by M. J. Scott
“I don’t think so. Not if you can sense it.”
Sophie shifted in her chair, frustrated. “But if I can feel it, why can’t I see it? If you Illvyans can, why can’t I?”
“Perhaps because you were not taught to do so,” Madame Simsa said, one hand smoothing the shawl. “It could be as simple as that. Or there may be another reason. That is what we will determine.”
It was something of a relief to hear her matter-of-fact tone. It didn’t sound like she thought Sophie was lacking in any way. “What does the ley line look like to you?”
“Like a strip of night sky floating just above the ground. Dark with tiny pinpoints of light, like starlight. When someone has a connection to the ley line, it’s as though I see faint stars around them as well. In your case, the stars are plentiful. And not so faint.” Her mouth quirked and Riki chittered at her. She shook her head at the monkey.
“So I should see the connection in a similar way to how I see the ley line itself?”
“Most likely. But not always. We shall experiment.” The venable pushed up to her feet and set the shawl back down on the sofa beside her, where Riki reached for it once more. She shook her head at the fam. “If you chew that, I will not be happy with you, my friend.” She shook her head once more. “If you take a familiar, child, do not choose a monkey. Troublesome beasts.”
Riki chittered at her, looking indignant.
“Well, if you would behave, I would not have to say such things.” She considered the monkey. “Actually, you can come with us.” She turned to Sophie. “Come. I do not think these rooms are the best location to test my theories. We need something a little closer to the earth.”
It seemed she meant that literally. She led Sophie back down to the grounds, heading in the same direction as they had for her testing. Tok rode on Sophie’s shoulder and Riki ambled along at Madame Simsa’s feet, keeping pace surprisingly easily for a not-so-large creature. Once they were outside, the monkey went on ahead, leaping up on window ledges and climbing tree trunks a few feet before dropping back down to catch up to them again.
They were definitely heading in the same direction as the testing. Only this time, they continued on beyond the row of small stone buildings. Sophie found herself in a small strip of garden that ran the length of the wall that formed the Academe’s boundaries.
“I’d take you into the park beyond but Henri would likely throw a fit,” Madame said, coming to a halt.
Sophie didn’t want to confess that she wasn’t overly keen on the idea either. Not after what had happened at the palace. Not only was the presence of the Anglions unnerving, but the fact that there were those in the court who seemed to hate Anglions so strongly as to attack them in the emperor’s presence was disturbing to say the least.
Anglion was hardly in a position to threaten the empire. Why should Illvyans care about it? She understood why Aristides might wish to complete his empire, but she didn’t see what real benefit adding Anglion to his list of conquests brought him or any other Illvyan. Certainly not any that would justify attacking Anglions in the emperor’s presence.
“You would be safe enough, child. I doubt your Anglions have anything up their sleeves that could get past Belarus.”
As though his name had summoned him, Belarus appeared beside her. Sophie managed to keep her reaction under control as the chill of his presence hit her. “Hello, Belarus.”
The sanctii nodded at her. Madame Simsa made an impatient gesture. “Come along. You, too, Belarus. While you are here, you may as well be useful.” She walked about ten feet farther along the fence line. “Here should do.”
Sophie stopped obediently, not at all sure what they were doing. “What do you need me to do?”
“We’re standing right on top of the ley line, child. Can you feel it?”
She could. She hadn’t noticed it before, distracted with wondering what they were about to do. “Yes.”
“Can you see it?”
So far she saw nothing but grass. “No.”
“All right. What about in Anglion? Did you see the ley line all the time?”
“No. A few glimpses when I was outside. Never inside a building. My tutors always said the power runs deep through the earth.”
Madame Simsa shook her head at that. “Now that is just silly.”
“Madame?”
“The power runs through the earth, yes, but it is also on the surface. Maybe this is the problem you have. Your mind has formed an image of the ley line as something like an underground river. So it doesn’t expect to see it above ground.”
“That doesn’t explain why I saw it out in the open the first time,” Sophie objected.
“This was the day of your birthday? The Ais-Seann?” Madame Simsa said. She spoke the last two words hesitantly, as though they were unfamiliar on her tongue.
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps it was the surprise of it all. You didn’t know that you were going to see anything and you just saw what was there.”
“Is that likely?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Madame Simsa said. “It’s not as though I have a lot of experience dealing with the wrong-headedness of Anglion-trained witches. You can’t even pronounce the words correctly. Ais-Seann. Bah.”
“What do the Illvyans call it?”
“An ascension. As it should be. Your language has mangled it.”
A-sense-see-on. A rising. A claiming. That was what her brain told her the word meant. And said slowly, the pronunciation was, in truth, not so different.
“How many Anglion mages have you met?” Sophie asked curiously.
“Two, not counting you and Cameron. There was a blood mage here for a while when I was a student but he moved on. And then there was another earth witch.” Madame Simsa frowned, as though trying to remember. “Maybe twenty years ago. She wasn’t very strong, not of the royal line or whatever you call it. But she and her husband—who had no power at all—had somehow fallen foul of the temple.”
“The temple?” She hadn’t heard of such a thing. Not of the temple driving someone out of the country. It was true that she had heard of them pursuing witches they thought were straying beyond the bounds of earth magic, but she couldn’t imagine what a weaker witch could do to draw their attention.
“Yes.” Madame Simsa nodded vigorously. “I’m sure that was it. Well, it usually is, isn’t it? The kinds of things that make people want to flee their country are limited. Crime. Politics. Love. Religion. Those would be the four I can think of.”
“Which one was it for Chloe de Montesse?” Sophie asked, unable to help herself.
Madame Simsa’s expression turned sad. “That one was politics. And not even her own. Her husband—he always was an idiot.” She looked up in Sophie. “Don’t marry for looks. Make sure they have a brain in their heads.” Then she smiled. “But you seem to have done well for yourself in that department. Your Cameron has a sensible head on his shoulders. A pretty one, too. But Charl de Montesse, well, he lacked the former. He became involved in some plot or another. The details were kept rather quiet after the event. He was arrested. Charged with treason. And at that point, Chloe ran. I doubt she was involved, but treason has a way of splashing onto those surrounding the one who commits the act. Such contamination can be fatal. Charl paid with his life. So I don’t blame Chloe for wanting to save hers. Even though it was terribly hard on her mother and father. Aristides, at least, did not seem to think that they may have been involved. Henri kept his position. But lost his daughter for all intents and purposes.”
Sophie swayed suddenly, feeling faint. Treason. Sevan’s words came back to her. Traitor. Was that what had waited for her if she returned? Disgrace? Or death.
“Are you feeling all right?” Madame Simsa asked, peering at her. “The reveilé is draining. We can wait.”
“No. We can’t.” Sophie straightened her shoulders, willing the dizziness to recede. “And I am fine.” She wanted to know more about Chloe. And about the ea
rth witch Madame Simsa had mentioned. But she wanted the magic first.
“You were saying something about a river,” she prompted.
“Yes. If you have been picturing a river, deep below the earth, then that may be why you can’t see it now.” Madame Simsa turned to Belarus. “Does that sound reasonable?”
“Possible,” the sanctii said.
“That’s not encouraging,” Sophie said. Belarus didn’t offer anything more.
Madame Simsa shook her head. “All we need to do is change how you think about it. That may solve the problem.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Then we will try a different approach. Or send you back to class with the younger students.”
“I’m not sure how many more classes I can take in a week,” Sophie said.
“You’ll find it easier now that you can understand the language more easily.”
“I hope so.” Anything to lighten the load would be welcome. “So, how do I change how I see the ley line.”
“Practice, I expect.” Madame Simsa glanced around, then moved a few steps to her right, standing with her back to the high stone fence. “Now. Come stand here with me. We’re right above the line here, which should make it easier.”
Sophie stood where she indicated.
“Good. Now close your eyes. Feel the ley line.”
She did as asked. Let her eyes close, found the power again where it rushed and roared below her.
“Now. Picture what you saw the first time you saw the ley line. Your river of light.”
She nodded when she had.
“And picture that river deep beneath your feet where you feel the power.”
“How do you get a river of light underground?” Her brows drew together as she tried to take the image of the ley line in her mind and place it far below her.
“Imagination, child,” Madame Simsa said, sounding a little impatient. “We are trying to alter how you see this, remember. So just try. Do you have it?”
“Yes,” Sophie said. “I think so.”
“Good. Now. When you draw from the ley line, what do you think about?”
“I just . . . reach for it.”
“Anglions,” Madame Simsa muttered. “All right. So in Illvya, we would say that part of your power is touching the ley line always. Not a large part but some. When you want to draw on it, that connection grows stronger . . . wider, for lack of a better term. Does that make sense?”
“I suppose so. What happens when someone isn’t near a ley line?”
“Well, there are ley lines and then there are ley lines. There are small ones that cross between the larger ones we use,” the venable said. “And the connection stretches. You’ve never not been able to use power when you wanted it, have you?”
Sophie thought about it. “No. But then again, I’m not sure I’ve ever been terribly far from a ley line when I wanted to.”
“Well, in truth, you never are. So remember that. Now. I want you to reach for the ley line as you would usually do. But try and picture a connection. Imagine the roots of a tree sinking down to the river. Or a well. Whatever makes sense to you.”
A tree? That seemed to make sense. Particularly if, as Madame Simsa had said, there were ley lines all around. There’d been a giant oak tree blown down in a storm at their estate the year she turned fourteen. The exposed roots at its base, gnarled and twisted, had been huge. And that hadn’t even been the whole of them. Peering over the edge of the hole where the tree had stood, there were still broken roots in the earth. They had to be sunk deep to withstand the force that had taken the tree. She formed the image in her head. A grand oak tree, with herself standing as the trunk. She sent her power down, trying to imagine a root spearing through the earth. A single one to start with. More seemed needlessly complex.
When the surge of the ley line touched her, she saw the root sink into the light. “I see it.”
“Good. Now imagine the light flowing back up that connection. Filling it, moving toward you and surrounding you. Keep your eyes closed. Just watch it. Count to fifty in your head.”
She couldn’t imagine what she must look like, standing there in bright daylight, eyes closed, watched by Madame, her monkey, and the sanctii. And Tok, somewhere. He had abandoned her shoulder for once.
Concentrate. The numbers ticked themselves off in her head. And the light she imagined flowed upward. Filling the roots and the tree she pictured and then spilling out and down onto the earth beneath her feet. The image of flowing light moved smoothly. Steadily. Until it was almost boring to contemplate. Forty-six. Forty-seven. Forty-eight. Forty-nine. “Now what?” she asked as she finally reached fifty.
“Now open your eyes and tell me what you see.”
That seemed straightforward enough. But she hesitated to actually open her eyes. What was she going to do if this didn’t work? It felt like just one more thing that could go wrong. Perhaps one thing too many.
A small thing maybe, but that might be the tiny thing that broke her.
“Sophie? Are you all right?”
Was she being ridiculous? Well, she couldn’t stand there with her eyes shut forever. She opened them. Saw the glittering light of the ley line laid over the grass. Saw too, thin threads of it stretching to Madame Simsa, to Riki, to Belarus and, just visible in the air, a thin shining line leading to Tok perched on the wall. A similar fine line of light linked Madame Simsa and Belarus.
“What do you see?” Madame Simsa asked. “Anything?”
“The ley line. Right there.” Sophie pointed at it. “Like it was at home.”
“Is that all?”
“There are lines from it to you. And to Belarus and Riki. And to Tok. They glow like the ley line.”
“Tok?” Madame Simsa looked briefly surprised, but then she shook her head. “Never mind. Those lines, those are the connections. If you see someone with one of those, then they have magic.”
Sophie looked again. The thread of light to Madame Simsa was bright but the one to Belarus was even brighter. “Can you tell how much power they have from what you see? Belarus, his connection seems brighter than yours.” She remembered what Imogene had said. About her being bright. Was that what she had meant?
“Some can. I can a little. The brightness can indicate that, how strong a link the person has to the lines, which is a close enough correlation to their magical strength for the purposes of this discussion. Or it can show how much magic a person is using. If someone who appears faint to you normally grows brighter, then it means they are using their power. It depends how sensitive you are to the ley line. Or how strong your own magic is, to put it another way.”
So Venable du Laq saw her as strong? That was useful to know. Useful and a little alarming. She stared at the line connecting Belarus to the golden stream running along the earth. Had the brightness faded a little? “It’s not as bright now.”
Madame Simsa shrugged. “You weren’t concentrating as hard. You will have to practice. Use the visualization. Eventually it should become second nature and you will be able to see it whenever you choose.”
She could see how it would be helpful. Being able to identify those around you who could use magic against you. “I wonder why they don’t teach us this in Anglion.”
“I expect because they think it’s water magic. Which it is not,” Madame Simsa said. “But the water mages were the first to use the skill. They needed to monitor the sanctii—”
Belarus interrupted with a disapproving grunt.
Madame Simsa smiled at him. “Perhaps “monitor” is the wrong word. But no matter what you call it, the water mages worked out how to do it.”
“I don’t understand, if it isn’t actually water magic . . . .”
“For that you’d have to ask one of the Anglion dominas, I imagine.” Madame Simsa frowned. “We do not know enough about how Anglions run their lives. I’m sure His Imperial Majesty gets some information, but if he does he holds it close. Though perhaps one of the temple
here could tell you more about the initial schism between Anglion and water magic. They must have records that go that far back.”
“We were taught that the water mages were dangerous. Power hungry. That their demons—sorry, Belarus—were killers.”
“And we are taught that the Anglions are uncivilized rebels,” Madame Simsa said. “I know that is not true. You know now that the sanctii do not slaughter people in the streets.”
That was not the same thing as they did not kill people ever, Sophie noted. But she understood the point. “Yes. So I want to understand more about what happened. It might help me decide.”
“Decide?”
“Whether it is safe if I return home.”
Chapter 14
Cameron watched the students and mages sparring before him and shifted uncomfortably on the bench. He understood the rationale for Venable Marignon not wishing him to train today. Earth witch healing was useful, but the body still needed time to catch up with what the magic wrought. The pain was gone but the ribs would still be healing and it wouldn’t do to aggravate them. And as he watched Ranulph, one of the older students, land a solid blow of a heavy wooden training sword against his sparring partner’s ribs, he was grateful it wasn’t him. But still, sitting on the hard, wooden bench wasn’t the most comfortable position and seemed to aggravate the lingering faint ache in his ribs. Discomfort aside, the main reason for wishing that he was doing something more active than observing was that observing didn’t take the same degree of concentration that fighting did.
Which meant that he had far too much time to sit and think.
He’d thought so much his head was aching with the twists and turns and endless variations of situations and possibilities. And he was still no closer to knowing what he and Sophie should do.
