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Amid it all, my mind prickles with the vague awareness of other beings who share my unique energy. I get the impression there are a few close by and several farther out but still within decently easy reach.
The scourge sorcerers like to use their captured daimon to enforce their rule over the city. Expendable lives. They can make them handle any outbursts of violence rather than subjecting themselves or their less easily controlled human allies to it.
The knowledge gnaws at me as I survey the square. A medley of smells both intriguing and unsettling trickles into my lungs. Music wafts from an eatery farther down the square with an upbeat melody that would have made me bob with it if we didn’t have such a serious task ahead of us.
Ivy curls her fingers into the back of my tunic so she can keep track of me. I ease away from the wagon and meld with the crowd, sticking to the small open spaces between the other pedestrians as well as I can.
No one can see me, but they can still bump into me.
It only takes a few steps before my sense of a nearby kindred spirit heightens. I turn my head and spot the figure it’s coming from some ten paces away.
A broad-shouldered woman in the Order’s now-standard red uniform surveys the crowd as she prowls through it.
I stop and reach toward the mesh cage. Ivy loosens the panel on the top for me.
When I dip my hand in, making the gesture of the divinities at the same time with a hasty prayer to Inganne, one of the fragile insects settles on my forefinger.
I draw the butterfly out and point it toward the daimon I’ve spotted. Lowering my head, I speak in a murmur. “Go to the other one with a spirit like ours. Remind her that there’s more to this world than what the sorcerers say.”
Does the butterfly understand any of that? I have no idea. But we believe that the godlen of play and creativity has a particular affinity for mischievous spirits like mine, and butterflies are one of her symbolic animals. An injured one that was drawn to me helped bring Ivy into my life.
It’s our test to judge whether my counterparts might be ready to shake off their magical bonds as well.
As the insect swoops through the air, Ivy and I trail along behind it. We need to be close enough to judge our target’s reaction.
The butterfly flits back and forth before plummeting to perch on the woman’s shoulder. She twitches and glances over at it. Her expression shifts from startled to puzzled.
I pause, braced for my cue to move. How will she respond?
After a few seconds marked by the thudding of my heart, she reaches toward the butterfly with her other hand and offers her fingers for it to hop onto. As she takes in the delicate bobbing of its wings, her eyes widen with a hint of awe.
I exchange a glance with Ivy, and she nods with a hopeful smile.
Ducking down beneath the eye level of the crowd, I hastily remove my charm. I straighten up, abruptly visible, and amble the last short distance to my target.
The woman’s gaze jerks from the insect to me. I can tell she recognizes me as our kind just as well as I can her. A crease forms in her brow.
Before she says anything, I offer the friendliest smile I can and nod toward the butterfly. “They’re wonderful, aren’t they? Inganne is sharing a blessing of delight with us.”
The woman seems to struggle to catch her breath. “I—I have a job to do?—”
I touch her arm, lightly but steadily. “A job they forced you into. But their control is fading. You can shake it off. Make this life your own. I have. There are so many other wonderful parts of the world you can embrace now.”
I wish I could shatter the magic that’s acted on her the way I have the scourge sorcerers’ wards. Their spell of compulsion is so much more delicate, woven into the spirits themselves, I’m not sure how I could pick it.
The woman’s body goes rigid, a shaky exhalation spilling out of her. A tremor runs through her sturdy frame.
The corners of her lips twitch with a smile of her own. “Yes. Yes, I can.”
“Hold on to that freedom,” I urge her. “We have more friends who can help. Wait outside the Newt’s Goblets Pub in Tangleside at sunset, and the ones who made these bodies will never use you like a puppet again.”
She shivers again, but her smile grows.
“Thank you,” she mumbles eagerly, and steps away toward the edge of her square. There’s a new bounce of joy to her step.
With a pleased thrill ticking through my chest, I turn to scan the square for another of my kin.
Ivy sticks close to me without removing her charm, keeping both herself and our insect cargo hidden. We send butterflies frolicking toward four more daimon-in-human-form who have similar reactions to the first—confusion, interest, and a brief struggle to test the magical influence they hadn’t realized was fraying.
