by Edun, Terah
Two rooms – one price!, said one man
Fifteen shillings a month to keep your whole apartment cool!, shouted another with a full beard.
A third voice came from behind her, Own an inn? We give you special price! Quality cold air – day and night for your patrons.
Soon she began tuning out the contract sellers as she continued to walk down the ice sellers street. They were sure to make a killing piping cool air into city homes, particularly in this heat.
She had no idea how the weather wardens cooled the air in this blazing hot sun but they did it and she was eternally gratefully for the Guild’s contract with the contract seller who made it possible. The nights here were torrid, even with the sea breeze off the ocean. It was almost as if a heat wave was cocooned above the city.
Making her way into the Bookbinders’ District took a few minutes. She finished her flavored-ice along the way, licking it carefully to avoid getting drops on her dress. She made her way between the bookshops, heading for the one that looked the most decrepit. It was a three-story building that leaned slightly to the side, like an old man with a cane, and curtains fluttered out of the windows on each floor.
As she entered the building, a small bell chimed. It was nowhere near the door – in fact it floated five feet in the air in the center of the room spelled by magic. She looked around with a smile. It looked as if more dust had collected in the four weeks since she’d last come here.
She saw that the books weren’t as precariously piled as before. This time the stacks across multiple tables were no more than three or four books tall. Books took up space on floors and in the corners. The room was dark, dusty, and moldy—and she loved it. She weaved between the tables, heading for the back corner, where a small children’s area was set up. The next primer was already there, bound in green cloth that designated it as Primer Two. Primer One, which she’d brought with her to trade, was bound in brown.
Gathering her new primer, she headed up to the second floor, where two of the journeyman bookbinders and the shop owner were hunched over loose pages in the filtered light. They all held thick needles in their hands as they hand-sewed the pages together. The books—or the fancy ones, anyway—wouldn’t stay like that. She’d asked the owner about that on her last visit, confused as to why her primer had a proper spine and hard casing. It wasn’t just sewn together with just a bit of thread. Jovelin, the store owner, stood over a large desk to her right. He had told her that a formatter was brought in once a month for the fancy books. The rest were sold as-is to the outlying towns and the poor.
She brought the second primer to Jovelin with a cheerful, “Hello!”
“Hello, yourself, young lady,” he said as he shifted his spectacles from the top of his head to his nose. “Ah, I see you’ve finished the first primer. Already?” he asked curiously, a sparkle in his eye.
She nodded eagerly, dislodging her scarf from the top of her head in the process. As she shoved it back into place, he said, “Well, I’ve always enjoyed seeing a young person who reads. As promised, you can trade the first primer for the second at no cost, if…” He let the end of his sentence linger.
With a small smile, Ciardis said, “If I promise to come back and teach your daughter a few dance steps.”
He gave her a big smile. “Yes, this weekend will be good.”
Suddenly a young girl in a tan dress came rushing down the stairs. She rushed up to Ciardis with her blonde curls flying behind her. She screeched to a stop almost on Ciardis’s toes, wobbling a bit before regaining her balance. Ciardis laughed at the five-year-old girl and said, “Hello, Mala.”
“Hello, Ciardis,” Mala said a bit shyly as she attempted a curtsy.
“Are you ready for your lessons this weekend?” Ciardis asked with a smile.
“Yes! Papa says we can dance in the wordies’ room on the third floor!” Mala said eagerly.
Ciardis hid a grin, thinking how cute Mala was. “Wordie” was Mala’s word for the wordsmiths who worked in her father’s shop. They created the stories and ideas that became the books he bound and sold. “Isn’t that right, Papa?” Mala said to Jovelin as she turned to look up over the desk and confirm.
“That’s right, my poppet,” her father assured her.
“Then I look forward to it, milady,” Ciardis said as she dipped a teasing curtsy to Mala. Mala grinned, delighted.
Ciardis bid good day to Mala, her father, and the two binders, then exited the shop to return to the Guild. She’d needed to get back and do Sephrane’s laundry for the week.
The next morning, she woke to a small message glowing in her tobama ball, a small, crystalline orb that held notices, and, in this case, voice messages from mages. Yawning slightly, she raised her hand and tapped the glowing orb that sat by her bedside. Knowing she’d be able to hear the message even from across the room, she stumbled over to the armoire to grab a simple dress to slip on. Damias’s voice came echoing out.
“Ciardis, wear pants and a tunic…and bring coffee.”
He sounded irritated, she thought with a light grin. If there was anyone worse than her at getting up in the mornings, it had to be Damias. Taking off the dress she’d just put on, she rang the bell to the kitchens and asked for a tray of coffee to be brought to her room. As she struggled with tugging the tunic over her head, she realized that she had no idea where the meeting was supposed to be held. Then a knock sounded at her door. She shouted a quick, “Come in!” as she fussed with the ties on her bell sleeves.
Teachene peeked her head in and then hurried over to her struggling friend. After they’d settled the ties, she said eagerly, “Our interviews will be held together!”
Ciardis looked at her with wide eyes. Teachene giggled, knowing instantly what the look was for, and said, “I know, right? Vana and Serena in the same room? It’s going to be something to see!”
Ciardis rolled her eyes. “I think that’s something I could do without seeing. You were there when they had that out-and-out screaming match at dance rehearsal.”
Teachene shuddered. “And to think, recruits are warned against embarrassing their sponsors. Really, it should be the other way around. Hopefully this time will be less…public.”
“As if,” muttered Ciardis as she grabbed some of her books. “I think the whole city block heard that last fight.”
At that moment, a second knock came at the door, with a chime to indicate it was the household staff. Teachene went to open it with Ciardis close behind her, hoping it was the coffee. It was. Grabbing the carafe from one young maid, Ciardis told her thanks, as the girl curtsied in return. To Teachene, Ciardis said, “I hope you know where the interviews are supposed to be held.”
“Yep,” replied her friend, as she took a fruit and breadbasket from a second maid’s hands.
They hurried to an upper floor, and Ciardis grinned when she realized they were going into the tower. The top of the tower was a beautiful atrium with glass windows that opened on all sides to the fresh sea air. She was happy the meeting was being held there as she hated being crammed into windowless, hot rooms.
As they arrived, they saw that none of the others had arrived yet. No surprise there, thought Ciardis. Damias must have messaged me from his room.
She and Teachene busied themselves unpacking the fruit, jams, and bread from the basket while they set the coffee down. A few minutes later, to their relief, Serena, Damias, and two other women arrived. When they were all settled in around the round table in the center of the room, Damias cleared his throat—after gulping half his mug of coffee, of course. “Ciardis, may I present to you Lady Vana, the sponsor of Teachene, and Mary Windstorm, Teachene’s tutorials instructor.”
Ciardis nodded, trying to swallow a small bit of bread stuck in her throat. Teachene discreetly passed her a glass of water before she started choking, and Damias
gracefully moved on. “Teachene, I am Damias Firelancer, Ciardis’s instructor. This is Lady Serena, her sponsor.”
Teachene nodded. Ciardis had finally gotten herself under control, though not without a withering glare from Serena. Teachene, sitting beside her, kicked her foot under the table.
“Well,” drawled Vana, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Ciardis. The first Weathervane to be chosen in decades…how special.”
Ciardis gave her a tight smile, catching the disdain in her tone.
Serena raised her glass. “To our girls!”
Damias, Vana, and Mary completed the toast with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
Half an hour later, Ciardis was miserable. The bickering had started the moment the toast had ended. Ciardis had hoped the interview process would begin immediately but the sponsors and tutorials instructors seemed to be leisurely munching on breakfast and making small talk in advance. Pleasantries had gone out the door when Serena had commented—or sniped, rather on the topic of Vana’s poorly dyed hair.
Once, Mary had to physically hold Vana back from slapping Serena over some insult, and Damias looked like he had a headache from the constant abuse flying around. Apparently deciding that he’d had enough, Damias rapped a small fork against his glass of water, signifying an end to the petty snipes between the two warring parties. “Let’s just get on with it,” he growled.
“Fine.” Clearing her throat, Lady Vana said, “As we all know, Chimaeran girls are famed for their ability to temporarily change their appearances to mimic any human form.”
“Just the girls?” whispered Ciardis to Teachene. It wasn’t as if either of the two sponsors was paying them any attention, anyway.
“The boys can change into any animal form, magical or mundane,” Teachene quickly whispered back.
“Vana,” said Damias in a warning tone. He had noted that she’d gone back to a glaring contest with Serena.
“Which is why,” Vana hastily continued as she turned from glaring at her nemesis, “We’re here not to discuss your promotion to trainee level but the preparations for your patron hunt and the future use of your magical talents during the Hunt.”
“Yes,” said Serena, seemingly determined that Vana would not have the floor for long. “As I told Ciardis when she arrived, her extraordinary talents mean an automatic conferral of trainee status.”
Damias looked at Mary and tilted his head to her indicating that she had the floor.
Mary smiled, looking at Teachene and Ciardis. “Since the both of you have already been accepted as trainees, now we’d like to discuss your patron candidates.”
Both Ciardis and Teachene sat up straight at that. This was definitely new.
Chapter 7
“But before we do we need to be certain of your abilities, which is why we asked you to wear pants today,” Damias said.
He stood and waved his hand at the doorway, as if inviting someone to come in. They all stood and watched as the double doors swung inward, revealing two armed men with swords strapped across their backs and small, covered cages in each hand.
Ciardis eyed the cages warily. This did not look like it was going to be a friendly and relaxed guidance session. The two men set down the cages at their feet, bowed, and retired to one side of the atrium.
Their group rose from the table and approached the four cages, Teachene and Ciardis trailing behind the others uncertainly. Ciardis was sure from the look on Teachene’s face that she had no idea what was going to happen either.
Damias stopped in front of the two cages on the left and turned to the group. He addressed Ciardis and Teachene. “These are Rabiae, woodland creatures that eat and absorb magic.”
Ciardis frowned; she had heard of the innocent-looking little beasts. They were favored hunting targets of the nobility who lived on estates near Vaneis. The nobles, many of them from the bloodlines of mages, had delighted in facing the magical threat of the Rabiae They ran the little animals down on horseback and speared them. The problem was that once speared, the Rabiae emitted a foul purple stench that clung to clothes for days. Ciardis had spent many a day scrubbing fabric clean of the rank odor, which never deadened the olfactory sense as most bad smells did.
“The Rabiae are a byproduct of the Initiate Wars of over two centuries ago,” Damias said. “They were designed by manipulative mages to appeal to children.”
Vana and Serena shuddered delicately, and Vana said, “With those cute floppy ears and soft fur, many young mages come across them and keep them as pets. These ‘pets’ slowly steal every drop of power these children have. The mage children who retain them as pets then become mundane.”
“It is for reasons like this that certain categories of magework have been restricted, and must be approved by Imperial mandate before commencing,” said Mary. “But the Rabiae have already been created, and are impossible to eradicate with magic. As such, we’ve done our best to make practical use of their kind.”
“Today, you will each pick one up, but for no more than a few minutes. The Rabiae not only absorb magic; they also memorize which talent each person exhibits,” continued Damias, “Once collected, their memories of such characteristics were used by their masters to catalogue the bloodlines of mages that would useful.” He snorted. “It was barbaric then, and it’s barbaric now, to consider breeding in order to ensure a magical bloodline is produced.”
Ciardis frowned, not because she disagreed, but because she was wondering, Isn’t that what the nobles do, anyway? Only marry other nobles, just as mages only marry other mages?
Vana summoned the two trainers from their corners. The men wore tight leather jerkins, the hilts of their swords jutting upward. They looked powerful, like the mercenaries Ciardis had sometimes seen on the roads up north. Opening the cages, they dragged the Rabiae out by the nape of their neck. Ciardis couldn’t help but think that the trainers looked like more force than was needed, even though she knew what the beasts were capable of. These two big, strapping men each held a Rabiae in one hand by the loose, soft skin at the nape of its neck. The Rabiae hung unresisting in their grip. Their soft thumper legs kicked lightly and their noses twitched, but they made no noise. Ciardis smiled grimly, thinking, No wonder children like them so much.
The men approached the two young women as the adults moved back into a half circle behind Teachene and Ciardis. The two young women exchanged nervous glances and simultaneously reached forward for the bundles of gray fur.
From a pocket, Damias produced a large, round timer and began a three-minute countdown. After the three minutes were up, Ciardis and Teachene gave the Rabiae back to the trainers, who clapped metal braces on their small necks and attached the braces to metal studs in the floor. They weren’t going anywhere.
With a glance at Damias, Lady Serena stepped forward. She began to conjure, her hands lightly resting over the fur of the two Rabiae. From those small forms arose a shimmering light. Ciardis’s Rabiae, on the left, was red; the Rabiae on the right, Teachene’s, was blue. The swirls of color condensed, but not into any shape or form. Ciardis thought they looked like snow clouds.
Serena said, “Those swirling colors represent your magical cores. I should be able to read them – to see an image that represents the essence of your magical potential but the projection is unstable.”
“Well, then,” said Vana slowly, after Mary prodded her with a swift kick to the shin, “Let me see if I can help.”
Teachene’s eyes twitched in amusement, but otherwise her face betrayed no emotion. She knew that her sponsor delighted in showing off in front of Serena.
Vana stepped forward and raised her hand to hover over the back of the Rabiae. She stood parallel to Serena’s still form which had white light from her wrist to the tips of her fingers. Soon Vana’s hand began glowing as well. Vana tapped into her mage core slowly, not wan
ting to withdraw too much magic, too fast. A purple orb rose from the palm of her hand to the center of the swirling blue and red clouds above the Rabiae. When Damias saw Ciardis’s questioning look, he said, “Vana CloudBreaker is an Initiate of the Unknown from the Madrassa, and is occasionally seconded to the Imperial Army for assignments.”
Ciardis’s eyes widened at the mention of the school. Even she knew of the fabled Madrassa, also known as “the Red Madrassa,” due to the brilliantly colored year-round foliage on the campus trees. It was the Empire’s premiere school of magic for young mages. Young, rich mages, she thought with no little bitterness. It took a few more seconds before she internalized the fact that Damias had basically just told her that Vana was a Spy for the Imperial Army…or, at the very least, a part of its Special Operations division. Ciardis thought about Vana with more respect after that.
It looked like the two sponsors were making some headway with the cloud. The small purple orb from Vana’s hands had grown to envelope the two clouds in front of Serena. Out of the mist, words formed. Ciardis narrowed her eyes; the words were written in the fluid squiggles of the Sahelian language, but made no sense. Wasn’t she supposed to know this language already?
Teachene whispered in her ear, “You have to relax the first time you use a newly transferred ability. Just like you did when Sephrane copied the skill of reading to you. Take a small breath and relax.”
Slowly, Ciardis let her stiff shoulders loosen and the knot in her stomach unraveled. The Sahelian squiggles shifted into the Common Tongue before her eyes. The text was only two sentences long.
One will have the power to rent the kingdom asunder. The other will shift to the kith’s side in their dire hour.
