The prophecy said the child of four elements would bring balance. At thirteen, Ovi mostly brought the wrong shoes.
Her mother had sent her back twice. The first pair had holes; the second pair were her mother’s. Now she came down in boots, carrying the kite she had spent three weeks making. Her cousin Benn stood outside with a kite he had bought that morning.
“Mine has proper eyes,” he said.
Ovi’s painted eyes were uneven. One looked at the sky and one seemed interested in the person holding the string.
“Mine sees more things.”
Her mother, Nessa, locked the front door. At the gate a man in a silver hat stepped out from behind the lilac bush.
“Don’t stand there,” Nessa said. “The latch catches.”
He moved. “Leth. From the Academy of the Four.”
Ovi hid her muddy hands behind the kite.
The academy had sent a letter every month since her birthmark appeared: four small circles at the base of her thumb. Most people could work with one element, weakly or strongly according to practice. Ovi could work with all four. It was uncommon enough for the academy to send men into bushes.
“I’ve come to discuss the autumn term,” Leth said.
“You wrote that you would come tomorrow,” Nessa said.
“I found an earlier coach.”
“We’ve found a kite race. You can come with us or find a chair until we get back.”
He came with them.
Ovi didn’t want to spend autumn at an academy, even one where she could throw fire without damaging a dining table. She wanted to win the race, then spend the prize money on a bag of sugared pears so big that Benn could have some without her noticing.
Benn wanted the same pears. He also wanted to beat her after she had spent three weeks referring to his lack of craftsmanship.
The race was held in the meadow below the mill. Each kite had to go through a hoop hung between two poles, circle a red flag, and return through the hoop. No working the wind. No moving the poles. No burning a rival’s string. The steward read those rules aloud, then made everybody show their hands.
Leth watched Ovi’s birthmark with the satisfied expression of a man finding his own luggage.
“No working the wind,” Ovi repeated, for his benefit.
“I heard.”
“I’m not allowed.”
“Then I shan’t ask you to.”
She had wanted him to understand that the race was important. He seemed to understand only that it had rules.
There were eight kites in her heat. Benn’s sailed upward as though it had been looking for a chance to leave him. Ovi’s went up crookedly, corrected itself, and pulled beautifully against her hands.
For the first time that morning she forgot the academy.
The steward rang a bell. Benn got through the hoop first. Ovi followed. Her uneven-eyed kite swung around the flag on a broad curve. She pulled it back, too sharply. Its tail caught on the red flag’s pole.
Benn’s kite was already turning home.
Ovi could see the tangle. One loop of tail lay around the very top of the pole. A little lift would free it. The proper breeze had almost done it once.
She opened her mouth and blew.
Working an element required contact. For earth she needed a hand on soil; for water, a wet fingertip. Air was always available. She could give it one command at a time, and had to keep attending to the command while she wanted the movement to continue.
She sent the air under her kite.
The tail lifted free. Her kite shot forward. So did the two nearest kites, and Benn’s spun past the hoop in a rush of broken wind.
Ovi stopped blowing.
“That wasn’t me,” she said.
She had said it before anyone asked.
The steward walked over. Ovi wound her string around its wooden handle, trying to look occupied.
“I made one little puff.”
“I saw.”
“It got stuck.”
“I saw that too.”
He disqualified her. Then he rang the bell again, recalled the other kites, and restarted the heat. Ovi had to stand beside Leth while Benn flew the course perfectly and won.
Her kite rested on the grass between her boots, one eye still interested in her.
“You needn’t say anything,” she told Leth.
“Good. I was going to ask where the food stalls were.”
She pointed without looking.
Nessa bought three small bags of pears. Leth bought his own. Benn had bought the giant bag with his prize money, and carried it under one arm as though it were a baby he didn’t trust.
“You may have two,” he told Ovi.
“I don’t want them.”
“You may have none.”
She took two. They were warm, gritty with sugar, and far too good for the circumstances.
On the way home, Leth asked if she could move the mud off her boots without touching it.
“No.”
“Could you move it while wearing them?”
“Yes.”
“Would that move your feet?”
“It did yesterday.”
Nessa looked at her.
“That was why I fell in the washhouse.”
Leth laughed. Ovi had expected him to write something down, but he didn’t. He asked what she had made for supper afterward.
“I don’t make supper.”
“You will at the academy. One night each week.”
“Doesn’t someone do that?”
“Someone does. The pupils.”
She asked him whether four-element children had to cook four nights. He said no, one was sufficient for everybody. That was the first piece of information about the academy she liked.
At home, Nessa and Leth sat at the kitchen table with the letter and the price of a coach ticket. Nessa had said Ovi could visit the academy for a week before deciding whether to apply. Ovi would still have to visit. Losing a kite race hadn’t changed that.
She went outside with Benn. He was repairing a small tear in his winning kite where the sudden gust had driven it into the flag.
“Race me again,” she said.
“You’ll cheat.”
“Powers allowed.”
He considered that. He worked water, though so far he could only hold a puddle together while he picked stones out of it.
“We need a different race,” he said. “And you only use water.”
“Why?”
“Because I want a chance.”
He found two mugs. Ovi filled them at the pump. They would run from the gate to the lilac bush, carrying the water outside the mugs. The first to put it back in without spilling would win.
Benn made his water into a trembling ball. Ovi made hers into a pointed hat because she could. It collapsed on her sleeve while she was looking at his.
“Wait,” she said.
He was already at the gate.
She filled the mug again, lifted a plain round ball, and joined him. From the kitchen window her mother asked whether she had changed into dry shoes.
“Yes,” Ovi called.
“Those are my shoes.”
Benn ran. Ovi ran after him, shouting that he hadn’t said go.
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