by A. S. Etaski
The Headmaster gently shrugged his shoulders. “I am not certain. The obvious qualities revealed themselves immediately, and they do not suggest much potential for us. Some insight on where Sirana found this and why she thought to bring it to you might help.”
The Sorceress chuckled. “Not right now. Perhaps later, if I deem it necessary to advance the work assigned.”
Phaelous nodded like he had expected that answer. “Then I am finished for now, until another idea surfaces.”
“Very well. I will take my leave for now but shall return in a few marks. Sister Sirana will remain here and receive the report from your students on their findings. I hope they are ready soon.”
His back stiffened. “If the Red Sister stays without you, I require she take your fertility suppressant.”
My Elder laughed softly. “I find it amusing you are so concerned about that, Phaelous.”
The wizard called her bluff with a fold of his arms. “You might tease, Elder, but I know you will protect this new Sister from the clutches of the Priestesses as I will defend my own learners. Surely you brought the draught. If you did not, there are two on the table.”
D’Shea made a face. “Presumptuous wilter, aren’t you?”
Phaelous said nothing, only waited. My Elder rolled her eyes, removing a vial from her own supplies and holding it up in front of his face. He flicked his fingers at it, focusing a moment, then nodded his acceptance. D’Shea handed it to me.
“Drink, Sirana, and stay here until I come for you. Do not speak on the context of their study. I want pure conclusions, not what they think I want to hear.”
“Yes, Elder,” I said, stepping forward to take the bitter potion and toss it back with a swallow. This was, what, the third time? “If time allows, may I check on Callitro and his progress with my ring?”
Both powerful mages looked at me in surprise; I didn’t know why, unless they were distracted by each other’s politic positioning.
“What?” I asked and smiled, handing the empty vial back to my Elder. “He’s a fast learner.”
The Headmaster nodded, looking at D’Shea. “No sooner than a mark from now, but beyond this, it is well with me.”
“Very well,” the Sorceress agreed. “If time allows. You’ll respond immediately to a summons once I return, Sirana, I don’t care if you’re fist-deep in his ass at the time.”
Whoa! He’s not trained that well, yet.
“Yes, Elder,” I chuckled.
The Sorceress nodded, reclaimed her raw stone and took her leave from the library. I felt when she used the jump circle—a subtle whomp of sucking air and a weird tremor in my teeth—and then we were alone, Phaelous and me, waiting for Shyntre and Raegal to arrive with the third stone.
CHAPTER 12
The library on the ninth floor was quiet, just the Headmaster and me. I stood at attention because I saw no opportunity to prod him that didn’t make me look like a childish Noble clumsily pleading for gossip at Court.
Still, after seeing Elder D’Shea fence wits with the polite, placid Headmaster, after witnessing his responses, I had begun to understand how Shyntre could be his son, and perhaps why a bua with a brain was both maddening in its delight and dangerous as a conniving Priestess.
It’s a good thing the Valsharess keeps them locked up, my Elder said.
And I am to be locked in here with both? That was a sticky web.
Phaelous lifted the polished stone and held it out to me. “Would you like to hold it, Red Sister? Take a closer look.”
The answer was yes, but I hesitated at such a direct suggestion. If this element was unknown to the Headmaster and was almost opposite of a magic stone, what would happen if I touched it again? What might he see about me that I didn’t want him to?
I replied with a casual smile. “No, Headmaster. My Elder said I should just observe and receive the report on her behalf.”
True enough.
The old male didn’t push it. With a nod slow and deep, he returned the gem to a pocket within his dark, gold-and-purple threaded robes. Something occurred to me.
“Did you receive back your ruby ring?” I asked.
“No, young Sister, your Elder took that with her.” Phaelous smiled with amusement; no insult I could detect. “I assume she meant it would be returned when she retrieves you and leaves for the second time.”
“Is there a chance she’ll simply keep it?”
“What is your guess, Sister Sirana? You know more of your Elder’s current mind than I do.”
Thinking on it only turned me in circles, and I soon stopped. “I don’t know, Headmaster. She does as she wills, I never know why.”
Phaelous chuckled softly. “An accurate and succinct description, young Sister.”
I almost asked why she had left at all rather than staying for the other report but stopped when I decided not to reveal how little instruction the Sorceress had given me in bringing me here.
Drider pits everywhere I look.
“What does the ruby do?” I asked instead.
The fine creases around his eyes showed in a cheeky, closed-lip smile. “Headmasters are not encouraged to define their tools to anyone who asks, Sister. Forgive me.”
I rolled my eyes. “You don’t require my forgiveness, Headmaster. And there’s only one of you.”
“Living, yes. Correct on both counts. I’d not annoy you or any intelligent cait needlessly, however. The Sisterhood has made another fine choice for collection. I look forward to you gaining status within your clique. Perhaps we will work in cooperation more often, as we do now.”
The warm pride in my chest appeared before I could consciously challenge it. I wrinkled my nose. “You flatter me to distract me, Headmaster.”
He bowed his head. “Flattery or insult work equally well in each other’s presence.”
“But the latter only causes trouble.”
“So does flattery. At least insult is consistently honest.”
I squinted. “So, you’re lying to me, Headmaster?”
Another calm, bemused smile. “Not consistently, Red Sister. Rarely, when necessary.”
Now I felt annoyed, needless or not. “No wonder D’Shea compared you to a Priestess.”
“A fair comparison.” His eyes drifted toward one of the bookshelves. “We are where we are because we made our choices and avoided death for a little longer. How we continue breathing isn’t always up to us.”
A moody, useless statement. Maybe more a reflection on his centuries? Did any male who survived to be his age prattle on like this? I wouldn’t know. There hadn’t been many buas at my House older than three hundred, and they were Guardsvrin or servants.
I didn’t reply, for I had none. The silence stretched for a bit as Phaelous opened a book to read and I just stood there. Then, finally, someone tapped the door.
“Enter,” Phaelous said, closing and shelving his book.
Shyntre let himself in. Alone.
“Where is Raegal?” his Headmaster asked.
His son pursed his mouth, looking at the floor, speaking in his natural voice. “Raegal is being spineless. Wouldn’t leave his dorm. Says he’ll accept your punishment, Headmaster, whatever it is.”
“Noted.” Phaelous wasn’t pleased; I could tell this much.
I also wondered how close we’d come to Shyntre blighting off and saying the same thing; I wagered he had better cause. Or at least, a specific one standing in the room.
“If my Elder had been here,” I said, “I imagine she would send me out to drag him here.”
“Perhaps. He is under my authority however, so I shall see to his punishment, Red Sister.” Phaelous gestured to Shyntre to come closer. “For now, let us see the third stone.”
The wizard from my trials did not speak as he obeyed, pulling it out of his robe pocket and placing it on the table in front of his sire. He hadn’t looked directly at me, yet, though I watched for the moment, until the
polished stone itself distracted me.
I blinked several times, trying to clear the vivid, blue corona which must be my color vision going awry. It wasn’t. The color was just as I’d glimpsed it underneath the rock before I dug it out.
Goddess, that’s beautiful.
“What do you see, Sister Sirana?” Phaelous asked me.
“It is much brighter blue than yours, Headmaster,” I said with every effort to sound level and calm, even though I wanted to pick up that stone right now. “That’s what you see, too, isn’t it?”
“Hm. Correct, I do.” Phaelous looked at Shyntre. “Inform the Red Sister how you and Raegal achieved this change, Shyntre.”
The younger wizard’s fingers twiddled nervously. He inhaled then exhaled, still not looking at me. “I believe it’s…reactive to the emotions of the caster, Headmaster. The stronger intensity, the greater the change. It doesn’t seem to matter which emotion it is.”
“You’re bucking me, wizard,” I scoffed.
He heard my tone. He recognized it, I knew he did; I could listen to his heart beating in the library. He said nothing and I cursed my tongue. I should have just shut up and let him talk. Now I might not get details of the testing for D’Shea.
“Hm,” the Headmaster said again. Politely, he motioned to me. “Please come closer, Red Sister.”
Gladly.
Grinning, I joined the two males at the study table. Shyntre wasn’t covering his scent this time; I leaned in, taking a whiff. His body pitched me a familiar, annoyed air.
“I knew it was you,” I said, triumphant. “Nice to know your face as well as your prick, Shyntre.”
He flicked a sharp glance at me. I saw hatred beyond just me, though I was securely balled up in it. “I wager you preferred my mouth, Sister.”
Delightful. I couldn’t have stopped smiling if I tried.
“True. Lips-on-lips was the only time you weren’t complaining.” I paused, listening to the speed of his heart; it was faster than mine. “I don’t know what you’re afraid of, I can’t hurt you here.”
“Or anywhere, Red Sister.”
I took another deep sniff. “You smell afraid.”
Another ugly look. “Only of my own actions. What I might do if you touch me uninvited.”
I snickered. “Would you invite a touch from me?”
“Never with a Red Sister.”
“‘Never’ is a long time, wizard.”
“You have no idea.”
“Neither do you, unless you claim intimate knowledge from your mentor.”
He ground his teeth. “Piss your cunt, Sister.”
Satisfied that my barb had hit with that nasty comeback, I finally glanced at Phaelous, who’d been silent, listening to us bicker. I saw no amusement at the free entertainment this would have been at Court. The elder male wasn’t even watching Shyntre and me. He was watching the stone.
“Headmaster?” I asked.
“Would you pick up Shyntre’s sapphire, Sirana?” he returned, thoughtful, as his son followed his gaze.
“Why?”
“It’s shifting tone to your proximity.”
Damn. Maybe the wizard was too smart.
“I am here to observe.”
“You’ve already failed,” Shyntre gibed.
“You found the element in the wilderness,” Phaelous said. “And although observable change occurs around mages, you are not one, as far as we know.”
“It changes around strong emotions,” I countered, sneering at the younger bua as I spoke to the elder. “Your ‘learner’ said, and I have many intense thoughts about him.”
“Indeed. Will you pick it up?” he asked again.
“No,” I said for pure spite. “And you’re wasting my Elder’s potion, Headmaster. Finish the report, and I will go somewhere else to assure Shyntre isn’t afraid of his own actions around me. I have another, far more pleasant bua to check on while I’m here.”
The Headmaster may have been disappointed but didn’t show it, turning his gold-flecked eyes toward the bua with the same trait. He nodded. “Finish your report, then escort her to Callitro’s room.”
Shyntre sullenly obeyed. “There’s a difference in the color change whether the magic cast evokes something tangible or not.”
“Examples?” Phaelous asked.
“Light, fire, and shield strikes cause a brighter blue than passive effects—”
“Like invisibility?” I asked.
Shyntre glanced at me, losing his chain of thought in a glower. Phaelous snapped his fingers to gain it back.
“Passive effects. Focus.”
“Yes, Headmaster.” Shyntre wetted his lips. “I tried glamour, communication, and persuasion spells. These hardly changed the color at all. The evocation of offensive force spells shifted the blue to be this bright.”
“So those evocations require a strong emotion to cast?” I asked.
“A good question, Sister,” Phaelous said with a smile. “No, they do not. It can enhance the strength of the manifestation, but I’ve also seen such strength evolved by using other foci than emotion. Each mage is different.”
For certain, that counted in the two mages before me. I nodded and waited for anything else.
“That’s basically all,” Shyntre finished brusquely. “I’m assuming we’re still not being told where or how it was found?”
“We are not,” Phaelous agreed.
“Then what else are we supposed to do with it, Headmaster?”
“We will leave that to the Elder Sorceress, although I may have a recommendation, if she will listen. I’d not keep in a treasury for very long.” A casual shrug from the ancient Elf. “Are you ready to head up-level, Red Sister?”
I was ready, but I hesitated. I was shoving an opportunity away with both hands, the same as at my Mother’s House on D’Shea’s first mission for me? I felt slight panic at the thought after my Elder’s obvious disappointment, but I brought it under control when I decided D’Shea would rather explore that proximity thing on her own with me.
“You’ll give her the stones?” I asked.
“If she asks for them, right away.”
“You said you haven’t confirmed if they’ll even take a spell. What was it, imbue?”
Phaelous nodded patiently; I caught a tightening of Shyntre’s mouth like he was biting back a remark. Smart.
“Will you test that next?”
Another patient bow. “We could right here, if you wish. You still have half a mark before you should call upon your bua.”
Shyntre wrinkled his nose and kept his eyes on the far end of the room. I couldn’t tell if he was reacting to the further testing or Callitro, but I suspected it might be the latter.
“Yes,” I said with mustered confidence. “I want to see if you can. Which spell you think might be easiest?”
“Light,” Shyntre answered, probably without thinking as he cleared his throat and looked up at his Headmaster apologetically.
“He is correct, Red Sister,” Phaelous said. “Almost any gem can be imbued with light, from a subtle glow to a blinding flash. It also needs very few components and could be done here.”
Eagerly, I nodded. “Show me.”
Phaelous pulled out his drab blue stone as well, motioning a reminder on the magical spell to be used, and it was what was discussed though I didn’t get the nuance. The two males moved to opposite ends of the study table to give each other room.
I stepped back and stood in the middle, enjoying that they coordinated, demonstrating just for me, though I didn’t drop my guard. Each wizard removed what looked like the same powder from a tiny bag within a larger pouch on their sash; I was wary until it was clear they were not about to pitch it at me.
First Phaelous then Shyntre, both cast a spell upon their respective blue stone through familiar verbal and somatic ritual, adding that small bit of material to will their desired effect into being. Their voices we
re distinct, the tones different, and I saw a bit of what Phaelous meant about mages having different foci, not all of them emotion. Phaelous’ expression was still as the stone he worked, his presence as intangible as a tingle up my spine.
In contrast, although Shyntre’s face wasn’t grotesque or exaggerated, I could still read a progression there. I could guess with some accuracy, I wager, when the spell had begun and each stage where he felt something different until it was completed. I also felt a stronger pressure coming from a void. I could believe something had changed, but I didn’t know what.
The wizards exhaled, shared a look and nodded confirmation to each other. Phaelous motioned an invitation to his son, who grudgingly obeyed, picking up his stone and coming closer to me. I had my arms crossed, looking curiously at the glinting sapphire in his palm. I leaned over a little more to take a closer look as he held it out, ready to snatch back his hand as if I was a caged beast that would bite it off. The blue color seemed just the tiniest bit on the purple side, now.
“You should already know the command word,” he said. “Same as the outliner pellets.”
Faeriluci.
“Nice attempt,” I said, keeping my hands trapped beneath each arm. “I told your Headmaster, no.”
When Shyntre glanced that way for a prompt, I grinned, adding, “Unless Shyntre strips down and places both hands on the table while I milk his nut gland.”
The younger mage whipped his head back around to me as I finished, “Then I might reconsider touching his sapphire.”
With genuine shock his temper rose up, right on cue. Seeing his face, I snapped first.
“You dare to look indignant after last time, Shyntre? It’s only a matter of when, not if. Get used to the idea now!”
His fist clenched tight around the blue stone, Shyntre stared at my eyes without blinking. He spoke an insolent growl through clenched teeth. “I don’t cower for Red Sisters. Nothing you could do would surprise me, novice.”
I couldn’t help but pick that apart, and I was blunt. “Intimately familiar with the Feldeu already?”
“You all look ridiculous wearing it,” he replied by way of an answer.
In that case…
I punched the wizard in the stomach, dropping him to the carpet. He choked, struggled to draw a breath. Then, finally, he gasped.
