by G. H. Duval
“Terrible angels…terrible angels come! In silver and gold, they come! The violet one comes to take her away! The Mother will be taken! Beware!”
As usual, her utterings were meaningless—exclamations born from the nightmare images only Mina’s unseeing eyes could perceive. With a patience born from years of exposure, and with her growing affinity to bolster her, Spring ignored the screams. Instead, she kept one hand squeezed tightly against Mina’s wrist, pushing hard to keep the arm pressed against the bed, and raised her other to Mina’s face. Gently, as if her sister were not screaming obscenities, she brushed sweat-soaked hair from her sister’s brow and bent closer to look into her roving eyes.
“ASHES!” cried Mina. “It burns, BURNS! His fingers are fire. His eyes violet death! BEWARE!”
The outbursts were getting worse, Mina’s voice growing even louder, and she heaved mightily against her restraints.
“FALSE, he declares! False! He speaks truth, yet he lies! So much power…the power of death strides within him! BEWARE!”
How can she be this strong? Spring marveled, trying to focus so she could attempt a healing.
“Beware the tethers! BEWARE!”
Spring took hold of Mina’s chin, hard. She forced her sister’s head still, stared into her mad eyes, and gasped. Recoiling, Spring almost lost her hold on the tiny, writhing form beneath her.
There was something moving in Mina’s eyes. Behind her eyes. A hint of swirling grey, then a flash of violet, then grey. Spring blinked, shaking her head, wanting to make what she thought she had seen disappear. It didn’t work.
Instead, she closed her eyes, focusing her attention on where her skin made contact with Mina’s. She braced and called her Aspect. Her affinity poured into her, skin flashing with heat and tingling with potential. She reopened her eyes, locked them onto Mina’s, and fought her revulsion at what she saw there. No matter what it meant, Mina was still her sister. She needed to focus on helping Mina, and nothing else.
Great Shepherd, she prayed, I call upon Your blessing. I ask that you guide me, Father, with the gift you have given me. I ask that you send Mother Earth to move within me and through me to my sister. I beg a healing for Mina, Father, in Your mighty name.
Her power lurched within her, and Spring felt her breath torn from her body, as if she’d been punched. The flashing, swirling grey vanished from Mina’s eyes. In the same moment, a terrible shock of cold burned through Spring’s fingers where she touched Mina. Every nerve within her cried out in pain, and Spring opened her mouth to scream. But no sound emerged—the fear and pain caught within as that streak of cold moved through her body and took out her knees.
Spring released Mina and the shock ceased instantly. She sank to the floor and sobbed softly as she rested her head against the side of the bed.
As if from a great distance, she heard Mother and Brandin shout her name—alarm and disbelief mingled in confusion. Now they had both sisters to worry about. But by the time they were certain Mina had settled, that her fit had passed, and made it to Spring, she already felt as if the entire episode had been a dream. She rocked back onto her heels and swiped at her face, trying to hide the inexplicable tears she had shed.
“Spring,” her mother repeated, dropping to slide her arms around Spring’s shoulders, turning her slightly to better see her face.
“I’m so sorry, Mum,” Spring stammered, embarrassed. It dawned on her that she had released her Aspect, though she hadn’t meant to. Her mind cleared, the pain and shock a thing of distant memory. She pushed away from the bed and got to her feet. Besides an overall feeling of fatigue, as if it were the end of a long day instead of the beginning of one, she felt fine. She held her hands out before her, turning them, bemused. She looked for some evidence of what she’d felt, but there was nothing. Everything was as it should be.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she continued, nodding at Brandin, who hovered at her shoulder, poised as if she, too, might fall into fits. “I…I felt something when I used my Aspect. I’ve never felt it before, and it…it scared me. I’m so sorry.”
“Hush now, silly girl,” her mother breathed, pulling Spring into a fierce hug, but only for a moment. Lena au Terre was a loving woman, but overly sentimental she was not.
Together, they turned to check on Mina. What they expected to see was her tiny form, exhausted and covered in sweat, finally quiet and resting. That is what always followed her fits—a deep, silent sleep that usually lasted hours. Instead, Mina was pushing herself into a sitting position. Once upright, she swiped at her eyes, looking for all the world like a girl who’d had just awakened from a peaceful evening of slumber. She blinked at them, an angelic smile spreading across her face.
“Good morning!” She beamed before faltering, finally taking in the incredulous looks they must have worn. Their mother recovered first, sweeping past Spring and Brandin to settle against Mina on the bed.
“Well!” she exclaimed. “A good morning, indeed! How are you feeling, my little Mince?”
“Mum!” Mina protested, squinting at their mother accusingly. “You know I hate it when you call me that!”
Their mother only laughed, her hands busy with straightening Mina’s auburn hair as she gave her daughter a careful once over. “You look none the worse for wear,” she said, her voice barely audible.
“Why wouldn’t I?” Mina asked, sincerely puzzled, and she glanced at Spring and Brandin as if they held the answer. “I was just sleeping…”
Her voice trailed off as she peered through the window, realized the sun was up, and took her bearings. “Oh,” she muttered, her voice dejected. “It happened again, didn’t it?”
“Yes, but it passed quickly,” Spring’s mother replied evenly, and even listening for it, Spring could not hear the lie. Her mother was exceedingly good at allaying Mina’s fears. “In fact, you look fit for duty, my Mince.” She grinned as she rose and helped Mina do the same.
“Since I’m feeling better, can I go with Spring to Tahnia’s today,” Mina asked hopefully. She was literally bouncing on her toes, full of energy that, for once, was not hampered by illness.
“Is that how it is, then?” her mother replied with feigned archness. “Get to feeling better and immediately try to skirt your chores?”
Mina stared at her feet and shifted, unsure of how to get around that one.
“Why don’t we start with you getting yourself cleaned and dressed? There’s a spot of breakfast left in the kitchen. Fill that belly of yours and come find me in the shop. There is plenty that you can do to help your brother and me.”
Mina beamed up at her. “Done and done!”
They left Mina to it and went back downstairs. They entered the shop, and Brandin immediately set about final preparations to be ready for customers. He carried several necklaces of varying lengths to a felt-lined bust near the front of the shop and began arranging them, turning them just so to ensure they would catch the morning light once the door was opened. One in particular caught Spring’s eye; it had a pendant of an intricately detailed oak tree, and she lingered, staring at it until her mother cleared her throat meaningfully as she moved past with a tray of brooches, headed for a locked display case near the back of the shop.
Spring looked over the brooches as they caught the soft light within the shop—still in a daze over what she’d seen in Mina’s eyes. She wondered if she should say something to her mother as she considered the brooches, but a tug within kept her silent. The brooches varied in size, but most were cast in bronze with small gemstones. Others were cast in gold and boasted more prized gems, but those were rare.
As an au Terre, herself, the gemstones came willingly to Spring’s mother every season. Most of them whispered how they wanted to be used and often ended up in the sets of jewelry offered in their shop. Others went into the weapons and armor made by Spring’s father at their smithy at the other end of town—embellishments to catch the eye of the wealthier lot. When she had been younger than Mina was
now, Spring had asked her mother why she didn’t call bigger, more expensive gems more often so that they could be wealthy like the members of the Great Houses were. Her mother had laughed and explained that her Aspect did not grant her such things and it was not her place to force the issue. At the time, before Spring had expressed, the answer had not satisfied her. But now, having access to her own Aspect, she understood. One did not command one’s Aspect. One communed with it, and it led the way. Spring often had the sensation that it was the Earth that harnessed her and not the other way around. The thought bordered on blasphemy and it was yet another of the many opinions Spring kept to herself.
“Are you certain you’re well, Spring?” Her mother asked from behind the counter as she straightened from placing the tray of brooches into the glass-fronted case. Spring snapped back to the present, realizing her loitering was causing undue concern, and gave her mother a reassuring smile.
“Yes, yes,” she murmured. “Sorry, mum. Just daydreaming a bit. I’d best get back to Master Tahnia. We’ve been so busy lately. Do we need any more syrup?”
Her mother looked her over wordlessly for several beats before sighing, resigned. She knew better than to hover over Spring, especially lately. “No, we’re nearly full up,” she answered, grimacing, as she snatched a nearby rag. Irritably, she began dusting the counter. “It doesn’t work nearly so well as it used to anymore. Thank Hirute for your gifts, daughter, or where would we be, I wonder?”
Spring nodded, but it seemed as if her mother were actually speaking more to herself than to Spring.
“Fetch me if anything changes,” Spring said and pulled the door open.
“Leave it open and turn the sign, would you?” Brandin asked, as he went back for more of his beautiful baubles of blown glass.
The sun was now fully up, and the streets buzzed with her neighbors. A steady stream moved past her as she absently registered the calls of the more assertive vendors nearby. The bread she’d smelled earlier had moved from proofing to baking, and a porridge of some kind was bubbling close by—giving off notes of nutmeg and cinnamon.
She let the warm scents soothe her as she walked—slower than she should knowing that Tahnia awaited her. But she needed a few moments, alone, to make sense of what she had seen. The sight of Mina’s eyes…the grey and violet she had seen within them…had left her in knots. There was only one explanation for what she had seen—besides her own mind going daft, that is. Which, considering the other option, Spring might have preferred. She wracked her brain, trying to think of any other reason, any other possible explanation for what she had witnessed, but no other solution emerged.
She was stalling; anything to avoid accepting the truth and what it meant. An image of their Arbiter swam before her: Jeyson—a Spirit Shepherd and their town’s dispenser of the First Seer’s justice. There was a time, not so long ago, when Spring feared Jeyson with the un-named, deep-boned fear that all sensible people had for those gifted with the power to see into the minds of others. But Jeyson was noble born, one of the rare specimens of aristocrats who was also chosen by Hirute to serve as a Shepherd, and he just so happened to be Jayden’s uncle. Since their courtship had begun, Spring had had the dubious pleasure of being in Jeyson’s company at House Hevlin functions a number of times. Not once had he worn his official robes of office, nor had she ever seen him channel his au L’espri Aspect. It had become almost normal to feel comfortable in his presence—as if he were just another Shepherd, like her.
But she remembered when, more than two years earlier, he had presided over Brandin’s Declaration. Conducting the formal Seer’s search, eyes swirling grey and flashing the unmistakable, pulsing violet that was the sole domain of Spirit Shepherds. Even now, her blood ran cold at the thought.
She slowed, then stopped, stepping off the street to stand against a cobbler’s storefront. She was only a minute or two from Tahnia’s, but she needed a moment more before she could face her master. Deliberately, Spring turned her gaze north, toward Loring Hill, and stared at the looming white-and-blue structure she could just make out from her position: The Accord.
She wondered if Jeyson were inside at this moment; was he searching petitioners and doling out justice, even now? Could he somehow hear her thoughts? Did he suspect that within her own family of Shepherds, whom above all others should know better, they bore such a terrible secret?
She trembled, biting her lip hard to keep the tears at bay.
Spring knew what she had seen…that her sister had been channeling the Spirit Aspect, and her ramblings, Hirute-forbid, may not be ramblings at all.
Her breath caught in her throat, sobs pushing their way to the top.
My sister could be a Spirit Shepherd, she thought, finally allowing the possibility to name itself. And she is quite possibly mad because of it. Even worse, Spring suspected that her mother thought the same and had chosen to hide Mina from Coer, rather than have her searched, in direct violation of the law.
No wonder she won’t hear of me attending the Steading! Spring thought, bitter disappointment layered atop her fear. This could not be allowed to continue. If she were right, and there was the slightest possibility that Mina were Spirit-touched and expressing her talents, Mina had to get to the Steading! She needed help, or she could tear herself, and those around her, apart—from the inside out.
Spring ached at the thought of her mother, at whatever could have driven her from her stoic, reasonable self to one that could do this unspeakable thing. Even more, she ached for the comfort her mother had once represented, and Spring longed for when she could have divulged her concerns to her mother and neatly abdicated responsibility for what to do next.
But Spring was no longer a child, if her many protests to her mother over the last year held any truth. And if her suspicions proved equally true, in any measure, Spring shuddered to think what her mother might do. She certainly could not tell her father! What if he already knew and he, too, was actively hiding Mina from Coer?
She needed objective advice. She needed unquestioning support. She knew just where to go. Spring took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and stepped back onto the street. She did not slow as she passed Tahnia’s shop.
Four
“Teachers beware! For thine is great blessing and thine is great burden.”
–Helig Ra’d, Teachings of the Great Shepherd
In the 83rd year of Wilhelmina au L’espri’s tenure as Headmistress of the Steading, she suffered her first and only crisis of faith. The core of her identity and strength had always been her faith. It had been a faith born of more than a belief in something greater; she had known, in her bones, that she’d been chosen by Hirute and that her days were spent in divinely ordained, purposeful work. But now even that deep-rooted belief had been shaken.
Serving as Headmistress for more than seven decades, she had overseen the streams of children who had poured into her care and filled the walls of her school with their anticipation, their anxiety, and most importantly, their talent. Wilha had never faltered in welcoming generation after generation of those potent, even dangerous students, so unique to their nation of Coerdom. With an unassailable calm, she took them in hand: teaching, molding, and giving purpose to the next Shepherds of Coerdom. With these oft-frightening abilities, she would turn her students into the world, equipped as servants rather than armed as the tyrants they could so easily have become.
But in the last near-decade, her work had proved insufficient—she had proved insufficient. Administrating the school, guiding the instructors, constantly adjusting the curriculum—all of these roles were important; however, her true reason for being was to secure the next First Seer and maintain the peaceful transition of power from one Head of State to the next.
After a half-dozen failed pulls and two formal Seeks that returned empty-handed, she had come to fear that perhaps Verrider was right in his dissension. Perhaps her time as Headmistress was over, and Hirute no longer entrusted this task to her. Perhaps she sho
uld step down, as unconventional as that would be, and step out in faith—wait for their God to send the one who would take up her mantle and lead them into the future with the power Wilha no longer seemed to possess. Siare’s summoning this very morning before the sun had crested in the sky confirmed her worst fears of being a failure, of being a husk of the woman she had once been.
Her First had entered Wilha’s mind, pulling her from sleep, urgency flooding across their Spirit bond. Behind the urgency was an emotion neither of them had felt for some time: hope. Though it was, of course, the First’s right to enter Wilha’s mind unbidden, it was a practice rarely used and was, in fact, quite the breach of etiquette. But Wilha spared not a thought for that as she embraced Siare’s excitement, for it was well founded. Siare had sensed a pull on the Great Thread—the only kind that mattered to them now. It no longer mattered to Wilha that it was Siare who’d felt the pull, instead of Wilha, herself. She hungrily grasped at the Thread Siare shared with her and set about the work of deciphering it.
Now, the sun was well up, and she was ready to act upon what she’d learned. In her newfound humility, she had cast a line for assistance, for her reading of the Thread told her she would not accomplish this most important of tasks alone. She donned her steely grey robes of office, recalled to mind that she was still the Headmistress, and forged ahead.
A persistent knock, stopping just short of demanding, sounded at her door. Ah, she thought, help has arrived. Rather than answer immediately, she moved to the small hearth in a corner of her study that, despite its size, managed to house a hearty fire. She took the pot of tea she kept warming from a hook and painstakingly, almost tenderly, served herself. The cup and saucer were part of a set gifted to her by the Firsts. Of the finest porcelain and detailed with near life-like flowers, the set was as dainty as it was beautiful. She used it every day, delighting in a luxury she rarely allowed herself or her charges. It was one of the rare, private pleasures she allowed herself.
