A Shaper's Birthright

by Karen MacRae

  “A coincidence?”

  “Perhaps, but I don’t believe so. Professor Kirklund called Leo in while I was there to break the news and ask him about Sifry’s visit. The main impression I got from him was bewilderment. He said Sifry had slept most of the time and, when he was awake, he only spoke rubbish and his supposed interpreter scared the light out of him. Beautiful, yes, but he got the feeling she’d rather slit his throat than read a book. He honestly thought she’d kill him when he couldn’t find the books she asked for. Then she had him get every other book in the place that even mentioned black peristone and had him mark the relevant pages in every one.” Lady Kuri’s voice tailed off. Her and Finn’s minds clicked at exactly the same time.

  “Eidetic memory.”

  “But Leo isn’t High Quorum,” said Lady Kuri. “He won’t have read them. Does the gift even work if it’s a foreign language?”

  “Prof K.”

  “Light! She was one of the youngest HQ promotions ever apparently. Memory and Languages.”

  “They can’t know that.”

  “Maybe not, but they probably don’t know the books are in Shaen. The titles are in Standard. The introduction too, for what good it did me. I understood about a tenth of it.”

  “Damn it!” Finn cursed. “We’re going to have to stay on the books and on Prof K. I don’t have the manpower to be chasing her around the festival too. Especially with this nonsense!” Finn picked up the arrest warrant and crumpled it in his hands.

  Anna woke with a start, her heart thumping. Finn was furious. She quickly checked the other links, but all seemed well. She sent a pulse down the green channel and got a firm rebuttal. That was that. She wondered what might have made ever-cool Finn lose his temper, but she honoured his wish and backed off.

  She swung her legs over the side of the bunk and realised Beitris’ bunk was empty. She rolled her eyes at herself. Well, of course it was: the yellow peristone was miles away. Finn must have changed the shifts.

  She pummelled her pillow in frustration. It was bad enough being stuck on the ship, but it was driving her crazy to half know where everyone was and what they were doing, but not be able to help in any way.

  She popped to the privy then wondered what to do with herself. She wandered along to the galley, but breakfast wasn’t ready. She made herself a sandwich then headed back to her cabin. She ended up back on her bunk, trying to read a book Captain Alexander had loaned her. She was soon daydreaming about being a Quorum applicant instead. If only she could cover up her birthmark… Surely she’d be able to fool them into thinking she was a Reader? As long as she didn’t Shape, they’d never know.

  She remembered the black gown in the bag Finn had discarded by the door and jumped off the bunk. She pulled the gown out almost reverentially and shook it out of its folds. Lady Kuri had remembered her short legs: it looked just the right length. She pulled it on. The fabric was nothing special, but Anna felt a million gold pieces. She pulled up the hood. It was huge! She laughed, folding back the outer edge so she could see out. She twirled around happily, practising her curtsey and wondering what she might call herself. It had to be Anna Desmarais.

  She lay down again and closed her eyes. She knew there were several rounds of tests, each round harder than the one before until only the best applicants were left. She wondered how the Quorum might test a Reader. Just seeing auras wouldn’t be good enough, but hardly anyone could Read. Were they sure of a place, no matter how average they were? It didn’t seem fair, a weak or average student taking a Humanity place from someone with a strong gift purely because their gift was rarer. Wouldn’t the stronger gifted benefit much more from Quorum training? Mind you, not necessarily. An applicant might appear stronger simply because he or she had the right parents or enough money to get a decent tutor. They might already be as good as they would ever be. Did the Quorum have a way to test potential? Did they have a way to test what people’s gifts were rather than rely on what the applicant claimed? Maybe she wouldn’t be able to pretend to be a Reader after all. Maybe they’d take one look at her and scream, “Shaper!”

  She took off her black gown and threw it to the end of her bunk. It was so unfair.

  In the library, Professor Kirklund was making sure the first round of applicant tests was completely ready. The opening ceremony was at noon, but the first tests would begin at eight o’clock. They didn’t take long. The registration desk was the true test and it took a split second. The subsequent first round tasks were meaningless, done for the benefit of the applicants and their parents rather than anything else. They’d all troop past the fountain and into the amphitheatre afterwards, frantically comparing notes about what they’d done or not done in a or b, chattering happily, crying or somewhere in between. In reality, the lilac-clad members of staff on the desk had already categorised them into three groups: proceed, test and fail.

  A black line of applicants edged by a parental rainbow of coloured gowns was already forming outside the library at seven o’clock. Keen as ever.

  The Chancellor arrived at little after seven to check all was in hand. The queue clapped politely and the great man deigned to shake a few hands. Once in the library foyer, he pulled Professor Kirklund aside and gave her a folded sheet of paper. “A final list for your attention, Professor Kirklund. They are to be marked proceed. For the good of the Quorum.”

  The professor scowled but nodded her acquiescence. She disapproved of this new policy, but they couldn’t keep putting fees up. ‘Donations’ were a necessary evil, even if it did mean a small minority bought their places.

  The Chancellor wandered around, smiling and nodding at his staff, not having a clue who they were or what they did, but leaving behind the feeling that he cared. He’d spent years perfecting the technique. In truth, he was an extraordinary Reader with the added benefit of having very little empathy. The only Reader ever to match his brilliance had ended up marrying a soldier and hiding away in Alsham of all places. He sneered inwardly at the waste of talent. Still, it left the way clear for others who chose to make the most of their gifts. He saw Lady Kuri coming up the stairs and sighed. No doubt she was here to protest about the arrest warrant. She wouldn’t yet know a second witness had come forward. To be fair, the officer taking the sailor’s statement had suspected the whole thing was spiteful nonsense, but the Chancellor wasn’t inclined to let King’s agents wander around the Quorum no matter why they were here. He slipped away through a side door.

  Lady Kuri saw the Chancellor escape and frowned. He was no fool so what was he playing at, approving an arrest warrant with no hard evidence? She spotted Professor Kirklund and pulled her aside. The woman said she was far too busy and refused point blank to leave the forum so the Councillor leaned in and told her the unbridled truth. “Frances, Nystrieth’s spies are going to try to kidnap you.”

  “What are you talking about?” the professor whispered, pulling the Councillor through a door marked ‘Private’, her to do list forgotten.

  The staff stairwell was empty, but Lady Kuri kept her voice down and put her hand over her mouth just in case. “The woman with Eduin Sifry. She works for Nystrieth. She can’t get books out of the restricted section and Leo’s girlfriend will have told her that Leo’s never read the books in there.”

  Professor Kirklund straightened her back and looked the Councillor with a steely eye. She understood the implication. “I would rather die.”

  “They killed three girls yesterday. It may come to that.”

  “So be it.”

  Lady Kuri admired the woman’s bravery. She decided to share a secret. “Frances, if it comes to it, save yourself and the world some pain. Give in. But read the books again. Remember only what you read this time.”

  Professor Kirklund drew a startled breath. “They’ve been… tampered with?”

  “If tampering includes removing the bit that says kill babes to be all powerful, then yes.”

  “Sweet light! I’ve never studied the text. I read every
thing when I was appointed, but I didn’t actually process it all. I’d have to actually read it, read it, to do that. You know?”

  “No, I haven’t a clue, but then I don’t have your gift.”

  Professor Kirklund grabbed her friend’s hand. “Isabella, I’m scared.”

  “Will you let me give you two bodyguards? They’ll be discrete and they know everything.”

  The librarian nodded and fixed a brave smile on her face. “I’ve got spare lilac gowns in my office. They can help me carry everything. There’s enough paperwork to sink a ship!”

  No one paid much attention to the new personal assistants Professor Kirklund had decided to appoint. If they thought anything, they thought it long overdue. The woman took much too much onto her own shoulders. They did think it a bit strange when she disappeared into the restricted section just before applicant reception opened, but no doubt she had her reasons. She wasn’t long.

  Reception went as smoothly as always despite a slightly distracted head librarian and the Opening Ceremony was a triumph. Professor Kirklund had allowed Elements to take the lead in the show. They’d put together a performance that few would ever forget. The display of fire, light and intense aromas coupled perfectly with a dance troop, a sound-magnified choir and an orchestra from Creative Arts was breath-taking. The preceding speech by the Chancellor was, as always, charming, funny and motivating. Every person in the ticketed stands and those crowded on the slopes beyond felt unbelievably proud to be associated with the Quorum.

  Professor Kirklund smiled happily as she was congratulated by the Inner Quorum and various High Quorum members, but inside she was struggling to accept two truths: someone meant her harm and two of the books in the restricted section had been deliberately censored. It didn’t matter that she could see the sense in preventing the murder of innocent children; there were plenty of other, unrestricted books that described how to use poison or where to locate exact points on the body that caused pain or even death. The fact was that books should never be damaged. They were too precious. But then, the only person who could benefit from the missing pages was no ordinary murderer seeking a new weapon that would help him kill better. Nystrieth would use the black peristone to kill thousands if not millions. But books should never, ever be damaged.

  Her hand snuck out towards the Chancellor, deciding to report the vandalism, but felt her King’s Oath pulse painfully in her chest. She snatched her hand back. She felt like crying at the horrible dilemma she faced, but kept the smile fixed on her face. She would think on it some more.

  Elona and Pyteor didn’t watch the Opening Ceremony. They’d taken the opportunity to sneak into the Physical Arts building. According to the timetable, the promotion ceremony was scheduled to take place there tomorrow evening while the dress rehearsal for the graduation show was going on in the amphitheatre. Promotion was a ticket-only event while the graduation show rehearsal was open to all, even ordinary members of the public. According to the puppies, most of the guards would be busy keeping the crowds under control and those crowds would be at the opposite end of the Hub. It was the perfect time to take the librarian.

  CHAPTER 40

  B rodie woke Anna before dawn the next day. “There’s been a terrible accident on the dock. A Mover keeled over while he was lifting ballast and the pallet crashed onto three men. Someone’s gone for a Healer, but they aren’t going to get here soon enough. Can you come?”

  “What time is it?”

  The First Mate realised the Shaper was asking if anyone would recognise her. “Early. It’s still dark.”

  Anna sat up and grabbed for her jacket from the end of the bunk. She realised she’d caught hold of the black gown instead and smiled. Why not? It certainly covered her face and she couldn’t leave men to die when she could save them. No one would even know she’d gone now Beitris and Seleste were sleeping up at the Hub in Professor Kirklund’s apartment. She knew Finn would tell her off, but she deliberately shut off her links with the team so they wouldn’t feel her Healing.

  She pulled the gown around her so her face and body were completely concealed then followed Brodie outside and down the ramp. Weak moonlight struggled through a cloudy sky making the flickering lanterns by the distant storm wall stand out like an inferno. She could hear screams of pain and broke into a run.

  She tightened her hood about her face as she neared the lanterns, but as bright as they appeared against the darkness in the rest of the harbour, they weren’t bright enough for her to see the auras well enough to Heal. She needed the white peristone.

  Ionantis’ underground crystal rushed to answer her gift as soon as it was called. Power billowed around her, magnified ten-fold by the white stone without any effort on her part at all. She hadn’t used this much crystal since Valteira had tried to turn her, but the power felt familiar, right. She’d missed it.

  As soon as her aura crossed the injured men’s, the first three lit up as if they were in full sun, just as her internal book had promised. The next aura didn’t respond; the Mover was dead, his heart suddenly failing as he’d lifted the huge crates into the air.

  She began with the worst of the head wounds. Once the patient was stabilised, she had Brodie pull on the man’s head to straighten his neck and another man push on the two bones that refused to line up. The moment all was aligned, she sent a torrent of white light into the spine of the man’s aura, chasing the blackness away in a flash. Before he’d opened his eyes, she’d moved onto the next.

  Neither Brodie nor Anna noticed the man watching with an open mouth. He stood up from his nest of fishing nets and blankets, took two paces forward then scurried back to the wall of fishing nets and opened a fresh bottle of rum.

  “What’s up?” the skipper asked.

  “Shap’r!”

  “You what?”

  “Shap’r! O’er by t’accident.”

  “No such thing. You’ve been listening to all that nonsense about Alsham. Come on, here’s your silver for the mending.”

  The old man held out a hand for the coins but didn’t move to help the skipper and his lad with the mended nets. Instead, his eyes were fixated on the accident, his body visibly shaking, his lips sucking on the bottle of sweet liquid.

  The skipper reckoned he’d been hitting it harder than normal and not just tonight. “Give the lad and me a hand to get the nets on the boat, then. Come on! Watching them poor souls isn’t going to fill my nets. I’ve got a tide to catch.”

  “It’s ‘er!”

  The skipper rolled his eyes then remembered the old man used to be able to see auras. Still could, he supposed. Could he be right? Could the small black-gowned thing over there be the girl everyone was talking about? This might be worth more than fish... Maybe he could spare a few minutes.

  The black-gowned thing turned out to definitely be a girl. The feet were much too small for a man. He couldn’t see her face though. He made the old Reader put down his bottle and tell him what was happening. The drunk babbled on about huge auras, rainbows and lights like the sun then suddenly it was over. But then one of the patients pulled the girl into a hug and her hood slipped back, the light from a lantern shining right onto the side of her face. She got the hood back in place quick enough, but he’d seen all right. The girl looked part reptile. It was her!

  “Here,” he said to his lad, handing him a few silver coins. “Change of plan. I need to go see someone. Put the nets on the boat then take the day off.”

  Anna and Brodie were walking back through the darkness when a squad of Quorum Guards came marching through the harbour gate with lanterns in hand, a handful of King’s Guards following reluctantly behind. The First Mate pulled the Shaper behind some barrels as the guards stopped right outside the Lealta.

  “I need to go. Stay here,” Brodie whispered. “Do not get caught or I’m for the brig.” He didn’t wait for a reply.

  Anna heard the Quorum officer bellow from the dockside. “We have here a warrant for the arrest of three men reported
to be aboard the Lealta. If you don’t come forward, we will board and search her.”

  Brodie arrived and spoke calmly with the officer doing the yelling. Anna caught about one word in three since he was neither yelling nor facing her, but it sounded very like he was telling the guard the ship belonged to the King and boarding it without permission was a treasonable offence.

  The Quorum Captain stepped forward until his nose was almost touching the First Mate’s. “Conspiracy to murder the Chancellor overrides any such nonsense,” he yelled.

  Some of the Quorum Guards looked uneasy, the sailor’s warning sounding much too confident to be anything but correct to them. They didn’t fancy boarding the King’s ship without the right permissions. The King’s Guards smiled. They knew it was the truth, but the Quorum Captain was having none of it.

  “Get your Captain. Now!” he shouted.

  The First Mate shook his head. Captain Alexander wasn’t on board. He was in charge. He reeled off a load of legal-sounding language, claiming to quote directly from maritime law and, for the first time, the Quorum Captain began to question his authority. He heard one of the King’s Guards chuckle and whirled round to try to identify the impudent soldier, his face scarlet with embarrassment and anger, his sword half drawn. The sound of eleven other swords being pulled from scabbards seemed to make him think twice.

  “Whoa!” called the First Mate. “No need for metal. Put them away lads. I’m sure we can work something out.”