Luckily by the time I got home, my voice was back to normal. Mama still had me checked out by the doctor to make sure it wouldn’t be a recurring problem. It wouldn’t because I was never gonna talk about Ebele’s visions again, I don’t like the feeling of words stuck in my throat at all. It’s like choking on a drink that went wayward but you’re still somehow swallowing it down.

 

A little painful but very, very uncomfortable.

 

I was finally allowed to rest in my room with a glass of cold buttermilk. Mama says a glass of buttermilk can fix anything, or at least make you feel better.

 

“Ebele?”

 

“Yes, child?”

 

“I can’t talk about your visions to other people.”

 

“No, you cannot. For your own safety, particularly.”

 

“My own safety?”

 

“Think of it this way. A child, one who has yet to reach her coming of age, seems to be able to harness unprecedented power in the school of divination magic. A child from a not-so-influential genteel house. A child who, under the right circumstances, could come under the guardianship of the royal house or church to ensure national security, especially considering your foreign blood. Does that not sound convincing enough?”

 

I felt a shiver rise up my spine. “But I thought you could only cast divination magic, not have others do it for you. You’ve been the one giving me the visions.”

 

“That may be so, child, but one can only pull so much water without a stream to tap into.”

 

“Then… you’ve been using my mana?”

 

“Indeed. My apologies for spoiling the surprise, but you will surely be particularly inclined to the school of divination when the time comes. Congratulations.”

 

“I really don’t know if I’m supposed to feel happy or not now.”

 

I chugged down my glass of buttermilk and licked around my mouth to get the last drops into my tummy. It felt like every time I talked to Ebele I was just getting smacked in the face with a wet blanket and just when I started expecting the wet blanket it was a ball of clay instead. And then I was just stuck with the blanket and clay to build a house out of.

 

“Goodness, what’s got your face all in a twist? Was the buttermilk sour or something?”

 

I dropped the glass in surprise and half expected it to shatter on the floor before it was caught by a familiar scarred hand. We both let out a sigh of relief and the glass was handed back to me.

 

“Duman! I thought you were coming home later! And how’d you get into my room?”

 

My brother’s face stretches into a smile that I only realized I missed when I saw it and he settled himself on the foot of my bed after kicking off his leather boots. “Well, I realized my night boat here was cutting it a little and I made a ticket trade with someone taking the morning boat, and bam! Here I am!”

 

I stared at him for a while, watching his dark brown eyes, and shook my head. “So you went and swapped some poor idiot’s ticket with your own without telling them.”

 

My brother’s name, Duman, means smoky. I’ve always thought that it was a strange name to give to someone, but it fits him. Smoke is clearly visible, even from far away, but once you’re away from it, the smell clings to you, sinks into everything you have, and takes lots of work to make go away. It’s distracting.

 

My brother’s great at distractions.

 

“Now that is an accusation, dear sister! I’m offended you would accuse your favorite-”

 

“Only.”

 

“Only brother of such a thing! And here I was, bringing you a present from Salaq like an honest man.” He sniffled. My eyes rolled.

 

“You steal that too?”

 

“I have stolen nothing! Grandmother gave it to me to give to you!”

 

“So grandmama got me a present, not you.”

 

“... You’ve learned to be rather sharp-witted, dear sister. Kudos to thee.”

 

“I learned from the worst, Duman. Now gimme my present.”

Duman, dramatic as always, let out a loud puff of air before throwing his head and all his brown hair back like an angry horse while searching around his satchel bag. “You drive a hard bargain, Ada. I suppose this will have to be on the house.” He finally pulled out a little wooden box and exchanged it for the glass I was still holding.

 

I made a face at him while I opened the box up to reveal another, smaller box inside. “You were going to charge me for my own present? How terrible. I’d never talk to you again.”

 

“Then you’d get bored plenty fast.”

 

“I would not.”

 

“Would too.”

 

“Would not!”

 

“Would too!”

 

“Would- Oh! What a pretty necklace.”

 

Inside the smaller wooden box was a silver necklace with a pendant the size and shape of a silver coin that fits perfectly in the palm of my hand with somewhat bell-shaped dangles hanging from it. There was a sort of design on it the actual pendant I didn’t recognize.

 

“Guess I’m not the favorite grandchild then.”

 

“Why would you be?”

 

“Wow, okay. I see how it is then, Ada.”

 

“Glad to see you haven’t gone blind then.”

 

“... I don’t like wherever this new attitude has come from.”

 

“Then die mad.”

 

Having my brother home is nice, sometimes.