text: Nasrin was old enough to understand what was being discussed, even though she was in the other room with the old lamp to read by and not supposed to hear the conversation. The man had come to investigate, and after talking with her parents, confirmed what she already knew: Nasrin could use magic. This was highly valuable, and the man offered a large sum of money to take her away. He said he would take Nasrin to a school where she would learn more about her art, but Nasrin didn’t believe him. She’d already heard rumors on the street of how much was paid for the gifted. It was never for school. And she’d never see her parents again. But she knew her parents couldn’t ignore such a sum of coin. The family was starving as it was. The real surprise, Nasrin realized, was that her parents hadn’t marketed her already. Nasrin loved her parents very much, but she knew she didn’t want to go with the man. His smile was greasy and he carried too many weapons. What use did he have for so many blades, if not to lose them in a kill? She was convinced he was a bad man. For Nasrin, there wasn’t a choice except to decide for her parents. She would go. Her way. Nasrin quietly rose from where she sat at the table and walked to the window on the far side of the hovel. There was only cloth to cover it, so she unfastened the bottom and climbed out easily. There was a short drop to the ground; she could not turn back. Nasrin took a deep breath and fell to the ground. As soon as she gathered her footing, she was on the move. Growing up poor in a city such as this, Nasrin was used to crowds. She could maneuver easily through the flow of people, and soon she had made it several blocks from what she’d called home. But this wouldn’t be far enough. She had to keep going. She went to the south district, an even shabbier and more dangerous neighborhood than where her parents had staked their lives. But she knew of its secrets: the city was as magic as Nasrin herself, warped for those who could control it. She could find bubbles of space where no one would ever find her; she could hide there while she figured out what to do. By the next day, Nasrin’s hunger had grown too strongly and she hadn’t figured anything out, despite having nothing but time. She’d already been near starving, and she knew food was a problem she’d have to solve. Her mother had taught her that the southern district was no good for begging, but Nasrin didn’t want to beg anymore. She’d seen market stalls heaped with grocery goods. Why should they have so much and she so little? She settled on stealing more quickly than she had thought she would. She knew it was considered wrong, but truthfully, she had always questioned that. Now there was no one to stop her from getting the breakfast she deserved. Nasrin held up her hand and felt in the air for the tear in the bubble that would let her out on the street again. It tugged across her fingers like a fishing line with fresh meat, and she dashed through. The stalls were not far, and she was decided on the outcome. She used a sound distortion, a magic trick she’d taught herself for fun, to distract the merchant. It was easy to take the fruit, so easy she took more than she thought she could eat. She grabbed dried fish -- she’d never been allowed to eat dried fish -- and a loaf of bread before she was away. She heard raised voices behind her, but back in her bubble she could only crow in celebration. She had a feast before her. She ate her full, and then kept at it, until she couldn’t fit in another bite. She felt queasy from so much food, but also alight with power. On her own, she could do so much more than her parents had ever let her. A drop fell on her head, and then another. Nasrin looked up as the sky open and rain poured down. There was no shelter in her bubble, but she was too scared to leave it. She sat in the rain and felt the cold soak her through. Her parents had always found a way to shelter her from the rain. She wondered what would happen to them now. She hadn’t even said goodbye, in her resolve to leave. Would they be fine without her? Without the money the man offered, it was likely they’d continue on starving, or worse, lose what housing they had salvaged. Nasrin considered returning. She could at least explain to them her thinking. She couldn’t believe they’d try to hold her and turn her over. They loved her, and she them. She decided to go back. It was evening when the rain stopped, and Nasrin wandered back to her home district. She was still sopping wet, chilled to the bone, but the flame of resolve pushed her onward. She was surprised to find the door open and waiting. There was no one in the main room, the kitchen and communal space that dominated the home. This was where they had spoken with the man. They must be in the other room, for there were only two rooms, and they wouldn’t leave the door open if they were out. The old lamp sat on the table where she’d left it, the flame burned almost all the way out. In the dying light she saw what the man had done to her parents when he hadn’t found Nasrin. Nasrin willed herself not to cry. She had left without saying goodbye and not the other way around, and she hated the feeling of regret. But she felt the immeasurable loss. She could never call this place home again. There were fresh clothes in a wardrobe, so Nasrin dried herself off and changed. She took a spare set of clothes, too, and threw it into a spare sack. She went back over to her parents, knelt close, and carefully removed her mother’s necklace. Something to remember them by, she thought idly, pocketing it and returning to the main room. There were a few other useful things to be found before she left for good. She could cry later, she thought. Yes, she would cry later, the next time it rained.