“What does it look like I’m doing?” she snarled, carrying a massive armload of clothes from her closet to dump on the bed.
“I’d say, offhand, that it looks like you’re packing. The question is, why?”
“People usually pack because it’s the easiest way to carry their things when they travel. Less wear and tear on the wardrobe.”
Suddenly, I was weary of the banter. Heaving a sigh, I moved in front of her, blocking her path.
“No more games, Massha. Okay? Tell me straight out, why are you leaving? Don’t you owe your teacher that much at least?”
She turned away, busying herself with something on her dresser. “C’mon, Skeeve,” she said in a tone so low I could barely hear it. “You saw what happened downstairs.”
“I saw you on the verge of making a major breakthrough in your lessons, if that’s what you mean. If Markie hadn’t come in, you would have had the candle lit in another few seconds.”
“Big deal!”
She spun to face me, and I could see that she was trying not to cry. There seemed to be a lot of that going around.
“Excuse me, Skeeve, but big fat hairy deal. So I can light a candle. So what?! After years of study, Massha can light a candle . . . and a little girl can blow the end off the table without even trying! What does that make me? A magician? Ha ha! What a joke.”
“Massha, I can’t do what Markie did downstairs . . . or what she did in the Bazaar either, for that matter. I told you when you first approached me to be my apprentice exactly how little magic I knew. I’m still learning, though . . . and in the meantime we’re still holding our own in the magic business . . . and that’s here at the Bazaar. The Magic Capital of the dimensions.”