Free The Magician's Lie by Greer Macallister Page A

could to the spike in her hoof, so as not to startle her, and yanked hard.
    Luckily, it came clean out straightaway. Thank God I’d caught him on the first stroke. I flung the spike away, and it landed almost silently in the deep hay at the far end of the stall. The horse whinnied and twitched, but she didn’t strike out at me. I stroked her neck gently and stared at Ray, still standing just inside the open door of the stall, the mallet in his hand.
    â€œYou ruin everything,” he said petulantly.
    â€œWhat? You were trying to destroy this poor horse, and I ruined it?”
    â€œI would have healed her.”
    â€œThat’s ridiculous. You can’t heal anything.”
    â€œI healed you, didn’t I?”
    â€œNo,” I shouted, my pent-up anger all let loose. “You broke me.”
    â€œStupid girl. Do you have any idea how long it takes a broken leg to heal? Weeks, even months. I sent healing powers into your leg, and you healed in days.”
    â€œYou broke my goddamn leg in the first place,” I said, nearly hissing in my fury.
    â€œDamaged things interest me. Especially if I damage them.”
    He hefted the mallet, testing its weight. It made me nervous. Without moving too quickly, I backed out of the stall to put some distance between us.
    â€œAnyway,” he said, “the story is the important thing.”
    â€œAnd what’s the story?”
    â€œI found the poor horse with a nail in her hoof. I risked my safety to free her. And I suffered for it.”
    Uncomprehending, I asked, “Suffered for it?”
    I saw him lift the hammer, and in a flash, I realized I was well within range if he chose to throw it, but that wasn’t what he had in mind.
    He brought the hammer back toward his own face, and the flat metal of the mallet connected with his nose, and all of a sudden there was blood everywhere.
    I couldn’t stay a moment longer. I fled.
    When my mother asked, I told her there’d been no one in the barn, and anyway, I was strong enough to help her unload the groceries myself. We started to the work, and spoke no more about it.
    But I couldn’t get that image out of my head. Swinging the hammer back toward himself, a look of unearthly calm on his face. Indifferent to the coming pain. I knew then that he was capable of anything.
    ***
    Saturday nights, our two families always came together for dinner, one Saturday at the house in town and the next at the farmhouse. I had found Ray in the barn on a Thursday, and two days later, all six of us gathered at the farmhouse dinner table. My mother had prepared roasted chicken and turnips, not one of her better meals, sadly dry and bitter. Starting late, she had never become much of a cook. I could see Silas’s wife pushing the food around on her plate with evident disdain. I redoubled my efforts and ate with feigned enthusiasm so I would be able to ask for a second serving. Ray’s nose was hugely swollen, an ugly red shot through with violet, which I noted with grim satisfaction. I wondered if his belief in his healing powers was shaken. Clearly he had made no inroads on healing this injury, and I hoped it was causing him great pain.
    At length, Silas said, “Son, are you going to tell the ladies what happened to your nose?”
    â€œGot broke,” Ray said.
    â€œThe boy’s being modest. He was trying to remove a stuck nail from a mare’s hoof and she kicked him.”
    â€œKicked in the face by a horse?” I said loudly. “He could have died.”
    â€œHe got almost out of the way,” Silas said, slapping his son on the back. “Barely got grazed as a result. Quick reflexes, my son.”
    â€œWell, thank goodness he wasn’t hurt worse,” exclaimed my mother. “That’s quite lucky.”
    â€œUnbelievably lucky,” I said. No one reacted.
    â€œI hope the horse will be all right,” my stepfather said.
    â€œShe should make a full