The small island, no more than fifteen square miles around, possessed an astounding amount of mana, which surprised Jaz until Tome explained that they all participated in a weekly ritual dedicated to creating more. Many minds working together, she explained, could do what one mind could not safely accomplish.
She was a harsh task-mistress, and more than once Jaz had been tempted to call Quickfingers and escape. But she held on, simply because she was learning so many things she'd never even considered before.
The island itself had no name, other than Maquasi, which meant ‘home’ in their own language, a branch of Arabic that had wandered quite far from its roots. The natives—a friendly people whose dark skin and mildly slanted eyes proclaimed both Arabic and Pacific Islander heritage—were all magi, never having suffered the effects of the plagues that had stolen the ability from the rest of the world.
Tome clapped her hands together and crowed as she watched Jaz weave a simple spell from two strands. “Good! You understand!"
They all spoke English as well, which had struck Jaz as odd until the first weekend break at the end of her six-week introduction, where the whole tribe gathered in a large common area to watch satellite broadcasts on a massive, state-of-the-art video system.
They watched programs about current events, including news broadcasts from the U.S., Canada, and Britain, as well as several nature shows on Discover and Animal Planet, then turned the device off and entered into a long discussion about what they'd seen.
The children were, of course, far more interested in the animal shows than the political ones, but they were allowed to go off on their own and discuss what they chose rather than being bored by the adults.
Much of the news wasn't good. The European Union was on the verge of passing the same sort of Meta Registration legislation that had failed to gain a solid foothold in the U.S., though, so far, Canada seemed to be resisting any serious consideration of the possibility.
The natives, obviously familiar enough with what metas were, seemed universally opposed to the idea themselves. They realized that the presence of super-powered individuals could be seen as a threat to ordinary humans, but thought it foolish to risk antagonizing people who'd so far done no harm.
The newly formed American Vampire Conclave had petitioned Congress for restoration of full rights as citizens. ‘Undead is different than deceased,' the Coalition President, former U.S. President Lynn Mendoza, said in an interview.
The natives all giggled at that. Jaz spotted Bast out of the corner of her eye, seeing the goddess openly smiling. Jaz made her way over to where she sat on the grass, legs tucked beneath her, and crouched down beside her. “I met her once. Neat lady."
"I think I would like to meet her myself,” Bast replied. “So how are you doing so far?"
"Tome is a bit ... aggressive ... but I'm learning a lot."
"Good. You think you can survive another ten and a half months? Or longer?"
Jaz shrugged. “Unless it gets worse, I suppose I can."
"Good. It may not actually be that long, but we'll have to see how quickly you pick up the advanced material. Tome says you're close to being able to start a spell web, which will tell us a lot about how the rest of the training will go."
She couldn't exactly say the goddess was unfriendly, but this was the first time since the day she'd woken up here that the woman had made herself approachable. She'd see her from across the village, or climbing down the hill from her house, but by the time Jaz found a way to seek her out, she'd have disappeared. Had she been a little more insecure she'd could have sworn Bast was avoiding her.
But that was ridiculous. Wasn't it? She remained here at Bast's request. It seemed very unlikely that the goddess would then go out of her way to avoid contact with her. She certainly appeared friendly enough now. “I can handle it."
"I thought you could. Next week we'll start teaching you how to construct the spell web, and familiarize you with the concept of spell chains."
This little conversation apparently being enough for her, she stood up, brushed off her skirt, and headed for her house on the hill without another word. Jaz watched her go, frowning. What is it with that woman?
* * * *
As long as it had taken her to get settled into the routine of the island, Jaz was surprised to find herself fitting in rather well once the novelty of her presence had worn off. She eventually found herself spending a lot of time with a group of young women who'd gather at the freshwater lagoon in the center of the island every weekend to wash clothes.
Not that the activity required any real work of them. They used magic to create a minor elemental, weaving mana in a way similar to how Jaz had created Quickfingers—though the construct they created was far less complex than the imp had turned out to be. The Nyaba, considered a minor water spirit, was a simple weave of four strands that gave it no independent thought at all, just the right amount of awareness to aid with the washing of clothing. It swirled, wrung, and battered the clothing on the rocks lining the lagoon at the women's direction while they sat in the shade of a large palm sipping fruit drinks. Talk about a labor-saving device, Jaz thought.
They chatted about men more than she liked, but they were enjoyable company nonetheless. When they asked her if she had a special man in her life back home, she winced and shook her head. How could she possibly explain that she'd never met a man for whom she'd felt more than friendship?
What was wrong with her? She was an attractive, single, healthy woman in the prime of her life, but she'd never even been kissed. She was no longer a virgin, but she hadn't been one of those for a very long time.
She found herself wondering if maybe what had been done to her had ruined her for men forever. There was simply nothing about them she found sexually enticing.
The apparent leader of this particular group, a willowy young woman with long legs and small firm breasts like pomegranates, who wore her hair shorter than the others and wanted to someday visit New York City, seemed to sense Jaz's discomfort and gently changed the subject of conversation to something she'd find far less unsettling. She used the opportunity to craft a quick lesson on the creation of spirits like the Nyaba.
To Jaz's surprise, there were other similar spirits used frequently by the islanders—including a being woven out of the currents of air that could allow them to fly. Not that many of them did, but occasionally some of the men would get together to create a squadron of Shisma and flit to another nearby island to hunt wild boar. It was the only meat besides seafood the natives consumed, and even that they only ate on special occasions.
* * * *
As time passed and Jaz became more comfortable, she began to dread returning to civilization. She found that the natural rhythms of the islanders’ approach to life suited her, and the sense of peace she'd acquired over time wasn't something she looked forward to leaving behind.
But she couldn't help but learn quickly, and her own sense of pride wouldn't allow her to under-sell her newfound skills. She'd picked up the idea of spell webs rapidly, and now had a complete twenty four spell web floating around her body at all times. Some of the spells were simple things, but at least two were seven strand shields, complex combinations of effects that could protect her against all but the most aggressive attacks, and two more were five-strand offensive combinations of devastating potential.
She'd also constructed a couple of spell chains, which were spells linked together with contingency threads ... mana strands that only existed to bring one spell into play once the first spell in the chain was activated.
Magically speaking, she'd learned to turn her enormous potential into real aptitude. She'd exchanged instinct for knowledge, and, no matter how it pained her to contemplate leaving, she knew that she'd gained so much more here than she could have ever imagined.
* * * *
When the last day arrived she was treated to a huge celebration, with music, dancing, and a veritable orgy of gift-giving. She was glad they'd t
aught her the trick of making dimension pockets, else she would have never been able to carry all the trinkets and wonders they gave her. She wasn't sure how much of them would have any real world application, but since she reserved one of the ‘pockets for their items exclusively, she figured she'd cart them around as long as necessary until she found a suitable place to store them.
As the celebration wound down, she found herself standing with Bast away from the rest of the celebrants. The cat goddess had appeared at her side unheralded and unnoticed, and stood in silence while Jaz inhaled the fresh sweet flavor of the breeze coming off the gardens and its jungle of multi-hued flowers. “Part of you wants to stay, doesn't it?"
Jaz sighed. “How could I not want to stay here? This is Eden, and I leave here to return to Hell, or purgatory, at least. For the last year I didn't even have to consider killing anyone, but there's no way to be certain I won't take a life tomorrow."
"Sit,” Bast commanded, pointing at the grass at her feet.
Puzzled, Jaz did as directed, and nearly melted into the goddess's arms as the woman sank down behind her and pressed her fingers into the tense muscles of her shoulders. “I still don't know who I am,” she murmured.
Bast ran a sleek hand up Jaz's neck, pulling her hair aside, and turned her head toward her. Her soft lips brushed her cheek. “You are the Sword of Justice, Jasmine. You are the culmination of thousands of years of prayer—a defender of the weak against the strong, a destroyer of corruption. You are something special, but you don't know it yet."
Jaz felt her heart pounding harder in her chest, suddenly overwhelmed by something she couldn't quite describe, a feeling of warmth traversing her body. The goddess's arms encircled her and she felt her warm breath on the back of her neck. “I don't feel special."
"There'd be something wrong if you did. You think it was mere chance that led you to becoming what you are—immortal, powerful and driven by conscience and personality to righting wrongs most people never even see?
"I don't. I've been waiting for you a long time, Jasmine. See ... I knew you were coming. Oh, not you specifically, but someone born of the collective unconscious and a deep need for the powerless to have someone they could call upon and receive justice."
Jaz frowned, suddenly uncomfortable. “What are you saying?"
"You're a goddess, Jaz. Or you could be. All over the world people are crying out for someone to save them. You are the answer to those prayers."
Jaz wrested herself out of Bast's arms and slid around to meet her bright gaze. “I never asked for this!"
"You didn't have to. Others asked for it. Cried out for it. Gave their hearts and souls into lives of darkness for the chance that someday someone like you would be born. Not a savior who demands they submit to the powerful, but someone who will strike a blow in their name against the tyrants, both large and petty, who chain the helpless in fear and misery."
You're insane! Jaz wanted to shout, but, underneath it all, she wasn't quite so sure. She wasn't sure if she believed in fate, or in the collective unconscious, but she felt a certain draw to Bast's softly spoken words, a deep vibration in the center of her being.
Bast smiled gently, reaching out to gently stroke the side of her head. Her touch sent a tingle through Jaz's body and she gave a shuddering sigh ... almost a sob. “But what about the invasion?"
"You will end up fighting that battle, too. The Cen would unleash the most horrible tyranny against us all, and there are countless worlds already in their grasp, but your mission is both greater and less than that of some of your fellows—of the meta and para humans, the vampires, the lycanthropes, and the other magi. They exist to help keep this world free, and, eventually, to bring freedom to other worlds. But that will take time."
"I don't want to make a mistake,” Jaz breathed, leaning into that caressing hand without even thinking about it.
"Your inherent empathic abilities should help to prevent that. You may not be as powerful as a metapsi in that regard, but you're capable enough. And eventually your powers will grow. It's inevitable.” She stood abruptly, brushing off her long black skirt. “Spend some time in meditation. You need the rest. Tomorrow you shall call your imp and return home. If you need me, I'll be here."
"Wait—” Jaz pushed herself to her feet. “I have to know ... it seems like you've been avoiding me. I wasn't sure if you wanted me here or not."
"I had to,” Bast said slowly, averting her gaze. “I was afraid I would never want to let you go.” She left Jaz standing there, stunned, as she lifted her skirts and hurried away without looking back.
Never want to let me go? What does she mean? Jaz felt a sudden lump in her throat, and a matching maelstrom in her belly. Was she mothering me just a minute ago, or was that affection something else entirely?
She was afraid to follow the woman and ask, not sure which answer she'd prefer. She'd never felt that kind of warmth from anyone's touch—not even her mother's. She didn't know what it meant and that left her standing on shaky ground.
She took a deep breath and settled back onto the ground, closing her eyes and allowing the soft sounds of the island slipping into rest flow through her.
Eleven
Jaz alit on the roof of the Shea Industries Building and dispersed the wind-sprite, actually enjoying the cool breeze it left as it vanished into the element that had spawned it. She smiled to herself as she turned to scan the city skyline, noting with some satisfaction the artificial island under construction out in the bay. So Deryk got his way. That fact didn't surprise her. He usually did.
The bright midday sun glittered on the bay, making the gentle waves look as though a giant had cast a fistful of diamonds across its surface. Damn her for an idiot, but she had missed this place.
She strode purposely toward the rooftop door, keying in her command code and waiting the second or two it took for the building's computer to kick the door open, then descended the stairwell to the PAC level.
Her palm signature and command code were rejected by the inner door's dual security system . No surprise there. It would've been more shocking if they'd been left in the system. She switched to magesight, identified the three strand ward that guarded the door, and disengaged it with a hastily woven counter. As the strands dissolved she called up another for a transit tube and stepped through the door.
Heads swiveled as she strolled casually down the hall toward Athena's office, a vision of beauty and potential destruction in skin-tight black stretch pants, billowing white blouse, and knee-high black leather ‘bitch’ boots. Sans heel, of course. She didn't do heels.
Her raven hair swirled loose around her shoulders and her dark eyes held a resolute gleam as she tapped on Athena's door. “Come!” she heard from within.
She turned the knob and stepped inside, closing the door quietly but firmly behind her.
Athena lifted her head from the papers on her desk and actually went slightly pale. She still wore an eye-patch, Jaz noted with a sudden pulse of guilt. Over. Leave it alone.
Athena's single eye narrowed and she shook her head wryly. “Should have figured you would find a way in no matter what we did."
Jaz took a deep breath and shut the door behind her. She slid into the chair opposite Athena's desk and threw one foot over the opposite knee. “We need to talk."
"So talk."
Not that I thought this was going to be easy, Jaz thought. “The Academy. We need to talk about the Academy."
"What about it?"
"There's something very wrong with it. Thoth taught all the first year students, but then turned them loose to teach all the students coming after them. They never learned the advanced stuff. I never learned the advanced stuff."
"How did you find out all this?"
"I met another immortal ... Bast. She arranged for someone to teach me what I missed out on at the Academy."
"Somehow I don't find that notion all that comforting,” Athena said. She started tapping her forefinger on the desk. A musc
le jumped in her jaw. Her single eye burned with barely suppressed anger.
Jaz couldn't really blame her. If someone took my eye, I'd probably be pretty pissed, too. This little business with magic couldn't be helping. ‘Oh, yeah, and just to mention, I'd even more powerful than I was the last time we tangled.’ It probably seems like I'm goading her.
Maybe she should have gone to Shea first. But she knew this confrontation needed to happen sooner or later. She and Athena had to come to some sort of accommodation. One way or another. “I'm sorry about the eye."
If anything, this had the result of tightening Athena's jaw and doubling the fury of her glare. Then, after several seconds of cold silence, the woman let out a short, barking laugh. “You've got some serious balls, woman. I don't think I know anyone else who'd have the guts to walk in here and say that to me.
"Fine. So forget about that child-killing son of a bitch. He got what he deserved. I probably would have done the same. But I do owe you for this.” She pointed at her eye patch. “I'll get my payback sooner or later."
Jaz shrugged, offering up a thin smile. “I'll be waiting."
Athena grunted wordlessly in acknowledgment. “So, about the Academy ... and Thoth. It doesn't make any sense that he'd screw up your training on purpose."
"It doesn't, does it? Not after he badgered me into learning in the first place. That's why I came to you. He insisted you immortals all learn from him as well, didn't he?"
Athena looked disgusted. “He did. So, what are we missing?"
Jaz cocked her head at her, then grinned. “Plenty. Use your magesight."
Athena's eyes unfocused for a minute and she gave a startled hiss. “Holy shit. That's a lot of spells...” Her voice trailed off into a thoughtful murmur.
"It's a spell web. Twenty four pre-constructed spells that I can cast any time I want. Even somewhere that doesn't have any mana ... someplace like Antarctica, for example. We learned a little about constructing spells from Thoth, but mostly about throwing them together on the run ... well, I have to say that was more my forte. I don't know what he taught you guys."
Lady of Blades Page 15
