Starborn

by Lucy Hounsom

  Kyndra walked with one hand on the wall, trying not to stumble. It occurred to her that perhaps she ought not to be moving, but the thought of returning to the underground room was unbearable.

  She reached the end of the passage and stopped, hearing footsteps rounding the corner. Dazedly, she recognized the novice, Irilin. Their talk last night seemed an age ago. She raised a hand in greeting.

  Irilin shrieked and staggered back. Eyes wild, she clutched at something around her neck. Her mouth opened again, soundlessly.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Kyndra asked, alarmed. The girl looked awful. Every drop of blood had fled her cheeks and her pale eyes were wide with horror.

  ‘You?’ she whispered.

  ‘It’s Kyndra,’ Kyndra said, worried that Irilin didn’t recognize her. ‘Remember, from last night?’

  ‘I remember,’ Irilin said faintly. She stared hard at Kyndra’s face. Then she glanced down at the blood-encrusted shirt showing through the black coat. ‘You’re supposed to be dead,’ she whispered.

  Kyndra blinked. ‘What?’

  ‘I saw you. They carried you down from the platform. They laid you in the antechamber to the tombs.’

  The hairs rose on Kyndra’s arms. ‘Tombs? That’s where I woke up?’

  Irilin nodded. ‘I saw you,’ she said again. ‘They told us the testing killed you.’

  ‘It nearly did,’ Kyndra said, trying to lighten the mood, though the chill in her blood remained.

  ‘You’re really not dead?’

  ‘Do I look it?’

  The novice regained some of her colour. ‘I guess not. But you do look terrible.’

  Kyndra realized she was shaking. Her legs felt weak and her sides and shoulders ached. She had to lean against the wall. After a few deep breaths she said, ‘You could have warned me.’

  Irilin shook her head, still pale. ‘That’s the job of the Wielder who found you. Traditionally, it’s their responsibility, but I don’t think Master Brégenne got a chance. No one knows why the Master of Novices scheduled your test so soon.’

  ‘Alandred,’ Kyndra murmured. ‘I don’t think he likes me.’

  Irilin tried a smile, but it wobbled feebly on her lips. ‘He probably had no idea the test would go so wrong.’

  ‘It did go wrong, then?’ Kyndra asked, shifting from foot to foot on the stone floor. ‘This didn’t happen to you?’

  Irilin stared at her. ‘No.’

  ‘What was I supposed to do?’ Kyndra asked. ‘I was defenceless – and they attacked me!’

  ‘You weren’t defenceless,’ Irilin said, but her eyes flickered. ‘A potential can only be awoken through an attack on their life. That’s what the test is. You discover an affinity with one of the powers and it saves you … or you save yourself. Takes a while to learn to touch it again, though,’ she added.

  Kyndra looked away. ‘I didn’t feel an affinity with anything. They were trying to kill me.’ She paused. ‘Looks like everyone thought they succeeded.’

  ‘They weren’t trying to kill you,’ Irilin insisted. Then, ‘Well, they were, but only to awaken your power.’

  ‘I don’t have any power.’

  ‘You must. Master Brégenne wouldn’t have brought you here otherwise.’

  ‘Brégenne made a mistake.’

  ‘But you can see the citadel.’

  ‘That doesn’t prove anything,’ Kyndra said bitterly with a shrug.

  Neither spoke for a few moments. Then Irilin said quietly, ‘You should have seen her.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Master Brégenne. She wouldn’t leave your side, kept saying it was her fault. She was crying,’ she added significantly.

  Kyndra hesitated. ‘Crying?’

  Irilin nodded and clasped her elbows. ‘I didn’t think Master Brégenne could cry.’

  ‘Then I need to let her know I’m all right.’

  ‘You can’t. She’s in the big council chamber with Alandred and the other Wielders who witnessed your test. It’s a hearing.’

  ‘A hearing?’

  ‘Yes. No one has died during a test for a while. It’s rare, but has to be investigated. Sometimes the Wielder responsible for bringing the failed potential gets the blame. They have to explain why it happened.’

  Kyndra’s eyes widened. ‘Brégenne will be blamed? But it’s Alandred’s fault!’

  ‘If that’s right, Master Brégenne has nothing to fear. Wait! Where are you going?’

  Kyndra had dodged past the novice, walking as fast as she dared. ‘To the council chamber. Where do you think?’

  ‘You can’t do that. You’re not allowed.’

  ‘Watch me.’

  Irilin jogged to keep up. ‘But you’re wearing a funeral robe!’

  Kyndra stopped and turned. The black coat turned with her. ‘I think,’ she said, her eyes glinting, ‘that it’s rather appropriate.’

  13

  Brégenne clenched her fists. Her nails dug into her flesh, but she didn’t care. Although she couldn’t see them, she turned her face towards the table where the Council sat and strove to remain calm. The other Wielders had left after giving their testimony and now the chamber was empty save for her, Alandred and the three Council members.

  ‘It is an unfortunate event,’ Loricus was saying. ‘Master Brégenne has never been wrong before.’

  ‘I do not believe I was wrong on this occasion.’ A tiny quiver in her voice betrayed her anger. ‘If Kyndra had been given the same opportunity as other potentials, this wouldn’t have happened.’

  ‘We cannot know that for sure,’ Helira said firmly. ‘But your case against Master Alandred stands. It is evident that the girl was not allowed the same courtesy as is generally shown to other potentials. Why was this so, Master Alandred?’

  Brégenne couldn’t see Alandred, but her sharp ears picked out the sound of fidgeting. ‘It was an impulsive decision,’ the Wielder said. ‘I admit I didn’t consider the consequences.’

  ‘You willingly assume liability, then?’ asked Gend in his deep voice.

  ‘I do,’ Alandred said, surprising Brégenne. ‘But no one was more shocked than I at the outcome. All of Bré— Master Brégenne’s finds have excelled during the test and are now promising novices.’

  Brégenne couldn’t help but grind her teeth at this. So Alandred would blame her own judgement for Kyndra’s death?

  ‘Members of the Council,’ she spoke up hastily. ‘I urge you to consider the facts. As the Master of Novices readily asserts, I have never yet been wrong in my judgement. I admit it was my responsibility to prepare Kyndra for the test, but the opportunity was taken from me!’ Her anger at Alandred and the shock of Kyndra’s awful death shattered her calm. She heard her voice crack and felt tears gather again in her eyes.

  Maybe it was this that moved Helira, or perhaps Kyndra’s blood that still stained Brégenne’s cheek, for she said, ‘The blame shall not be laid at your door, Brégenne. The situation would be different if the girl had lived. It is clear to me that the Master of Novices has been negligent in his duty, and for this he will be reprimanded.’

  Somewhere to her right, Alandred spluttered.

  ‘Have you anything to say to mitigate your actions, Master of Novices?’ Helira’s voice had lost its gentleness. Now it echoed with the iron law that beat in Naris’s heart.

  Brégenne heard Alandred shift again; it sounded as if he were smoothing down the front of his robes. Surely he wouldn’t tell them about his intrusion into her quarters?

  ‘No,’ Alandred said finally.

  ‘Then hear the terms of your punishment. You are relieved of your post for a year’s duration. Furthermore, you are to—’

  But what Alandred was to do, Brégenne never found out. She heard the double doors to the chamber swing inward and she turned towards them. A figure stood framed there, face obscured. It took Brégenne a long, bewildering moment to realize she was seeing. The sudden image unbalanced her. The figure was like an imprint that remained after one stare
d too long at a candle flame. For a wild moment, she thought she’d lost track of time, that night had come early, but the midday bell had just begun to chime.

  The figure walked forward and details began to appear. It was a woman. She wore a long, dark coat, thin as a winding sheet. Underneath, Brégenne caught a glimpse of stained clothes. Thick tangles of hair framed her face, the ends matted and stuck together.

  Brégenne stared, and as the woman neared her, she gave a cry of disbelief. When Kyndra raised her head, Brégenne could almost see blue in her eyes.

  Finding and entering the council chamber had been easier than Kyndra had thought. Irilin trailed her to the huge hall they called the atrium, muttering about rules. Kyndra refused to listen. If the Council were blaming Brégenne for her death, she would stop them, and show them in the process that she was very much alive.

  ‘Hey – you can’t go in there!’ a brown-robed young man shouted at her as she reached the chamber doors. Kyndra spared a glance for him. He looked at least five years her senior with a handsome face framed by curling blond hair. His belt was completely golden.

  Perhaps her stark appearance unnerved him, for he stopped short, eyes travelling over the funeral robe that gaped to show the blood-encrusted shirt she wore beneath. Kyndra seized her chance, grabbed the door handles and pushed. The heavy panels swung inward. She’d half expected to find them locked.

  The chamber was long and narrow and a grand table stood at the far end. Here sat three people: a woman in silver and two men, one dressed in gold and the other in silver. Their robes were the finest Kyndra had yet seen. Layers of silk, each a different shade of gold or silver, hung from their shoulders, belted at the waist with a bright cord of red. The bottoms of the robes were slashed with red too.

  Kyndra advanced slowly and heard the doors close, but didn’t turn to look. She kept her eyes fixed on Brégenne, who stared straight back, her mouth opening to cry out her shock. Unlike the others, she wore a plain grey tunic over trousers and her white-blond hair was twisted into its usual knot at the back of her neck. Dried blood stained one of her cheeks.

  Alandred was there too, but without his patronizing smile. The Master of Novices looked pale and drawn. The woman at the table sat back in her chair and her eyes took in Kyndra’s black coat and bare feet. Kyndra stopped walking.

  ‘Brégenne.’ She smiled, but the Wielder didn’t return it. The intensity of her gaze gave Kyndra the impression that she could actually see her. She was crying, Irilin had said.

  ‘I’m not dead,’ Kyndra told her. ‘I’m all right.’

  As one, the Council stood, their amazement guarded. The man in gold stared at Kyndra, his eyes alight and calculating. They were hazel, set in a handsome, sculpted face. A moment passed before he smiled coldly. ‘You must be the potential. I am Lord Loricus of the Solar. We were told you did not survive the testing.’

  Kyndra’s ribs throbbed and she curled a hand around them. ‘You were told wrong,’ she said, the pain rough in her voice.

  Brégenne made a noise, but said nothing. Loricus raised an eyebrow. ‘Clearly,’ he said, ‘we were misinformed.’

  An uneasy silence spilled out into the room. Kyndra couldn’t think of a suitable response. Either this was some vast joke – highly unlikely, given the people she was dealing with – or her state must truly have resembled death. She’d had a lucky escape.

  The old woman who sat between the two men was whitehaired and gaunt, and she watched Kyndra with a knife-sharp gaze. ‘Loricus,’ she said.

  The gold-robed man moved so fast that he was back in his seat before Kyndra could draw breath. Her arm stung and a tiny drop of blood beaded on her skin. Shaken, she looked up at Loricus, who held a needle in his right hand. The tip gleamed red. She watched as he gave the needle a swift lick, made a face and deposited it in his robe. ‘It’s normal,’ he said.

  The horror Kyndra still felt at waking up in the tombs began to harden into anger. Before she could open her mouth, Brégenne laid a hand on the arm Loricus had pricked.

  ‘Don’t,’ she whispered. ‘They had to check.’

  ‘Check what?’ she asked loudly.

  ‘We are decided,’ the councilwoman announced, as if Kyndra hadn’t spoken at all. ‘Master Alandred’s punishment is lifted.’

  ‘What?’ Events seemed to be moving too fast for Kyndra. No one had explained her situation, or offered an apology. ‘This is his fault!’ She gestured at her bloodstained clothes. ‘Are you saying he’s forgiven for almost killing me?’

  The woman observed her coolly. ‘Master Alandred’s conduct will be monitored. Your survival forces us to drop the charge of negligence, but presents another—’

  ‘What difference does that make?’

  ‘Do not interrupt me,’ the woman snapped. ‘Your survival presents us with a different problem. You failed the test, despite your Wielder’s assurance that you would pass.’ She addressed her next words to Brégenne. ‘You who brought her here have risked exposing our secret for nothing. Your actions in the Far Valleys are unjustifiable – our ears in the east tell us the story has spread.’

  Brégenne paled, but it was the only sign she gave of her unease. ‘I have to disagree,’ she said, and Kyndra admired her courage.

  ‘Brégenne, no!’ Alandred wore a peculiar expression, as if his face might break into pieces. ‘Don’t,’ he said miserably. ‘You’ll only make it worse.’

  Brégenne continued as if she hadn’t heard him, her voice stronger now. ‘Your conclusion is valid, as long as Kyndra indeed shows no potential.’ She paused. ‘But I don’t believe it.’

  ‘The test is failed. She barely escaped with her life,’ Loricus said. ‘What power do you think she has, Brégenne?’ His eyes strayed to Kyndra and he stiffened. Then he shook his head and looked back at Brégenne. ‘Are you so unwilling to admit defeat?’

  ‘This is not about defeat,’ Brégenne said evenly. ‘This is not about me. You weren’t there when the sun rose and turned those Solar beams to fire. How could anyone but a Wielder survive that?’

  Her words temporarily silenced the Council. Kyndra stared at Brégenne, mind working feverishly. Was the blind woman doing this for her, or for herself? Kyndra thought back to the previous night, when she’d privately wondered what the Wielders would do if they found out she had no power. Her death, she realized now, purged the Council of responsibility. If the test had killed her, Brégenne’s mistake could be laid to rest.

  But she lived. For the first time, Kyndra wondered whether rushing to reassure Brégenne had been the wisest thing to do.

  The Solar screen hummed gently, hiding the Council and their discussion from the room. They had talked for nearly twenty minutes, unheard and unseen behind the sunlit curtain. Brégenne didn’t need to see it to be able to feel its heat upon her face.

  She waited without speaking. She heard the occasional rustle of Alandred’s robes, but he, too, said nothing. Even Kyndra passed the time in silence. Brégenne could still see her: a lonely figure standing amidst the usual blank greyish light which was the only thing visible to Brégenne during the day. The girl’s eyes roamed the chamber.

  It was not decorated as elaborately as Naris’s recreational halls. This was the room in which justice was meted out, punishments decided, promotions given. Brégenne knew it well. It was an austere room, sculpted from black rock disfigured by the earth. She had always thought these four walls were the blackest in the whole citadel. Shadows amassed in channels where lava had once flowed and lurked behind chunks of stone that protruded untrimmed into the chamber. Novices who were unfortunate enough to be summoned here later told tales of sulphurous faces peering from the rock. Brégenne had not always laughed at those tales. At least in daylight, there were no walls for her to see.

  She continued to stare at Kyndra. A presentiment had slept beneath her notice almost from the moment she’d spotted the girl, trapped in a circle of people, her face illumined by the mob’s uneasy torchlight. Brégenne had known t
hen that she belonged in Naris and that it was her task to bring her to the citadel. However, now that Kyndra was here, she began to wonder whether Naris really belonged within her. Could she be wrong? Becoming a Wielder wasn’t only about harnessing your innate abilities; you learned to feel Naris itself in your blood. The great sunken citadel – its knowledge and the memories it chose to reveal – was as much a part of a Wielder’s birthright as the energy he or she channelled.

  ‘We have taken your words into account, Brégenne.’

  The mention of her name brought Brégenne back to herself. The heat from the screen had vanished. ‘Only the retrieval of a successful potential would have saved you from rebuke,’ Helira said. ‘You are well aware that our first law states no one outside the citadel may witness our power. You have justified your display in the town of Brenwym by claiming you protected this girl, a potential. The girl’s failure to pass the test necessarily leaves you in an indefensible position.’

  Brégenne resisted the urge to speak. An interruption would not endear her to the Council, especially not to Helira. She tried in vain to stop the galloping of her heart. She knew perfectly well that her actions contravened one of Naris’s strictest laws.

  Helira continued. ‘Although your punishment is a consequence of the girl’s survival, the same circumstance mitigates it. We accept that the girl must have some innate cosmosethic resistance. She will therefore take the test again.’

  ‘What!’ Kyndra burst out. ‘You can’t make me go through that again. I refuse!’

  ‘You have no choice,’ Loricus said. ‘You will retake the test until you touch your power or you die. That is the Council’s will.’ Brégenne heard a clap and then the sound of the double doors swinging inward. Several pairs of boots rang on the polished floor and Kyndra’s arms were suddenly behind her back.