by E. E. Holmes
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, keeping my features utterly blank.
“How very fortuitous of you to turn up. Uncanny, in fact. I had planned to make my way down to the barracks after this. You’ve saved me a trip.”
“Very good, ma’am,” I said. “I had my own agenda in coming to see you, however, and I hope you’ll forgive me for addressing it directly, as I view it as a matter of great import. I wished to speak to you regarding the upcoming Novitiate assignments.”
Eleanor clapped her hands together, creating a much less ominous sound. “The very topic I wished to discuss with you, Carrick. Although I had hoped that Seamus might also—”
“You will pardon me for getting right to the point, Councilwoman Ballard, but time is of the essence. I am concerned, as I am sure you are, about ensuring that the right Novitiates are matched to the right clans come next month, and naturally, Clan Sassanaigh is at the top of our list.”
As I knew it would, Eleanor’s face broke into a wide, satisfied smile. “Is it, indeed?”
“Of course, ma’am,” I said, trying to look mildly surprised that she didn’t already know this. “It is well known that the oldest families, who hold the most sway within the system, find themselves more commonly to be targets of attack. That’s just a statistical fact.”
She nodded as though she had not yet thought to play that angle, and was slipping it into her back pocket for later. “Is that so?”
“Quite,” I replied. “And as such, we must ensure that due deference is made when Caomhnóir selection is completed. Now there are those who would suggest that this gives the Council families undue privilege, but I strongly disagree. The priority of the Caomhnóir leadership has always been to strategically place the protection where it is most needed, and that placement has nothing to do with privilege and everything to do with risk assessment.”
Eleanor looked like a cat with canary feathers around its mouth, and I almost hated myself for handing her such powerful arguments to defend her own entitlement, but desperate times, and all that. Anything to keep that woman clear of the barracks and out of our hair.
“I think it fair to warn you that some of the young men in my charge who may seem like appealing choices have not actually tested as such. I would hate for you to set your sights on a prospect who turns out to be… less impressive than advertised.” I added this last phrase delicately, both to let her know that I was well aware of her conversations with other clans, but also to lay any misconceptions resulting from those conversations solely at the doorstep of the other parties. It seemed to work; Eleanor’s usually confident expression faltered just a bit, her eyebrows pulling together as she considered this for the first time.
“Do you have reason to suspect that some clans have… misrepresented their Novitiates in hopes of a more favorable alliance?”
Seeing my opportunity, I went on. “I cannot say, madam, not having participated in any such conversations myself. I only know that politics can sometimes override good sense in these proceedings, and we must be practical, for the good of the Northern Clans. The initial assessments will soon be completed, and at that time, I will have a much better idea of who would make the ideal protector for your daughters, as well as every other clan. I want to assure you that I am personally overseeing the assignments,” I said, almost conspiratorially.
“I understand, and I appreciate your candor here, Carrick,” Eleanor said, eyeing me with an interest she had certainly never shown before, as though she were assessing my possibilities. I could see I would have to tread carefully from now on. “Perhaps we can discuss this matter further when you’ve had time to get to know the Novitiates better?”
“An excellent suggestion, ma’am,” I replied, inclining my head respectfully. “I will keep you informed. I would also appreciate it if you didn’t speak of this conversation to anyone. I wouldn’t want anyone to think I am not being completely objective in this process, and I fear others will see this as a matter of favoritism or privilege rather than one of practical risk assessment.”
Eleanor’s smile widened. “Of course, Carrick. You can count on utter discretion from me. Oh, and one more thing.” She reached behind her onto the desk and picked up a folder of papers from the desktop, which she handed to me. “I imagine Calista has already spoken with you. Here is some documentation regarding my girls, just to help make your job a little easier.”
I took them, feigning a smile of gratitude. How was it, after all these years, that I still managed to underestimate Eleanor Ballard? She knew perhaps better than anyone the precautions we took to ensure the Prophecy could not sneak up on us. Of course, she had come prepared to cast suspicion away from her own daughters. How had I not expected it?
“Very good, ma’am,” I said and, with one last bow, excused myself from the room.
§
“You sly bastard,” Seamus said, roaring with laughter.
We stood watching the morning combat training on the lawns the next day. I had only just had a chance to alert him to my conversation with Eleanor, and his resultant laughter was so raucous that several of the Novitates were distracted from their tasks and received a jolly good thumping as a result.
I swept into a sarcastic bow. “I’ll take that as the compliment you so clearly intended to pay me,” I said.
“I suppose this means I can’t intentionally assign her the bottom of the barrel candidate now,” Seamus said, still laughing.
“No, you bloody well cannot,” I agreed. “But let’s be honest, you never could have. They’re twins, after all, and the family is almost universally feared. We’d have been required to protect them accordingly, regardless. But at least this gives us the room to assign at our discretion. I’ll feed her which candidates we already intend to consider, so that when she expresses her choice, she can think she’s made the decision.”
“Brilliant,” Seamus said. “Well sorted, that.”
“Cheers,” I said, handing him a clipboard. “Duty calls. Make sure you put them through their paces in expulsion before lunch. They’ve got their first joint session with the Apprentices this week, and they’ve got to be prepared.”
“Consider it done,” Seamus said, and set off across the lawn, correcting stances and grips on weapons as he went.
I headed back to the castle, attempting to shake off a fog of distraction that had settled over me since the previous afternoon. Try as I might, I could not stop thinking about my encounter with Eleanor’s daughter.
Elizabeth. Her name was Elizabeth.
On the one hand, I would have been filled with admiration for any person who had the fortitude and sheer cheek to stand up to Eleanor Ballard. My own passing interactions with the woman had been trying enough—I could not fathom actually being raised by such a domineering, unyielding woman, and my own upbringing had been no picnic. On the other hand, there was something more to it—a strange, immediate connection I could neither identify nor shake off. I had felt, upon being confronted with her, ablaze with fury, an almost overwhelming urge to protect her. Had I been a less disciplined man, I may not have had the strength to quash the instinct that rose in me, an instinct to storm the room and shout down the woman who dared to strike this girl.
Even as I scolded myself for such a thought, a second thought overtook it—a thought I will forever remember each and every time I remember Elizabeth, and it was this: I had never seen a person who was so equally and gloriously incandescent in both rage and joy, and my soul would not let go.
I was uneasy—uneasy that such a brief encounter with her had managed to overtake such a disproportionate space within my head. This was exactly the kind of behavior I made it my priority to warn young Novitiates about, and the fact that I was engaging in it was beyond reproachful—it was hypocritical, and if there was one thing I despised, it was a hypocrite. And so, I did what any Caomhnóir worth his salt would do, finding himself in such a position: I denied the existence of any such feelings, stuffed them away whenever they sur
faced, and threw myself headfirst into my work. Most unfortunately, my work involved engaging with both Elizabeth and her sister much more than I would have liked.
Over the next two weeks, we carried out our assessments of the Novitiates, focusing, as we always did, on a wide array of skills and relevant character traits, and inevitably, the cream began to rise to the top. Before very long, we had a short list of highly competent Caomhnóir who showed great promise in all areas of their training. Any one of them would have been easy to sell to Eleanor as the best choice for her clan’s Caomhnóir, and yet, I found myself thinking not of Eleanor at all, but of Elizabeth. Which match would suit her best? Which would provide the best protection? The most consistency of skill? The most desirable clan connections? Then I berated myself. Why the blazes was I doing Eleanor’s work for her? Why was I giving far more consideration to this assignment than I had any other in recent memory? What in the name of the Aether had come over me, and why couldn’t I master it?
Eventually, the committee agreed upon Liam Shea as the appropriate assignment for Clan Sassanaigh. In order to keep up the appearance of her influence over the process, I brought Eleanor down to the barracks to observe a bit of sparring practice, as well as an expulsion lesson. Liam, having performed admirably in both (and given his standing in another Council clan with whom Eleanor had shared interests), was given her stamp of approval, and the rest of the assignment process went forward without difficulty. It was with a great sense of relief that I watched all the Novitiates pledge their fealty to their assigned clans, a feeling marred only by the grim expression on Elizabeth Ballard’s face, like she was facing a firing squad. Perhaps she thought the assignment had been entirely engineered by her mother, and thus disapproved of it on principle? It seemed the sort of thing she might do, given the argument I’d overheard between her and her mother. Well, if that was the case, I told myself, she’d just have to go right on believing it. I could certainly never admit my part in the manipulation of the process, or every Council clan would be banging down my door demanding preference in the next round of assignments, and I’d never know a moment’s peace again. No, the girl would just have to swallow her indignation and get on with it, like the rest of us who had any sort of regular dealings with Eleanor Ballard. Besides, she would see, in time, that Liam Shea was as fine a protector as she could have hoped for.
I would gratefully have disengaged my brain from Elizabeth Ballard at that point—it would have been an immense relief not to be confronted with her every day, and if she had been any other Apprentice, I would have been able to steer clear of her entirely. But most unfortunately, she and her sister were the subject of my assignment from Calista, and so it was with great reluctance that I oversaw their training with regularity. Naturally, I had to make it appear that I had an equal interest in all the Gateway pairings, and that my hovering presence was to oversee the Novitiates and how they began to work together with their assigned Gateways. Under cover of this, I was able to gain a complete picture of the Ballard girls and their abilities.
They were both extremely intelligent, well-spoken, and well-versed in all Durupinen culture, including Castings and history, though I would have expected little else, given who had raised them. But there was a rebellious streak in Elizabeth that became more and more apparent as the weeks went on. Her class participation often challenged or questioned the underpinnings of the teachings. And while her sister seemed content enough with their designated Caomhnóir, it soon became clear that Elizabeth was not.
About a week after the Caomhnóir assignments, in the central courtyard, Elizabeth’s independent streak met Liam’s Caomhnóir pride in a head-on collision in a very public fashion, and I realized for the first time that her issues with her Caomhnóir assignment might be more deeply seated than her issues with her mother.
The Apprentices and the Novitiates were working together in the central courtyard on Summoning and Expulsion, two skills which went hand in hand so perfectly that it seemed almost foolish to practice them separately. All was going smoothly, when a sudden disturbance at the end of the courtyard caught my attention. Voices rose in argument, growing louder all the time.
“But I told you he wasn’t within the boundary of the Circle yet!”
“What does that matter? If he was having that kind of effect on—”
“What does it matter? You’ve Expelled through the boundaries, which means they’ve been altered by the application of another Casting! You’ve weakened the circle, and that leaves both of us vulnerable!”
“Vulnerable to what? It’s just a practice exercise!”
“What’s happening here?” Melisande, the instructor, had reached the squabbling pair before I had made my way to the other side of the courtyard.
“A spirit just wandered through our circle, which means our boundaries are compromised!” Elizabeth was saying, clearly trying to maintain a respectful tone, despite her edge of frustration. “I told him earlier I thought the first Expulsion was premature, but he won’t acknowledge the mistake, and now our protective Castings have been rendered ineffective.”
“What mistake?” Liam asked, reddening around his collar. “I’m not to blame if you’ve miscast the Circle!”
“You know damn well I haven’t miscast the Circle!” Elizabeth shot back, gesturing behind her, where her sister still sat, wide-eyed within the boundaries of the chalk. “The Circle worked perfectly until you let your nerves get the better of you and jumped the gun!”
“Lizzy, calm down, it’s not a big deal,” Karen murmured, blushing violently as all eyes turned to stare at the altercation.
“It shouldn’t be a big deal, but he’s gone and made it one!” Elizabeth replied. “If he can’t admit to even the slightest mistake, how can we possibly work together? If we can’t listen and communicate and learn from each other, why are we even here?”
“What is the meaning of this, Shea?” I asked, arriving at last beside my Novitiate, whose face was darkening with a sinister mixture of embarrassment and anger.
“Nothing, sir,” Liam mumbled. “Everything is under control.”
“You mean, I’m under control, I suppose?” Elizabeth spat.
“That’s not what I—”
“Look, if I screw up, I’ll be the first person to admit it,” Elizabeth said, her teeth gritted together now. “It doesn’t benefit me in the long run to sacrifice my competency to my pride just to save face. I’m not interested in working with a Caomhnóir who doesn’t feel the same.”
Before anyone could so much as muster a reply, the girl had picked up her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and stalked off.
“Elizabeth get back here at once! You have not been excused from this class!” Melisande called, but she might as well have stayed silent for all the response she got. The entire class watched her retreating back, whispering behind their hands and looking scandalized. My attention, however, returned to Liam.
“Is there truth in what she said? Did you mistime an Expulsion?”
Liam lifted his chin defensively. “No.”
“Right. Well, that’s easily determined, isn’t it?” I replied, and approached the circle. Liam’s entire body stiffened as I passed him, as though my very questioning of him was some kind of betrayal.
A quick examination of the circle was all it took to confirm that Elizabeth had spoken the truth. The marks of the Castings—where they had clashed and how they had affected each other—were written in the very energy in the air. I probed against them carefully with a simple Revelation Casting upon my fingertips, identifying the traces of the original unbroken circle, as well as the path of the first Expulsion. I could see from the expression on Liam’s face when I straightened again to face him that he knew full-well what I would find, and I felt my ire rising.
“She was right,” I stated bluntly. “The Expulsion was premature and ruptured the boundaries of the Circle. What have you to say?”
Liam did not reply, his chin still thrust defiantly in
the air.
“Arrogance protects no one,” I told him. My voice was quiet, but he flinched as though I had shouted in his ear. “Humble yourself or you will fail in your duty.”
At first, he seemed incapable of replying. Then, as though the movement cost him dearly, he nodded his head, once. “Yes, sir.”
I turned to Karen, who still sat looking mortified within the boundary of her now useless Summoning Circle. “Go find your sister and bring her back to class, please. Liam will re-Cast the Circle properly in your absence, so that you can resume work as soon as you both return.”
Karen nodded once, jumped to her feet, and hurried out of the courtyard while I oversaw Liam’s stony, grudging re-Casting of the Circle. But when twenty minutes had gone by and she hadn’t returned, I found myself growing unaccountably anxious. Making my excuses to Melisande, I left the courtyard and turned in the direction of the castle. I spotted Karen almost at once, walking out of the front doors and onto the walkway.
“I can’t find her anywhere,” Karen said, sounding both contrite and heartily annoyed. “What should I do?”
“Return to your class and work as best you can,” I replied. “I’ll keep an eye out for her.”
Karen looked mildly surprised at this offer, but nodded her head and turned off in the direction of the courtyard where her classmates were still gathered. And I, with no real inkling of where I was going or what in the blazes I was doing, set off across the grounds. I had searched the entire garden fruitlessly and was just wondering if I ought to bother walking the perimeter of the lake or give up entirely when the first scream reached my ears. The sound echoed up from the far northern corner of the grounds, growing in desperation as I listened. I did not think. I simply acted. I took off like a shot, sprinting toward the sound, my heart pumping with terror.
As I ran, the scream became a sort of wailing sob, leading me through the grove and toward the graveyard tucked into the far corner of the grounds. I could not think what would draw a person here—modern Durupinen and Caomhnóir had an almost universal loathing of tombs and graveyards—a collection of grisly monuments to the moldering physical bodies with little regard for the souls that had once inhabited them. The traditions of Durupinen cemeteries had died out with the Victorian era, and the cemetery on the grounds lay largely forgotten. Nevertheless, I was sure now, as I approached the rusty gates, that the sounds were emanating from the place, an assumption supported by the fact that the ancient gate had already been forced ajar. I slipped through it and began pelting between rows of tombstones and dodging behind mausoleums, until I staggered to a halt at the scene before me.
