by Edun, Terah
As she turned the page, a wrinkled piece of manuscript floated out. Frowning, Ciardis picked it up from the bedspread where it had landed beside her.
I stumbled upon a young girl this morning. One of fair skin and bright laugh. She was running in the rain – a light sprinkle really. I was alone, leaving my retinue on the ridge. As she came forward she stumbled falling to my feet. By accident her sandy hand touched my bare feet. And a miracle was born.
~ Recitation from His Imperial Highness, Prince Favian
The account went on in detail. It told of a brilliant summer storm and Prince Favian’s powerful surge of magic after a touch of the girl’s hands. Under the rain, he had increased the strength of the storm from a sprinkle of rain to a storm of incredible power. After that, he had used the girl to stoke his power like a metal weathervane draws lightning in a storm.
He used the nickname of “Weathervane” for the girl, and it became a common way to refer to her, and later, her children who possessed the same skill.
Female weathervanes became known for their abilities to enhance not only the powers of their chosen partners, but their focused output. But the male weathervanes were more erratic – it was hard to tell if they would connect to a partner or be able to enhance at all. Some male weathervanes became powerful enough to enhance the magical output of entire groups of people but only when all the individuals were present, which was a restriction that made them less useful than their female family members.
She frowned as she read about her ancestors exploits in The History of the Family of the Weathervanes. They’d been generals, Companions, princes, lesser nobles, and—at this she raised an eyebrow—thieves. That’s interesting, she thought as she read up more on Kieran, the Weathervane thief-lord who had put together a synchronized crew of thieves whose exploits had been legendary.
In the middle of the book was a family timeline. Beside each name was a brief physical description: silver hair, blonde hair, black hair; olive skin, pale skin, cinnamon skin, dark skin. But everyone person described had at least one feature in common - golden eyes.
Just like mine.
The last WeatherVane to have been born was a girl, Amelia, thirty-seven years before. She’d had black hair and cinnamon-colored skin, according to the text. My mother had black hair, too, Ciardis thought with excitement. It was one of the few things she could remember about her.
As she carefully read the rest of the entry, she read a small paragraph that stated that female mages were always named after their mothers. In fact, all children took the second half of their mother’s name.
In example Erin Stonebreaker, was known as Erin Breaker before her fifteenth birthday. Upon gaining her powers she received the full titular right to claim the whole last name. It is the same for Weathervanes. Each child, male or female, is given the name of Vane on their birth records. They are only allowed to change this name upon manifestation of their powers.
Sitting up Ciardis realized that her mother had done the same for her. She had named her Ciardis Vane after her family not after Vaneis. The passage continued.
An example of male child names would be Mard Breaker. He took the last name of his wife Erin Stonebreaker, as all men do – magical or mundane. Prior to their marriage, he was known as Erin Chamis, Chamis being the name of his mother.
After two hours of reading, she closed the book with a tired sigh. Looking out the window, she noted that the dawn would come in just four short hours. She needed sleep. After changing into a nightdress and putting the book carefully on the desk, she curled up in the center of the big bed. With a wry smile, she sank into the mattress, thinking, I could get used to this.
Chapter 5
She woke to find a stranger bustling about her room. “Rise and shine!” the woman said cheerfully as she dusted the armoire.
Ciardis sat up in alarm, rubbing her eyes carefully. She frowned at the woman, who was wearing what was clearly a maid’s uniform and wielding a stick with a bunch of feathers tied to one end. “What are you doing?” she asked curiously.
The woman cast her an amused glance and said, “Why, I’m dusting, obviously.” Ciardis decided not to question it further, and swung her feet over the edge of the bed. “There’s breakfast for you in the common gardens,” the woman said.
“Thank you,” said Ciardis. “How do I get there?”
“Go out the door, turn right, walk down the hall, turn left, go down the spiral staircase, and you’ll be right in the gardens. Can’t miss it!”
Ciardis dressed and followed her directions, as well as the aroma that led her straight to a laden breakfast table. As she wandered over to it, she admired the beauty surrounding her. The garden was laid out in a quadrant pattern, with low-cut grass and small rocks as boundaries. A high hedge surrounded the whole garden except for a long opening opposite the staircase.
Grabbing some fresh fruit and fried bread, she stepped toward the opening in the garden hedge. It looked down onto the beach she’d noticed yesterday, and she gasped aloud as she took in the striking sight of the turquoise waves lapping at the sand. After a while, she returned to the table, picking the chair nearest to the ocean.
Soon, a girl with thick braids looped across her head and down her back joined her at the table. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Yes,” replied Ciardis softly, “It is.”
“No matter how long I’m here, I know I’ll never tire of this view,” the girl said. “I’m Teachene, sponsored by Vana,” she said, offering her hand.
Ciardis turned to her, surprised, and shook her hand. She recognized the sponsor – the one Sarah had called Vana and Serena had called a harridan.
“Ciardis, sponsored by Serena. Are you from the Summer Isles?”
“Yes,” said Teachene, smiling a shy smile. “You know that my sponsor hates yours, right?”
“I got that impression,” Ciardis said tentatively while munching on a piece of bread. They looked at each other and burst into giggles. They started chatting and barely noticing when others joined them. Their conversation stretched on until the sound of a bell rang throughout the garden.
A woman stood in the head of the table, clearly waiting for their attention. After a few minutes of waiting she announced, “Welcome, young recruits, to the Companions Guild. Your tutorials will begin in five minutes. You can meet your sponsor in the main hall.”
The recruits eagerly got up to go to the main hall. As soon as Ciardis saw Serena, the first thing out of her mouth was, “What’s the difference between a wife and a consort?”
Ciardis clasped her hand over her mouth. She’d been wondering all night, but she hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that. Fortunately, Serena seemed amused. “Good question! You’re jumping right in, I see. Walk with me.”
They exited the grand hall to a small path that led down to the beach. Along the way, Serena explained, “A consort is a contractual partner - they hold power and rank equal to their spouse’s. If you are Queen Consort, you are so much more than just a Queen. A spouse, on the other hand, is a husband or wife. They hold only the power personally delegated to them by their partner. A Consort maintains all of the power that their partner does with no restrictions.”
“Oh,” said Ciardis, “That sounds quite…complicated.”
“It is,” Serena replied. “But in situations where a companion is being considered for the rank of consort or even spouse, the Companion’s Guild will advise on the structure of the partnership and contractual agreement to serve.” She waved a dainty hand. “But enough of those matters for now. That is far ahead in your future.” She clapped her hands excitedly. “Sarah tells me you’re one of the long-lost Weathervanes! I just knew it!”
Is that why you called me “baseborn” on our way here, then?
“My dear this changes everything!” said Se
rena, ignoring Ciardis’s silence as she twirled around.
“How so?” inquired Ciardis. “I mean, I know about the—my—family history, but it usually takes a while for a girl’s gifts to manifest, right? None of my female ancestors were able to enhance before their eighteenth birthdays.”
Serena stopped twirling. “You have been studying. That’s very good!” she said, turning to face Ciardis, her finger at her lips.
Ciardis resented being spoken to like a toddler, but once again held her tongue.
“Look, this is how it goes,” Serena said in a no-nonsense tone. “Now that we know you have a talent—and it’s a exceedingly rare one at that—either you will automatically be accepted as a companion trainee, and we’ll accelerate your tutorials to prepare you for your Coming Out ceremony at the Patrons Hunt, or we’ll gently start informing eligible patrons of your unique gifts.”
At this, Serena clasped her hands together, “The turnout will be spectacular Everyone will want to see the new Weathervane – especially the mages.”
Ciardis gave a weak grin. She was excited, she really was, but she couldn’t help but remember all those ancestors mentioned in the book whose gifts hadn’t ever manifested. What would happen if hers didn’t?
“Now,” said Serena, ticking off points on her fingers, “Before the Patron Hunt, you’ll need to take Dance, Defense, Manners, and Practicals. I’ll hire a transfer mage to copy the Sahelian language in you, as well. These tutorials will be crucial to your success at the Patron Hunt. You must impress viable candidates with your composure. What are your personal attributes?” asked Serena, beaming.
“I have no idea what you mean by that,” Ciardis said without hesitation.
Frowning Serena rephrased while moving her hand in a encouraging manner, “What are the things that you’re good at?”
“Reading,” said Ciardis quickly.
Serena flicked off the example. “Oh, so boring! The correct answer is ‘hunting, darts, and riding.’”
Ciardis stared at her in wide-eyed horror.
Laughing, Serena said, “Really, dear, we must buy you a sense of humor. Just a little joke. But seriously, we’ll have to come up with a better list than just ‘reading.’”
Serena stopped, looking over Ciardis’s shoulder. Ciardis looked around, raising her hand to shade her eyes from the sun’s glare. The bright rays shining down made the castle sparkle with waves of pink, but she wasn’t fooled. The glare felt ominous, like the stone walls held secrets that were creeping up on her, step by step, while blinding her with its beauty.
A small, slender man was gliding toward them across the sand. He wore silky gray pants and a tan vest over a long-sleeved white shirt. Serena was clearly appreciating his physique, and Ciardis couldn’t help but think, He must be so warm in that outfit.
As he approached, Serena said, “Ciardis, may I present your tutorials instructor for the Patron Hunt, Damias Lancer.” At his shallow bow, she continued, “Damias is the finest tutorial instructor in the Guild. If anyone can get you prepared for the Patron Hunt in three months’ time, he can.”
A small smile eased onto Damias’s face. “Lady Serena exaggerates, but I will do my best to make you the greatest candidate presented at the Patron Hunt this season.” He clapped his hands together. “Now, shall we get off this dreadful sand? We’ll begin with your Dance tutorial inside.”
They headed off the beach and into an empty ballroom, where Ciardis proceeded to learn the first ballroom dance steps for what felt like hours. It was surprisingly exhausting, and the dances were completely unlike the sprightly village dances she already knew. When they finished, after several encouraging remarks from Damias—although she swore she heard Serena mutter from the sidelines something about storks who couldn’t dance—they transitioned to Defense.
Defense was probably better described as “how to hide pointy things in your dress and curtsy without stabbing yourself,” but it was actually quite fun. They went over how to conceal knives in various garments, keeping sharpened needles tipped with sleeping potions in her hair, and Ciardis’s favorite: a fan with spikes that extended outward with a push of a button. Damias cautioned her that the fan was an absolute last resort in battle, and would be given to her only after she’d mastered the katas, the formal military dances associated with its use.
“The Manners tutorial will be held over lunch,” Damias said when they were done, “Serena and I will instruct you in the etiquette of noble meals, while feasting on the finest dishes offered in the Guild.”
Damias picked up two clear goblets and set them before her. Then he laid out five eating utensils along with two napkins.
“The napkins I understand, but why do I need two goblets and five pieces of silverware?”
He picked up both goblets, holding one in each hand. “The slender goblet will always be for wine. The larger goblet will take water for you to drink with your meal. If you wish to signal a server that you desire no further refills, simply place the smaller napkin upon the glass.”
Serena said, “And, of course, each of these utensils serves a purpose.” She picked them up one by one as she explained. “These are the salad fork, the meat fork, the dessert fork, the carving knife, and the butter knife. If you happen to need a spoon, it will be served with the appropriate course.”
“In Vaneis, we only had one utensil besides a knife,” said Ciardis, carefully memorizing the name and placement of each utensil. “It was round-bottomed with three tines.”
“We have those here, too,” Damias said with a smile. “Though you’ll rarely see them in a noble’s house, and then only in the lower kitchens. They’re called sporks.”
“What a ridiculous sounding name.” tutted Serena.
“Another thing,” said Damias, carefully wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Always be aware of what you’re drinking. Only accept drinks from prospective patrons or the servers.”
“In the past a few trainee companions have gone to great lengths to ensure a successful match,” interjected Serena, “Actions which we find deplorable were taken – including use of poisons to get rid of potential rivals.”
“In addition to conventional methods like poisoning, several trainees – who have since been removed from the Companions Guild spelled a hallway in the guild by pouring their magic into the walls and causing her visual and mental perceptions to distort enough that she believed she was drowning. She believed it so much that she stopped breathing because her lungs couldn’t retain enough air even though the hallway was perfectly normal.”
Damias pursed his mouth in distaste. “I hope I never hear of such a thing happening with you, Ciardis.”
“No, of course not!”
After lunch, Serena escorted Ciardis to the barter station in town. Serena took her up to an older man with rheumy eyes. He wore nondescript clothing and leaned on a cane. Serena said to Ciardis, “This is the only registered copier in ten miles. He’s also deaf.”
Serena leaned over and picked up a small piece of parchment with scribbles on it. She neatly wrote out, The Sahelian language
Once they have finished negotiating a suitable rate, she paid him one hundred and fifty shillings for two years of knowledge. He touched Ciardis’s shoulder, and she felt the same electric jolt that Sephrane had given her the night before and suddenly she was thinking in the difficult Dragonkin tongue.
As they walked away, Serena muttered to Ciardis, “He’s blind, practically deaf, and getting senile. I’ll be so glad when that recruit, Sephrane, finally masters her copying talent. It cannot come a day too soon.”
Ciardis asked casually, “Masters? Is she not already talented?”
“Oh, she is,” assured Serena, “But she needs the seal of approval from the Talents Guild before she can practice and sell her skills at the Barter station or to private consu
mers. Though, she only has two more weeks before her Talents exam, since she was selected by a superb patron this past fall.”
Ciardis decided not to mention Sephrane’s unapproved talent transfer from the night before.
“Once you’ve been selected by patron as their companion, you’ll go before the Talents Guild, as well,” Serena said.
From then on, time passed quickly with Ciardis’s Dance and Defense tutorials, measurements for ballgowns, dinner staging, and tutoring in art appreciate, household arrangements and decorative arts.
As her sixth week of tutorials came to a close, Ciardis ruefully remembered her hope for a new life, away from bullies and hard labor.
Today had been proof that everything and nothing had changed.
She’d managed to run into Prima again, and this time, the girl’s telepathic snit wasn’t a small affair.
Ciardis had been minding her own business in one of the outer gardens, practicing the different levels of curtsies given to a person depending on their social status. Her knees were bent and her skirt was spread on the ground, when a stiff breeze unbalanced her. She tumbled to the ground and her skirts flew over her head
As she quickly righted herself and brushed her hair from her face she heard laughter erupt from behind her. In the shadows of the garden entrance, two girls and a young man stood clearly mocking her. The girl next to Prima was mimicking her fall with an exaggerated face and arms milling widely about for balance.
The boy next to her was silently watching as a wind came down from the sky and began to twist around him so that he stood inside his own whirlwind. He watched her with calculating eyes and Ciardis knew that he had been the cause of her fall. The winds around them now and before were nowhere near strong enough to push over a person without a mage’s help.
