The Goddess Denied

by Deborah Davitt

  “Stop stalling and answer the question. You know this one.”

  “I’ve never seen that one before!” Zaya tried not to squawk.

  “What color-coding is usually used?”

  “Red for fire, pink for charms, orange for warding, yellow and brown for earth, green for healing, clear for air, dark blue for water, light blue for ice, and violet for illusion. Black is used for kinetic effects.” Zaya parroted the lesson, and then squinted at the gem. “It’s . . . a water stone.”

  “And?”

  “Ancient setting, probably fifteen hundred years old. Chaldean figures, but Hellene lettering. It’s a transitional piece.” She squinted again. “The command word is pagos. Ice.”

  “Very good.” Erida laid it aside. “Next item.” She held up the object on the end of a long chain. This one had a golden exterior, and appeared strongly reminiscent of a pocket watch. Zaya caught it in her fingers, and opened the case gingerly. Inside, there were three dials, each one color-coded. Red, orange, and light blue. “Early twentieth century,” Zaya said, slowly, and looked at the writing on the inside of the case. “Carthaginian technomancy, with Roman-Hellene influence . . . the writing on the dial has both Roman and Hellene characters, but the maker’s name is Carthaginian.”

  “Very nice, but what does it do?”

  Orange is for warding . . . . red is for fire, light blue is for ice . . . “It’s like the water gem, but it’s not for attack, but defense. And it doesn’t just store several charges of the same spell. You turn the orange dial towards the red position to . . . ward yourself against fire? And then towards the blue one, to ward yourself against ice attacks?”

  “Possibly. What are the other two dials for?”

  Gods. I have no idea. Zaya’s eyes darted from side to side. “I . . . fine-tuning how much energy the shields should expect to repel?”

  “Turn it over and look at the back.” Her mother’s tone was patient, but Zaya was starting to get frustrated.

  She turned it over, however, and blinked. “Two emitter stones. One red, one light blue.”

  “Now lift the dial face and look inside.”

  Zaya did so, very carefully using a jeweler’s screwdriver to remove the tiny screws. “A battery—a large one—and three storage gems,” she finally assessed, using a small hand light to look in and around the various gears, none of which were, fortunately, moving. “You can use this to both attack and defend. Fire attack, ice attack, absorption of ice attack, absorption of a fire attack.”

  “Very good. Set it to ‘absorb ice,’ and put it around your neck.”

  Zaya, wide-eyed, did so. “Push the button at the top of the device. You haven’t armed it.”

  Click.

  “Observe.” Erida lifted a hand, and a rush of white frost poured at Zaya from every direction. The girl shrieked and held up her hands . . . and then felt like a complete idiot as the device around her neck clicked again, and began to hum, as it absorbed all the spell energy. “Now, the advantage to all of these devices is what, Zaya?”

  Zaya was too busy gaping down at the object around her neck to answer for a moment, and then jerked up her head to stare at her mother. “Um . . . they can be used by a sorcerer to layer wards? To absorb a specific type of energy, hopefully without being overloaded, so that he or she can use it, redirect it . . . .” She faltered.

  “And?”

  “. . . and so that the magus doesn’t have to try to protect him or herself against . . . everything at once?”

  “And?” Erida looked at her pointedly.

  “I don’t know!”

  “The devices can be used by anyone,” Erida told her. “God-born usually refuse to use them, but anyone, even a normal mortal, can utilize one, so long as they are trained in their use. Some fire departments throughout the world, for example, issue similar devices, as well as smaller, less valuable ambient heat dispersers. Combat troops sent into desert regions are sometimes issued ambient heat dispersion medallions, as well. Now, what’s a disadvantage?”

  Zaya blinked, rapidly. “Um . . . they can overload. And if you’re not a magus, you . . . can’t tell immediately if they’re going to explode. You need to discharge them periodically. Oh! That’s why this has both attack and defense! You absorb what they throw at you, and you send it back!”

  “Exactly. Very good.”

  The rest of the lesson practically flew after that, as Zaya suddenly found herself highly motivated to learn everything she could about device-based magic. This was something she could use. And, as a reward, her mother gave her a single item. “I will need to charge this for you, periodically,” Erida warned. “Do not use this for ill, or you will be punished. Power of any sort must be used ethically. Think of this as . . . a test.”

  Zaya stared at the necklace with its long silver chain. The pendant at the end was in the shape of a leaf, and held, like a drop of dew, a single violet gem. “An illusion of some sort?” She peered at the mount that held the gem; traced along the veins of the leaf, was a single word, in Hellene, over and over. Aoratos. Unseen. “This will make me invisible?”

  “Correct. For short periods, no more than five minutes. And you may dismiss it at any time by removing the necklace.” Erida raised a finger. “Ethical use of power, Zaya.”

  Zaya could hardly wait to try it out. The various unethical uses were all immediately and depressingly obvious. She could sneak up on people at school and listen to what they were saying. She could sneak into the teacher’s break room, and find out what really went on in there. Ethical uses . . . well, it was a temptation to right many wrongs. To steal homework out of bullies’ bags and leave them unable to account for where their work was. She rather suspected her mother wouldn’t terribly be pleased to have to recharge the stone constantly, however. And would probably want an accounting of every use. What’s the point of having a power if you can’t use it? Zaya grumbled to herself, and then realized that that probably was her mother’s point.

  Two days later, she still hadn’t found a way to use it, but was still dying to do so. Her brothers and sisters were being packed up to stay with the Matrugenas for a while, as her parents were going to be gone. In truth, the mansion staff and the pedagogues could have taken care of them all adequately, so there was probably another reason for it. The Pictish clan wasn’t going to Britannia this year, thanks to the instability in the world, so she and her siblings might be with them all summer.

  From the second floor, she saw Maccis in the atrium of the house, in wolf form, lounging under a tree, half-asleep, and decided that this was as good a use as any. She’d sneak up on him, he wouldn’t see her coming, and she’d finally get to surprise him for a change. Normally, he padded silently up right behind her and shoved a cold nose just behind her knee. Or would drop down from a rooftop in some avian form or another, and scare the life right out of her.

  She headed for the stairs, and heard voices. Her parents, speaking with Maccis’. She knew perfectly well that her father and Saraid and Lassair could sense her, no matter where she was; sneaking up on them was impossible. So she headed right past the door for the stairs, hearing only a snatch of the conversation as she did. Something about her parents going back up into Chaldea, to try to reinforce Roman troops there. Give various other Magi families a chance to escape. “There’s a mad godling up there right now,” Master Matrugena warned.

  Then I will look forward to testing its strength, her father said, his voice as dark as Zaya had ever heard it.

  “Chaldea is mine to protect,” her mother said, quietly. “and I have not done as much for it and my people as I should, these past few years. With my family secure, it is time to address that situation.”

  Zaya swallowed hard, some of the fun gone from the day. She slipped down the stairs, and, at the door of the atrium, whispered the command word, and looked down. The spell was perfectly constructed. She could see herself, faintly translucent, so she wouldn’t stumble into anything; that was a mental component, she k
new. And to everyone else . . . light would be diffracting away from her, scattering, before it actually hit her body. So this is what it feels like to be special.

  She opened the door, cautiously, and slipped out into the atrium. Let the door fall closed behind her, softly. And crept, light-footed, across the stone tiles. She could see the wolf’s ears twitch, slightly, and stopped moving until Maccis appeared to settle back into his light doze, where he lay in a hammock, limbs sprawled everywhere.

  Step by cautious step, until she was close enough to touch him. She debated for a moment, and then just leaped into the hammock next to him, sending it swinging wildly.

  In a flurry of movement, Maccis was, suddenly, fully human, and had her arms pinned. “Sneak attacks, huh?” he told her. “I see you’re not a woman of honor after all.” He grinned, ear to ear. “I should dump us both on the ground.”

  “You. . . you weren’t surprised?” Zaya was crestfallen, and then indignant. “I was quiet!”

  “I could smell you. You need to approach from downwind.” He studied her. “How’d you go invisible?”

  “A present my mother gave me. I wanted to try it out at school—”

  “Good thing you didn’t—”

  “So I thought I’d try it on you.” She sighed. “So much for that. I thought I’d finally found the great equalizer.” But all it is, is a crutch.

  Maccis thought about that for a moment. “Well, I definitely didn’t see you. Most of my other siblings wouldn’t have smelled you.” He released her arms. “Maybe it’s situational. Like learning to sneak up on a wolf from downwind. I can’t smell you till you’re on me, that way.” He shrugged. “You know what? Solinus can turn his entire body into flame. You know what I can do to fight someone like him?”

  Zaya frowned. “What?”

  “Absolutely nothing.” Maccis shrugged again. “But I can run really fast.” He slipped out of the hammock. “Come on. We can practice hide and go sneak in the back yard. Without the magic, to start with. You were pretty good about the walking quietly. I barely heard the door open.”

  “You were onto me that fast?” She was disheartened.

  “Wolf.”

  Several hours later, Erida studied her daughter. “Why, precisely, do you need the amulet recharged already? Did I not tell you that I expected ethical use of power from you?”

  Erida had, of course, watched a good deal of the afternoon’s proceedings. At first, with a certain amount of jaundice; it had looked like playing. Illa’zhi had had, however, a better perspective on the activity than she; he could listen in on Zaya’s thoughts. Frustration. Irritation. Anger. He’d been standing in his smoke-like form on the balcony, looking down into the backyard; several other of the Matrugena children had joined in. No magic on Zaya’s part, at first. Just trying to sneak up on a wolf-form Maccis, over and over, and being told precisely when she stepped on a branch, or when the wind shifted to give him her scent. And then, from Illa’zhi, Ah, interesting. She’s processing the information differently each time. Trying different things . . . and the sensation of success. It is so interesting, watching humans learn. Cause, effect, change, effect. After that, Erida had watched, her eyebrows lifted, as a kind of free-for-all erupted, with Zaya trying to remain hidden and untagged for longer and longer periods of time. The shapeshifters had the undeniable advantage in the game; the flame-born children were no better at finding Zaya than an ordinary human would have been.

  Now, Zaya winced and shifted from foot to foot. “I was practicing with Maccis, Eisa, and Vorvena,” she said, quickly. “The first thing I learned was that being able to turn invisible, like a Jaguar warrior? Is totally useless unless you also know how to sneak.”

  Erida bit down on her smile. “And that means, as a general principle?”

  Zaya thought about it, and offered, tentatively, “You need to learn how to use a power, effectively. You can’t just compensate with more and more magic.”

  “Correct. What else did you learn?” Erida swung the chain gently from her fingertips.

  Zaya bit her lip. “That a device doesn’t make you a sorcerer. It’s a tool, like a hammer. But it’s . . . inflexible. It only allows you to do what it . . . can do.” She paused. “You like to tell me that if all you have is a hammer, every problem begins to look like a nail. If all someone can do is . . . turn into fire,” a slightly guilty look at her brothers and sisters, all of whom could do more than just that, “then everything looks like it should be burned. If all you can do is change shape, then that becomes the answer, too. Sorcerers need to learn to do more. Have more solutions.”

  “Not just as sorcerers,” Erida told her daughter, and recharged the amulet, barely having to concentrate to do so. “As humans, overall. You, Zaya, already have more solutions than most people do. You’re being armed with knowledge. Physical self-defense. Connections. Someday, you will be a powerful woman, and you’ll use that power only as much as needed, and no more.” She handed the amulet back. “Continue to practice, but save a few charges until I return. Always keep an emergency reserve. You never know what might happen.” Erida did her best not to think about Abgar’s betrayal, and how close she’d come to dying. Her lesson in the wisdom of always having another trick left in the bag had been a bitter one.

  Zaya had scuttled off, looking dazedly pleased at not being in trouble. Erida returned to the other room, shaking her head slightly, as she and Zhi moved back to the map of Chaldea and West Assyria. Still in his smoke form, he gave Lassair, Trennus, and Saraid a direct look. I am uneasy leaving my eldest daughter in your care, I must admit.

  Lassair’s eyes narrowed slightly. You had no problems with leaving your mate’s son in our care. And no concerns about the younger ones, I note.

  That was different. Athim is mine, because I have molded and shaped him. The younger ones are still young. In this case, Fireflower is my daughter. Illa’zhi’s voice was grim. And I am concerned that Mirrorshaper may not treat my daughter with proper honor in our absence.

  Has he done aught else so far? Saraid’s tone was patient.

  No, but they are still young. Zhi paused. Also, he is . . . by his very Name and nature . . . changeable. He reflects what he sees around him. Can anyone so changeable be constant enough to be trusted?

  You yourself have changed, fire-that-destroys, Lassair pointed out, as Erida slipped a hand onto Zhi’s forearm, feeling not skin, but the sense of tension that held in his roiling smoke.

  Yes, but I do not make of it a daily occurrence, fire-that-creates. We are both of the same element. We know that nothing stays precisely the same, not in our wake. We do not, ourselves, stay precisely the same shape, depending on what fuels us, from moment to moment. But we remain fire.

  Saraid now sounded vaguely irritated, His behavior and his mind are constant. Only his body changes.

  I will judge that on my own, wildling.

  “It’s just puppy love.” Trennus sounded amused. “It’ll probably pass. Admittedly, Rig had it pretty hard for Inghean, back in the day, and they’ve been married for . . . what, three years now?” He paused. “I’ve made it pretty plain to Maccis that he needs to treat Zaya and all the other children with respect. Not that he’s done anything else.” He shook his head. “I may not see him out of wolf-shape all summer, except maybe for breaks as a dinosaur.”

  Erida raised her eyebrows. “You’d permit that?”

  “No.” Trennus shrugged. “I’ll probably wind up having a talk about how his family should be allowed to see his real face once in a while. Not that I entirely blame him. There have been points in my life where being . . . anything and anyone other than who I was, and just being able to go crawl into a den somewhere would have been nice.”

  Lassair turned back towards Erida. Mirrorshaper has the impression that you intend to effect an arranged marriage for Fireflower. Is that true?

  Erida blinked. “I don’t know where he got that particular notion.” She shook her head, grimacing. “I introduced Athim to a v
ariety of Chaldean families of equivalent rank, so that he might meet young people of his own age and with similar talents to his own, but he has yet to form any serious attachments.” She looked away. “The others, no. They’re mine and Zhi’s, and I have reason not to be overfond of the system of arranged marriages. I always accepted it as . . . what was expected of me, in my position. It does not need to be that way for my children.” She picked up metal pushpins, and began marking the map, neatly and carefully. “Now, as to where the mad godling has been seen?”