Justine Larbalestier - Magics Child

Like the first two books in this trilogy, Magics Child contains both Australian and American spelling, vocabulary, and grammar. Chapters from the viewpoint of the Australians, Reason and Tom, are written in Australian English, and those from Jay-Tees point of view are written American style. (I was tempted to switch that in this, the final book, so that Jay-Tee talked Aussie and Tom and Reason Yankee, but my editors didnt think that was as funny as I did. Sigh.) To help you out, theres a glossary at the back of the book, which is almost a hundred-per-cent true. Enjoy!

My name is Reason Cansino. Im fifteen years old, pregnant, and magic.

I could fly if I wanted. Or turn lead into gold. Or my enemies into frogs. Or anything, really.

I think.

No one knows the extent of my magic. Least of all me.

When I was little, magic was the sensation of water sliding past my skin as I dove into the Roper River and burst back through the surface with a crayfish in my hands. I had no idea how it had gotten there.

Magic.

Sarafina stood on the bank and applauded. Yes! Yes! And I felt dizzy and proud.

Or the taste of that crayfish later, cooked in coals, sweet and clean and fresh as dawn, its juices dribbling down our chins.

Magic was long, steady rain after years of drought.

My first taste of ice cream.

Stories of ancestors told around the fire.

Fibonaccis cascading through my body, opening up in a spiral dance into infinity. A spiral I could trace on my ammonite, unwinding from the tiniest point and stretching out into forever.

Before I came to Esmeraldas house, I hadnt known magic was real. Now I know that a magic person can get from Sydney to New York City by stepping through a door, can make light just by thinking about it, or money appear out of thin air, or clothes that are almost alive.

I know the cost of that magic too. Use too much and you die. Use too little and you go insane. Thats the choice: magic or madness. Which will it be?

My mother, Sarafina, chose madness.

My grandmother, Esmeralda, chose magic.

So did my grandfather, Jason Blake, and my friends Tom and Jay-Tee.

Each of them with a finite amount of magic, winding down their lives every time they used it. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

Magic-wielders dont live long. Use a little, no more or less than once a week, and you can make it to forty; use a lot, recklessly, and never see your twenties.

That was me and Jay-Tee: reckless with our magic. Me, because I didnt know; Jay-Tee, because she didnt care.

Tom was sparing and careful, because my grandmother taught him how, and because he had tasted madness like an unripe lemon. Better to live short and sane, he decided, than long and mad, like his mother, like mine.

And, of course, you can always cheat. Find someone with magic who doesnt know the rules, ask them for some of theirs. (They neednt understand the question, just so long as they say yes.) Trick them, drink them, live longer. Take a little (or a lot) of their life; add it to yours.

Just like my grandparents did. Thats why my mother chose madness.

If youre magic, you cant trust other magic people. They want to drink you dry, steal all your magic, so that you die in seconds and they live forever. Or to fifty even.

Magic is a disease.

Even though my belly was full of bacon, eggs, fried onions, and mushrooms, I still reached for my fourth rambutan. I pushed my thumbnail into the thick, hairy, reddish skin, slit it open, and peeled off the jacket, revealing the translucent fruit beneath. I bit in, let the sweet juice explode in my mouth. Doing something as normal as eating kept me from panicking.

Jay-Tee pushed her plate away. Shed eaten the bacon but not her eggs. What? she asked.

Nothing. I blinked. I didnt turn my head away quick enough to avoid seeing how faint her magic was. How close she was to dying.

It was less than twenty-four hours since my shouldve-been-dead ancestor, Raul Emilio Jess Cansino, changed me. Every time I closed my eyesevery time I blinkedI saw magic. Light of varying intensity dotting the darkness. Each time my eyes closed, the magic world of light had gotten bigger, stretched further.

I was afraid it wasnt going to go away. I was afraid of what it meant. I hadnt been able to sleep last night and didnt know if Id ever be able to sleep again.