by Edun, Terah
Ciardis’s faced flamed with embarrassment, but she couldn’t run. They were standing in the middle of the only path back to safety and her room.
With nowhere to go and no way to avoid them, she raised her head high, her chin trembling, and grabbed a bunch of her dress in both hands to keep her hands from shaking with tremors.
“You know,” said Prima with a hint of cruelty in her voice, “If you really wanted to learn how to pay respect to the ground, I would have had Teachene show you.”
Going stiff with ire at the girl’s dig at her friend, Ciardis retorted, “It takes a dirt kisser to know one Prima. Perhaps you should teach me.”
The young man at Prima’s side quickly stifled a laugh with a cough into his fist.
Prima’s charming smile transformed into a frown to rival the anger of the legendary Bella Mickness—a girl Ciardis knew from back home in Vaneis who nobody messed with. Ciardis cringed and ducked instinctively, ready for the blow to hit her, completely forgetting her defense training.
But she had underestimated Prima. She wouldn’t hit anyone; the risk of marring her manicure was too great.
“At least I’m not some gold digging baseborn bitch,” the girl said viciously. “Go back to where you came from—you won’t find a husband there, either, but it’s better than the humiliation you’ll receive here.”
She turned around, stepped around her companions, and swept off in a huff without a backwards glance, leaving Ciardis with tears running down her face.
Prima’s friends followed right behind her.
After some dramatic dirt kicking, which left the garden looking like a lawn gnome had decided to redecorate, Ciardis went back to her room.
“And to think I thought they’d be nice here,” she muttered to herself, then sighed and collapsed on her fluffy bed. Spreading her hands over the mattress, she couldn’t help but smile as she remembered her room back in Vaneis. Living in this castle was world’s above the small freezing inn where even with a heat spell the nights were cold and the blankets too thin. Flipping over and putting her hands behind her head she reminisced over the lessons from the past two months. It seemed never-ending - there was always something she didn’t know.
Damias was a difficult taskmaster, but she could tell he was making every effort to prepare her for her Hunt, although sometimes she wondered if he planned for her to die of exhaustion before she even got there.
Hearing a knock at her door, she rolled over onto her back and shouted, “Come in.” Sitting up, she couldn’t help but hope it wasn’t Prima; she didn’t need more trouble today.
It wasn’t Prima, thank goodness. Teachene stood in the doorway, bearing cakes.
“Phew,” said Ciardis, “I’m just glad you’re not Prima…or Sephrane, for that matter.”
She hadn’t seen Sephrane in weeks. After Sephrane had passed the Talents Guild test four weeks ago, she’d moved into an apartment of her own in the city. No doubt she was insanely busy preparing to take over from the ancient Master Copier at the Barter Hall.
But she had been so thoughtful and arranged to have a local woman continue to deliver her dirty laundry to Ciardis’s doorstep once a week like clockwork.
Ciardis gave Teachene a grin and patted the bed. They’d become fast friends over the past few weeks.
“Sephrane, I get. She’s got a intense laundry situation, that one. I swear the last pile that woman brought over was taller AND wider than me” said Teachene. “But Prima?”
Ciardis quickly filled her in on that morning’s events.
Teachene set the box of soft cakes on the bed between them and they proceeded to divvy up the spoils. Ciardis went for the delectable caramel rolls—soft cake drizzled with sweet honey and caramel sauce—because they reminded her of winter back home. Teachene preferred the brown ginger cakes for their hint of sweetness and overall snap.
“I saw you dancing with Lord Damias in the solar today,” Teachene said.
Ciardis groaned aloud before Teachene could utter another word. “No, I didn’t mean it that way. You’re not so bad. I mean…you’re getting better!” Teachene said. “Sailor’s honor.”
“You mean I only stepped on his toes three times and tripped him once, right?”
“Yeah,” admitted Teachene with a wry grin, “That about covers it.”
Ciardis rolled her eyes and popped another morsel into her mouth. Through the mouthful of cake, she said, “I don’t know how they expect me to memorize all those dances by the Patron Hunt! I’m going to look like a bumbling fool, I just know it!” Sulkily, she muttered, “Why can’t they just hire a copier to instill it in me?”
“You know why,” said Teachene sternly. “A skill like dancing costs ten thousand shillings, because they can’t just give you one dance—it must be all of them. Besides, there are only two copiers in all of Sandrin presently, and neither of them can dance worth anything.”
“What? How did Sephrane pass her Patron Hunt if she couldn’t dance?”
“Well, technically she can dance to music—it’s just not up to the skill of her sword dancing,” Teachene explained. “The Companion’s Guild decided in her pre-Hunt interview that she should stick to the swords, since her prospective Patrons all professed an interest in the subject.”
“Right,” Ciardis murmured.
“You, on the other hand,” said Teachene as she playfully lobbed some popped corn kernels in Ciardis’s direction, “don’t have a primary or a secondary talent to rely on and must learn what you can before the Hunt starts.”
“That’s not true!” argued Ciardis. “I can make a mean snow cone!”
“Snow cone? What’s a snow cone?”
After Ciardis explained the treat, Teachene burst out laughing and didn’t stop for a full five minutes. Ciardis sat glaring at her, her legs crossed as she leaned back against a bunch of pillows. “It’s a serious talent,” she said stiffly.
“Uh huh,” said Teachene, still chuckling. “Do you see any snow around here?”
Ciardis rolled her eyes. “Maybe one of my prospective Patrons will be a Winter Lord or a Weathercaster. I am a Weathervane, after all.”
“You know your abilities to enhance will extend beyond the capacity to increase weather-related magic,” Teachene pointed out.
“I know,” said Ciardis, “But my ancestor’s book makes the ability to enhance weather sound pretty awesome.”
Teachene sighed and said, “I also hoped to have a patron who hailed from my homeland in the Summer Isles, but most of the Patrons come from these or nearby lands. Now, time to get down to business. Who’s that cute guy down the hall?”
At this, Ciardis burst out laughing herself. “Terris? You have a crush on him, don’t you? I knew it!”
“Maybe,” said Teachene with a little giggle as she twisted some of her braids around a finger, “He’s so cute! I can’t help it. Blond hair, blue eyes, tight physique.”
Ciardis shook her head. “What a pair you two would make, with your dark skin and his fair skin.”
Teachene grinned. “You know it!”
Chapter 6
Later that night, Ciardis sat alone at her desk, studying. She had to catch up on all the Practicals material Damias had given her.
The focus of the Practicals shifted between the magical and the mundane every week, which made her happy—she never knew what was next. They had flown through mind-focusing for memory retention, mind-shielding—Note to self: get better at it, Prima kicked your ass today, she thought—and Sahelian texts. This week was mathematics, which she found quite interesting.
. Damias had also stressed the importance of being able to take over the operation of her Patron’s manor from the start. At the moment, she had to go over a keep’s ledger – the book in which all financial transactions were kept. It incl
uded everything from overall maintenance of the building: mason work, caulking, wood floor replacements, to purchase of grain for winter use and payment to household staff members. Next she had to review a merchant’s cost estimate for new upholstery for all of the furniture throughout the entire manor, rework each of the merchant’s estimates, calculate the totals and compare them to the head butler’s own calculations for errors. All she could say was that these nobles must have some truly dodgy financiers. The errors were astronomical and from the inflated figures Ciardis saw once she’d compared the merchant’s cost estimates and the head butler’s figures – it was clear that the head butler was skimming a profit off of the top.
The comparisons took her close to two hours to complete, and then she lit a lamp to practice some simple katas for her defense tutorials. She worked hard day and night, not just to impress Damias and Serena, but also to ensure that she would be selected by a patron.
The prospect of the selection haunted her dreams and waking thoughts alike. She had yet to manifest her WeatherVane powers, and no matter how many times she reread the book section that told her the powers would arrive only after her eighteenth birthday—if they ever did—she was still impatient. The what-ifs and doubts clouded her mind, making her belly tense with worry even in slumber. What made it worse was that her eighteenth birthday was just two weeks before the Patron Hunt was set to begin.
She had two weeks to master her powers—if they came in at all. Not very reassuring.
She soon noticed that she was throwing off her katas in her worry, and decided to go to bed. Nothing more could be accomplished tonight.
By the end of the week in her Dance class, even Damias could tell something was wrong. She could see that, but it was equally clear that he had wanted to wait and see if she could overcome whatever was troubling her before asking about it.
They were dancing a complicated quartet pattern. Serena had been kind enough to provide a set of ghostly partners for each of them.
As Ciardis wavered for the fifth time under her airy partner’s guidance, Damias, ever the gentleman, signaled that he wanted to change partners. When Damias and Ciardis came together for their dance, the two ghostly partners Serena had provided dissipated as if they’d never been there. The dance of four became a dance of two with Damias leading, holding Ciardis’s left hand high and wrapping an arm around her waist. They eased into a simple two-step and whirled about the ballroom to the tune of a small magical music ball playing violas in the corner. Serena, her job done and her airy visions dissipated, had pulled out a pamphlet and begun to read.
Ciardis was pretty sure that the previous dance had been invented just to show off the richness of the dancers’ clothing. She was glad it was over. This one was a bit more sedate; at certain parts of the dance when Ciardis was required to look away from her partner, she was able to get a look at Serena’s literature. It appeared to be a lady’s pamphlet on facial powder. I’ll have to ask Serena if I can borrow it, she thought excitedly. Then it struck her like a blow that only a few months before, such a thing would never have occurred to her, to desire makeup, to wear gowns and jewels. Those had been fantastic figments of every laundress’s imagination.
But alongside the painful desire to continue in this lifestyle of luxury was the near certain feeling she had that she’d fail to manifest her powers. That, in turn, brought the issue of her powers—or lack thereof—back to the forefront of her mind, and from there it was just a downhill emotional spiral.
As the dance ended, Damias said with a chuckle, “You’ve done well. But you need to learn to focus on what your partner is saying with his or her body. Then you’ll know which way to turn your body.”
“I know,” said Ciardis. “It’s just difficult to read my partner’s cues when they’re nothing but ghostly shapes.”
Damias grinned. “If you can learn to master the dances with a visual partner with no physical presence, then you’ll be able to read the cues of a real partner with no problem.”
Ciardis nodded and prepared for the next set of dance instructions. As Damias demonstrated with moving hands and flowing movements, Ciardis tried to fake a smile, but when he turned to her, a silent tear betrayed her feelings.
Damias frowned and brought his hands down. “Clearly this is about more than a dance. Sit. Let’s talk.” He folded himself gracefully into a crossed-legged position on the ballroom floor. Ciardis followed, tucking her legs under her in the proper ladylike equivalent of his position.
“It’s my powers…” Ciardis said, her eyes closed in shame. “They haven’t manifested yet. If they don’t, all the Patrons will rescind their invitations.”
“Ciardis,” said Damias softly, “You know as well as I do that female Weathervanes have to wait longer for their powers; they invariably mature after their eighteenth birthdays. And it can take even longer. My partner’s powers didn’t even come in until her twenty-first birthday, and she’s a Fire Master!”
“Yes,” said Ciardis, sniffling, “But your partner is Leinada Firelancer! She’s…she’s Imperial!”
“And does that make her different?” Damias asked.
Ciardis issued a trembling smile as he handed her his handkerchief. “I guess not.” With a gulp, she looked at him. “What if I really am mundane, though? Or what if Sarah was wrong, or—”
Damias cut off her tirade with an upraised eyebrow. “Do you honestly think I would waste my time on anyone without potential? There is no way, my dear, that you are anything less than worthy of a full-fledged Patron Hunt. Besides,” he said with a cocky grin, “Sarah is never wrong, and if she ever heard you say that she might be, she’d tear you a new hide.”
Ciardis laughed.
“Now, I want you to take the rest of the day off. No tutorials, no family history. Just be you!” he said rising gracefully and extending a hand to help her up.
She nodded, taking his hand and pulling herself to her feet.
As she was about turn away, he said, “Also, your patron interview is scheduled for tomorrow. All you need to do to prepare is be relaxed. The panel will be there to help you, guide you, and answer any questions you might have.”
Relax, he tells me, Ciardis thought with an inward sigh as she headed back to the dorms. Easy for him to say.
She reached her room, a pensive expression on her face as she unlocked the door. She hesitated in the middle of the huge space, thinking about what she should do next. There was no way for her to study for the patron interview tomorrow because no assignments had been given for it and no one would tell her what it involved. She bit her lip. She’d been meaning to get a second primer from the market in the Bookbinders’ District, but this week had been so busy that she’d had no time. She was already done with the first reader’s primer, though, and was ready to move on to the second. Mind made up to enjoy the day and pick up another primer, she grabbed a scarf to wrap around her hair in the fashion of the season and a few coins for some small purchases.
With glee, she caught a tuk-tuk—a small three-wheeled conveyance that she delighted in—at the gates of the Companions Guild and headed off into the city. It was an unseasonably warm winter, even by Sandrin standards. Usually, heavy rains came in off the sea around this time of year, but that was not so today. The heat was almost sweltering.
Deciding on her first order of business, she spotted an ice seller on her way to the bookbinders’ district. She hopped out of the tuk-tuk and walked. She knew that if she’d stayed with the tuk-tuk, the driver would drive in a large circle around to the bookbinders district and charge her twice as much when she could just cut through the ice seller’s street.
The ice sellers’ street, in the shade of large buildings, offered a shortcut through the weavers’ district and into the bookbinders’ district. It would also be much cooler walk than any other route. She took out a small coin to pay t
he guards of the ice sellers’ street, and walked between their glistening chests to be hit by a refreshing wave of cool air on the other side. The ice sellers kept their one street, which was fairly large, cool year-round by means of the services of a permanent weather warden. Contracts like this, for small streets or buildings, was lucrative work for weather wardens who had to contract out their services, she imagined.
Weather wardens were well received anywhere they went, but in the city of Sandrin, the Imperial Court mandated that only the two weather mages sanctioned by the Emperor could affect the weather currents and temperatures in the city. If anyone else was caught casting a major weather spell without the express written permission of the palace, it was considered a crime against the kingdom and they would be punished before the courts. The only other way for a weather warden to practice in the city—aside from a few limited permits owned by certain Districts or Guilds—was to teach, which left a dearth of plump positions for those weather-inclined mages to practice in.
Which is why so many leave the city and practice on estates, Ciardis thought. Peering down at the selection of flavors she saw her favorite – strawberry! She indicated to a flavored-ice seller that she wanted it over ice chips. This delicacy was her new favorite thing about the city. She thought wistfully of the snow cones she’d told Teachene about. Perhaps if she could find a way to get them to grind the ice very finely…
Aside from the flavored ice seller, the thoroughfare was packed with household ice sellers and contract sellers. Since weather wardens couldn’t individually practice by cooling homes, they licensed their services to contract sellers who sold the services out by bid and paid the wardens flat fees. The contract sellers were calling out to passerbys about their services.
