by Janeal Falor
“That’s all I need to do?” It sounds simple enough.
“No. You need to believe it. Not a little, but truly think it’s going to work. The object will not take to the spell unless you do so.”
“You're not instructing me to build a curse, are you?” Because I wouldn’t put it past him.
“Would I do such a thing?”
That doesn’t make me feel better. Perhaps there’s another way I can get the information I want. “What does ohma lo mean? Why do I need to chant that?”
“You ask too many questions,” he snaps. “It needs to be done if you want Queen Androlla gone.”
His rebuke stings, but I don’t let it show. I have to focus on the task, and not on his trying to make me feel inferior. “I can do that.”
“Right.” The word comes out like he doesn’t believe me. “In the meantime, if you’ll excuse me, I have a house to set up.”
I want to ask if he’ll come back when called, but I can’t bring myself to seem that weak. Besides, he’ll have guards to make him. I hope they can. With his skills, including magic, there’s little I can do about forcing him to return. I have to believe I have things he wants, which is why he’s staying in town. There has to be a reason why he’s so insistent on having his house back.
Jaku and Nash on the other hand have no problem stopping him, both getting in his way to the door.
“You’ll have to wait until we can arrange for the guards to be with you,” Jaku says.
“Very well,” Daros replies. “But you won’t tie me up. I refuse to be bound again.”
Jaku looks at me. I give my consent. We leave and shut the door on Daros after the guards join him.
As I’m being wheeled away, I ask Jaku, “Who will you put on him?”
“I’d like the best, but they need to stay with you. I’ll try to split it in a way that you’re still protected, but Daros won’t sneeze without a blade making it to his throat.”
“Perfect.”
While we journey back, I think about magic. Is it true there’s a healing spell? One that can undo the damage Daros did to me? If there is one, I doubt he’d give it to me, since he was the one to put me in this predicament in the first place.
Back in my rooms, Jaku excuses himself, and I request that Nash roll me by the sitting room window. When I’m settled, he asks, “Would you like me to get everything together for the spell?”
“The sooner, the better. Also, I would like to speak to the Head Librarian.”
“Consider it done.” He draws nearer long enough to give my hand a squeeze and is out the door.
I want to ask him how he’s doing, if he’s handling things better, but I don’t think I’ll like the answer when there’s even less I can do about it now that I’m confined.
Moments later, Inkga enters. She is kind enough to chat with me a while, but it’s hard to focus on what she says. My mind is busy trying to figure out how making a protection charm or luck charm will help me defeat the First Queen. Why type of protection will it offer? And how will a luck charm help me if I can hardly move? I’ll have to concentrate on this as the first step and believe it will assist me better when we get to the harder spells.
Her presence is near, leading me to believe I won’t be able to keep this from her. What will she say about it when I go to sleep next? Will she even care?
No matter what she says or does, I should ignore her and enjoy the little time I have my free will.
I force myself into conversation with Inkga, getting away from thoughts of Androlla. There’s more there that I want to think about anyway.
Nash joins us after a while, laden with a bag and joined by a tall woman with big eyes that take everything in.
“This is Wula Hendri, the Head Librarian,” Nash says.
She gives a pretty curtsy. “How may I help you, Your Majesty?”
I glance at Inkga and make a quick decision. I’m not ready to tell her about the First Queen, but letting her know I’m interested in magic will be a good first step to see how she reacts. “I would like all the books you have on magic.”
“Magic? But that’s unheard of.” Wula puts a hand on her hip.
“Mostly unheard of,” I say. “It's not all gone as evidenced by Venda from Faner.” I should consider enlisting her help as well, if she’s willing.
The librarian lifts her eyebrows. “I heard rumors, but I didn’t know they were true.”
“Very. What I need from you is any and all books you can find on the subject.”
“I will do what I can.”
“As quickly as you can, please.”
“Yes, Your Highness. Will there be anything else?”
“That should do it. Please keep quiet about it.”
“Very well. I will personally deliver you what I can and will report back when I can’t find anymore.”
“Thank you.”
As she exits, I glance at Inkga. Her eyes are wide, but the rest of her seems calm. When she notices I’m looking at her, she says, “I didn’t know magic still existed.”
“It does, though there’s not much of it in Valcora at the current time.” It’s almost as if someone has tried to snuff it out. The First Queen, perhaps? If it’s the key to defeating her, I can understand why she would be reluctant to let it continue.
“That’s amazing,” Inkga says. “Can I learn with you?”
I can’t help but laugh at the eagerness in her voice. Maybe she’d change her mind if she knew it was to defeat an evil queen who’s been ruling for a thousand years. Or maybe she’d think I am crazy. “If you like. I’m trying to make a luck charm today.”
I explain to her what Daros told me about simple spells without divulging my source, without telling her it was Daros that did the telling, as Nash pulls items out of his bag and sets them on a nearby table. Once he’s finished, he rolls me closer.
“How are we going to grind the items down without breaking the mirror?” Inkga asks.
I’m more worried about having enough strength to grind them in the first place. “That is a concern. We’ll have to be careful.”
“Who wants to try first?” Nash asks.
“We should let Ryn try,” Inkga says.
Something in me doesn’t want to touch the stuff. Instead of giving into that feeling, I try to push myself forward and fail. “I’ll need some help.”
Nash nods. He grabs a sprig of rosemary and another plant I can’t place.
“What’s the other green plant?” I ask.
“Dried hathwa.” He sets them both on a mirror and pulls a pestle out of his bag along with a rock that he sets on the mirror besides the other two ingredients. “Here, Ryn.”
I love the sound of my name coming from his lips. There’s little time to ponder it, though, as he sets the mirror on my lap and helps me grab hold of the pestle. I flicker my gaze to Inkga, who’s watching intently.
Nash says, “Go ahead.”
I attempt my best to grip onto the pestle and move it toward the mirror. The jerky movement causes the pestle to go flying out of my hand to the floor. “This is going to take a lot of practice.”
Inkga grabs the pestle and places it back in my hands. “That’s all right. We have time.”
Nash winces. Time is one thing I don’t have.
I try several more times with the same results, and my hand feels weaker than ever. “Why don’t you give it a try, Nash? Or Inkga?”
He looks to her. “Why don’t you try it first?”
“All right.” There’s a hesitation in her voice, but she takes the mirror and pestle and begins to grind the plants up while chanting ohma lo. After a moment, she stops. “I feel a little silly, doing this.”
“You have to believe in it for it to happen,” Nash says.
“All right.” She resumes until the mixture is a fine powder, and then proceeds to rub the material into the stone while continuing chanting. A minute passes. Then another.
She shrugs. “Maybe I don’t have an affi
nity for magic.”
“Do you need it?” I ask.
“You just need to believe, I think,” Nash says. “It will work. It has to.”
His voice is so intense, I expect Inkga to question why it matters so much, but she remains silent. Nash goes through the process, starting with a new batch of hathwa, rosemary, and a rock. When he starts rubbing the mixture into the rock, I watch on with eager eyes.
Nothing happens.
After several minutes, he leans back. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”
“Maybe we should request Venda’s help,” I say.
“Do you think she’d be able to guide us?” Inkga asks.
“She prevented me from dying with magic. I don’t see why she couldn’t help us along.”
Inkga hurries to the door. “I’ll go get her.” She doesn’t wait for me to respond; she leaves the door at an almost run.
Nash glances at me. “You think Daros kept something from us?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll whip him if he did.” The venom in his words matches the poison in my heart toward Daros.
“I wish I could help.”
His expression softens. “How are you feeling?”
“Truth be told, tired. It’s been a long day, though it’s still early afternoon. I’m afraid it’s taken a lot out of me.”
“Why don’t you close your eyes and rest for a while? Do you want me to take you to your bed?”
“I’d rather sit here with you, but maybe I will take you up on your offer.” I watch his soft smile, until my eyes close. The next thing I know, I’m waking to the door opening. A quick glance at the clock shows it’s been over an hour. I yawn as Inkga and Venda enter.
This is ridiculous. I’ve never been so tired in my life. I don’t think I was even this sleepy as a baby. I’d ask Shillian about that, except I’m not talking to her since Carver's betrayal. Trying to kill me for Daros. I want nothing to do with either of them.
“I found Venda,” Inkga says. “She’s willing to help us.”
“I hear you are trying to make a luck charm.” Venda’s voice is melodic as ever, but there’s an undercurrent to it that I don’t understand. A tightening that's not usually there.
“We are trying to learn magic in general. A luck charm sounds easy enough.” If it’s too difficult to learn, I can’t imagine I’ll get what I need in time to stop the First Queen.
“It is simple, once you understand magic.” She glances around the room. “Where is Puneah?”
“Probably sleeping in my room, on my bed or under it. That’s her favorite place.” She’s usually on it when I’m there, but it’s not a given.
“She must be comfortable with you, to have made your bed her nest.”
Charming. “Do you know what we need to do for the luck spell?”
“I do.” She glances down at our ingredients. “Hathwa?”
“We were told to use something green,” Nash says.
“From whom?”
We remain silent as she and Inkga look from me to Nash.
Nash finally says, “Our source that’s helping us with magic.”
She sniffs, lifting her chin. “If you need advice, you should come to me. No one in your country knows enough. Something green will work, but bark of an urta tree would work better.”
“An urta for luck?” Inkga asks. “Like the superstitions say?”
“Just like that,” she replies. “Superstitions exist for a reason.”
“I’ll fetch one, if I manage to find some,” Nash says.
“They are rare, but check with the cook’s assistant. I’ve been able to acquire several rare ingredients from her,” Venda says.
While he’s gone, Venda questions me about what I know of the spell, and I tell her all Daros explained to me. I’m getting good at it, now that I’ve heard it once and retold it twice.
“Very well,” she says.
“So this spell will really work?” I ask.
“With a few adjustments, yes.”
That’s a relief. If Daros is mostly telling the truth, perhaps we’ll be able to get to the bottom of this with Venda’s help.
Nash comes through the door. “The cook’s assistant didn’t have any but knew of a gardener that might have some, and he did.” He pulls a piece of dark bark from a pouch.
Nash pulls a piece of dark bark from out of a pouch.
“Very good. It is true that believing in it is an important part of magic, but you must also find a part of yourself to give to the spell. A part deep inside here.” Venda pumps a fist on her chest.
“What about ohma lo?” I ask. “What does it mean, and why must we say it?’
“In the ancient tongue, it means luck be given. You could say just that, but I and other enchanters feel the magic is stronger when using the ancient language. It helps you to concentrate. To focus on something specific.”
She gathers the ingredients on the mirror, forming a pile of each. “The pestle will help break down the rosemary but isn’t strictly necessary. It just takes combining them. Their oils, you might say. They should mix as you chant, and you have to feed them your belief and the part of you.” She smushes them together with her fingers, chanting ohma lo. After a minute or so, she takes the mixture and transfers it onto the rock, while she continues to chant. It takes a moment, but then the stone glows, and she stops, wipes the mixture off the newly made luck charm, and holds it up for us to see.
“I can’t believe it worked,” Inkga says.
“And that is why you fail.” Venda hands her the rock. “That is yours to gift to whomever you choose. You may not keep it for yourself or give it to Ryn until you make one on your own. It will mean more if you make it. It will still be lucky, just not as strongly. Since we are in Valcora, I would decorate the charm and tell the person you are gifting it to that it is something special you made them, and not that it is magic. People here do not like magic.”
Inkga takes it reverently. “It’s hard to believe they don’t like magic, when it can create good things.”
“It can also cause harm”—Venda looks straight at me—“but it seems your leader would like to bring it back to this country, which I commend.”
It is for the best purpose—to get Valcora out of the hands of a mad woman.
Chapter 6
A knock on the door makes me jump, and I’m surprised by the movement. How did that happen? Deep inside, I must have the energy to move my body. I hope. A servant enters, and Venda, Inkga, Nash, and I stare him down.
He bows. “Your Majesty, forgive me, but an emergency council meeting has been called. They are requesting your presence and that of your Head Advisor, Nash Zorris.”
I glance at the clock. It’s almost dinner time, the part of the day the council loves to eat. It must be an emergency indeed if they called a meeting now. Have they heard about Daros’s pardon and release and are angry at me over it? I try not to worry about it. “Thank you. We will be there shortly.”
Once he leaves the room, I tell Venda, “Thank you for your assistance. It is invaluable. Would you come again, to teach us more?”
She lowers her bald head. “It would be an honor.”
“I assure you, the honor is ours,” I say.
Nash takes her hand and bows over it. “We owe you more than words can say.”
Venda flicks her gaze to me, before turning it back to him. “I will delay my return home to help you in this matter.”
“Thank you,” the three of us say as one.
I glance at Inkga, and we both giggle, though it doesn’t feel like the best of times to laugh.
We give our goodbyes, Inkga says she’ll be ready with my dinner when I return, and Nash takes me out. With my guards surrounding me, I’m wheeled through the halls until we reach the far-off council room.
When we enter, all faces turn to us as the council members stand around the table. Their expressions are a mix of solemn and worry.
I swallow my fe
ars as I’m rolled into place at the head of the table and Nash takes his place at my side. “Please, be seated,” I say. Once they’re settled, I ask, “What was this meeting called for?”
“A problem has been brought to our attention,” Timit, my Head of Treasury, says. “The Kurah are refusing to sell their goods until taxes have been lowered.”
I don’t know whether to be relieved it’s not about Daros or furious that the Kurah have gone this far. “They can’t do that.”
“They can, and they have,” Timit replies.
“I’m afraid it’s true,” Mina, Head of Foreign Relations says. “They're quite insistent. We must give in, or all will suffer.”
There has to be a way around this. “How will anyone get what they need if they are refusing to sell? Won’t they be affected just as much if they don’t sell their goods?”
“It’s not that simple,” Timit says. “They are trading with each other for the supplies they need.”
“So the Medi and Poruah will be the ones to pay.” How can anyone do such a thing to another person?
“We need to act fast, whatever we decide,” Nash says.
“Agreed,” Jaku says. “We can’t let the majority of people suffer because a small group is hoarding their resources.”
What do we do? I don’t have the answers. There has to be something. If I don’t act on this, I’ll have the Medi and Poruah fighting against me as much as—if not more than—the Kurah. The country will be thrown into even greater chaos, and the threats on my life will increase, as will the assassins coming for me. I won’t have someone else die in my stead, and I refuse to go, so I have to figure this out.
“Any suggestions?” I ask.
The room is silent. No shuffling papers by the advisors. No one taking notes. Just the sound of my own breathing. Gah. This is as useless as I am.
I can only think of one thing. “Bring all the Kurah you can to the throne room tomorrow afternoon. I will speak to them. If they have a spokesperson, they may bring them.”
“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” Timit says, “but what is speaking to them going to do?”
