by A. S. Etaski
I huffed, annoyed. “Why are you being oblique? What do you want?”
Her mouth tightened. Her shoulders hunched.
“What is it?” I pressed. “You want me to go back to see the new heir when she’s born?”
After a swallow, she spoke, voice starting uncertain but gaining momentum.
“It would be worthwhile keeping touch on the places and the Davrin you just left, Sirana. I know there’s no danger of you becoming too attached to your past, you’ve made it clear. You’ve achieved this much already, you clearly belong here. But everyone keeps secrets, and while we can watch and look in on each family, sometimes only those who once lived with them can see important changes later.”
Makes sense. Then I shook my head.
“Wouldn’t D’Shea tell me to do this if she agreed?” I challenged. “Do the others? What about you, do you go back to the Markets where you were born?”
“Yes,” she said flatly. “That’s how we got those leads on the missing bua so fast.”
That shut me up. I tapped the quill. Then Jaunda came to mind, again.
“Lead mentioned that I was like my Grand Matron once, while fucking me,” I volunteered, watching Gaelan’s face.
She seemed interested but neither surprised nor amused by the circumstances. “Your Grand Matron? What was her name?”
My mouth twisted. “Matron Siranet Thalluen.”
“Oh! You were named for her?”
My Sister’s surprise was genuine; she hadn’t known.
I shrugged that off. “A Third Daughter. Not First, not Second. Clearly Matron Rohenvi and her Mother didn’t respect each other.”
“Well, seems our Lead invited you to ask about that, given the opportunity.”
We sat in silence as Gaelan let that sink into my stubborn head.
“D’Shea and Jaunda have been watching House Thalluen for a long time,” I said. “And when Jilrina died, it’s possible my Matron called them specifically. Maybe knew them from before.”
A nod. “Sounds probable to me.”
Gaelan was smiling now, pleased. She had gotten something she wanted. I wasn’t quite sure that I had anything more than new questions and curiosities.
Isn’t that why the Davrin continue to exist? We always seemed to need something beyond whatever next meal we could pull out of a cavern pool.
I sighed, thinking back at the start of the talk. Gaelan tilted her head expectantly.
“Whenever you can tell me what happened to you after the battle, with D’Shea and the Priestess, why you were the way you were, I’ll try to answer something about Reishel’s healing.”
My Sister nodded slowly, considering. She was wary. “I’ll think about it.”
That was my cue. I stood up with new, dry notes in hand. “I have to report to our Elder now. Thanks for the parchment.”
“Sure. Until later.”
Gaelan secured her door behind and, I presumed, returned to making potions.
The Sorceress consumed my report, quick and thorough. At least she seemed satisfied where we stood with House Itlaun and the Bred Consort of Wilsira Tachnathon.
“You are making interesting progress with that bua, Sirana,” she said. “I see the value in natural grown curiosities but be wary. Remain vigilant how at ease you feel with him. You cannot trust a Priestess’s son, ever. You harm the Sisterhood if you do.”
My nod of agreement was earnest. “Yes, Elder. I feel that same danger.”
“That shall have to do for now. I will be watching.” The Sorceress looked down again at my notes. “Very good. Logical thoughts. Useful descriptions. I can use this for research. It will refine my directions in your future missions.”
I bowed my head to acknowledge her. I said nothing, but I felt good.
D’Shea tapped two graceful fingers as she contemplated something more, and I waited. It crossed my mind it might have been a sign of nerves, yet it was common enough of a gesture for me to discount myself.
Until she spoke.
“There’s been some progress on the Dwarf stone you found,” she said.
I blinked. “Already, Elder? It hasn’t been a span.”
“Phaelous and his son are very intelligent males. It’s a good thing the Valsharess keeps them locked up and away from the Nobles, or those female idiots would ask for objects that would rupture their own Houses.” Her dark red eyes looked up at me. “It was a bit too fast, though, even for them. Unless they were given a direction?”
My stomach tightened and my face heated; she could tell. I confessed. “I might have mentioned the Fringe, what Jael said when we brought her in. No names or mention of Dwarves. Just a color.”
The Sorceress was visibly annoyed. “Well. That answers that. I am glad you didn’t speak of the Tragar in association with this stone, Sirana, but there is still one problem. Phaelous reports direct to the Valsharess, and with the color and the Fringe being mentioned to him, it’s only a matter of time until some Priestesses becomes aware, and Lelinahdara hears it trickle down then follows up with me about you.”
My jaw tightened, although I wasn’t sure of all the connections D’Shea saw between what I’d said to Phaelous and Priestess Lelinahdara coming around. “What about the Prime hearing?”
At least my Elder shook her head with certainty. “That, at least, Tarra would never do.”
“You’re certain?”
“She finds the Prime’s impatience and blunt choice of weapons a waste like I do. And this new gem might help our direction. Don’t forget, Rausery is backing us as well.”
“What’s the…direction?” I hesitated at her sharpened gaze. “I think I’ve fallen behind.”
My Elder smiled a little like I had amused her. “You never caught up. But you should, given you are at the core of it. The direction, ideally, is Red Sisters resistant to psionics, independent of the Sanctuary or the Wizard’s Tower. New methods to block or return their power back at them. Tools we can train other Sisters to use.”
She paused, studying me without blinking. “The changes you’ve experienced are more than a curiosity to Rausery and me, Sirana, but we must be careful how we approach this goal until we understand more. First, so that the Prime doesn’t cull you and Reishel immediately with her narrow and fearful mind, and second, the Priesthood doesn’t try to claim rights to study you as well.”
“The latter was your first direction, Elder,” I pointed out.
“A regretful one,” she admitted readily. “I believed it had much more to do with Tarra’s magic, but you’ve since proven to me it does not. All I can do is delay her involvement and slow her own study until Rausery and I have something set in stone,” she smirked at her own pun, “which the Sanctuary cannot usurp or claim. And I believe I am safe to assume you will cooperate in this, Sirana?”
I nodded. “Absolutely. I don’t like Priestesses, Elder.”
She chuckled. “Yes, I know.” She spread her hands in an open gesture. “In truth, neither do I, and I have worked with them for almost six centuries now. They are as necessary for maintaining Sivaraus as the Sisterhood, and demonstrably powerful. If there was a similar group of Sorceresses kept in one place, we might attain similar influence with the Valsharess.”
“Instead, you’re spread out over the city,” I guessed, “and the only mirroring group of mages are male, and thus, less in Her Eyes.”
D’Shea nodded. “The Sisterhood benefits most from those tools both the Tower and the Sanctuary grant us, thanks to the Prime’s early visions for us. Now we are in a rut. But, if we develop our own defense against psionics, Sirana, well… That may change the balance of things with the Valsharess, and the Sisterhood may gain back some of the autonomy we lost to the Sanctuary over the last four centuries.”
I listened eagerly, my eyes unblinking as I tried, with limited success, to imagine how the Sisterhood might be independent of the Daughters of Braqth. “This loss was something both you and Ra
usery have witnessed.”
“Yes.”
“And the Prime is satisfied with new tools in the same structure as it’s been.”
“Maintaining a deep mistrust of all psionics, yes.” My Elder was pleased with me. She hummed. “I enjoy that you keep up, Sirana. Now, we shall visit the Tower, you and me, and see their progress. Obey me in all things and do not question me while we’re inside, understand?”
I exhaled, abruptly excited and oddly nervous. “Yes, Elder.”
“Likewise, if you spot opportunity somewhere,” she added, winking with surprising charm, “do try to let me know.”
Elder D’Shea and I didn’t walk in through the front door of the Wizard’s Tower, and I didn’t have to walk yet again past those huge, unnerving Drider constructs. From the strategy room in the Cloister, we appeared in the center of a jump circle placed within a small, round chamber. The interior mimicked the dormitory levels I’d already seen, but this one was tiny. There was only one door upon which to call, but we didn’t need to.
We hadn’t even stepped out of the circle before Phaelous exited that door within moments, a dark satchel over one shoulder. The tall, elder male faced us full and bowed formally to my Elder and me, bringing with him a pleasant mix of scents clinging to his dark blue and gold mage’s robes.
“Elder D’Shea. Red Sister Sirana. Welcome to the Wizard’s Tower.”
I nodded my chin, although my Elder barely acknowledged the greeting. I waited to see if the Headmaster would demand to see some fertility suppressant vials from D’Shea, as he had from me.
It did not even seem to cross his mind.
The Headmaster invited my Elder, “Shall we go to the library, Elder Sister?”
Which one?
The Elder Sorceress held out her hand for his satchel. With a pause of careful consideration but without protest, Phaelous slipped it off his long arm and gave it to her. The Elder Sister transferred it to her other side for me to take, which I did, biting my inner cheek to hide my surprise as she next briskly frisked the Headmaster, checking his pockets and seams, inspecting the rings on his fingers, and feeling his scalp through his long, golden hair. He tolerated it but even his composure was wavering, showing me a discomfort fascinating to witness.
Was my Elder overstepping her authority? I wasn’t sure but she’d touched him all over without seeming to enjoy any of it, while he stood like she had just stripped him naked in front of me.
The Sorceress stepped back and scrutinized him in a way I probably couldn’t see. “Remove the ruby ring and hand it to me. You’ll get it back before I leave.”
Phaelous seemed baffled with this demand. He weighed his options first—he was not responding because of fear of her—then did as she said, slipping the ring over his knuckle and placing it in her palm. He was holding her eyes as she closed her fist around it.
Impertinent.
If I could see auras the way I’d heard Gaelan describe, I wondered if these two would be crackling with friction. I hadn’t thought anything could ruffle the Headmaster, but in hindsight, a powerful Sorceress pushing him around inside his own place of power would do the trick. I didn’t understand the nuances but found it entertaining, nonetheless. Not that I dared to laugh in this atmosphere thickened like stew.
“Now we shall go,” D’Shea agreed with a confident smile, gesturing to me to hand her the satchel. Like the ring, she received the bag without protest. “My transport spell, not yours, Headmaster, understood?”
“Yes, Elder,” he said, stepping into the circle with us, standing on D’Shea’s right as I was on the left.
By the web, there was a long history here. When my Elder said she didn’t trust the wizards in the Tower, she meant it! I also noted that she knew exactly which library Phaelous had suggested, and how to get there. We arrived in the blink of an eye and only a tiny lurch to my balance.
“Ninth floor,” my Elder told me, and I motioned my understanding.
The space design and architecture were like the fifth level, though this one was fuller. It had an older smell with more objects and art related to the arcane upon the shelves, on pedestals, and hanging, either taking up precious wall space or in free swing from the ceiling. It was more colorful as a result, and there were only two study tables instead of three. It was well-lit with no exposure to real flame.
D’Shea motioned for us to step out of the jump circle and carried the Headmaster’s satchel over to one of the tables. She set it down, turning to him expectantly. “Show us. We don’t have long.”
Phaelous nodded without speaking and came close to unpack the bag as the Sorceress took a step back to give him room. I saw a bound book of handwritten notes, a couple small jars and vials, some jewelers’ tools, and a soft cloth he unfolded, inside of which was one of the two Dwarf stones I’d brought. It was smooth and polished, no longer raw, and shaped like a small lizard’s egg. Now it appeared to our color vision as a dark, muddy blue.
Not as bright as seeing it beneath the stone, but…
“Where’s the other?” D’Shea asked, pulling out the third stone from her own pouch, setting it next to the polished stone. It was still drab grey, a raw, ugly pebble.
“Shyntre and Raegal are working it still, Elder,” he said. “Do you wish me to summon them to offer their progress?”
She jerked her chin once to the side, her eyes boring into him. “No, I do not. That’s why I brought her.”
She indicated me, starting to smile at him, almost like she intended insult. My eyebrows lifted a moment before I caught myself; had Phaelous not been staring unblinking at D’Shea, he might have seen my genuine surprise. I had not the first instruction or goal regarding the Headmaster’s son after having found him, but it seemed my Elder wished to place us in the same room on this very trip.
“Tell us about this one, Headmaster,” D’Shea commanded.
Phaelous lowered his gaze and bowed his chin, plucking up the smooth stone and rubbing the pad of his thumb in a circle over it. “This is a very hard, precious gem. A pure element compacted to impressive density in crystalline arrangement. Currently, the Davrin have no name for it, but the closest likeness would be a sapphire.”
D’Shea jerked her chin in a nod, waiting for him to continue.
“It responds strangely to magic cast nearby, seeming to mute it or perhaps absorb it. There is a tonal shift when this occurs, subtle, very difficult for a mage to hear without enhanced senses.”
“What made you search for a tonal shift, of all things?” my Elder asked.
“Logic,” he said with humble calm. He set the stone back down. “Most of our magic incorporates sound. Language is vital. A gem muting a mage’s words would have one of these shifts, Elder. It’s also the farthest I’ve ever witnessed, in the opposite direction of the bloodstone. In truth, I hadn’t realized a precious element this extreme could exist.”
The Sorceress rubbed her mouth with her red-gloved fingers, thinking deeply on advanced knowledge in which I had no training, yet what Phaelous was saying made sense even to me.
The Davrin had magic-detection methods aplenty, yet none of those worked for psionics as well, as far as I had heard. There existed means for sensing mind mages, my Elder only recently informed me, or my lie to Panagan about why I knew the Tragar were nearby wouldn’t have worked.
The Headmaster’s thoughts gave me the insight only in this moment to wonder if psionics occurred in absolute silence, despite the voices I heard in my head, and if such detection by a Dark Elf mage had more to do with revealing a void where sound should be, rather than a presence of it?
“These gems cannot be imbued with our spells,” the Sorceress stated.
“We have not yet confirmed that, Elder,” Phaelous said, “but it is likely that even if they can be, it would not be worth our resources. It could take more of every aspect just to have the same result, or a reduced effect, compared to a gem which readily focuses and transfers our magi
c.”
D’Shea nodded. Her interest and fascination in what the Headmaster said was clear on her face, making her seem warmer toward him than when she had first stepped in here. She seemed pleased with the discoveries thus far.
“How did you turn this one blue?” she asked, indicating the polished one.
“It occurred on its own during testing,” he said without a hint of deceit in his voice or his entire frame; I believed he was telling the truth. “Exposure to spells seemed to have done it. It started dark grey and lightened with each casting.”
Somehow, I found that disturbing. Jael had described Tragar weapons which were a stark, bright blue, and that they didn’t have a long history of her family noting them. They were recent. If magic might be required to make them that color in true light, then where was the exposure coming from?
My Elder seemed to be thinking along the same lines, although I saw why we must keep the link to the Tragar and psionics out of the Headmaster’s study. His observations were worth more when his studies weren’t directed, when he wasn’t biased to look for or explain something specific. I had been surprised that D’Shea, of all of us, had the willpower to let Phaelous meander about with something new without the expedience of sharing what we already knew, but now I mentally rolled my eyes at my own ignorance.
If D’Shea is the only one with all the pieces, she can take them from each source and put them together ahead of the Sanctuary, the Tower, the Prime, even the Valsharess. And Rausery wants her to succeed.
This was how a Sorceress gained more power, no doubt, and probably how all the Priestesses worked, especially Wilsira and Lelinahdara in their own contact with the Sisterhood. My loose, novice’s mouth was a weak point and a risk my Elder must accept, only because I was the one with my head turned upside down by Grey Dwarves. Otherwise, I’d be blind like Reishel.
I resolved to keep my mouth shut and not make it harder for her, even if Shyntre walked in the door.
“What are your plans for further testing?” D’Shea asked.
