by Faith Hunter
I let the idea settle into me. I had never looked up my genetic ancestry, though all mage family trees are carefully cataloged. Mage heat could cause mating too closely in a direct family line, so most mages have a thorough knowledge of their lineage, down to the human, Pre-Ap ancestors. I never expected to experience a rut so I hadn’t bothered to learn my own. And even had I looked myself up, I hadn’t known that Lolo and Daria were the same person, making it impossible to comprehend the connections.
The mage was still speaking and I dragged my awareness back to her. “…with a small cadre of seraphs to affect the course of developing mage powers and gifts. If you tell me all you know, I would be willing to stand for you before the mage council when you present your defense for leaving Enclave without authorization.”
I had missed something, but I recognized the carrot and stick. I was being herded and I didn’t like it. I put aside my qualms about speaking out of turn and said, “Priestess, what is your official title?”
The woman blinked. She had been rude and officious, and now the ugly, scarred, and provincial mage was calling her on it. A mage who had to outrank her. Had to. So that’s why she’s all prickly. The priestess sat up slowly in her chaise and stared at me through the surface of the mirrored water, trying to intimidate me with her influence and position.
I had been stared at by a Major Darkness. There wasn’t much that a less powerful being could do to me. And that had to tick her off too. I raised my brows and allowed a bit of my own power to shine through the scrying. Her shoulders went back, and the pearly flesh beneath her silk lace blouse glistened. “Thorn of the twins, of the line of Daria, I am Élan, of the litter of seven, of the line of Eugene.” She put peculiar emphasis on the name, as if he held some special importance. I had some research to do. “I am an earth mage and acting priestess of the New Orleans Enclave,” she said, adding the last line almost unwillingly.
Acting priestess? I smiled at her. I didn’t need a mirror to know it wasn’t a pretty smile. Her face hardened like old wood, polished and smoothed. The gloves had just come off. Whatever this woman had against me, her antipathy had surfaced and multiplied. Lucky me. And so much for humility.
Lolo’s line is preeminent, the visa confirmed, a tiny pulse of information.
Feeling myself on surer footing, I said, “Priestess Élan, I didn’t leave Enclave without the consent of the council, I was drugged and smuggled out, banished by the former priestess when I was still a child. If there is sin, it wasn’t mine, as all children are innocent.” I was parroting mage law. Audric had prepared me for this accusation, knowing it would come once I was found out. “I am properly licensed,” I continued, though there was a time when I hadn’t been, which made it a sticky situation, “and my visa and GPS locator device were provided by the Angel of Punishment Cheriour himself”—which she well knew, as it had been reported on SNN. “They are both in working order and were presented when requested by the town fathers of Mineral City. There will be no trial,” I said.
“Accusations have been made that you were in the human world for some time before the appearance of the angel, living without diplomatic sanction,” she said, her tone laced with satisfaction. Yeah. She wasn’t stupid. “Additional charges have been laid that you went to war against a Major Darkness without Enclave permission.”
I needed permission to fight evil? “My champard will answer all charges when I am brought before the entire council,” I said, with emphasis on the word “entire.” Her lids flickered again. I refused to be judged by a small cadre of neomages. As a mage in the human world, it was my right to ask for a full ruling, and she knew it.
If Lolo’s line was preeminent, then maybe that offered me another opening in the little battle of wills and knowledge. But it meant taking a chance. I raised my chin slightly and let my mouth soften. “I was not notified that Lolo was ill and that her duties had fallen to another. You are kind to take such onerous responsibility from my shoulders until I return.”
Her eyes tightened and lips thinned. Bingo! Now I knew why she was so bitchy. That knowledge gave me more options and confidence. I wasn’t powerless in this battle of wills and words. And it helped that she was a lot less beautiful when she was being backed into a corner.
“Should I decide to give up my place in succession to the position of priestess,” I said, “I shall consider all your service at this difficult time.” Carrot and stick right back at you, you little witch. They couldn’t pay me enough to take that job, but she didn’t have to know that.
While I had her off balance, I could take the chance and confirm my conclusions about who and what I was. I said, “It has been brought to my attention that Rose and I, while only lowly twins, were bred to be the first battle mages who could join mentally with seraphs, without physical mating, in the fight against evil. We would become a new weapon in the war against the Dark, a weapon that would provide new war strategies to the High Host. Surely the current council concurs with the historical record.” Assuming there was one.
Reluctantly, Élan nodded, and I said, “Bred to fight, under the aegis of the previous council, I did not require the permission of the current council to fight Darkness. Especially when seraphs fought with me under mage-in-dire regulations.”
For an instant, the priestess’s expression blanched. And then she smiled, sweetly, cruelly, and I knew I was about to be sucker punched. “You are better versed in your history and purpose than we had supposed. But you are an orphan.” The blow went home with breath-stealing force. I am alone. “You have no littermates, no parents, no litter of your own. No mage but our emissary with whom to mate, none but filthy humans with whom to breed powerless mules. You are unworthy to be priestess. You have no family to draw upon, no power base to support a claim on my position of command. You are nothing. And you are far away from Enclave.”
Bruised at the truths she threw, I felt anger rise in me. Without thought to the consequences, I said, “All true. But I have bested a Major Darkness in mortal combat. I have fought shoulder to shoulder with seraphs. There are no reports of mages, except for me, fighting the Dark in more than a lifetime. You, like all the mages in captivity, are soft and weak and beautiful, but utterly useless at anything but being a pawn of seraphs or stronger mages.” Her mouth opened in shock and I felt a brutal joy at her reaction. “I carry a seraph stone, freely given by Zadkiel, battle companion of the ArchSeraph Michael, and a flight feather gifted to me by the Watcher Barak.” I leaned in while I had her off balance and said, very softly, very distinctly, “And I am linked to the wheels of one of the cherubim. If I want your pitiful little job, witch, it is mine.” And my sister is alive, curse you. A seraph said so. But I didn’t say it. I had that much self-control left to me.
Outside my conjuring circle, outside my loft, far up the Trine in the ice and snow, the lynx howled. The omen of danger. I flinched. What had I said? What had I just done? Plagues and blood, I thought. I had just declared political war against the acting priestess of the New Orleans Enclave. Me and my big mouth.
“You are rude and untutored and coarse,” she spat at me, her beautiful face twisted with malice. “A barbarian, ugly and scarred. I will challenge you to personal combat for this position should you ever be foolish enough to contest my right to it. And you will lose, no matter what seraph power you have in the human world.” With cruel delight she said, “Seraph energies are barred from this place.”
I tightened my hands in my lap. I had forgotten about that. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“But because I am magnanimous and because the ruling council dictated there should be one year of active service before I am confirmed, one year before I am formally approved as priestess, I will share with you their advice. Do with it what you will, provincial as you are. Trapping Darkness in Stone.” With that enigmatic little phrase, she raised a hand and dropped something. The surface of my conjuring bowl went opaque.
Chapter 10
A sharp clap made me jerk. I swiveled on the now-warm ti
le and saw Audric sitting on the couch. He clapped again. And again. The rhythm was mocking and insulting. Knowing I had been an idiot, I broke the circle, the energy that powered it feeding back with a little snap and buzz along my limbs. Audric studied me, face impassive. When he didn’t speak, I stood and began to put away the accoutrements of the conjure, my face burning with embarrassment.
I swept up the salt and dumped it in a large plastic bag labeled CONJURES, USED, put away the candles and stones. Finally I placed the Book of Workings on its shelf and carried the silver bowl to the kitchen sink, where I drained it. I laid the stones on the cabinet on a towel to dry, and polished the bowl with a soft rag. When I had nothing else to occupy my hands I forced my feet across the room to the rocking chair and sat. The chair seat was upholstered, wood arms carved in lion claws. And still my teacher said nothing. When I couldn’t stand it any longer I said, “Two questions. How long were you listening? And just how bad did I screw up?”
“I entered as she was telling you about Lolo’s state of health. And very badly. You were a fool.”
I flinched again, ducking from his contempt. “I’m sorry. I let my mouth run away when she insulted me.”
“And now the acting priestess knows your weakness: pride. You have declared war on her and given her a weapon to use against you. You boasted away your greatest strength. The wheels. A strength you did not trust your champards with,” he said sadly. Shame washed through me. After a pause, Audric said, “Have I misunderstood? Do you wish to be priestess?”
“Plagues and blood! No!” I exploded. I stood again and walked to the kitchen, to make a second pot of tea, to busy my hands. “Sit around all day in meetings and listen to self-important mages and humans conduct trade negotiations? Set policy for the Enclaves? Keep a circle open just so communication is available? Have to ride to the nearest human town to make a simple phone call or check the Internet? Mate where and when they tell me to? Spend all my time building political power? No way, Audric.”
I heard him release a pent-up breath. “But you will have to return to Enclave someday. And now you will be forced to either make obeisance to Élan or fight her.”
I put the kettle on the stove, braced my elbows, and hung my head. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“It is time to begin protocol lessons. We will begin with dance. Come here.”
I raised my head. “The town is sealed off from outside help. The Dragon is free, or almost free. I may have no choice but to call mage in dire again, and risk killing every human in town, and you want me to dance?”
“When emissaries reenter Enclave from the outside world, they are expected to enter correctly. Do you know the routine? Do you know the steps to properly approach the council? To approach the priestess? Can you perform a full court curtsy, head to the floor, hands up and out to the sides like wings, knees close together, body bent tight? And rise without aide? In a dress? You have declared war. I intend to give you the weapons.” He stood and rolled the rug back from the living space. When he straightened, he said, “Come here.”
I cursed. Audric laughed. And then he made me dance. For an hour he worked on foot placement, which, oddly enough, was a lot like the foot placement in fighting stances. He made me do hip slides and circles and a rhombus circle, which was a highly sexual move with a little belly cant and thrust, as if I was throwing a coin out of my belly button. He made me do camel hips, which was a joke, skinny as I am. He made me watch in mirrors as I did chest slides, and I looked like a monkey hit by a Tazer. The chest thrusts I tried were pitiful, as I had no boobs, and my chest circles were even worse. I couldn’t do snake arms worth spit. But when the lesson was over, I felt looser and calmer and I could think better, my mind no longer fuzzy and mushy. As punishments for shooting off my mouth went, it was relatively painless. I thought I had gotten off well. Until Audric informed me I had to appear before the town fathers to plan for the defense of Mineral City. I had been summoned, and he hadn’t bothered to tell me. Now I was late. Cheeky mule.
With my champard’s help, I dressed in full battle dobok, all my weapons and amulets in place. When I let my neomage attributes blaze freely, Audric asked, “Are you sure you want to do that?”
“Yeah,” I said, looking at myself in the mirrors of the armoires. “I’m tired of hiding my light under a bushel.”
Snorting with amusement at the New Testament reference, Audric followed me down the stairs and across the street. The sun was setting, a bright red orb low in the sky, tinting the clouds pink and gold and fuchsia. The eastern sky was plum-colored, and long shadows striped the ground. The snow picked up the reds in the sky, and the town was rosy with reflected light. But my breath puffed, and even through my gloves, my fingers felt the cold. My feet, still tender, ached with every step on the icy street.
“Watch your big mouth in here,” Audric said as he opened the door.
The smells of yeast, sugar, cinnamon, and fresh bread hit me in the face with a mingled scent that smelled like peace and calm and home. Not war. My mouth watered. Four elders—Shamus and Ernest Waldroup, Culpepper, and Jasper—were sitting at a table in the back corner of the bakery, drinking from chunky mugs. A loaf of bread rested on a bread tray with a serrated knife. A tub of butter sat to one side.
The most senior fathers were dressed in casual clothes, gray and black tunics and leggings, their brown robes of office thrown over the chair backs. Two of the men wore visible bandages. Shamus, a thick slice of bread in one bony paw, waved me over. Ignoring Culpepper’s annoyed look, Audric took up a place near the front windows, his back to the side wall so he could see both the table and the street.
“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” I said as I hooked a foot around a chair leg, pulled it from beneath the table and sat, “but I’ll help any way I can.”
Without preamble, Shamus set aside his bread and began clearing the table. He said, “As the sun sets, fires’ll be lit at every street corner. We’ll have patrols on snow-el-mobiles making circuits through the streets.” He unrolled a map in the cleared place and put their coffee cups on the edges to hold it flat. “The fire truck’s goin’ here.” He pointed to an intersection at the top of a hill. “Every family with a wood roof has been moved to the meetinghouse. The slate roof and stone walls will provide fire protection. We got plenty of ammunition. It came on the train with your mage friend, and the EIH is busy loading a store of rounds with Dead Sea salt. Double-aught buckshot and salt.” At my raised brows, he said, “We have a common goal. Survival. The kirk has agreed to work with the heretics until this crisis is over.”
“Then you’ll go back to hunting them down and branding them on the cheeks?” I asked. So much for watching my big mouth.
Culpepper reared back in his chair, disgust on his face. “I told you she would be impossible to work with.”
“She has a point,” Ernest said. “And our hypocrisy and lack of compassion for others’ views will be addressed when this is over, if we survive it. For now, let’s look at the placement of snipers and sentries with radios. If anything untoward is sighted, word will be passed via radio and the kirk bell will be rung as an alarm. No one will leave his post to investigate; instead, men will come from the meetinghouse to survey the problem. Jasper?”
The young elder supported himself on one elbow and pointed to buildings on the map, indicating porches and second-story roofs, detailing where everyone was positioned. It all seemed pretty straightforward but I still didn’t know why they needed to talk to me. When I said so, the men looked back and forth between themselves. After the silent decision, Jasper took the lead. “We know about the ward on your home. Can you, maybe with the help of that new mage, make one big enough to cover the town?”
“And how much would it cost?” Culpepper said scornfully.
I’d had enough scorn for one day. I boosted my attributes higher, making my skin glow with a fierce light. My voice cold as an ice cap, I said, “If I could protect the town I would have. For free, Elder Culpepper
.” The older man looked away, frowning. “But I can’t. That kind of incantation takes a number of mages with synergistic and related gifts, or littermates who have found ways to meld their disparate gifts into a single function.” I could tell they weren’t understanding. “It takes more than two mages. Maybe seven or twelve working for several days. Cheran and I don’t have gifts that would mesh or meld for any kind of working. But I do have these.”
I pulled a dozen polished quartz stone rings off my necklace, each circular with a central hole. “I filled some illumination amulets. You can give these out to the sentries. I’ve charged them to activate at onset of full night. Have the guards tie them to long strings and hide them in a pocket so their night vision isn’t compromised. If they need to see something at a distance, they can toss the amulet to the limits of the string and pull it back after.”
I added twelve additional amulets to the pile, these made of various different stones, but none of them quartz, so that even the least familiar with minerals could tell them apart. “Healing amulets. You can give these to the fire and medic brigade.”
“Not enough,” Culpepper said. “We need protection for the entire town and you’re holding out on us. How much do you want, mage?” He made the last word an insult. “What cost for your help? Our blood?” His face twisted with abhorrence. “Our young men?”
I stood, letting the chair legs scrape the floor, barely stopping myself from drawing a blade. The fathers froze at the faster-than-human movement and the screech of wood on wood, even Culpepper falling silent, realizing he had gone too far. Switching my gaze back and forth between the Waldroup brothers, I said, “I can’t ward the whole town. I’m not powerful enough. No mage is. But I can fight. Do you want my champards and me in place for defense, or does working with former enemies not apply to mages?” I heard Audric sigh in exasperation, but I didn’t care. I was beat up, used up, and worn out trying to keep this town safe, and the town fathers were bent on hatred.
