Chapter 7
“So these things are nics?” Maggie said.
As if the things had understood her words, their heads swiveled toward Maggie.
Not really heads.
Three little wheels supported a teardrop-shaped body with a second teardrop facing the wrong way perched precariously on top. A floppy collar made of dangling bits of metal hung around the nics’ necks. One circle of light that dimmed and grew, as if in time with a heartbeat, shone in the middle of the nics’ heads. All three lights had swiveled to stare at Maggie.
At least they don’t have fangs.
“Now, nics”―Alden stepped forward―“these two are untagged, but they are magicians just like Lara and me. They’re friends. Give them your wrists, Maggie.”
“Why not?” Maggie leaned forward, holding her palms up, expecting the nics to sniff her like
