Sands of Memory

by Melissa McShane

  “Is it what you expected?” Dianthe said.

  “It is not, but I believe it is more wonderful than that.” Chakhran lowered it to his lap. “We thought the Ma’tzehar divines left it behind because it contained God’s last prophecy to them, about the destruction of their city. We hoped that in retrieving that prophecy, we might gain an understanding of its fall that might increase our faith and strength. So that it might not happen here, you understand? But I can feel its power, and it speaks to me. This feather does not contain Ma’tzehar’s last prophecy. It is…you understand the principle of immanence?”

  Alaric shook his head, but Perrin said, “In my faith, it is the idea that God is present in all Her creations. That it is Her immanence that allows the avatars to touch our lives. I do not know what it means to you.”

  “It is the same, though of course God does not speak to us through intermediaries—I mean no offense.” Chakhran ran his fingers along the feather again. “This feather, this pen, has been shaped to contain more of God’s presence than usually exists in an object or person. When one writes with it, the words that emerge are a prophecy of sorts, God’s message to the writer in that place and time. God’s power flows from the pen to the page, and then replenishes itself over time. I imagine Her immanence is strong after so many centuries.” He turned his head as if he could see each of them, then settled on Dianthe. “I believe the prophecy is for you,” he said, extending the pen to her.

  Dianthe shied away, holding up her hands in protest. “I’m not of your faith. It would be inappropriate for me to take your prophecy.”

  “God’s word extends to all, even those of your…heretic faith.” He smiled, an unexpectedly mischievous expression. “There will be other prophecies. My heart tells me you are the one to receive the first, on behalf of all of you.”

  “God has a prophecy for us?” Alaric said.

  “Don’t sound so surprised, young man. Has not God brought you this far? Supported you in your weakness? Why is it so unlikely that She cares about the outcome of your quest? She cannot approve of the subjugation of your people, but She rarely acts directly, choosing instead to give Her creations the chance to act for good or evil. I am certain She has guided your hands all this time.”

  His words struck Sienne to the heart. It was beautiful, and terrifying, to think of them as God’s agents in freeing the Sassaven. Their quest, which had started almost as a whim that bound her friends together, now seemed so much more serious—but it had been a matter of life and death all along, and maybe she’d just forgotten along the way.

  Dianthe took the pen. “Sienne, do you have paper? Ink?”

  Sienne opened her pack and withdrew one of the sheets cut to fit her spellbook. She might not need these ever again. What if her new ability meant the end of scribing spells? She handed the page to Dianthe, who smoothed it out on the floor in front of her. “I don’t have ink,” she said.

  “You will not need it,” Chakhran said. “Just write.”

  Dianthe let out a deep breath. “I feel so self-conscious,” she said, and touched pen to paper. No one spoke. The sound of the golden nib scratching across the page filled the quiet room. Sienne refrained from craning her neck to see what Dianthe was writing, though she felt curiosity might kill her.

  Dianthe breathed out again. The scratching slowed as her hand moved down the page. Finally, she lifted the pen and raised her head. “I can’t remember what I wrote,” she said, lifting the paper. She gasped. “It’s not my handwriting.”

  Alaric held out a hand. The paper shook as she handed it over. Alaric scanned the lines. “It starts out in your handwriting,” he said. “It says, ‘I don’t know what to write. I hope no one knows—’ And then it changes.” He cleared his throat, and read on.

  “‘Everything has an ending, even death. You will lose what is dear to you without the promise of regaining it. Remember in the dark times you chose this path, and let that light guide you. The heart cannot be restored.’” Alaric lowered the page. “That’s…not exactly reassuring.”

  “It is certainly cryptic,” Chakhran said. “But in my experience, God’s word becomes clear in the moment just before it matters. Perhaps you will be luckier.”

  “Thank you,” Alaric said as Dianthe returned the feather to the Hierarch. Sienne was sure it wasn’t her imagination that its luster was dimmed. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Your cause has captured my imagination,” Chakhran said with a smile. “A valley of unicorns, racing the wind…it is a thing of beauty.”

  “It is,” Alaric agreed.

  “I hope you will stay the night,” Chakhran said. “Though I will understand if you choose to leave immediately. I think Manisha would prefer one more night with her son.”

  “Then you know I have to leave,” Kalanath said. Sienne was looking at Vaishant when he spoke, and the look of pain that touched the divine’s eyes struck her to the heart.

  “I know very little where you are concerned, save that you are a part of this quest and must see it through to the end.” Chakhran reached out and touched Kalanath’s knee. “I hope you have learned that there is a home for you here.”

  Kalanath glanced at Vaishant, who now looked impassive. “I have,” he said, “and while I was blind I saw many things clearly. I…may choose to return.”

  Sienne suppressed a gasp. Of course Kalanath would want to be with his mother, and get to know his father, but it somehow hadn’t occurred to her until just now that meant leaving them. He couldn’t go on being a scrapper if he was the devesh living in Omeira. She ducked her head so he couldn’t see her distress. He didn’t need her selfish desires influencing him.

  “That is, as always, your choice,” Chakhran said. He got easily to his feet, and Sienne scrambled up as the others did the same. “You have all already done much for this city. It grows late, and we would like you to share our evening meal.”

  “We’re happy to join you,” Alaric said, “and grateful for your hospitality tonight.”

  “It is we who are grateful,” Chakhran said.

  Sienne lay in the quiet darkness with her head on Alaric’s chest, listening to his slow, deep heartbeat. The sound comforted her, not least because it meant neither of them were dead. After the day they’d had, that was not at all a given.

  Alaric reached for her hand in the darkness. “You’re not asleep,” he said.

  “I still feel like a violin whose strings are too tightly wound. And my thoughts are going around like a whirlwind. Did I really cast spells without a spellbook?”

  “You did. It was astonishing. You looked like something out of myth.”

  “Did I? I felt as if the magic flowed through me. Maybe that’s why it’s called a conduit.” She cuddled closer. “We’ve never been closer to death.”

  “We would have killed Jenani if Perrin—if Averran hadn’t intervened.”

  “Yes, but it would have taken at least one of us with it. Maybe that’s part of my problem. I want to check everyone to make sure they’re still breathing.”

  Alaric chuckled. “And now we’re headed off to an even greater threat. Not only is the wizard powerful, we can’t count on the Sassaven not to turn on us at his orders. You saw what I did today. Imagine hundreds of unicorns all bent on our destruction.”

  Sienne shivered. “Were you trying to help me relax? Because I can tell you right now that’s a bad approach.”

  “Sorry.” He put his arms around her and hugged her close. “We’ll succeed. You heard the prophecy. God is on our side.”

  “Yes, but at what cost? Losing what’s dear to us…that sounds dire.”

  His hands strayed to the hem of her shirt and beneath, stroking her skin. “I choose to believe,” he said, brushing his lips against her forehead, “that no loss comes without a different sort of gain. I lost my family, and I gained a new one.” He kissed her again, his lips soft on hers. “I gained you.”

  His words, and his kiss, stilled her fears. She put her arm
s around his neck. “You did,” she told him. “Forever and always.”

  Sienne’s Spellbook

  Summonings:

  Summonings affect the physical world and elements. They include all transportation spells.

  Castle—trade places with someone else

  Convey—teleport an object

  Ferry—teleport with one other person

  Fog—obscuring mist

  Jaunt—personal teleportation

  Slick—conjure grease

  Summon companion—summon one of six magical creatures

  Evocations:

  Evocations deal with intangible elements like fire, air, and lightning.

  Barrier—wall of fire or air

  Burn—ray of fire

  Force—bolt of magical energy, hits with perfect accuracy

  Fury—six force-bolts, hits whatever is in range

  Scorch—fireball

  Scream—sonic attack, causes injury

  Shout—sonic attack, causes short-term paralysis

  Confusions:

  Confusions affect what the senses perceive.

  Camouflage—disguise an object’s shape, color, or texture

  Cast—ventriloquism

  Echo—auditory hallucinations

  Imitate—change someone’s entire appearance

  Mirage—visual hallucinations

  Mirror—creates three identical duplicates of the caster

  Shift—small alterations in appearance, such as eye or hair color

  Vanish—invisibility

  Transforms:

  Transforms change an object or creature’s state, in small or large ways.

  Break—shatters fragile things

  Cat’s eye—true darkvision

  Change—polymorph a living thing

  Drift—feather fall

  Fit (object)—shrink or enlarge an object; permanent

  Fit (person)—shrink or enlarge a person; temporary

  Float—levitation

  Gills—water breathing

  Mud—transform stone to mud

  Purge—transmute liquid

  Sculpt—shape stone

  Sharpen—improve sight or hearing

  Voice—sound like someone else

  The Small Magics

  These can be done by any wizard without a spellbook, with virtually no limits.

  Light

  Spark

  Mend

  Create water

  Breeze

  Chill/warm liquid

  Telekinesis (up to 6-7 pound weights) (also known as invisible fingers)

  Ghost sound

  Ghostly form

  Find true north

  Open (used to manipulate a spellbook)

  Invulnerability

  Sneak Peek: Call of Wizardry (Company of Strangers, Book 6)

  The familiar brown brick of the three-story houses along the gently sloping street welcomed Sienne home. It was early evening, when the cool breezes off the harbor blew away the heat of the true summer day, and the long, slanting rays of the setting sun pointed the way to Master Tersus’s back door. Their warmth soothed Sienne’s aching back, sore from her lying propped on her elbows for ten hours on her flying carpet.

  She could have ferried herself and her companions back instantaneously, but the joy of flying had captivated her enough that she didn’t want to give it up, regardless of the pain. And it was far superior than riding. Ten hours on horseback would have been painful in a different way. It also would not have gotten them nearly so far. They’d made the entire journey from Chirantan in Omeira to Fioretti in that ten hours—a journey of more than a week by ship or twice that overland by horse. Sienne rubbed her lower back. That lightning travel was worth a little pain.

  “Are you all right?” Alaric asked. He walked beside her, toting both their rolled-up carpets. They weighed practically nothing because they floated whether they were rolled or flat, but they looked heavy, and Alaric had pointed out that no one would believe someone her size could carry a carpet that big.

  “Just sore,” Sienne said. “Aren’t you?”

  “A little stiff. Next time, we should take more rests.”

  “I concur heartily with this decision,” Perrin said from behind them. He sounded so relieved Sienne pinched her lips against a smile. Perrin hated heights more than she did, and he’d looked so chagrined that morning when Alaric declared they would use that method of transportation Sienne could guess how he felt.

  “We might not need to, if Sienne can find transport,” Dianthe said. “Kitane’s eyes, but I’m hungry.”

  “If we have luck, Leofus has supper still,” Kalanath said. He sounded as fresh and unwearied as he had when they’d said goodbye to his parents that morning.

  “Let’s not count on it,” Alaric said. “Sienne, will you get the door?”

  Sienne hurried ahead to open Master Tersus’s back door, then stood aside for the others to enter with their awkward burdens. She paused for a moment when they’d all passed her to look out over the street that sloped downhill before her. It smelled of dozens of different evening meals that blended together into the scent of hot meat and salt potatoes and, from somewhere nearby, a hint of chocolate. That might be Leofus’s cooking. He’d been experimenting with the unusual southern delicacy when they left.

  The warm evening light turned the paving stones more golden than usual, burnishing them to a bright radiance. Sienne heard laughter from across the street where one of the neighbors was having a party, judging by the extra lanterns strung around his front door and leading around the house. She breathed in a sigh of contentment. Home. They were all safe, no one had died in Omeira, and their quest was all but complete now that Alaric was a full Sassaven unicorn, and she…

  She closed the door and went into the bath house to wash her face. The carpets’ magic included an invisible shield that protected their riders’ faces from wind blasting them at gale force speeds, but Sienne still felt grimy. Dozens of invulnerable magic lights shed a cold white light over the sink and the pump and the porcelain tub for a rather more thorough cleaning. The whitewashed walls peeled at the corners from the damp, making Sienne itch to pull strips off the walls.

  She scrubbed and splashed herself clean, then dried off with the cloth hanging from the wall. Then she used a small magic to heat the water the cloth absorbed, making it evaporate and drying the cloth. Three days ago she wouldn’t have bothered because it took her so much time. Now she did it in seconds. Just another way in which she’d been altered by the ritual that had changed Alaric. It exhilarated and unnerved her.

  It had been an accident. The ritual had been intended only to unlock Alaric’s full potential. They hadn’t realized it worked both ways, affecting the one performing the ritual as well as the one undergoing it. Now Sienne no longer needed a spellbook to cast spells, and her magical reserves had increased so dramatically she didn’t know what they were anymore, and her so-called small magics were enormous by comparison to what they’d been. She felt like a stranger to herself, and she felt more complete than she’d ever felt before. Strange contrasts. If she looked in a mirror and found her hair had gone as blonde as Alaric’s, she wouldn’t be surprised.

  The door opened. “Looks like we had the same idea,” Alaric said, entering the room. Sienne stepped back to give him room at the sink. “Leofus is putting a meal together for us. Complaining noisily the whole time, of course, but if he weren’t glad to see us, he wouldn’t do it at all.”

  “I didn’t realize how much I missed home until we got back.” Sienne thought about leaning against the wall, but remembered in time how damp it always was.

  “Me too. I’ll be glad to sleep in our own comfortable bed.” He held out a hand for the cloth, and Sienne tossed it at him with her small magic called invisible fingers. He dried off and tossed it back to her, and once again she dried it, marveling at how easy it was.

  Alaric reached for her hand and drew her close, putting his arms around her. “On the
other hand,” he continued, “we don’t have to sleep.”

  Sienne ran her fingers over his strong chin and the curve of his neck. “I’ve been thinking about a back rub since we left the Bramantus Mountains behind.”

  “Mmm. Yours, or mine?”

  “Both, so long as we’re naked for it.” She pulled his head down for a kiss. He smelled deliciously of pine forests and the heady musk of the unicorn, and his lips were firm and warm on hers.

  “I thought you were hungry,” Dianthe said from behind them. Sienne, startled, jerked away from Alaric and was brought up short by his encircling arms. Dianthe smirked. “Dinner’s ready. Though if you want to keep on with what you’re doing, might I suggest the bath house isn’t the best place for it?”

  “Suggest away,” Alaric said, and kissed Sienne once more before letting her go.

  Leofus was still complaining when they entered the kitchen and took their usual seats at the table. “No warning,” he said, “no advance notice at all, it’s like you don’t appreciate my genius, don’t know what you’d do if I just up and refused to wait on you all—”

  “Thank you, Leofus,” Sienne said. “I’m amazed you were able to put together a meal this good without any notice.” The table was covered with remnants of past meals, cold roast chicken and sliced ham and the tag end of a pork roast, hardboiled eggs already peeled, sliced cooked carrots and baked potatoes still in their jackets, sautéed squash emitting aromatic herbed steam, and a tureen of dumplings floating in golden chicken gravy.

  “Don’t take advantage,” Leofus warned, gesturing with his ubiquitous spoon, but he was smiling.

  Sienne sat next to Alaric and heaped her plate high with chicken and squash. “I like Omeiran food, but there’s nothing to beat home cooking,” she said. Leofus beamed.

  “Let’s talk about tomorrow,” Alaric said. “Sienne has to meet with this—what was her name?”

  “Carys Bettega,” Sienne said. “Ghrita said she’s a retired scrapper wizard who might be willing to sell me some spells. A scrapper is likely to have transport, and if I can get that, it will change how we go to Beneddo.”