Flecks of Gold by Alicia Buck Page A

stifling dry heat of the day. It must have been later than I thought; yesterday hadn’t been this warm until near noon. I wouldn’t admit it to Bree-something, but I was secretly glad he was there to guide me out of the city and onto the road. It baffled me that I could be so good at patterns but so terrible at direction.
    He and I walked together in silence for awhile, and I had a sickening flashback to another walk not too many days ago with another man. This tall stranger in a dark green gee-like top and loose purple pants had been nice so far, but thoughts of Kelson were a good reminder that I couldn’t totally trust him. He didn’t seem like Kelson, but that didn’t mean anything. I was obviously just as bad a judge of men as Mom. I couldn’t afford to let my guard down. The sword strapped to his back added to my anxiety. I kept checking my brain for any hint of the fogginess, but it remained clear, and after a few hours I started to get bored of walking in silence.
    “So why are you going to the king’s city?” I asked.
    “I live there. I’m going home.”
    “Why did you leave?”
    “Do you always interrogate those who help you?” he said. I started to say no, but then thought for a moment. I had asked Ismaha a lot of questions too. It was actually amazing that I was talking so much. Maybe my need to find Mom was superseding my usual desire to avoid awkwardness.
    “Yes.”
    He laughed. “You are an unusual girl, Mari.”
    Ha! He didn’t remember my name either . “It’s Mary, don’t worry about remembering the rest. What was your name again?”
    “Breeohan.”
    “Do you go to school in the king’s city?” I asked.
    “Not any more. I passed the magician’s trial this summer.”
    “What does that involve?”
    “You have magic, but you know nothing of the magician’s trial?”
    “Where I come from, magic doesn’t exist.”
    Breeohan stopped walking. “That’s impossible. Magic exists everywhere. Every country on Esa has people who wield pattern magic, and every continent is aware of it.”
    “How would you know? You’re a little young to have traveled the whole world.”
    “I have read of other’s journeys,” he said, sounding defensive.
    “To every corner of the world?” I asked incredulously.
    He blushed. “Well, no. But I’ve read of many places and have talked with other magicians about the prevalence of magic in the world.”
    “Well, it isn’t on my continent.” Nor any of the others that I know of , I thought uneasily. “I don’t know why I have this pattern magic.”
    “When we get to the city, you will have to show me your country. I have a world map there.”
    “That would be great,” I said, hoping Breeohan’s map might prove I was still actually on Earth.
    At about noon (I hated never knowing exactly what time it was) we stopped to eat. I fanned myself with one of my English worksheets. I felt gritty, soaked with sweat, and just generally disgusting. I hadn’t bathed in days, and it was torturous. My hair was greasy and still ratted, despite repeated attempts to comb it with my fingers.
    I looked at Breeohan. He was a little sweaty, but otherwise looked immaculate, as if he’d bathed that morning. It was strange to see him dressed so much like an Arab, but with differences that made it obvious he was from somewhere . . . else.
    Breeohan caught me staring, and I looked quickly away. He might look exotic to me, but I knew I looked terrible, and I didn’t want him scrutinizing me.
    “When did you arrive in Iberloah?” he asked.
    “Three days ago.”
    He looked at me disapprovingly. “You could not have gotten here three days ago. The nearest sea port is about 450 kenars away, and the nearest river port 350 kenars.”
    I guess it did sound unbelievable, but I didn’t know what to say. I doubted that he would believe me if I told him that I’d landed in a chicken coop after going through a terrifying golden tube, so I didn’t say anything to defend