Sworn To Raise: Courtlight #1

by Edun, Terah

  When Ciardis looked questioningly at the five knobs of varying sizes and shapes over the claw footed bathtub, Sarah showed her which one to turn to summon the hot water, and explained what each of the symbols etched above the other knobs indicated: soap, shampoo, perfume, and cleanser.

  Sarah said, “Now, this is all very nice, but you must realize that it all comes at a price. You must be accepted as a trainee, and then you must succeed in the Patron Hunt—only then can you enter contract under the Guild’s name.” Her eyes narrowed. “We ensure that the financial cost of housing you, feeding you, training you and clothing you is paid either way. You will either be charged a sum upon signing your contract with a patron or be required to repay the Companions Guild upon exit from companion training.”

  That sounded ominous. Ciardis nodded mutely.

  Sarah sat on the bed and stared at Ciardis, who stood there meekly. “So tell me, what did you study in Vaneis? The basics? Instruments? Languages?”

  Ciardis shook her head, feeling ashamed. “I only know a little arithmetic, ma’am, and how to do laundry.”

  Sarah rubbed her eyes in irritation with a sigh. “Oh dear. Serena’s been known to be taken in by a pretty face, but even she couldn’t be this idiotic. There must be something…” Shifting to reach into her pocket and then turning back to Ciardis with a metal locket in her hand, Sarah asked, “Do you know why I am the Master Archivist for the Companion’s Guild?”

  Ciardis responded tentatively, “Because you’re good at reading and writing?”

  Sarah responded with a wry smile. “Yes. I also have a photographic memory and a empathic touch. The latter will be trait that is most useful to us right now.”

  Ciardis bit her lip and nervously bunched a bit of her dress in her hand. “What’s a empathic touch?” she finally asked.

  Before answering, Sarah reached over to ease Ciardis’s grip on her dress and smoothed over the wrinkled fabric. “My dear, that’s a sign of nervousness that you need to get over,” Sarah said sardonically.

  “Now,” she continued, “Empathy is the ability to feel memories and composition. It is usually not done through physical feelings but I can assess the memories only through touch. I am not a mind healer, but rather a visualizer.”

  “Right,” murmured Ciardis.

  Sarah nodded and said, “Usually, this means I can touch a book or scroll in the library and the essence of it will imprint on me. I’ll instantly know have a vague sense of the contents. It’s better if I read it, of course.”

  Sarah continued, “The Companions Guild Council recently discovered that I am also able to read human visualizations to see what their abilities are or might be.” She glanced away briefly. “We tried it with a non-human—a kialis, which is practically human anyway—but, well, that didn’t go so well.”

  After a long, expressionless moment, Sarah went on. “Regardless, I can tell what talents, if any, a person is imbued with. It’s usually an art form, such as the ability to play one or more instruments, or dance. Or sometimes it’s a gift for numbers and figures. That one is always a favorite with the newly rich.”

  Ciardis clasped her hands in front of her chest. “You might be able to read me, then!” she said excitedly. “Perhaps I have a talent!”

  “Yes,” said Sarah approvingly. “Now sit down, please.”

  Chapter 4

  Ciardis sat and dropped her hands into her lap, ready for anything, as long as she found out what her talent was, if any. Sarah took off her spectacles and tucked back behind her ears the wisps of hair that were fluttering in her face. Then she straightened up and put her hands on either side of Ciardis’s face.

  “Hmm,” she said after five long minutes. Ciardis frowned. There’d been no magic spark or rustling winds or anything.

  Where was the magical flash of power? Wasn’t that how you could tell a mage from a mundane? Ciardis hoped the lack of magical excitement didn’t mean anything. Perhaps Sarah’s empathic touch wasn’t meant to be a visual demonstration?

  Ciardis peered anxiously at Sarah’s face, hoping for a clue.

  “I don’t believe it,” Sarah whispered finally. In a slightly louder voice, she asked, “What did you say your full name was?”

  “Ciardis Rafaela Vane.”

  Sarah said quickly, “And it is your true name, registered by the hands of your mother and father?”

  Ciardis nodded anxiously. “They went to the birth archives in the town and everything. Named me after the town, in a way. At least, that’s what I’ve been told.”

  “Then someone misled you. Or deliberately lied.” Sarah stared at her intently and abruptly stood, “Come with me now!”

  They rushed out of Ciardis’s room and into the dorm hallway, Sarah clasping Ciardis’s hand as they ran. They passed through three different corridors along the way. Ciardis barely saw a glimpse of the intricate artwork and beautiful statues in the halls as she rushed around corners – trying to keep up with Sarah’s fast pace. Soon they came to an abrupt stop in front of a large door. At the top of the door in scrolled letters was inscribed, “The Companions Library”. As they entered, Sarah asked in a hoarse whisper, “Do you recall what the first part of my mage gift is?”

  Ciardis nodded and said, “A photographic memory.” She tried to ignore the trembling in Sarah’s hands as the archivist led her through the bookcases. For her part Sarah would stop in the middle of the library aisles and turn in a circle while pulling Ciardis with her.

  Occasionally Sarah’s hand would tighten on Ciardis’s as she cast her gaze around her like a bloodhound on the hunt. Sarah was searching with her magic for something…what exactly that was Ciardis couldn’t say. Seeing the girl’s confusion Sarah explained, “I’m sending out feelers from my mage core in different directions hoping to sense the manuscript that most feels like your mage core.”

  “My mage core?” questioned Ciardis, “I have one?”

  “Oh, most definitely,” said Sarah in a grim tone, “I would question how you didn’t know about it before this.”

  After a few minutes of this, Sarah instructed Ciardis in a whisper, “The imprints that I’m sending feelers out for are like markers. If it’s in a book, I can trace the marker back to its source. With my memory and the imprint trail, I never forget where I’ve placed a book.”

  After a moment of silence she continued, “Your imprint reminds me strongly of a book I read long ago, as a child. If I’m right, there hasn’t been a companion trainee of your type in more than thirty years.”

  “Um…my ‘type?’”

  “Ah ha!” said Sarah triumphantly as she turned so that her body faced south. She began to rush off into the direction of the back corner of the library stacks. She stopped directly in front of a red leather-bound book with gold lettering on the front. She dropped Ciardis’s hand to pull the book off of the shelf with both hands. She held it reverently. As she turned to face Ciardis, she said, “This book…it feels just like your imprint. There’s no mistaking it!”

  “And what does that mean?” Ciardis asked.

  Sarah looked up from gazing upon the pages of the book. The pages crinkled with the stiffness of calfskin under her hands. “That means that the book is the essence of what your talent is about.”

  Ciardis’s eyes widened as she hesitantly reached to take hold of the book. Her hands were shaking now, she noticed in wry irony. She turned the front cover towards her as Sarah said aloud, “The title is The History of the Weathervanes.”

  “Weathervanes? You mean like the metal roosters and flying pigs on the roofs of buildings? Why is that special?”

  “No, no—Weathervane is a sense of identity not an object,” snapped Sarah. “Heavens above, didn’t you learn anything in that little village of yours?”

  “I…well…yes,” said Ciardis in a small voice
. “Just not this.”

  Sarah toosed an irritated sigh, “It’s right there in your surname. You were not named after some silly little town. The Weathervanes are a family that hasn’t had a known descendant in decades. They were thought extinct; the last daughter disappeared twenty years ago. Their talent was to seek and magnify the magical talents of others.”

  Ciardis’s mouth widened, “So…I don’t have magic myself?”

  Sarah looked flabbergasted. “My dear girl, you have more than magic—you have the ability to enhance magic. That talent will be sought by many.” The archivist shut her mouth and stared at Ciardis hard. At last, she said, “Tonight, your assignment is to read this book from cover to cover. I won’t tolerate any stupid questions when you start your tutorials.”

  Ciardis gulped and nodded nervously. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Come,” Sarah said, “I’ll take you back to your quarters.”

  Ciardis grew progressively paler as she followed Sarah silently through the corridors. She’d been so eager to please Sarah that she’d forgotten to tell her that she had more problem: she couldn’t read.

  After Sarah left, Ciardis stared down hopelessly at the book in her hands. This book held the key to her new life in its pages, and she knew that if she didn’t read it tonight, she’d be kicked out of tutorials tomorrow, maybe even sent back to Vaneis in disgrace.

  No one wants an idiot Companion trainee, she thought ruefully. She was in over her head, and she had no idea what she could do about it.

  An hour after she’d returned to her room, there was a sharp knock at her door. Ciardis jumped and went to open it. Perhaps it was Sarah. Maybe now Ciardis could tell her the embarrassing truth about why she could not complete her assignment. She could leave before the mocking jeers even started.

  To both her relief and dismay, it was not Sarah at her door, but a blonde lass with blue eyes and a sour expression on her face. “Hi,” said the young woman sharply, her hands on her hips and her foot tapping erratically.

  “Hello,” Ciardis said a little warily, “Can I help you?”

  The girl sighed dramatically and said, “Yes! You can quit your bellyaching. It’s keeping me awake.” The girl turned around with a swish of her blue nightdress and started to walk back across the hall.

  Ciardis looked at her retreating back in disbelief, not sure how to respond.

  A small laugh from the shadows shook her out of a stupor. Another young woman stood across the hall in front of Room Three A. Ciardis’s mouth pressed into a thin line; she felt anger toward both the girl who’d just insulted her and the girl laughing at her from the shadows of her doorway. This new girl was wearing tight black men’s clothing, and was clearly mocking Ciardis.

  Ciardis decided to call out to the first one, “I don’t know what your problem is, but I haven’t disturbed anybody. In fact, I haven’t said a word in an over an hour.”

  The girl whirled and sneered. “You stupid peasant! I’m an telepath, which means I can hear any thoughts you project!”

  “Well, goody for you, then! Listen to this!” Ciardis yelled, slamming her door. She slumped against the doorframe. She had honestly had no idea what else to say. Besides, she thought, let the girl suffer for one night. Ciardis would probably be kicked out by morning, anyway. Stupid, rich, magical, stuck-up, snotty girl, she ranted in her head. She hoped the telepath had heard that, too.

  Ciardis got to her feet as another knock came from the other side of her door. She rolled her eyes, opened it, and snarled, “What now, you insipid…”

  She trailed off when she saw the other girl in front of her—the one who had been laughing at her from the shadows. Changing her statement mid-sentence she began again, “What do you want?”

  “You know, you could be nicer,” said the girl, while leaning against the doorframe.

  “And why should I?” Ciardis asked sharply.

  “Because I might be able to help you with your problem. Your assignment was something to do with reading a book, right?”

  Ciardis blinked. “How would you know that?”

  “Prima was ranting for a full ten minutes in the hallway about your ‘inconsiderate nature’ before she knocked on your door,” the girl said.

  “Well,” said Ciardis, suddenly flustered, “I…um… Come in.” She motioned the other girl forward and shut the door.

  “I’m Sephrane,” said the girl. Ciardis nodded and offered her name.

  “What did you mean about helping me?” she asked quickly.

  “First, what is your problem exactly?” replied Sephrane. “I need to hear it from you.” She had moved to stand next to the armoire. Ciardis stood near the bed. The two of them together couldn’t have been more different. Sephrane wasn’t dressed like a proper woman in a skirt or a dress. She was dressed in tight black leather pants that defined her legs and a light black cotton shirt that stretched over her chest. She wore a simple copper pendant around her neck, and her slick black hair was pulled up into an elegant chignon at the back of her head. Ciardis noted her style with incredulity – not quite sure what to think of it but knowing that back in the vale she would be stoned for the impropriety.

  Ciardis bit her lip and sighed as she picked up the red book. “I can’t read,” she admitted, “and I need the ability in order to learn about my heritage.”

  The other girl rolled her eyes. “Is that all?” she asked in the snootiest tone imaginable.

  Ciardis snarled. She might have to take insults from Sarah, but not from these girls. “Not all of us grew up with silver spoons in our mouths,” she retorted.

  “Right,” responded Sephrane. “Look, don’t get your knickers in a bunch. What I meant was that my magical talent is transfers—sometimes called ‘copying.’”

  “Copying?” asked Ciardis, sitting down slowly. She was beginning to feel a headache coming on.

  The girl raised an eyebrow. “I can transfer skills to another person for a limited time. The talent I copy is usually a skill that I transfer from one person to another. It also can be a personal skill that I’ve learned over time – the hard way. How long a skill transfer lasts depends on the complexity of the skill. For instance, combat skill transfers only last a few weeks. Something as basic as reading—in one language, mind you—will last you for years. Enough time for you to pick it up on your own.”

  “Oh my,” said Ciardis shakily, “That’s quite the talent.”

  “I know,” said the girl smugly.

  “Well, yes, then,” said Ciardis. “If you’re offering, I’d be glad to have your help.”

  “Nothing is free,” Sephrane replied. “What can you give me in return?”

  Ciardis stared at Sephrane in amazement, thinking that the manners of the people in this city were atrocious.

  “Well?” repeated Sephrane. “I don’t have all night.”

  Ciardis quickly gathered her thoughts. “What do you want? I have some dresses,” she said, reaching for the packages that’d Serena had acquired in Lineaus.

  “Frilly dresses aren’t really my thing.”

  “Well, I have nothing else to offer,” snapped Ciardis. “A few coins. Laundry services.”

  “Laundry services?” said Sephrane with definite interest.

  Ciardis’s eyes narrowed as she looked at the girl. If Sephrane had been a fox, her ears would have cocked forward in curiosity at Ciardis’s mention of the two words. “Yes, I was a laundress back home,” Ciardis replied, grimacing inwardly at the title.

  “Now you’re talking,” said Sephrane. “How about one year of reading skills transfer in exchange for a year’s laundry service.”

  “Six months.”

  “Six months of what?” asked Sephrane.

  “I can learn all I need to know from you in six months,” replied Ciardis with a
lift of her chin and a glint in her eye. “Six months of reading skills in the Common Tongue for six months of laundry service.”

  Sephrane shrugged and held out her hand for a shake. Ciardis spit in her palm and swiftly slapped Sephrane’s hand with her own to seal the bargain. She gasped when their hands touched. There was a sharp tingle, almost like a jolt running up her arm.

  Sephrane dropped her hand and said, “Now you can read.”

  Sephrane walked to the door and opened it, turning around before leaving. “I would stop spitting in people’s hands before you get to the Patron Hunt, if I were you,” she advised. The door shut softly behind her.

  Ciardis sighed and dropped back on the bed. “So many rules,” she muttered to herself. She picked up the book and noted that her reading skills had already kicked in: the title was legible now, no longer just so many angular golden sticks. A small smile bloomed on her face. She’d wanted to be able to read since she was a small child and had seen the traveling bands selling books to the wealthy folk in town.

  Carefully, she cracked open the red book. On the first page was an inscription:

  ~The History of the Family of the Weathervanes~

  A Noble Clan with Powers Above All

  Wouldn’t that be nice, Ciardis mused.

  She began to read the crisp, blocky text, noting immediately that the history of the clan—her clan!—extended all the way back to Emperor Favian IV, often written Favian Stormlord, over three hundred years ago. Indeed, it was Favian who had bestowed the name Weathervane upon the clan of companions who had the extraordinary ability to amplify the magical talents of others.