by Stina Leicht
“Will the girl be all right?” Erkki asked.
“She’ll be fine. It was an accident. The smith?”
“I’m not certain,” Erkki said. “When I broached the subject of magic, he panicked. Given the circumstances, I thought it best to keep him calm and away from the girl.”
“He’s from Novus Salernum,” she said.
“I’m afraid so,” Erkki said. “Who knows how long he’s been fighting it. Someone should teach him what to do with the energy before his skull explodes like a bad melon.”
“Don’t exaggerate. He isn’t that powerful.”
“He’s strong enough to be a problem.”
Goddess save us from Acrasian ignorance, Ilta thought. “Can you teach him? It should be a male who talks to him.”
Erkki frowned. “Soldiers’ rituals are all I know. And that would hardly suffice. He’s a smith.” And with that, he turned and left with Wells in tow. Seeing that nothing more interesting was going to happen, the crowd in the passage began to dissipate. The door was still open. Cool air drifted into the hot room. James whispered something in Katrin’s ear and then tenderly brushed damp hair from her eyes. She nodded and pulled the coat that he’d wrapped around her closer.
Leaving her alone on the floor, James went to Ilta. “Is she going to be all right?”
“Yes,” Ilta said. “Given the situation, Kat did the best thing possible. She hid herself away in her own mind. She was frightened, fainted, and couldn’t find her way back. That’s all.”
“What do you mean, that’s all?” James asked. “Tell me the truth.”
Ilta paused. She really didn’t want to add to James’s worries. “It was uncontrolled magic.”
“What?” James shot a worried glance at Kat.
“Not Kat. It wasn’t her, not yet, and maybe not ever,” Ilta said. “It was the smith.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Is this … normal?” James asked, now giving the smith an uneasy look.
Feeling uncomfortable, Ilta paused. She hadn’t discussed the facts of burgeoning magical power with James before and was reluctant to do so. Since he’d adopted Kat, Ilta had assumed he knew what he was in for, but now it was apparent that he didn’t. Acrasians were terrified of magical power, and thanks to their history with Eledore, there were good reasons for that fear. At the same time, Acrasians frequently magnified the danger. “It’s normal. But only for someone who is uneducated and unprepared.” Of course, she didn’t tell him that accidents occurred even when people were made ready. Magic was power, and power was dangerous when mishandled.
“What do you mean?” James asked.
“When kainen reach a certain age, their magical powers begin to manifest,” Ilta said. “If your powers are very strong, if you aren’t aware of what’s happening, and if you attempt to repress them … it can be traumatic.”
“Even dangerous?”
“For those without an equivalent amount of power and knowledge of shielding?” Ilta nodded.
James frowned.
“But understand, the power we’re talking about isn’t that common,” Ilta said. “In your average kainen, it might manifest and no one but the individual might notice. Headaches are usual to varying degrees. Sometimes a small amount of bleeding—”
“Bleeding!”
“Nothing worse than a nosebleed,” Ilta said. “Harming others has been known to happen, but not frequently. Not if all are aware. Anyway, you don’t have to worry about the smith. I’ll teach him how to keep it under control, but it might be best to isolate him until we know the extent of—”
“This is going to happen every time one of you acquires your powers?”
She paused. “Not really. But I’m afraid there’s always a chance.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“We have traditions in place to handle this. His father should’ve taught him the basics of how to ground himself when he was small. It’s something every kainen child is taught, like learning to walk,” Ilta said. “Usually, something like this only occurs among the powerful families. Nobles in particular. When children are old enough, they are assigned apprenticeships according to what powers are most likely to develop—”
“But we don’t have traditions. I’ve never heard of this. Nor have most of the others. At least, no one who grew up in Acrasia,” James said. “Everyone here is a refugee. Justiina, Henna, Miikka, and Sevri. They’re all children. Orphan children. We have no idea where they came from because they were in shock when they were found. They could barely speak. You remember what that was like. We don’t know who their parents were.”
“I know.”
“And they aren’t the only ones, nor will they be. There will be more,” James said, and took a deep breath. “We must come up with some sort of system to cope with this. And we have to do it now. I won’t risk—”
“Calm down. We can start classes,” Ilta said. “I’m sure others will be willing to volunteer. Westola and I can monitor their progress. Everything will be all right. The Ytlainen manage a mixed population without much difficulty. It can be done. Stop acting like—”
“I apologize. I didn’t mean to … ,” James said. “I—I simply didn’t expect … this.”
“It isn’t a problem if we’re ready for it. And we can be ready,” Ilta said. “Every kainen holds some kind of power. You know this.”
“Not every.”
“Nels does too.”
“He claims otherwise.”
“It didn’t take the form he was raised to expect.” She shook her head and whispered, “And I think he’s committed to being defective because it makes being a failure easier for him to accept.”
James glanced around the room. The weaponsmith picked up a sword from the workbench and began to run its edge along a sharpening stone. He seemed determined not to look at Katrin, who sat on the cold floor hugging herself inside her father’s oversized coat.
The worry lines at the corners of James’s eyes deepened. “How long will it take to stabilize Tobias? Will he be able to get back to work soon?”
“It depends upon how much of his upbringing I’ll have to deal with,” Ilta said. “Right now? I’d say it’ll be a few days at least. He’s been filled with a great deal of fear and shame.”
“What if it’s too much … power?”
“It isn’t command magic,” she blurted.
“How do you know?”
She sighed. Because we’re not scraping two sets of brains off the forge walls. There was no point in saying anything. It would only serve to strengthen his prejudice, and there was nothing to worry about. This time. “I would know.”
The lines in James’s brow deepened.
“Why don’t you take Katrin home? Tuck her under a blanket with a bowl of warm soup. After a few hours’ rest, she’ll be back to normal and getting into the usual trouble.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Ilta felt a smile creep onto her face. Taking the opportunity to distract him, she whispered, “She’s growing up on you, and you don’t like it.”
He glanced again at his daughter and then said, “Guilty as charged.” Shaking his head with a wry smile, he said, “Will you let me know how Tobias is? Later, of course. Then we’ll talk about what should be done. I need to get some sort of a plan in place as soon as possible.”
“I’ll come by,” Ilta said. “Get Katrin home. And I’ll bring two doses of valerian.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
James retrieved Katrin and they both left, a little worse for wear but safe and in one piece. The forge was quiet but for the crackling fire. Ilta went to the smith. Worry clouded his expression, and a spike of peppery anxiety pierced the air when she approached. He stopped fidgeting with the sword.
“Is Katrin all right?” he asked.
“She’ll be fine,” Ilta said. “Don’t you worry. Your name is Tobias Freeson, am I right?”
He nodded.
“I’m Ilta Korpela,” she said.
“Am I going to be punished? I didn’t mean to hurt her. Will Mr. Slate turn me out? I—I hope not. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“It was just an accident. Everyone understands that,” Ilta said, settling onto the bench next to him. This close to the forge fire, she felt too warm. She unbuttoned her coat.
Tobias’s face turned a deeper shade of red. “Deirdre said I’d killed Kat, but I only touched her arm.”
“What happened when you touched Katrin?”
“I don’t know. Something … . It … tingled.” Tobias stared at the blade again. “Then she fell down.”
“Has anything like this ever occurred before?”
“No. Never!”
“Did your parents have magic?”
Tobias’s face went from red to white. “My parents weren’t sorcerers. They couldn’t make people see or do things. They never hurt anyone.”
Goddess, please grant me patience, Ilta thought. “I mean, did either of your parents exhibit intuition or have portentous dreams? Did they have special skills? Was either of them particularly good with animals?”
His expression grew more alarmed. “Sometimes Mother got feelings about people. Father said I was like her. But he never said …” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Magic is evil. I’m damned, aren’t I?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I use magic to heal people. Am I evil?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Give me your hand.”
Exposing herself to yet another person’s thoughts so soon was risky, but there was no one else to handle the matter. He flinched as she cradled his hand in both of hers. The familiar tingling began in her palms and raced up both arms to her elbows. A series of images blocked out the forge. Unfamiliar faces. Novus Salernum. Katrin. The visions were spiced with the scent of terror, humiliation, and deep sorrow. His mind was in such chaos that it took Ilta a while to find what she was looking for.
An affinity for metal. Handy for a smith. Very strong, but not enough to be too dangerous. Dangerous enough, though. Releasing his hand, she blinked until the glowing embers of the forge fire were clear. She expanded her awareness to the smell of burning coal and lamp oil and finally the firelight dancing on the walls, the bellows.
“Tell Mr. Slate that I won’t do whatever it was I did again,” Tobias said. “Not ever.” The last words came out in a rush.
Don’t make promises you can’t keep, she thought. “Like any talent, you have to learn how to use and control it. Everyone makes mistakes—even me, and I’ve been training my whole life.”
Tobias sat with his head down and his shoulders hunched. “But … it’s wrong.”
“It’s perfectly normal for you. You’re kainen.”
His horrified expression made her want to slap whoever had made him fear himself.
She decided to try a different approach. “You were born with the ability to hear. Is that wrong?” she asked.
Hesitating, he finally shook his head in answer.
“All right,” she said. “How about being able to sing or paint? These things aren’t any different. Magic is the force that flows through every living thing and every element in the world. Earth. Air. Fire. Water.” She pointed to each. Then she laid a hand over her own heart. “Spirit.”
He blinked but didn’t protest.
She continued. “Magic connects us with the universe. And it most certainly exists whether or not one can sense it. Magic is part of what I am. It’s also part of what you are.”
Tobias’s voice came out in a shamed whisper. “But everyone knows what happened to Acrasians who came to Eledore before the war. The things that were done to them. You can’t say that wasn’t evil.”
“The Acrasians invaded Eledore first,” Ilta said, frowning. That much was true. Of course, it wasn’t the whole of the truth. That was complicated. The border between Acrasia and Eledore had been disputed since long before she’d been born. Altercations had flared up on and off for a century. “People have a right to protect themselves.”
Doubt hovered on the edges of Tobias’s face, but he still didn’t look up. “Yes, but—”
“Magic is a tool, like any other. It can be turned to multiple purposes like any tool can, including words.” She stopped herself. He needed to trust her, and yelling at him wouldn’t help. He’d been through enough for one day. “Magic is a powerful tool, and as such, it must be used responsibly. It’s an important part of wielding power of any kind, knowing when to use it and how. Not everyone who is born with power uses it wisely.”
“But—”
“Kainen are no more evil than anyone else. Every being is flawed,” she said. “Therefore, I won’t defend what was done to those who came to Eledore with peaceful intent. I won’t deny it. I can’t. Abuses occurred, and in truth, Acrasians weren’t the only ones harmed.”
“But … don’t you do … spells?” Tobias asked the question as if it were going to bite him before it left his mouth.
“Do you know how spells work?”
Tobias blushed.
Ilta sighed. “Well?”
“Grandfather said … I mean … I hear you dance naked until a demon appears and then you ask it for help.”
Ilta burst out laughing.
Tobias frowned. “What’s so funny?”
“Who concocts these stories?” She laughed for quite a while, until she spied his face. Wiping away a tear, she took another deep breath. “It’s simple. You’ve probably done it yourself and never given it a thought.” She cast about for a suitable analogy that wouldn’t upset him. “I can assume your father took you to an Acrasian church?”
He looked worried but nodded.
“What kind?” Ilta asked.
“Moralist.”
I should’ve known, Ilta thought. “Tell me, when a blessing is given, what happens?”
Tobias cleared his throat. “The priest asks Mithras to watch and protect the person and makes a holy sign in the air or waves incense over them or anoints them with oil.”
Ilta said, “There. That’s a spell.”
“No, it isn’t!”
“The only distinction you can make between the two is terminology. Acrasians call it prayer, and Eledorean Traditionalists, like me, call it a spell,” she said.
“Acrasians don’t have magic.”
“Well, not like kainen do. No.”
“And kainen worship false gods.”
“Tell me something,” Ilta said. “Why are kainen gods considered false, more false than any others?”
Tobias blinked. “Well …”
“Acrasians only believe in one deity. I understand that. However, the rest of the world believes that there are many deities. There are even some people who don’t believe in any deity at all.”
“Humanists.” His expression was filled with disgust.
“Eledoreans believe that you can choose not to ask any deity for help,” Ilta said. “Or you can seek out one in particular who best embodies the type of assistance needed. It’s even possible to ask for help from all of them at once. It’s entirely up to you.”
“But there aren’t any other gods.”
Ilta gave him a tolerant smile. “I’m certain there are, if there are any at all, but if you choose for there not to be others, there won’t be for you.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“We’ll talk about it some more later. Right now … well … you don’t have to believe in anything for magic to work. You only have to connect to the source,” Ilta said, touching his forehead, then his chest, and lastly pointing to the stone floor. “Every kainen has their own relationship with magic. Their own method of accessing and controlling it. You’ll have to figure out what works best for you.”
Obviously uncomfortable, Tobias turned to the saber lying on the table. It was then that she recognized the swirling pattern of water steel emerging from the black substance e
ncrusted on the blade.
“Look what I found,” Tobias said, snatching up the weapon and unscrewing the pommel. He pulled it apart and pointed to the Eledorean runes VT etched into the tang.
Ilta’s jaw dropped. “Where did you get that?”
“Mr. Nickols brought it along with some others awhile ago. They’re for the swordsmith, Pasha. She’ll be here later. Most of them weren’t much more than scrap metal. But this one is special. It’s still sharp. Even after the blade was mistreated. See this?” Tobias pointed at a blackened section of blade. “Whoever owned it kept it coated in oily soot.” He ran a finger along the dull top of the blade in awe.
“Why would anyone do that?”
“To keep others from seeing it for what it is. I think.”
“Oh.”
“Mother told me that long ago, Consul Sertorius sent spies deep into Eledore to find the great forge,” Tobias said. “When Vihtori Tuomari wouldn’t reveal the secret of Eledorean water steel, the Consul’s men killed him and every apprentice and master smith who trained with him. Then they burned it all to the ground. The secret was lost. The Ytlainen smiths are good, but they’ll never compare to Vihtori Tuomari.”
At least he has some of his history correct, Ilta thought.
“Did Tuomari use magic?” Tobias asked, uneasy.
She nodded. “Just as I put magic into remedies I create, or the cloth I weave.”
“What about guns?” Tobais asked, shy. “If Vihtori Tuomari placed magic in the metal of a sword … can I do so with a gun?”
“I suppose anything is possible,” she said. “Unfortunately, I know nothing of weapons. I can only teach you what I know. Basic things that would be useful for a smith. Would you like that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think about it.” She got up from the floor. “In the meantime, please try to avoid strong emotions until you’ve learned some manner of control.”
“You’re telling me to stay away from Katrin.”
“For the moment, sure. Overall? No,” she said. “But I’m fairly certain her father will.”
Tobias sighed.
Ilta paused, smiled, and then whispered, “However, if you really care about her, I wouldn’t let that stop you.”
