Shianan made a show of putting his face in his hands. “What have they done now?”
IT WAS THE LONGEST week Ariana could remember.
By day she sat in her workroom, pretending to work on the new ink while in fact she stared at her utensils and books with a slow, sick dread. For an hour each day, she went to Mage Parma or her father or the two together, attempting simple exercises in magic as if she were a child, struggling to master the simplest of fundamentals which had come more easily to her the first time.
It was worse than being a child, in fact. When she had been a young girl, propped on her knees and leaning on her elbows to concentrate on a blackened candle wick, she had been thrilled with each small success. Now that she could remember practicing magical combat, creating an amulet to heal a broken limb, sealing Tamaryl’s Ryuven essence—now each tiny success was a fresh cut to her pride, salting anew her terror that the others would learn, would find she was more an impostor than ever, would cast her out of the Circle.
By night, she hugged herself in her bed and choked on sobs that were harder to fight down in the dark.
She had told no one else. After her first desperate grasp for help, rushing to her father, she was afraid to speak of her loss. If the other mages of the Circle learned, she would lose what standing she had in their eyes. Worse, she might be removed from the Circle altogether.
Nor could she tell Ranne, who had been so supportive and so proud of her. Or Bethia, who had lost her own chance at the Circle when Ariana became the Black Mage, who could only be insulted to learn Ariana was no longer capable of it.
And Shianan. She was ashamed to recall her outburst, ashamed to have lashed out at him when she knew he had just come from the king and that something, something had happened. She should have gone to him, should have apologized and asked—but she wasn’t supposed to know what happened in the king’s private meetings with the bastard, and she didn’t know how to ask without humiliating Shianan too.
So she avoided her friends, letting them believe she was buried with Great Circle work while she sat useless in her workroom.
It was late in the week when she achieved for the first time the newly difficult conquest of lifting a silken scarf tossed into the air. The effort exhausted her and left her trembling, but she had done it. Mage Parma’s look of satisfied pride was salve enough for Ariana’s raw nerves after a long session of struggle.
“Now take the day off,” Mage Parma told her. “Don’t push any further just because you accomplished more today.”
Ariana shook her head, her muscles like water. “No worries there. I don’t have the strength.”
“Just bask in your glory, then.” The Silver Mage turned to her table and began to collect the array of training items.
A knock sounded at the door, and Ariana went rigid. Mage Parma called for the visitor to enter.
A woman in orange robes came in. “Sorry to bother you, but I wondered—oh, hello, Mage Hazelrig. Sorry to interrupt.”
Ariana nodded tightly.
“Mage Tadak?” prompted Mage Parma.
“Oh, I’m just out of dark shield paper, and I need only one, and I thought you might save me a trip to the market.”
“Of course, help yourself.” Mage Parma nodded toward the shelf of supplies.
“Thank you.” Mage Tadak smiled at the half-cleared table. “I remember those days well enough. Looks like you’re starting a new apprentice?”
Ariana’s breath snagged in her throat. Mage Parma only shook her head. “No, not at the moment. Do you want to take some extra shield papers, just in case of need?”
“Thank you.” Mage Tadak gave them each a friendly smile and let herself out.
Mage Parma turned to Ariana. “What was that about?”
“I don’t want her to know.” Ariana’s face burned. “I don’t want any of them to know.”
Mage Parma waited.
“They won’t—they won’t look on me as if I’m one of them. Because I’m not one of them. And they will put me out of the Circle.”
Mage Parma scooped the last of the training items into a shallow wooden box. “Do you think so?”
Ariana couldn’t think to answer. “The Circle is supposed to be the best of mages, the elite. The Circle is supposed to be a polished unit, a cadre working together, each member reliable and accountable to the others. That’s not me.”
The Silver Mage set her hands on the box’s sides and waited.
Slow dread rose in Ariana’s torso, twisting her stomach and reaching up to choke her with her own words. “Oh. Oh, no. I have to tell them.” Her throat closed, but she forced her voice out. “I can’t keep this from them, or I’m not a failure, but a traitor.”
“I wouldn’t have put it in quite those words.” Mage Parma’s eyes were soft, sympathetic. “But you should tell them.”
“Tell them what? That I’m no longer a mage, that I must leave the Circle?”
Mage Parma tapped her notes from the session. “Tell them you have experienced effects from your exposure to the Ryuven world, show that you are rebuilding your skills, and report what progress you have made thus far.”
“And am I making progress?”
Mage Parma gave her a stern look and tapped the notes again.
“All right, I am. But is it enough?”
“Just be careful,” the Silver Mage cautioned. “If you try to rush ahead, you might set yourself back. Don’t, in your eagerness to prove yourself, make your hill into a mountain.”
“It feels like a mountain already,” muttered Ariana, but she nodded. “I’ll be careful. No outside practice.”
Mage Parma smiled. “Now go and treat yourself to something special. You earned it today.”
In the corridor, Ariana squeezed her eyes shut against silent, burning tears as she returned to her own office. She would have to tell her friends first—they shouldn’t hear it from Circle news or rumors.
Ranne was in the market. Shianan was closer, if in his office instead of with his soldiers. He would understand if she told him.
It would be so hard to tell him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SHIANAN LOOKED DOWN the slope of the hill to the village nestled at its base, smoking from too many places. The granary stood open, its door damaged, and a child had been stationed to shoo sheep and goats from the remaining stores. The livestock had grasped their advantage, and each time the child ran at a clump of raiding animals, a few opportunistic sheep and goats darted around for mouthfuls of spilled grain, only to retreat when the frustrated keeper charged them and gave others a chance.
Shianan blew out his breath. “How many?”
“Three dead, sir, and one seriously wounded. She’ll probably pull through.”
Shianan did not need to descend to the village to know what he would find, but his duty here was only partly to identify and counter the danger. He also had to represent an official response to reassure the frightened populace. He nodded for the sergeant to signal the soldiers and started downhill.
The attack was easy to read, from the blood spatters on walls to the magic burns on two of the corpses, laid out on the threshing floor as the village was too small for a meeting house or a temple. Shianan knew what the survivor would say even before he went to see her, bundled in blankets in her bed.
“They were Ryuven,” she rasped. Bruising marred the side of her face, red and purple streaking downward from her eye like bloody tears. “Six Ryuven, come for our grain and vegetables.”
Shianan did not insult her by asking if she was sure. “Did you see them arrive? Crossing the between-worlds?”
She shook her head. “No, but Brooker did. He’s the one who first raised the alarm.”
“Can we see him?”
“You already did. On the threshing floor.”
Shianan sighed. “Right. Thank you, Alys, for your help, and take care of yourself.”
Alys kept her eyes on him. “I thought there was supposed to be a magical shield
to protect us.”
Shianan fought down the unease. “We’re working on it, and we’ll have things set right as soon as we can.” Then he stood and escaped before she could ask again.
Surely this was too much to be a few trapped Ryuven.
Shianan had purchased the Shard of Elan from the Gehrn with his townhouse and a foothold in Alham. He had sacrificed his escape from torture to return the Shard to the Circle. He had given his property, his honor, and very nearly his life to help bring about the shield. How could there be Ryuven raiding in Chrenada?
ARIANA KEPT HER EYES down as the meeting proceeded around her, shifting to ease the ache in her lower back. This week’s Circle business was nothing out of the ordinary—yet. In a few minutes, she would have to explain that she was the first member of the Circle to be powerless.
Not powerless, Mage Parma would have reminded her. But no longer qualified for the Circle.
Despite her intent, she had not told anyone else about her loss. Shianan had been out of the city on a military assignment. Ranne’s shop had been closed when Ariana visited, and no one had answered at their home. Ariana felt she was betraying her friends as much as her colleagues, trying too late to tell them, and now she faced the Circle without the practice of explaining.
“The next item is somewhat sensitive,” the White Mage said, and Ariana’s heart quickened. “It concerns the other Mage Hazelrig.”
She stared at the table, wondering if her stomach might force itself up her throat.
“Due to the difficult nature, I will give a brief introduction, and then if there are specific questions, Mage Hazelrig may answer.”
Ariana slid her eyes toward her father, who nodded once without looking directly at her. Bless him—he was saying the hardest words.
“Since her return from the Ryuven world and her exposure to its dangerous magic,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “Mage Hazelrig has experienced a precipitous drop in ability. For a time, she was unable to manipulate energy at all.”
A susurrus of sound ran around the table, and Ariana pushed her eyes down again so she wouldn’t see mages turning to stare.
“She has been working through it, however, and is regaining her ability. Presently she is at the level of a beginning apprentice. We anticipate she should continue to improve with practice.”
There was a long, pregnant pause, and at last the Crimson Mage, Ademar Carrock, cleared his throat uncomfortably. Ariana could hear his chair creak between his hesitating words. “How quickly is this improvement progressing?”
Ariana’s breath caught. She had been good at magic the first time. Yes, it had taken time, but it had come steadily under her father’s tutelage. Forced to regain the same ground, struggling for each success—she knew, in rational thought, she knew she was improving, but was it fast enough? Was it good enough? Was it enough?
After a moment, her father answered. “It is hard to be exact with a figure, but she has reached the level of a novitiate apprenticeship in a little over a week. That does not necessarily indicate the rate of future progress, which could be faster as her skill improves.”
“Or could be slower, as we don’t know what caused its loss in the first place.” This was Mage Renstil, the Forest. “I am sorry, but someone must say it—the Great Circle is the cornerstone of defense for Chrenada and its people, and I don’t know that we can afford to have a mage without ability.”
Ariana’s faced burned so that she thought it must be shedding its own light.
“Let’s speak of that defense,” Mage Parma said. Ariana did not look at her, but she knew the note of confident challenge in that voice. She had heard it enough of late. “What is the Great Circle to defend against?”
Mage Renstil did not immediately answer.
“The Ryuven have been our greatest threat, all would agree. But we have renewed our shield against the Ryuven—which Mage Hazelrig assisted us in doing, at the apparent cost of her last magic—and we are now protected from them. Who else brings immediate threat to Chrenada? The Wakari Coast? We are on good terms and in fact are presently negotiating a marriage alliance. The warlords of the south? They are still in Heege, which, for all that it is a disputed territory, is a pebble of little worth, and it’s unlikely the warlords will leave their swamps to assault Alham. We face no immediate threats, and it is my opinion, having seen Mage Hazelrig’s progress thus far, that we may take some time to assess her recovering ability and make an informed decision.”
No one answered, and Elysia Parma’s words hung in the air.
Sweet all, did they want her gone? No, surely not—Ariana was one of them. It was only, this was her dream, her whole life, and what if they did choose to replace her...
“Perhaps we should hear from Mage Hazelrig herself,” suggested Mage Fallat, Scarlet. “Since it is her position we are discussing.”
Ariana did not want to face them with her face burning so red and tears brimming her eyes. She forced a deep shuddering breath and blew it out softly through her pursed lips.
Shianan had faced the king and the courtiers time and again, with a far more hostile moderator than her father. She could be brave like Shianan.
She stood and fixed her eyes on the far wall. “I understand your concern, and it shows your fidelity to your duties and the Circle’s purpose.” She paused to take another breath. “The Circle, though it has duties as a whole, seeks to balance its strengths. I was admitted not for my battle experience but for my theoretical knowledge and efforts in research. For myself, I can say that my theoretical knowledge is undiminished and indeed, I am daily more and more immersed as I return with a more advanced eye to more foundational subjects.” She tried to smile, as if it were a jest, but wasn’t sure her face succeeded. “I will of course understand if you choose to remove me from your ranks, as it’s evident I could not join the Circle if I were to test today for entrance.” She tried not to feel Mage Parma’s eyes heavy on her. “I know this should not be a decision made on the basis of emotion or other connection. But for what it’s worth, I am working hard, and I want more than anything to stay and earn back my place.”
She tore her eyes from the far wall and made herself look around at them. “Unless you have any questions for me directly, I will excuse myself to allow you all more latitude to discuss the situation. Thank you.”
When no one raised a question, she took measured steps, counting them to keep her pace orderly, and then fled through the door and into the corridor.
There was nothing to do but wait. Ariana stretched her tense neck and leaned against the cool stone wall.
The wall was cold against her back, but the draft coming around the Wheel chilled more, too. The sensation between her legs was strange but distantly familiar, and after a moment of startled confusion her heart sank. With a glance toward the door—surely they would not be ready to recall her, not so quickly—she went down the corridor to a privy.
She was bleeding. She had not even recognized the pain in her back; it had been so long since she’d had cramps. Magic used the body hard, so that male mages rarely sired children and female mages usually had to take a hiatus to bear a child to term. Like most women practicing magic regularly, Ariana had bled rarely and lightly. She stared down at the rusty-brown betrayal, yet another vivid sign of her fall.
Of course there would be no sachets of blood sphagnum in the Wheel; none of the Circle’s women would need them. She would have to go down to the market once she’d heard the Circle’s decision on whether to keep her.
She beat her forehead into her palm and growled.
“Mage Hazelrig? Ariana? Are you in here?”
Ariana jumped and snatched at her clothing. “Just one moment!”
It was Mage Marie Tadak who stood in the corridor outside. “I couldn’t find you,” she said, her tone apologetic. “I hoped... I hoped you were only in the privy.”
Ariana hunched her shoulders against the corridor’s draft. “What did the Circle have to say?”
Ariana nodded, only partially relieved. “So long as I keep improving.”
She had others to thank: Mage Parma’s challenge had done well for her, and her father’s assertion of her progress. She could not disappoint them, could not fail them and herself.
She thought irrationally of Tamaryl eating chocolate to restore his depleted magic and wondered if she might find some in the market when she went down.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ARIANA’S FATHER DID not answer her knock, but it was possible he was busy with a project in the workroom, and years ago he had set a charm on his office door to recognize her. Ariana let herself in, embarrassed to be proud she could manage the minimal working of the charm.
He was not in the rear workroom, either. She blew out her breath and settled her troublesome ink and brushes on an empty surface.
Maybe she should try the ink again, waiting for him. Mage Parma had cautioned her against pushing too hard with her magic, lest a setback occur, and Ariana was hesitant to experiment beyond previous successes without another mage to steady her in case it went wrong. Still, she might try once more. She wanted to help with the ink research, to feel as if she were still contributing to the Circle’s efforts, and it felt so childish to ask her father to supervise her attempt with a new spell.
Oh! The fragment of broken Shard, the subject of his initial investigations into the Shield—it could augment energy. It might help both to boost her weakened power and to stabilize the ink’s transformation process. She turned to his storage cabinet, but the piece of crystallized ether was not on the shelf where she had seen it. Someone must have borrowed it for an experiment.
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