The Exile and the Sorcerer

by Jane Fletcher

  The men who ruled the islands had no regard for their daughters. Their lives revolved around men, swords, and the clan. Women were not worth consideration, except as vessels of sons or trophies to their virility. Which is how it escaped their notice that while the strength of men was increased twofold by the potion, the strength of women increased fivefold and more.

  Maybe this oversight was not so remarkable. Most women failed to see what the potion would mean, unable to conceive of the social order standing on its head. But not all were so blind. One woman in particular foresaw a new future. She was a schemer and a fighter who engineered the second rebellion and became the first queen.

  It was not easy to turn women, trained to cower, into warriors. However, Abrak had put all the weapons into their hands. Even the facts of reproduction worked in their favour. They could kill ninety-nine men out of a hundred, but the men could not reciprocate without forgoing the next generation. By the fortieth anniversary of Abrak’s death, the warlike patriarchy had been replaced with a mirror-image matriarchy.

  The women settled down to a life of fighting and fishing in a society that revolved around women, swords, and the family. They called themselves the Daughters of Abrak’s Revenge.

  *

  “It sounds as if they got a bit carried away with the rhetoric,” Klara observed at the end of the tale.

  “I think they got a bit carried away with everything,” Tevi said.

  Jemeryl had mainly listened in silence. Now she asked, “So on your islands, the warriors are all women?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the story of Abrak explains why,” Jemeryl mused. “It’s imaginative, but it must raise more questions than it answers.”

  “Such as?”

  “For example, what excuse do people give to explain why the potion no longer works?”

  Tevi looked puzzled. “They don’t.”

  “Aren’t you curious?”

  “About what?”

  “The...” Jemeryl stopped. The conversation had got out of step somewhere. She started again. “I know enough about herbalism to know the potion could never have worked the way the story said. Therefore, it—”

  “But it did. It still does.”

  “It’s impossi—” Jemeryl broke off mid-word. “Have you ever seen a woman with this supernatural strength?”

  “Of course. I took the potion myself.”

  The announcement left Jemeryl dumbfounded. She stared open-mouthed at Tevi, recalling the strange perturbations in the islander’s aura and the unexpected problems rebuilding her eyes. Still unsure of how seriously to take the claim, she asked, “So how strong are you?”

  “In the mercenaries’ guildhall, they use an iron ball to test applicants’ strength. I think there are different weights for different groups. As a warrior, I had the heaviest. I was told to throw it as far as I could. I did ask the examiner if he was really sure he wanted me to. He said yes.” Tevi shrugged. “The ball made a nasty dent in the wall at the other side of the yard. Apparently, no one has ever thrown it more than half the distance before.”

  “That’s...” Jemeryl was lost for words.

  “Is the potion really so unusual?”

  “I’ve never even heard of anything like it. Do you mind if I do a few tests?” Jemeryl added hesitantly.

  Tevi considered the request and then nodded. “It’s forbidden to discuss the potion with strangers, but it was a gift from a mainland sorcerer to start with. And you’ll be working out things for yourself, so it’s not as if I’m telling you secrets.”

  Jemeryl led Tevi into the great hall. A few minutes were required to assemble the necessary equipment and then, at Jemeryl’s request, Tevi removed her jerkin and shirt. Jemeryl studied her thoughtfully.

  Tevi stood very still. Her top half was clad in a thin, close-fitting shift, leaving her arms and shoulders bare. It did not conceal much. Jemeryl was aware that her thoughts were drifting away from the line of pure scholarly interest. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Klara watching. The magpie’s head was tilted jauntily to one side. A faint blush rose to Jemeryl’s cheeks and she concentrated her mind more firmly on the matter in hand.

  Jemeryl stood behind Tevi, close enough to run her hands over the muscles in the islander’s back and arms. She managed to keep her thoughts almost, but not completely, on the subtle irregularities she could detect.

  To the perceptions of the ungifted, there would be nothing unusual. Tevi’s body showed the effect of regular exercise but was in no way overdeveloped. Any young woman involved in manual labour would look much the same. However, now that Jemeryl’s extended senses were alerted, it was apparent that the islander’s body had been changed on a cellular level. It was definitely magic of the very highest order. Jemeryl reached for her notebook.

  *

  Recounting the tale of Abrak had been a constant battle for Tevi. The story had launched an onslaught of memories—nights around the fire in her family hall, singing the old songs. Through the blindfold, she could see the familiar faces, hear their voices.

  The migration to the hall came as a relief, a chance to regroup while Jemeryl’s bubbling curiosity took over. Very little of what the sorcerer said made sense, but Tevi never felt she was being patronised or ridiculed—quite unlike her experience with the Treviston sorcerer.

  Jemeryl talked excitedly. “You must go to Lyremouth and let them examine you fully. That is, if your laws allow it. The potion is astounding.”

  Tevi knew her family would not approve, but they had never approved of anything she had done. “Would the Coven be interested? Surely you’ve got similar potions. I haven’t come across anybody who’s taken one, but I assumed they were being kept secret for some reason.”

  “Oh, no. All attempts to make strength enhancers have had nasty consequences. If you’re lucky, it’s just people breaking bones when they try to lift things. Often, the heart goes wild and bursts a blood vessel in the brain—hearts are muscles, too. Your potion is different. It doesn’t try to channel external forces through the body. It changes the way a child grows, so the muscles are more efficient. Your bones are stronger as well. That’s the really clever bit. The hormones released at puberty spur everything into action. That’s why it works differently for the sexes. Muscle structure is identical for men and women, but the hormones aren’t.”

  Tevi was unsure of what hormones were, but the results were something she had thought about. “It’s a shame the potion couldn’t have made men and women equal, like they are on the mainland. When I was growing up, I never saw anything wrong in the way men were treated. If anything, it seemed they were having an easy time—always having women to look after them. But since I’ve been on the mainland, my attitude has changed. I don’t think the men in my village could really have been happy.”

  “Having heard the whole story, it sounds like poetic justice to me,” Klara said.

  Jemeryl spoke thoughtfully. “It’s actually the inequality of sorcery that makes for the balance of the sexes on the mainland. Without it, men’s physical strength usually distorts things, and patriarchal warrior clans take control. I seem to recall from my history books that they flourished briefly in Walderim a few centuries back. Which would tie in with your story.”

  “It’s a shame they were so violent and that they took the bloodshed with them.” Tevi’s musing was interrupted when something that felt like a glass pyramid was placed in her hands.

  “Can you hold it above your head?”

  Tevi did so.

  “Presumably, once the women took over, things became a bit more peaceful.” Jemeryl picked up the conversation.

  “Not that you’d notice. The first queen was the only one ever to rule all the Western Isles. Straight after her death, a dispute broke out between her daughters. Before long, the islands were back in a state of permanent warfare, only with women doing the fighting instead of men.”

  “The first queen must have been a very strong personality.”

/>   “According to my family, she was. I’m her great-great-great-granddaughter.” Tevi’s head sank. She could hear again the taunts, naming her a pathetic product for such a famous lineage. At least living up to her ancestor’s reputation was no longer a problem.

  Fortunately, at that point, the glass pyramid must have revealed something unexpected, requiring Jemeryl’s full concentration. The conversation was temporarily abandoned.

  *

  Some hours later, after a break for lunch, Jemeryl had discovered all she could, given the limited resources available. She scribbled down the last of her observations and put the notebook away. The pair returned to the comfort of the parlour.

  “I’m astounded, but you’re right. The potion most definitely works,” Jemeryl said.

  “So do you think the story is true?”

  Jemeryl chewed her lip. “It still has to be more fiction than fact. If I had to guess, I’d say Thurbold brought Abrak from the mainland on purpose and gave her far more help than the story implies. He could have invented the shipwreck story so it wouldn’t appear that he’d gone looking for a sorcerer.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Herbalism isn’t my strongest discipline, but I can estimate how long it would take to develop a potion like yours. The sorcerer would have needed vast amounts of luck and inspiration, and decades rather than a few days. Which is why no one else has done it before. The disproportionate effect on the sexes has to be an accident. The subtlety to do it deliberately is way beyond anything a lone sorcerer could achieve.”

  Tevi looked thoughtful. “Would Abrak have been a Coven sorcerer?”

  “Probably. Herbalism isn’t well developed outside the Protectorate. It’s only because the Coven is responsible for citizens’ health that we spend so much time on it. Sorcerers elsewhere aren’t too bothered about colds and sprained ankles.” Jemeryl frowned. “But it’s hard to see how a Coven sorcerer could have become mixed up with the island clans.”

  “I always wondered why someone as powerful as Abrak allowed herself to be burnt.”

  “I suppose that bit might be true,” Jemeryl replied slowly. “The idea that magic can’t cross water is an oversimplification. The elements affect magical forces in different ways. Water focuses the flow. Small islands are hard to predict until you reach them, especially if they have a high iron content. Some concentrate all the power for hundreds of miles around, and some are so dead you can’t light a candle. Your islands must be the inert sort if magic users aren’t found on them. Abrak might have been virtually powerless once she got there. When Thurbold realised it, he got rid of her to destroy the evidence of his complicity.”

  “But surely then the potion wouldn’t work.”

  “Living things hold their power in a dimension that isn’t affected by water. Herbalism is the most universal of all magical disciplines; not even iron disrupts it.”

  “Would you be surprised if I said I don’t know what you mean by other dimensions?”

  “I’d be more surprised if you did.” Jemeryl’s forehead creased as she tried to find an easy explanation. “Virtually everyone can perceive four dimensions, three spatial and one temporal. And most people have seven senses to perceive them: sight, touch, taste, smell, balance, hearing, and time. However, there are three further dimensions and at least six other senses, even sorcerers can’t agree on the exact number. Everyone’s body extends across all seven dimensions, but most people’s paranormal senses don’t work, in the same way a deaf person can’t hear in the four ordinary dimensions. Objects exist in the paranormal dimensions. If you’re aware of them, you can use them, and that’s what’s called magic. I know it seems strange to the ungifted, but if you have full use of your senses, it’s very straightforward. When we sorcerers wave our hands about, all we’re doing is moving things on other planes of existence.”

  “You touch them with your hands?”

  “You use your limbs as they project in the other dimensions. The gestures the ungifted see are largely incidental.”

  Tevi’s forehead creased as she thought it over. “I suppose if nearly everyone was blind, the few who could see would be able to do things—like use a bow and arrow. To the blind majority, it would be a powerful mystery. Is it something like that?”

  “That’s it precisely. Many people have limited awareness of their paranormal senses, though it results in nothing more than the sensation of icy fingers down the spine and things like that. Probably nobody has complete control of all their extra-dimensional senses, but the more you can perceive, the more powerful a magic user you are. A witch is someone who is aware of one or two of the paranormal dimensions. A sorcerer is competent in all three.”

  “So you can see me in these extra dimensions?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do I look?”

  Really nice, was Jemeryl’s first thought, although she did not say it aloud. “Umm...it’s hard to describe.”

  “And I suppose it wouldn’t mean much to me.” Tevi’s wry grin faded into a sigh. She raised her hand to her blindfold. Jemeryl guessed that the talk of extra senses had made her more aware of her current blindness.

  Jemeryl returned to the earlier conversation, partly to divert Tevi from worry about her eyes. “You said you were looking for Abrak’s chalice. Finish your story. How did it go missing?”

  The change in topic did not work as planned. If anything, Tevi looked even more miserable. “The island I come from is Storenseg, which is where Abrak landed. Her relics are still there. They don’t amount to much—her satchel, her pewter chalice and some ashes.”

  “Her mortal remains?”

  “They’re supposed to be. They were kept in a shrine on the site where she was killed. One day nearly three years ago, a large black bird swooped in through the door, picked up the chalice and flew off with it. People say it went straight out to sea, heading for the mainland. Nobody knew what to do. So I said I’d go and get it back.” Tevi finished in a rush.

  “How were you going to find it? The mainland is a very big place.”

  Tevi shrugged.

  Jemeryl leaned forward. It seemed a good time to gently introduce the idea of accompanying Tevi on the quest. “It’s a good job that you came here. I can give you a lot of help and advice.”

  “To be honest, I’ve given up hope of achieving the quest.”

  Tevi was avoiding something she did not want to talk about. That much was obvious. Jemeryl eyed her guest, hoping it was nothing more than feeling foolish for taking on a task she could not perform. But watching the tight set of Tevi’s lips, Jemeryl got the nasty feeling that a whole new set of pitfalls had lined up in front of her.

  Tactfully, she decided not to push the point and allowed Tevi to change the subject again, to her travels through the mainland. Jemeryl settled back and listened with interest, watching the firelight play over Tevi’s face. The afternoon was well advanced. Soon, it would be dark and time to remove the bandage. Once Tevi could see again, Jemeryl was sure that her enthusiasm could be revived. Plans for the quest could wait.

  Chapter Thirteen—New Eyes

  While the short winter’s day drew to a close, the two women sat chatting in the parlour. The clear skies of the morning were gone. Clouds had blown over from the east and a stiff wind had sprung up. Tevi shivered, hearing bursts of sleet splattering against the windows, a reminder that winter was not over.

  She lazed comfortably in her chair by the fireside with two squirrels asleep on her lap. Jemeryl was an attentive audience, and Master Sarryle was an amusing topic for conversation, now that he was far away. A simple description of him ordering a meal at an inn could be guaranteed to entertain anyone.

  “I watched him do it. Then he called the waiter over and said, ‘Young man, do you consider thirty-six peas to constitute an adequate portion?’” Tevi managed a fair impression of the old man.

  “You mean he counted them?”

  “Every time. Luckily, he was never given rice.�
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  “What happened?”

  “Well, it didn’t help when the waiter offered to get a ruler so he could measure the length of the sausages.”

  “He hit the roof?”

  “No. Irony was lost on the man. He said yes. In the end, he had the innkeeper, the chef, and half the staff around the table. They cooked him a fresh meal, with double potions of everything. Sarryle then said he wasn’t hungry anymore and went to bed. I thought they were going to lynch him.”

  “In your place, I’d have offered to get them a rope,” Jemeryl said, laughing.

  Tevi grinned and continued with the tale of her travels. She was finding it increasingly difficult to reconcile the woman she was getting to know with the villagers’ tales. She did not see how anyone could spend five minutes in Jemeryl’s company without liking her, but she had noticed that the mainland people had a peculiar attitude towards sorcerers. Many spoke of them as if they were not properly human. Tevi had already learnt that Jemeryl had a lively sense of humour. Perhaps the villagers had taken her too literally, not ready to credit a sorcerer with being able to make jokes.

  For her part, Tevi found Jemeryl very good company, a feeling that seemed to be reciprocated. Sitting and chatting by the fire had Tevi completely at ease. It was hard to remember when she had last felt so content. Jemeryl’s voice was light and clear, with a rich nasal burr of an accent. Tevi was not familiar enough with the Protectorate to place it, but it sounded easy on her ear. She found herself wishing Jemeryl would say more so she could listen. It would be interesting, when the bandage was removed, to see her and match a face to the voice.

  No doubt the villagers were already working on stories about the young mercenary who went into the castle and was never seen again. Tevi suspected some would be quite disappointed when she returned, whole and healthy.