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It was dawn. Geris had been awake for hours, and it was a relief at last to snuff out the candles and begin working by daylight as he decanted the last of the day's tinctures, took out paper and quill to draw up spells. Across the square, he could see Ember and Deyane's shops — still closed, although a small, dark smudge heading down the road from the woods was likely Deyane headed to work, and while Ember was nowhere to be seen yet, her shop was never dark.
It sparkled. Geris had no idea what magic could make a building sparkle like that, but it did not surprise him that Ember had mastered it. The sign soaring over the roof read "EMBER'S EXTRAORDINARY EMPORIUM: legal goods only and no smuggling! black magic strictly forbidden ;)" As his eyes skimmed the words, Geris believed them wholeheartedly for a moment, and was filled with a delightful sense of calm at the assurance that his friend Ember was and always had been such a good, law abiding citizen.
He shook his head as he looked away. Fixed his gaze on Deyane's shop instead, which was straightforward and only slightly enchanted. It also looked very small and dingy, but that would wear off so long as he ignored the persistent itch to glance back at Ember's until the glamour faded. He pinched a bit of rosemary between his fingers and crushed it, inhaled the scent and watched Deyane's sensible oak facade come into better focus.
"THE HUNTRESS' MARK," said her sign, and below it another advertised “practical magic for waywards and wayfinders” and pointedly denied the presence of “frauds, charlatans, and jokers.” The longer he looked at it the more certain he was that he had read something, once, about Flashy Magicians and Unscrupulous Wizards — he remembered, though from where he could not say, that the more elaborate a display of magic, the less likely it was to be actually effective, or at the very least the spectacle and the result of a spell were not directly related.
Of course, he already knew that. He hadn’t needed Deyane’s enchantments to tell him, but they always did; she was very good. He laughed softly to himself, turned from the window and began to crank open the skylights.
His own shop was spare, quiet, soft wood and comfortable chairs lit by the sun in fine weather; today it was, if anything, a bit too bright, and he considered for a moment before dragging a ladder into the center of the room and slotting a rainstone into a nook in the ceiling. He had inscribed it very gently, and the light went soft and blue-purple as clouds rolled over the shop and the windowpanes turned misty.
There was peace. For a while, anyway. Geris took down his hat from a shelf and put it on, pulling the brim down gently over his scarred brow. There were the usual customers, some curious newcomers, the soft sound of rain and the scent of tea brewing. Across the square, Ember must have arrived, because her shop glittered brighter and emitted radiant red hearts that drifted above the township, brief and lovely, before shattering in a shimmering cascade over Deyane’s shop. She emerged as Geris watched through the window, made an irritable motion with her hand, and Ember’s magic dissipated, then rematerialized as a swarm of feathered darts which flew across the square and landed in a neat cross on Ember’s door.
Deyane crossed the square, her tunic switching at her thighs despite the windless day, and did not knock before storming into Ember’s shop. This meant, Geris was sure, that he would see them both soon; so he put the kettle on again, tidied away the more volatile of his experiments, and sat down at the counter to await them.
After ten minutes the bell above his door rang with a different tune than usual, which meant that Deyane and Ember had exited Ember’s shop together and were even now striding across the square, bickering. Geris smiled and sipped his tea. The door opened when they made it to his front walk, and they entered in a swirl of light rain. They were mid argument.
Ember, as usual, seemed more amused than perturbed; she ran sharp claws over the patterns in her long lace gloves, switched her weight from hip to hip so that her right thigh appeared and disappeared in the slit of her dress — pale and pretty against the dark red fabric — Geris looked admiringly and wondered, not for the first time, if she had figured out a way to cast a visual love spell. Deyane was ranting at her, making sharp decisive gestures with both hands — “and it’s one thing to experiment and quite another to weave it into regular fucking spells, Ember” — her hair was tied back and her eyes flashed and Geris accepted that he was fortunate to have very beautiful friends.
“Good afternoon,” he said gently, and they turned to him in sudden silence before both smiling, Deyane softly, Ember coyly.
“Darling,” she said, putting a hand delicately to her heart, “tell Deyane that my shop is a worthy and useful addition to our community.”
“Why don’t you come and sit down and have some tea?” asked Geris.
Deyane made a sound that might have been a sigh or a laugh, and looked sidelong at Ember, holding out a hand to her. She took it with an expression that made Deyane glower, followed her lead to their usual seats at Geris’ side table. He poured them both tea; moved to sit down across from them; reconsidered and went to the door first, flipping the sign to “closed.”
“Oh, Ger, you don’t have to do that,” said Deyane.
“Oh, Ger, how intimate,” said Ember.
“It’s a pleasure to have you both. What seems to be the problem?” asked Geris.
Deyane raised an eyebrow at Ember. “You wanna tell him?”
“I’ve done nothing wrong,” she said. “I’m an innocent man.”
“She’s a black magic user using curses to make her stupid hearts sparkle brighter.”
Which, as always, made Geris bite back a laugh. He was also genuinely interested. “Are you?” he asked.
“Don’t encourage her—”
“Just a little hex of blindness,” Ember admitted. “Come on, Dey, you’re just mad I got glitter in your pretty hair.”
There was; Geris could see it now, ruby-bright glints among Deyane’s dark curls. He reached out, ran his fingers through them, and pulled them away to examine the glitter on his fingertips. It was brighter than usual, subtly so, irresistibly.
Geris looked at Deyane. “That’s kind of brilliant,” he said; she groaned, and Ember whooped triumphantly. “I saw them. They weren’t bright enough to hurt anyone. I’m not saying,” he added, turning sternly to Ember, “that you shouldn’t be careful. For your sake as much as anyone else’s.” Deyane nodded tightly; he often wondered how much of her irritation with Ember was really concern.
“You guys worry too much,” said Ember blithely. “Deyane is pretty, my shop is pretty, the town’s pretty; everyone is happy.”
“I am not happy, Ember,” Deyane grumbled.
“You would be if you kissed me,” said Ember.
“That’s highly debatable.”
Geris rolled his eyes, but he felt fond. He suspected it would be some time before he could open again, if Deyane’s tone was anything to go by; she sounded very much as if she were considering Ember’s offer. He stirred his mug of tea, watched patterns he almost understood come to the surface. The things of his household were learning from Geris and his friends — even the teacups saw his lips at Ember’s throat, Deyane’s nails dragging over her scalp while she cut off her spelling with a kiss.
But none of that had yet come to pass. “Was there anything else I could help you with?” Geris asked sweetly; they both laughed, a little abashed, and Ember tilted her head so that her earrings caught the light.
“Give Deyane a kiss for me,” she said. “To make up for my incorrigible behavior.”
Geris raised an eyebrow at Deyane, who shrugged and beckoned him; he rose, set a hand on the back of her chair, and smiled briefly at Ember before bending down, drawing Deyane into a kiss.