The bath was amazingly wonderful. Ember sat beneath the waterfall on one of several boulders apparently placed there for that very purpose and let the falls pound away the tension in her neck and head while rinsing the soap from her hair. She’d never bathed in a warm waterfall before. They were usually ice cold.
“Marvelous, isn’t it?” a familiar voice asked. Ember started, then looked to her right to see her mother standing under the falls, washing her hair just as Ember had done. She immediately buried her hands in her hair to hide the tattooed bracelets, then, remembering her pendant, pulled her hair forward to cover it. She was tempted to slip off the boulder and bury herself in the water, but feared it would appear too obvious.
Marda continued as if Ember’s behavior was perfectly normal. “I’d never admit it to my husband, but the falls are the one thing worth coming to Javak for. Or they would be if I weren’t here for more pressing reasons.” Marda’s eyes clouded for a moment as she sat on the adjacent boulder. “I need the water massage after the week I’ve had.”
Ember felt a pang of guilt. She didn’t dare speak, as she was afraid her voice would give her away.
“You look familiar. Have we met?”
Ember groaned inwardly, her heart speeding up in preparation for the lie she was about to tell. “Sorry, no.” The pain in her mother’s face was raw. Ember turned away, unable to face it.
“You look so much like my daughter, it makes me miss her.” Marda wiped at her eye. It wasn’t just water she swept away, Ember was sure of it. Her stomach clenched at her mother’s pain. She almost told her everything then.
“Are you . . . all right?” Ember asked, hands behind her back, still hiding them, but not able to face the hurt she knew she had etched in her mother’s face overnight.
Marda gave a forced chuckle. “Oh, I’m fine. That daughter of mine ran off to the trials, and I haven’t seen her in two days. I’m sure she’s all right.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself.
Unable to stand the guilt any longer, Ember opened her mouth to admit the truth, but before she could say anything, Marda changed the subject.
“Did you know the magi created these falls? They redirected the flow of a hot spring to cascade over the cliff. It’s beautiful and very nice on sore muscles, but it’s as fake as a lead coin.”
“Really? I never knew.” An uncomfortable moment came between them, though Marda didn’t seem to notice. After several quiet minutes Ember excused herself. “It was nice meeting you, ma’am. I’ve got to go now. My number will be coming up soon.”
Marda opened her eyes. “You just be careful, child. The magi talk pretty, but they don’t always live up to their promises. Watch yourself.”
Ember didn’t know what to say for a long moment. How would her mother know that? She seemed to speak from experience she’d never had, so far as Ember knew. Instead of answering, Ember nodded once and slipped into the water, feeling Marda’s eyes on her as she swam to the far end of the pool and pulled herself up onto the side. Ember took two towels, wrapped one around her, and stepped into a small dressing area.
Ember looked around. The baths were near empty. She smiled and made a note to remember to come here about this time each day.
She was toweling her hair dry when she felt a hand touch her own. She stopped the brisk rubbing and peeked from beneath the confines of the oversized towel to meet the dark eyes of a bath servant.
“Are you Ketahean?” she asked in a light whisper.
Ember shook her head, puzzled.
The women reached tentatively for Ember’s hand and drew it in front of her, inspecting the embedded color and weave of the bracelet and ring Ezeker had given her just two days before. The woman traced the lines across the back of Ember’s hand, rather wistfully, Ember thought.
“I have not seen marks like these since I was a child. I know of no other people who mark themselves this way.” The woman looked at Ember questioningly.
“It was a gift,” she stated, she hoped without emotion.
“Ahhh,” the woman answered as if that made all the sense in the world.
Ember retrieved her hand and continued to towel her hair. Nothing more was said about it. She moved into a curtained stall, took her clothes from the girl, which had been washed and dried while she bathed, and dressed herself in the nice things DeMunth had brought her. She gathered her bag and turned to go.
“Was that also a gift?” the woman asked.
Ember sighed and turned back to answer. “What, this?” she asked, pointing to the wolf charm embedded in her neck.
The woman nodded.
“Yes.”
The bathgirl quirked her head and reached for the tattoo. “May I?” she asked just before she touched it. Ember hesitated only a moment before nodding.
Her fingers were light, and the wolf eyes pulsed spring green at her touch. The girl gasped and moved in for a closer look.
“It is excellent, miss. I would guess from the Bendanatu. It holds great power. My father once sold pendants with markings such as this, but no more. Still . . .” she tilted her head further and blew once upon the charm. The girl’s warm breath tickle Ember’s skin. “I do not know much, miss, but this has a similar feel to a protection charm my father once sold.”
A cold chill traveled down Ember’s spine. She knew very well from whom it protected her.
The girl took a step back, put her hands together, and bowed slowly to Ember. “Thank you for allowing me the familiarity, miss. It is good to see pieces of home now and again.”
Ember glanced at her wrists. She understood what the girl meant. Gaining the bracelets had given her a piece of history she hadn’t known was missing. Even with the trouble it caused, she wouldn’t trade the gift of the bracelets or the necklace for the wealth of the world. She was indebted to the girl for the information. Ember tied her hair back, then fingered the pendant tattoo. A piece of her life’s puzzle clicked into place. She had learned more about her past in two days than she had during her previous sixteen years.
Ember nodded and smiled at the girl, receiving a shy smile in return. She then left the facility, crossing the narrow bridge that passed over the lake waters. There was a copse of trees where Uncle Shad had said he would meet her, and sure enough, he stood as she neared the center of the grove.
“Well, it took you long enough. I didn’t think you were that dirty,” he said.
Her crystal chose that moment to chime at her.
“Looks like your turn for trial.” He folded his arms and leaned against a tree as she frantically dug in the pouch for the small clear stone she had been given earlier that afternoon. She found it on the bottom and looked into its depths. It glowed with faint light, much like moonlight, and the words written there were thrown at her and magnified clear as day.
"Orientation and first trial scheduled for seven hours after noon in the central auditorium. Twelve minutes remaining."
The stone glared at her and died, now that it had delivered its message.
“Twelve minutes? What do you mean, twelve minutes?” Ember shouted at the stone. She shoved it in her pocked and looked at Shad. “Uncle, how can I have only twelve minutes? I thought they’d give me at least an hour.”
“They probably did, but you were drowning yourself and didn’t hear. Well, there’s nothing to be done about it now. You’re going to have to make this shapeshift a quick one, because it’s going to take you a good five minutes to get to the auditorium from here.”
Ember panicked for a moment, her stomach jumping with nausea, then took a deep breath. Panic would solve nothing. She took another breath to steady herself, then instead of sending the image just of her nose as she had before, she decided to try something new and sent the image of her entire male face, attempting to merge it with the old. She could feel the ache settling into her bones again and would have known it was working even if she hadn’t felt the shift beneath her fingertips. Finally finished, she let go of the breath she held a
nd wiped the sweat from her brow.
“Very good, Ember. Oh, marvelously done,” Shad applauded. Ember moved on to the rest of her body. She divided the change into three sections: torso, chest, and limbs. When finished, she glanced at the stone once more, its light reflecting on her face.
“Four minutes left, Uncle. What should we do?”
“That’s easy. We run.“ With that, he shot out of the trees, and it was all Ember could do to follow him. They twisted and turned among the buildings and tents, first right, then left, then straight on to the very center of the city. Ember thought she was going to pass out long before she arrived, but just as she thought she could go no further, Shad stopped, and, with barely a gasp, said, “There it is. Just head through the big double doors and check in with the guard, find a seat, and let the fun start.” He winked and turned to go.
“Wait!” she gasped. “Where do I find you?”
“You won’t. I’ll find you. Trust me, Ember,” he said, and loped away.
Ember was alone.
She stumbled forward, her legs rubbery after the long run, and headed for the large double doors that fronted the round building. There was a young guard just stepping out to close them. Ember found the strength somewhere within her and bolted for the door just as it was pulling closed. She slid through the narrow opening and grinned at the guard, then stopped when she realized who it was, not sure whether to back up or keep going.
It was Aldarin, and he wasn’t alone. He and Tiva stood arguing just inside the door, the other guard looking on without a smile.
“I’m telling you, Aldarin, Ember’s here somewhere, and if Marda would relax a bit, she would show up. Marda needs to focus on Da right now, not her daughter.”
Aldarin let his breath out in a rush. Ember knew that sound. It meant he was holding onto his temper by a sliver. “I know, Tiva, but you aren’t going to convince her. Drop it. We know where to look. She’ll show up sooner or later. Just do your job and shut your mouth.”
Ember stood still as a mouse, staring at the two of them as they argued. Aldarin looked over Tiva’s shoulder and met her eyes, a look of puzzled recollection crossing his face. “You’re the boy I cut in front of at registration, right?”
Ember nodded, her eyes darting to the door behind him. She had to get in there. The alarm was going off in her bag.
Aldarin’s eyes followed the noise, then met hers as it stopped. He smiled at the panic on her face, but what he did not know was that her panic was two-fold: one, that she would miss the trials, and two, that he’d recognize her—though how that was possible, she didn’t know. “It’s okay, boy, you’re not in trouble. They haven’t started yet, though you’d better find a seat or you’ll miss the best part. Give the guard over there your name, and he’ll find you a place.”
Ember didn’t trust herself to speak, so only nodded at the one person she had ever really trusted until yesterday. Now she had Uncle Shad and DeMunth to add to that small list. She smiled and turned to the young guard, whispering her real name since she’d so stupidly given it to the guard when she’d registered for the trials. He checked his list and marked her off.
“Right through there, boy. Find an empty seat and listen. Good luck!” he said with a lot more enthusiasm than she felt. Ember turned and darted through the doors.
There were not as many people as she had anticipated. She’d figured on hundreds showing up for a trial like this, but there were maybe thirty or forty people between the ages of eight and fifteen. everyone was clumped together at the front. She spotted a seat in the middle section on the far right side and turned to make her way along the back row, but ran smack into somebody who stood in the shadows.
“Oomph,” she said. She pulled back from the iron stomach, looked up, and froze.
It was Ian. He looked at her, his hand on her shoulder, a slow grin spreading across his face as he saw through the disguise, through all of the work, to the very heart of herself. “I told you I’d find you, Shandae,” he whispered as he took a stronger grip on her arm. Ember wanted to scream, but her throat closed off. She looked around, panicked. She was in a room full of people—surely there had to be a way to get out of this without anyone getting hurt. She tried to pull away from him, but his clasp was like a vise.
Just then Aldarin came around the corner, bringing in another young candidate. “Excuse me, sir, can I help you?”
“No, you cannot. I am escorting my son from this trial.” Ian took her arm and tried to push past, but Aldarin blocked the path. He pointed down the aisle for the candidate to find a seat. The boy seemed oblivious to the growing tension and darted toward the front of the room.
Ember’s head spun. She looked at Aldarin with pleading eyes. Her heart seemed to squeeze itself into a tight ball. More than anything, she wanted to throw herself at Aldarin and beg his protection, but she could hardly breathe, let alone speak.
“Is that your wish, boy?” Aldarin asked.
Ember shook her head, still not trusting herself to say anything.
Aldarin met Ian’s eyes then, finally recognizing who stood before him. His eyes hardened. “Let him go, sir, before I call the guard.”
Ian seemed dumbfounded. “What?”
“I said, let him go. The boy has preference here. You are in the realm of the magi. If the boy wishes to go to trial, he is allowed to do so, despite parental wish or country’s call. It’s in the accords.”
Ian slowly let go of Ember’s arm as the guards continued to gather behind Aldarin. He fumed at her. “This isn’t over yet,” he whispered in her ear. “I know your face now, and I’ve known your heartbeat since that first night. I’ll find you again.”
Ember stilled at his words. He would be waiting, just as he had that morning when he’d sent the dogs in search. There was no escaping the man. Strangely, instead of losing hope at his words, she felt even more motivated to learn the craft of magic. She must pass this trial. Relieved, she watched as he turned and stormed from the building. She wanted to throw her arms around Aldarin, but didn’t dare.
“Thank you,” she muttered instead, letting her eyes show just how thankful she really was. Aldarin seemed dazed by her look for a second, then slow understanding dawned on his face. He finally grinned, gripped her arm as he would greet a brother, and escorted her down the aisle to the very front row. He squeezed her arm before he left and leaned over to whisper in her ear.
“I’ll let her know you’re okay. Your secret’s safe with me.”
How he’d figured it out, Ember didn’t know. Aldarin always had been very intuitive. Her eyes welled up with tears. “Thanks, Dari,” was all she could whisper in response. He rested a hand on her shoulder and pressed softly before joining the rest of the guard at the back of the room.
Ember directed her attention forward. The room was dominated by a large stage, and though only one person was there, he seemed to fill the space. His graying hair was cropped close, and he wore a purple cape that fluttered around him like a flag on a pole, very ostentatious. His eyes flicked over the whispering crowd of youngsters, quieting them as his vision passed over each one. When everyone was settled, he began.
“Good afternoon, candidates, and welcome to orientation and first trial. Thank you for taking the time to attend and being willing to help us with this great work of service in magic, though it is not a livelihood for everyone. Even those who have the gift are sometimes not able to make the sacrifices required in this vocation, and thus we have created orientation for candidates before your first trial. It gives one a chance to change their mind if they feel this is not a job they are willing or able to do. There is no shame in that decision. There are many reasons why one would be unable to fulfill the calling to magic: family commitments, illness, death . . .” The audience chuckled. “All of these are valid reasons for not answering the call. Magic is a life-long commitment, candidates, so you must be prepared to devote the rest of yours to the work we do.
“Many young people, perhaps even
you,” he said, pointing to a smug-looking young man sitting to Ember’s left, “are under the mistaken belief that magic is all about power, glory, and fun. There are moments of joy and glory and even reward, yes, but it is hard work. Often, it is a thankless job. Many magi have given their very lives in the service of the Guardians and our world Rasann. Don’t be mistaken —it could happen to you,” he said, pointing to a young lady on the end of the row this time.
“Let us begin.” He extinguished the mage lights with a wave of his hand. The class squirmed in darkness for a long moment, the sound of rustling cloth and giggles reaching Ember’s ears. A slight glow came from the center of the stage before her. It grew until it became a large ball of blue light with strange, squiggly formations, like a map pasted to a ball. The mage’s deep voice echoed from the darkness.
“This is Rasann, as seen from the heavens—as the Guardians see it,” the mage said. “She was deeply wounded by the Great War of the Guardians, and so the Guardians stitched her back together as best they could.” Lines of rainbow light began to criss-cross the globe to form a giant net around their world.
“The Guardians bound Rasann together with the colors of magic, and it is the duty of all magi to keep those bindings in place. Each day of a mage’s life is, in part, spent repairing the damage done to those ropes of magic. It has continued daily for thousands of years.
“You are the next line in the defense of our world. It is exhausting work, and there are many who spend their lives doing nothing else—nothing but the work of knitting our world together. We are used where our talents are greatest, and for some—the healers in particular—their lives are used in giving the gift of themselves.”
The mage lights came slowly back up. “Now,” he said, “I know there are some of you who are not willing to do this, for once you commit yourself to the order of the mage, there is no turning back. You will be called where you are needed with very little choice in where you go and what you do, but,” he raised one long finger, “the benefits are worth the inconvenience for some.”
The audience murmured in appreciation.
“You will always have a home, food, and clothing. Society, for the most part, is respectful of the mage order and usually grateful for those tasks we perform to ease their lives.
“I would ask you to now determine if this is a way of life you would choose, and if not, feel no shame in escorting yourself from the auditorium. I shall wait for two minutes while you decide.” The head mage stepped to one side of the stage and waited, still as a statue.
“Excuse me.” The boy next to Ember stood to make his way past. She wasn’t surprised to see he was not alone, though the number of people who filed out surprised her. A good third of the occupants left the room.
The tall man stepped forward again once the door closed behind the deserters. “There, that looks better,” he said, “Now, before we continue, are there any questions?”
“Yeah,” said a gruff-looking boy just behind Ember. “Do magi ever get married? Because the mage in our village is really old, and I don’t think he’s ever had a wife.”
The tall mage nodded. “Most definitely, young man, and not always to another mage. I myself have been married for forty years and have five children and sixteen grandchildren. There are no laws or rules against marriage or dating, though we do ask you to be respectful and chaste in your dealings with one another. It’s only courteous, and courtesy is one of the primary rules of our order.
“Any other questions? No? Then let us proceed with your contracts and testing. Please take a sheet of paper from beneath your seat and set it upon the desktop in front of you. Has everyone done that?” He waited for a moment until the rustling died down, then continued. “Good. Now, take your timestone and lay it upon the paper,” he said, steepling his fingers in front of his nose.
Ember dug the timepiece out of her satchel and laid it in the middle of the paper. Almost immediately, deep black ink seeped into the parchment. Ember heard gasps and thumps around her as startled initiates jumped in their seats, and their stones fell to the floor. She held her breath as the ink spread across the page, then she began to read.
"This is to certify that I, Ember Shandae, agree tothe following . . ."
Ember repeated the words, shocked at seeing the ink continue to spread across the sheet without pen to guide it.
It was a straightforward and simple contract, stating that by signing this paper, she committed herself to attend each of the trials and, if selected by the committee, would accept the calling of mage in the order of color determined by testing. Ember had no objection to signing the paper. It was what she wanted to do anyway, and she fully expected to be part of the order of the green since she’d already shown an affinity for that color.
She put her thumb to the bottom of the contract and held it while her thumbprint and name were taken in lieu of a signature. Papers were passed to the right and picked up by one of several gentlemen wearing black capes. The youngest of the assistants took the entire stack to the presiding mage, who placed the pages beneath the prism that had cast the image of Rasann. Very symbolic, Ember thought.
“The first thing a mage notices when coming to power is the color of magic surrounding a person or thing.” The men who had collected the papers assembled themselves across the front of the stage and stood with hands behind their backs in a relaxed, but attentive position. Without warning, they shrugged the capes from off their shoulders to pool about their feet in a nearly perfectly synchronized act. The colors beneath the capes were as varied as the men wearing them, but all of them had one thing in common. They were bright and gaudy and hurt her eyes to look at them.
“These gentlemen have consented to assist me. All of them are journeymen magi of differing colors. It is your job today to assess which color of magic belongs to which mage. Those who are correct in their assessments will move on to round two. Those who do not are free to return home. You will be notified of your status by morning. Take another piece of paper from beneath your seat and place your timestone upon it.”
Ember did as asked and waited expectantly. Color began to bleed into the paper and she watched, her stomach bubbling with excitement, as images of the eighteen men assembled across the front of the stage suddenly appeared on paper. Their clothing was all of varied color and style, thus it was easy to determine who was who, even without detailed facial features.
The mage continued speaking. “Place your index finger on each figure and think of the color you see. You will know you have locked it in place when the figure disappears from the page. Give the page to the assistants in the aisles when you have finished. Watch your timestones, as results will be posted by morning. You may now begin.”
Ember studied each of the men standing across the stage. For a moment she was afraid she would be unable to see their magic color, but as she closed her eyes to think, she could see the auras glow about them—rainbow-colored figures twinkling in her magesight. She sighed with relief and put her index finger on the first picture on the left. In reality, the man was dressed in red, but his aura showed yellow, just like DeMunth, so Ember pictured bright vivid yellow. She opened her eyes and looked down. The picture of the man faded away before her.
She moved to the next man, dressed in black pants and a vibrant purple shirt. When she closed her eyes, his aura was a clashing scarlet. Again, she held her finger on the paper representation, and the figure disappeared. Ember followed the same steps for all eighteen men until at last the paper was empty.
Opening her eyes, she glanced around the auditorium at the sweating initiates. A few more seats had emptied since she’d first looked at her contract, though whether it was because more of the audience had left or had finished their test ahead of her, she wasn’t sure. One of the black-caped young men caught Ember’s eye and beckoned to her.
Standing, she managed to move past the others on her aisle without mauling too many toes. She reached the end of the row and handed in her paper. He did
n’t even look at it, and she wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or insulted. Her nerves were acting up again, now that she was finished. She hoped Aldarin or Shad would be close to the entrance. She did not want to run into Ian again.
“Are you finished?” the boy whispered, pulling Ember from her thoughts. She nodded in response.
“Great! You’re the first! Good luck, candidate. I hope you make it.“ He lightly touched Ember’s arm.
She gave him a nervous smile, then turned and made her way up the aisle and into the refreshingly cool air, grateful the testing was done at last. Aldarin and Shad stood side by side waiting for her. Ian was nowhere in sight. Relief washed over her as she approached the men.
“How’d you do?” Shad asked. Aldarin wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
Freed from her anxiety over Ian, Ember’s thoughts turned to the test, and she shared her
experience with the men. She yawned as the sun pulled the last of its rays behind the mountain and prayed she’d be able to sleep as she hoped for good results in the morning.
The Sapphire Flute: Book 1 of The Wolfchild Saga Page 30
