Disclaimer: Based on Tamora Pierce's Winding Circle stories.

Winding Circle: The Magic Raiders

Chapter 1

A cart made its stumbling way, pulled by two horses with bowed necks, to the Winding Circle temple gates. Guards with white faces rushed to let it in. She watched from the branches of the highest tree she could find, the gloomy chestnut tree. She no longer trembled. The only sign of her nervousness was a shiver of old pain tingling down her left shoulder blade.

She had been living at the Winding Circle temple for a year. Before that, she was a street-urchin. Back then, she had magic in abundance. Now she was lucky if she could manipulate a shadow, let alone an illusion. Her magic was illusion, her favourite was shadows. As a pickpocket, she could twist everything, make a victim see a broad-shouldered wrestler instead of herself, the midget. She could enfold herself in shadows, like the ultimate invisibility.

But then the mages had come, evil as demons. They'd caught her like the harmless effort of swatting a fly. Mila help any poor soul that should come ill of them, she thought angrily and headed into the halls for food. In there, hundreds of girls, some she betted had magic, some just noble maidens, or daughters of traders, or daughters of merchants, anything, sat at tables, chattering, gabbing about everything that didn't interest her.

"Sheila," one of the girls said snidely, passing by her with a laden plate of stew and two bread rolls, "anyone would swear you are an orphan."

"Her parents threw her out into the gutter!" one of the girls laughed loudly.

"Nah!" one of the others called, "she killed them!"

The first girl stuck her nose down at Sheila. "Or maybe you were born in the gutter. Your mother's a horse's pile of dung, and your father's a bit of flea-ridden sacking even beggars wouldn't touch."

Sheila's shoulders straightened and she, without a thought, stuck out her foot, rushed it forward and hooked it behind the girl's knee, yanked as hard as she could.

The girl with the laden plate tripped over it, slamming her chin horribly hard against the floor with a high cry of pain. Immediately, silence flashed throughout the hall. Without seeing the glower on the nearest mage's face, Sheila knew she was going to be in trouble again. She turned back to dipping her bread roll into her stew, chewing it as she thought about the cart she'd seen earlier.

"Sheila," the Initiate said sternly, and grabbed her arm, forcing her to her feet. "Come with me, right now!"

The girl she'd tripped was bawling now, her chin bleeding and a single tooth on the floor. Her smile wouldn't be as perfect without it.

"I hope you get thrown out!" the girl blubbered at Sheila. "You're stupid, smelly, murderous—"

Sheila didn't let her get any further.

With a mutter, she got up and crouched, grabbing the girl by the arm, even as the Initiate growled, annoyed, trying to force Sheila to stand up and leave the rich girl alone.

She only had a split second: pulling the girl up, she hissed in her ear "I can kill who I like, you dung-mouthed rabbit!"

The girl stared at her, appalled and a flicker of fear went through her green eyes. Sheila didn't even bother giving her the nastiest smile.

With a shrug, Sheila left with the Initiate. She knew what was coming up, as the Initiate tugged her arm and led her briskly down stone corridors, some with interesting rugs, some with very plain stone floors. The Initiate muttered her opinion of Sheila under her breath. Sheila hid a smile: sometimes, in a fit of gladness, she eagerly awaited this part of the day, for it was more interesting to talk with Moonstream.

As always, Moonstream sighed loudly when it was Sheila who came into her study. "What have you done now?" she demanded, losing her usual patience. "You were only here yesterday, Sheila!"

Sheila nodded: she hadn't actually planned to be sent to Moonstream yesterday, but many things weren't planned in her life, so she had learned to go with the flow. "I tripped a girl."

"And what did she do to deserve your wrath?" Moonstream sighed, knowing Sheila a little better than the initiates who often brought Sheila here.

"She said I'd killed my parents, or that I'd been thrown out by them," Sheila replied calmly. "She also called them sacks and horse dung."

"How lovely, that someone has the bravery to suggest a few theories of why you are not with your family," Moonstream said dryly, her eyes darker for a moment.

"And I do know that if I said, then it could clear it all up," Sheila nodded politely.

"But you have your own reasons for swearing silence," Moonstream interpreted from the stubborn, quiet look in the former vagabond's eyes.

Sheila nodded again.

"I'd send you to Rosethorn to dunk you in her well, if you had any magic," Moonstream said shortly. "I'd send you to be looked after by Lark and Rosethorn if they didn't at the moment have enough to look after, not to mention that you don't---" she fell silent, saddened.

"Don't have magic," Sheila said bluntly. "And I'm wondering if I'll ever get any revenge for that."

"I doubt it," Moonstream said quietly. "You never tell us anything about it. You are a mystery, Sheila." She went and fetched a letter from her desk. "I asked a favour of a friend, to see if we could find any of your past. He went to your oldest haunt, where there was less chance of too many memories staining the place, and he cast the spell to find out what had happened there."

She held the letter in her hand, like she was considering letting Sheila read it. But Sheila wasn't interested and stepped back towards the door.

"He found nothing," Sheila interpreted from the weary look on Moonstream's face. "Good."

"Oh, go," Moonstream said finally, impatiently. "If you've decided that it is a waste of time to know where you are from, then it will be a waste of time. Don't you dare go assaulting any more people. Enough people clamour for you to be sent to other temples, or even handed to the courts, for the quarries to employ."

Sheila nodded, "yes, ma'am." Glad that they were finally understanding each other, she slipped out of the office, closing the door behind her.

Then she abruptly turned back on her heel. "Moonstream—!" she began.

Moonstream looked up at her, warily keen to know what was on Sheila's mind.

Sheila licked her lower lip, nervous. "The cart? This afternoon? I saw it. Was it...?" she shut up, embarrassed, then shook her head and fled the room.

"Yes," Moonstream said quietly. "Yes, it was."