touched Wendy’s arm. She held out a gold royal between two fingers and let the light catch it. “Your daughter is a witch. We’ll sign a formal contract when His Highness returns. This is your compensation for the first month.”
The woman’s attention moved like a compass needle. “Yes, yes. Thank you, my lady!”
“You are caring for her on behalf of His Highness now. You understand that.”
“Yes, my lady. I’ll take wonderful care of Summer.”
On the walk back, Wendy let the silence hold for a block before she spoke. “How could you give the money to her? Even if it was an advance, it should have gone to Summer.”
“Would Summer have been able to keep it?” Scroll’s answer stopped her. “If she can’t protect it from her family, the money ends up in the same hands either way — only now Summer carries the shame of having failed to hold on to something. If I give it to her mother directly, Summer doesn’t have to carry that weight. It may even improve how they treat her at home. She has a great deal of time ahead of her.” Scroll looked at her. “If a gold royal buys her a better life while she waits, that is a good exchange.”
Wendy thought about this for a long moment. “You’re right,” she said. “I was being naive.”
The accumulated small failures of the afternoon sat heavy in her chest. She had not known what to do with Summer’s ability. She had almost endangered the castle. She had nearly lost her temper with a frightened woman. She began, in the particular way she had, to catalogue her own inadequacies as director of a union she wasn’t sure she was fit to lead.
“No one cares about them more than you do,” Scroll said, as though she had heard the thought aloud. “I spent years in the Witch Cooperation Association under Cara. A trustworthy leader is one who cares for her witches wholeheartedly — who puts their interests before her own certainty, regardless of what she is or isn’t capable of.” She smiled, small and genuine. “That’s why you’re irreplaceable.”
Wendy did not answer. But the catalogue stopped.