The Sky Warden & the Sun (Books of the Change)

by Sean Williams

  Sal was out cleaning with Bethe when Skender turned up early for his evening tutoring session. A psst from the empty void behind her made her jump.

  She turned. “Don’t do that!” The boy had scaled the cliff face to reach them, and become stuck again.

  “Give me a hand,” he said, reaching up for her. “I’m not sure I’m ever going to crack this. Maybe that’s why Dad put you here.”

  She begrudgingly helped him over the edge and waited while he dusted himself off. “You’re looking for Sal, I presume.”

  He looked once around the room, saw that Sal was absent, then flopped down on a bed.

  “Mind if I wait?” he asked.

  “What if I do? You’re here now.” She sat down in her chair and put the blanket back over her shoulder. Her knee ached in the cold evening air, but the rest of her enjoyed the rising chill.

  Skender rolled restlessly onto his side. She thought for a moment about asking Skender why his father hadn’t liked Lodo. Old family gossip would probably fascinate him as much as the everyday type, she was sure. But he beat her to it.

  “Can I ask you something?” he said.

  “If you have to.”

  “Why don’t you like me?”

  The similarity to her own question stopped her in her tracks, for a moment, and she had to think carefully about what to say. It’s not you, perhaps; it’s what you have. It’s what you stand for, which I can never be part of. It’s for being everything that I want to be, and not realising how damned lucky you are ...

  “I’m tired,” she eventually said. “Let’s not get into this.”

  “No, Shilly. I want to know.” His eyes glinted. “I know I’m just a kid, and I’m enough like you to be annoying, but there’s more to it than just getting on your nerves. What have I done or said to put you off?”

  As much as she hated the implication that they were in any way similar, she admired his directness. She doubted she could have been so forthright.

  “I’m just jealous,” she said. “That’s all.”

  “Really?”

  “Honest.”

  He nodded. “I get that, you know. People think: Oh, he’s the son of the great Mage Van Haasteren; he must have it easy. Look at how much further ahead he is than us. Look at all the exciting things he gets to do that we haven’t learned yet. It must be easy when the person doing the grading is your father.” He shook his head. “Is that what you’re thinking?”

  “No,” she said, and meant it. “If anything, I imagine it’s harder having your father here, with all that history behind you. All those expectations.”

  “Exactly.” He looked somewhat relieved. “I can’t help being good at learning things, and neither could Dad. It’s a family trait, you see. We have the Change, yes, but not buckets of it. If we did, we’d be out in the real world, doing real things with the other Stone Mages. All we’re good for is to ask how things should be done.” He hesitated for a second, then went on. “Do you see what I’m saying? Knowing things is different to doing things. That’s the main reason why I’ve never mucked around with light-sinks before. Even if I could get my head around the pattern like you did, I don’t have the knack to make it work. I could only do it with Sal or someone like him behind me.”

  “Are you trying to make me feel sorry for you?”

  She didn’t intend the question to come out with so much emotion behind it, but he winced. “No.”

  “What, then?”

  “Maybe I was just trying to make conversation.” He sat up straighter, abandoning all pretence of being comfortable. “Look, do you want to know my deep, dark secret — the reason why I find it so easy to learn things?”

  “Not really.”

  “I’m going to tell you anyway. It’s all to do with memory. I don’t forget anything. That’s what I inherited from my father, and he from his. That’s what makes my family such good teachers. Show us a textbook once and we have it for life, in our heads. Demonstrate a pattern, and we can reproduce it in an instant, any time. Even if we don’t understand it, we can trot it out on demand. And we never forget our students’ names. Perfect, eh?”

  It was her turn to feel besieged by the outpouring of emotion. “What’s all this got to do with me?”

  “Jealousy, of course,” he said. “I’m going to be a teacher one day, like my father, since I’m no good for anything else. I’m trapped here forever, condemned to reciting things I don’t really comprehend. But you — you’ve been to places I’ve never heard of. You’ve seen the sea; you’ve seen the Divide; you’ve seen the Broken Lands; you’ve seen the city in the salt lake, one of the three great cities mentioned in the Book of Towers! You’ve seen more in a month than I ever dreamed of seeing in a lifetime. If I could trade places with you, I’d do it right now. I just wanted you to know that.”

  For a moment they stared at each other. All trace of his usual levity was gone. He didn’t look like a kid any more. He just looked lonely — as lonely as she had been in Fundelry, perhaps. Behind all the cheerful banter, Skender was as insecure as anyone.

  She remembered his comment that it would be good to have them around, and her scepticism at hearing it. It wasn’t really their age he had been talking about, she realised, but the fact that they were outsiders, too. She had gravitated to Sal for the same reason in Fundelry.

  And look where that got me, she thought. The insight into Skender’s motivations didn’t ease her own uncertainties at all. The fact that her resentment had been so obvious appalled her. She had to keep a tighter lid on her emotions; that was becoming very clear. What else had he seen?

  “Is that why you came here early?” she asked. “To tell me all this?”

  A smile crept slowly over his features. “Partly. I knew it’d feel good to get it off my chest.”

  “Well, thanks, I think.”

  “My pleasure. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone else about it. Not even Sal. I think I’ve got him fooled, for the time being.”

  She nodded, hoping that was the end of it.

  It wasn’t. He leaned forward conspiratorially.

  “I felt what you did the other night, when we mucked around with the light-sink.”

  The night air was warm compared to the chill that spread through her. “You felt —?”

  “You were Taking,” he said. “That’s what we call it when you use someone else’s talent without their knowledge. You were Taking from Sal, and you were Taking hard. Did you see how he looked afterwards? He was as pale as a sheet. You can hurt someone doing that, you know.” He leaned back. “It’s okay,” he said. “My lips are sealed. I just wanted you to know that I knew.”

  “No, it’s not okay,” she said, feeling tears well up in her eyes, completely beyond her control. Her secret was out! “I wanted to do more than just watch him make the light-sink work. I wanted to do it myself. He lets me use him and I guess I took that for granted. Then I didn’t want to give it back. I wanted to take all of what he had and make it mine!”

  The feelings were painfully clear in her mind, even though she had felt strangely removed from them at the time and had been avoiding them ever since. She had wanted nothing more than to prove her mastery over the globe — to prove that she was as worthy of it as Sal. The only trouble was, she had almost had to drain him dry to do it.

  “I nearly ruined everything,” she sobbed, “because I was jealous and wanted what he has.”

  “It was a mistake —”

  “It was a terrible mistake!”

  “But don’t be too hard on yourself. Really.” He didn’t make any move to comfort her beyond a softening of his voice. “I told you we have a lot in common.”

  She swallowed back the tears with an effort and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. This wasn’t like her, she told herself furiously; this wasn’t what the Mage Erentaite wanted her to be. “You’r
e jealous of him?”

  “Of course.” Skender’s gaze met hers. “Who wouldn’t be? He makes it all look easy — even though I’m sure that, for him, it isn’t really.”

  The sound of footsteps came echoing up the corridor outside, growing rapidly nearer, and Skender leaned close again. “We all make mistakes,” he whispered. “That’s the other thing learning is all about. No one will know about yours, I swear. Unless,” he added, “it happens again.”

  “It won’t,” she swore, as much to herself as to him. I’ll never use Sal’s talent again, even if he asks me to. It’s too dangerous for both of us.

  Then Sal was in the doorway, breathing heavily. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Bethe needed a hand carrying some boxes down to one of the cellars.”

  Skender was instantly back to his old self, bouncing up on the bed. “Oh, Bethe needed a hand, did she? Far be it from me to come between you and your lady love.”

  Sal flushed. “Hey —”

  “Don’t pay him any attention,” said Shilly. “He’s just trying to get on your nerves.”

  “And succeeding, I hope.” Skender dragged a pile of looseleaf paper out from under the bed. “Let’s get revising. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

  Shilly forced herself to concentrate on the book on her lap, although her thoughts were in a tangle. Yes, she thought, we do have a big day tomorrow. The biggest in her life, perhaps, if she didn’t blow it. Maybe she already had. She found herself believing Skender when he said that he wouldn’t tell anyone about what she’d done to Sal. Almost done. They knew each other’s secrets now, and she could trust him with hers so long as she kept her feelings in check in future. Which she would. She had come close to ruining her chances forever, but she had backed away from the precipice and now, she told herself, everything would be simple.

  It had to be. That was the thought turning through her mind constantly throughout the night. It had to be, because there was nothing else for her, anywhere.

  The roster that morning called for illusions with Raf. The redhead’s interest lay in extravagant uses of the Change, including doppelgangers and grande mirages as well as illusions, the principles of which Shilly already knew. Breakfast came and went with no sign of the mage. Shilly nonetheless hoped to hear that, instead of illusions, the time had arrived for them to meet the Mage Erentaite for the second time.

  But Raf walked into the room when the bell rang and proceeded to take the lesson, joining Skender in his usual game of provocation and response. Shilly had found such games irritating at first, wishing Skender’s father would give him more attention so those around him could be spared his attempts to get it from them. She felt a little more sympathy for him now, though, and did her best to see through it to the lesson taking place around them.

  But illusions weren’t sufficient to keep her mind off the Mage Erentaite and the robes of the school. Although Raf had a lot of finesse when it came to his craft — summoning lifelike images of animals and plants, even making the walls of the tutoring room dissolve so it seemed as though they were standing on the summit of the mountain behind them — illusion-making was something she was good at and she soon found herself bored. She wished he could show her how to make the images real, or how to create images of people. Instead, time dragged painfully.

  The moment she had been dreading all night came during group demonstrations. Their task was to summon a simple, lifelike flower from the empty air, something Shilly would have found incredibly easy had she had a drop of talent. Sal offered her a hand to lend her some of his, and she pulled away, remembering her promise of the previous night, never to Take from him again.

  “No, really,” he said. “Go on. I don’t mind.”

  She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. But she couldn’t tell him why, either. All was awkward between them until Skender offered her some of his instead, along with a look of understanding and approval as she gratefully took his arm.

  “The girl has taste,” he joked, but Sal’s quick laugh didn’t hide a brief flash of hurt.

  The bells for lunchtime sounded, and still there was no word. Disastrous scenarios formed in her mind: their progress had been so poor that the Mage Van Haasteren had contacted the Mage Erentaite to inform her that she shouldn’t bother to make the journey; the elderly mage had died, which Shilly presumed happened to all Stone Mages at some point, no matter how powerful; a war had broken out, requiring a gathering of the Synod to which the mage belonged, placing all other concerns on hold; Skender had revealed her secret even though he said he wouldn’t. If any of the above were true, Shilly dreaded to think what would happen to dead wood like her. Sal had fitted in so well, and he had talent to spare. But not her; she would just get in the way. They would kick her out of the school, and she would be lost far from home with no one to turn to. Then she would have to follow Wyath’s suggestion and turn to painting to keep her alive. She had no other skills.

  Her mood was at its darkest during afternoon visualisations. All attempts to concentrate failed her. Patterns she had mastered years ago fragmented in her mind like glass. What had gone wrong? What was she going to do?

  The appearance of the Mage Van Haasteren in the doorway prompted a bolt of simultaneous hope and dread through her body.

  “Sal and Shilly,” he said, ignoring the other heads that turned to look at him. “I need to talk to you in private.”

  He looked very serious. Her muscles felt like water as they stood and left the room. Shilly didn’t ask any questions for fear of hearing bad news. She wondered how he would tell them if they had been rejected. A startling rush of annoyance went through her. Why couldn’t the mage be more like Lodo, she wondered, who had always, despite his moods and long silences, made it clear that he cared?

  The mage led them to the same room in which they had met the Mage Erentaite before. This time, though, the room was empty, and there were just three chairs at the table.

  “Sit.” They did so, side by side but not touching. The mage took the seat facing them and rested his red-robed elbows on the table. “As you know,” he began, “I was hoping to formally induct you into the Keep, today, with the blessing of the Mage Erentaite. That can’t happen, I’m afraid. There has been a change of plans.”

  Shilly waited breathlessly to hear that all her dreams had been for nothing.

  “I have been instructed to take you to Ulum instead,” said the mage. “You will meet Jarmila there, instead of here, and assume your robes then.”

  She almost melted down the chair and onto the floor.

  “You’re not sending us back?” said Sal with a squawk.

  “No. It’s my decision, based on the potential you show and the work you’ve put in this week, that you should both stay here at the Keep until your training is complete. Unless you choose to leave —?”

  “No way,” said Shilly quickly.

  “I didn’t think so.” He smiled fleetingly. “The robing ceremony is just a formality, really, albeit an important one. I know Jarmila approves of you too, so only the full Synod could override our decision now. It’s up to us, and we have made our decision. Welcome to the Keep.”

  Her relief was profound. After all the uncertainty of the previous week, at least she could be sure of one thing: she had made it. They had been accepted! A smile came to her face and she didn’t think it would ever come off. Not even the trip to Ulum could tarnish it. She was keen to get the ceremony over with and return to her studies. Everything was going to work out just fine.

  But the mage’s smile had been brief and barely hid an underlying concern. Shilly’s joy faded. She sensed that not everything else was going to go according to plan either.

  “There is one other thing, another reason why we must go to Ulum,” the mage said. “Your grandmother, Sal, wishes to meet you immediately.”

  Sal’s face went a greyish colour. “She is? I mean, she does? How ...?”


  “You asked me to contact your family on your behalf. I tried to do so, but my message to Mount Birrinah went unheard. They were elsewhere, or so I was told by a very unhelpful secretary. I was just beginning to search more thoroughly for them when word reached me that they were in Ulum. Business must have called them there about the time you arrived, and my message therefore passed them in transit. I approached them through different channels, this time with success. Once I explained who you are, they were very keen. Your mother, Seirian, was a favourite of your grandmother, I’m told. They had their differences, but she has been sorely missed. Your grandmother will be very glad to see you, if you are prepared to meet her in Ulum.”

  There was a strange cast to Van Haasteren’s expression that Shilly couldn’t interpret. It was similar to the one on Ori’s face when the topic of the Mierlos had come up over dinner at Wyath’s. Distaste, perhaps, or dislike; or even distrust.

  “Why don’t they come here?” she asked. Sal’s family were irrelevant to her; she had forgotten they even existed. The possibility that he might leave the Keep — leave her — to join them returned with surprising force.

  “They wouldn’t be allowed,” the mage explained. “The guardians are very specific about who they let into the Keep. As Sal’s grandmother is neither student nor teacher...” He trailed off into a shrug.

  When Sal spoke, his voice was deeper than Shilly had ever heard it, and almost frighteningly adult.

  “What is my grandmother’s name?”

  “Radi. Radi Mierlo.”

  “And she said she wants to meet me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who else is with her?”

  “I’m not sure exactly. If the Mierlo family travels as a strict family unit, like a lot of families do, that unit could consist of anything. One or more of your uncles and aunts, perhaps; there might be cousins. Customs have undergone many changes down the years, and I am removed from such things here.” The mage looked around the room, seeming as baffled by the details as Shilly was. “I understand that your grandmother will be putting us up tonight, though. The business that brought them to Ulum must have seen them well, since they are offering to treat all of us, not just Sal.”