Excerpt

The Hero of Small Things

Amanda Saville

Destiny came to me one evening as an arm rising out of my tea, brandishing a sword.

I really should've been more surprised. It's not every day a whole-ass flippin' broadsword pops out of your Earl Grey, but I had just finished a long work week and had saved up just enough energy to sit on the couch and stare at the wall. The best I could muster at that moment was a flinch and an "Oh no. Now what."

The arm could've belonged to a child, just small enough to fit in my cup and clad in gauzy, shimmery fabric, probably spun out of moonbeams or babies' dreams or the feeling you get when you look at pictures of kittens. The sword could've come straight off a sword-and-sorcery movie set, with a red scabbard and a glittering jeweled hilt that easily cost more than my annual income. It was a sword built for heroes, magical quests, riddles at bridges, and maybe a daring rescue or two for flavor.

I've done exactly one heroic thing in my life, and that was rescuing my cat, Mr. Sparkleboots. He, by the way, had done the sensible thing and left the living room when the sword appeared.

The arm waggled the sword in my direction, impatient. "Hello?" I ventured. Yes, I spoke to my tea. My evening had flown completely off the rails, but I wasn't about to make it worse by being rude.

My tea bubbled in a huff, and a voice rose from its depths, high pitched and singsong. It sounded like it could belong to a princess frolicking in the woods, if it wasn't so indignant. "Are you going to take this sword or not?"

My mind flailed for an answer. "Sorry, I'm not in the habit of accepting swords from strangers, let alone one swimming in my tea."

The arm considered a moment. "Is that what I'm in?"

"Earl Grey to be precise."

My tea burbled, almost sighing. "Oh, bother. I should be in a proper lake or a fountain or something. Okay. Not to worry, I will explain everything, even if I have to do it from a … teacup." The voice took on the sort of gravity I associate with graduation ceremonies. "Child of nobility, take up this sword given unto you by destiny, and fulfill your role as savior."

Only some professional residue left over from work kept me from bursting out laughing. "I'm pretty sure you've got the wrong … cup?"

My tea fell silent, and the arm shifted, as if its owner was wrangling something one-handed. "Dana Collins … apartment … summer solstice … no, this is the correct place and time. This sword is yours. Use it to save the world."

"Hang on. First off, there's not a drop of noble blood in me, and even if there was it's not like it would magically make me competent. Second off, outside of The Princess Bride and using wrapping paper tubes as lightsabers, I don't know the first thing about using a sword. Third, save the friggin' world?"

"Of course!" my tea replied, "It's your destiny. You are bound to do great things."

I suppressed a shudder and shook my head. "Oh, no. No. Nope, sorry. The last time someone said that it cost me three years of my life and a lot of college debt. Magic or not, I'm not going down that path again."

"But the world needs you! You're supposed to take the sword!" My tea was frothing.

"And what exactly am I supposed to do with it? Kill a dictator? Defeat a hundred-foot marshmallow man? Maim climate change? Slay hunger?"

My tea stilled. "I'm … not exactly sure to be honest. Your assignment only says 'savior,' and I know those are particularly rare, so I have to assume you're destined for something no less than world saving. You would have to get in contact with dispatch for the details and … well … they're not the easiest to get ahold of."

Great. "Look— what's your name?"

The hand holding the sword cocked like a question mark. "You may call me Nim."

"Okay. Look, Nim, I'm flattered someone out there thinks I'm not wasted potential, but to be honest, I don't want big expectations laid on my shoulders. Besides, I've read enough books to know when someone shows up claiming you're the Chosen One your life is about to get much worse. Now, would you please leave me alone?"

The tea fizzed in preparation for another protest, then stilled. "Of course. How silly of me. You require time to consider your destiny before you accept it. A slight delay shouldn't affect my metrics. I will return."

I thought that was the end of it when my cup held only tea once again. As much as I love Earl Grey, I wasn't gonna drink it after a sword and an arm had been floating in it. I went to the kitchen to dump it out, and set to work on battling the mountain of dishes in my sink. My mind was drifting to hospital beds and neglected paintbrushes and disappointed faces when that same sword burst out of my sink, spraying me with dishwater.

"Are you freaking kidding me?" I said. Mr. Sparkleboots, who was attempting to forget the whole affair with a nap on one of the chairs, offered his own opinions alongside mine.

"Have you reconsidered and prepared yourself for destiny?" Nim asked, her tone reminiscent of my mother's when I overslept.

Suds and ghosts of breakfasts past spattered my shirt. "You've been gone all of five minutes," I said, wiping off a cereal remnant, "What happened to 'later'?"

"Technically it is later. Sil just cut our allotted time in half. I have no time for formalities, I have to finish this delivery."