When the door creaked as it swung open on the hinges, he heard a thin, breathy voice behind him, “They suck on us like leeches in the swamp suck on the goats’ legs. Look out for yourself Jokon; you are strong. They will want to use your strength, but you can defend yourself against them!”
Jokon didn’t know if he should flee or go back to her and keep listening. He waited a while at the door, but Jacitin didn’t speak again. Finally, he went out and quietly closed the door behind him.
The next day, the servants stacked wood in the courtyard for a funeral pyre.
A Beginning
Tolioro stared at the cradle. Another brother borne by Ioro’s mother. Another son his father would dote on. He clenched his fists. What did his father even see in that concubine and her useless brats? Wasn’t he the rightful heir? Shouldn’t he get his father’s undivided attention? Instead, that paragon of perfection, his older brother, Ioro, was constantly being rubbed in his face as a good example. He hated Ioro! He hated him with every fiber of his six-and-a-half-year-old being; and he hated this new brother, too.
Tolioro stuck out his lower lip. What had his mother told him? His face twisted into an evil smile. He grabbed a silk pillow from the divan and held it over the cradle in both hands. The baby moved his little arm a bit as he slept peacefully. This brother would not get in his way. Determined, he pressed the pillow against the little face. He waited. No movement. Just to be sure, he waited a bit longer. Then he raised the pillow. The baby was still lying there, but he wasn’t breathing anymore. He laid the pillow back down with a glint in his eyes. Then, he crept out of the room.
Miomio couldn’t suppress a scream. Why did the gods punish her so? Her youngest child, her second son, ripped away before the bloom of childhood! He was the last son she could bear Kanata. After his birth, the doctors had told her there was no chance she would ever bear another child. It’s over, it’s all over. Merciful Goddess, had she been too proud of her two lovely daughters? Too infatuated with her beautiful, eldest son? Miomio sank to the floor before the cradle and rocked her upper body back and forth as silent tears ran down her cheeks.
A hand touched her shoulder. The wet nurse. “My Lady, I share your pain. Please, do not drown in your sorrow. We couldn’t have done anything. So many children have died in the past few moons, even here in the palace. The drought and heat have struck the entire country with death and ruin. The king will not blame you. He will mourn your son with you.”
Miomio winced. She had nearly forgotten. Kanata had to be informed of his youngest son’s death, immediately. She stood up, clumsily. “Send the maid to me. Tell her to fetch the white mourning dress.”
Kanata furrowed his brow menacingly. “Are you trying to tell me those sorcerers were unable to summon the rain?”
The messenger from the Crystal Chamber didn’t dare answer. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead. He secretly said a quick prayer to the gods, asking them to help him survive this meeting with the king.
“I happen to know that they can, in fact, make it rain.” Kanata angrily pounded his fist against the stack of papers. “In my grandfather’s time, there was a similar drought. The sorcerers put an end to it in just one night.” He leaned forward a bit. “This drought has cost me another son. Three months ago, my fifth concubine’s son and two days ago, my first concubine’s son. I will not tolerate any further losses. I am giving your masters an ultimatum. Either they make sure there is enough rain, or I will have all of the sorcerers exiled from the city, and I’ll grind the Crystal Chamber to dust. You have exactly five days.”
He dismissed the messenger with a wave of his hand.
The sorcerers’ conclave was in turmoil. The royal ultimatum wasn’t unexpected, but the parties disagreed on how to respond.
Old At made himself heard by shouting angrily. “Kanata never liked us. And now this! Does the king believe he can simply give us orders? I am resolutely opposed to helping him!”
Ke of the Westland placed her hands on her hips. “What good will that do? The palace isn’t suffering the most from the drought; the people are. I think Kanata is right to remind us of our duties.”
At angrily narrowed his ice-gray eyes. “You little snot! Weren’t you born under the rule of Kanata’s grandfather? You have no idea what this is really about! It isn’t about the well-being of the people, it isn’t about rights and duties, it is only about power; nothing else! Kanata has wanted to come after us since we tried to change the line of succession to favor Prince Ioro!”
Excited discussions broke out throughout the room.
They still hadn’t come to a compromise by late that night. Grand Master Ro ultimately used his veto.
“We have to bow to King Kanata’s will. This time. He has the people on his side. They have suffered from the drought too long. If we refuse to help now, the entire populace will turn against us.”
He surveyed the ranks. Pinched faces, stone-faced expressions, nervously twitching eyelids. It was crystal clear that no one here was particularly happy with his suggestion.
“We will all have to do this together. I am therefore releasing a mirror from the Crystal Chamber.”
A collective gasp coursed through the hall. No one would have to sacrifice their own mirror. The dispute was adjourned; but it wasn’t forgotten.
Three days later, the long-desired rain roared down from the skies and broke the drought’s chokehold.
*
Three days after Jacitin’s death, Master Go returned from one of his ominous missions. He brought the rain with him. Jokon gratefully raised his head toward the sky and caught the first, heavy drops on his tongue. His home village had very likely been saved.
There were no celebrations as there would have been in the village. The days passed at a monotonous trot, with or without rain. Jokon continued to only see the tower from afar. Dogon, however, had been called to the tower for the second time since the monsoon season. After that, he wasn’t able to remember anything at all. One of the Reds came, examined him, and sent him to the servants. From them on, Dogon worked with the oxen. With what little remained of his mind and his bull-like strength, he seemed to grow more like the animals every day. Jokon learned quickly that one didn’t speak of the rejected students and, if possible, no longer paid attention to them. The Grays did their best to ignore their losses.
Aleti was also sent to the servants after her first visit to the tower. She looked the same and chatted and laughed as she always did, but something was missing. Aleti didn’t sing anymore. She couldn’t sing anymore. The tower had robbed her of her melodies. Kabato, however, was very ill after he had first gone to the tower. But then, he was allowed to move to the Greens. Even though he was younger than Jokon!
When Jokon had reached his twelfth monsoon season, he was finally called to the tower. Master Go fetched him personally. Whatever that meant, Jokon was glad it was finally happening. He was nearly dying of boredom. After five years of the same thing every day, he had memorized the meager subject matter. He had read every book in the Grays’ little library. He knew every detail of every game he or the other children were able to remember and had started thinking up new games out of shear boredom. Sometimes, the servants played with them or told them fairytales and legends, but they never spoke of the world outside. It was as though the world outside the walls had ceased to exist. For five years, there was nothing but Master Go’s house and the same routine, day in and day out. Jokon was sick of it.
Master Go led him up the stairs until they reached the spire. The little spiral staircase opened up onto a sickle-shaped platform. Jokon could see the roof of the side wing from two small, crenelated windows. A very old and heavy-looking door, made of black wooden beams with a small oval mirror in the center, was set into the wall. Master Go stood with his face nearly touching the mirror. The door silently slid into the wall. It closed just as quietly after they had both entered the room. Jokon didn’t even try to hide his curiosity. He hungrily inspected the unfamiliar
environment. The tower room was as wide as the tower itself. The walls were covered with little, embroidered wall hangings. A ring of glazed windows encircled the room, providing plenty of light. Small mirrors, no larger than the palm of a hand, were embedded in each pane of glass. There was a fireplace with a hearth across from the door and, in the middle of the room was a large, oval table with mountains of books piled beneath it. Two paper scrolls and some writing utensils lay on the table next to a mirror that was four hands high and surrounded by a golden frame. A half dozen chairs seemed to be randomly strewn around the room.
Master Go pulled a high-backed armchair up to the table, sat down, and began to write. After a few minutes, he looked up, irritated. “Well, sit down,” he grumbled.
Jokon took a three-legged stool and sat down at the table, directly across from Master Go. The mirror hid Master Go’s head. Jokon remembered the magic mirror in the village. He wondered what powerful spells this mirror contained. This one also made his head buzz.
Curious, Jokon studied the mirror. The surface on this side was matte black, like polished stone. He could barely make out his face in the blackness. Several intertwining snakes formed the frame. Their heads held up the mirror. Jokon traced one of the snake’s coils with his eyes. The strands of scales ran all the way around the mirror. Here a curve, there another, and another... and another... and another...
Jokon started. Master Go had slammed the thick book he was reading shut. Confused, Jokon tried to orient himself. It was dark. Only the glimmering fire in the fireplace and two candles on both sides of the mirror provided a bit of light...
Dark? A few minutes ago, it had been midday! The hair on the back of Jokon’s neck stood up as he looked back at the middle of the table. The mirror itself was... different! Horrified, he realized why. The snakes had moved. They had come off the frame in some places and their slithering heads were floating toward him; their tongues flicking in and out. Jokon jumped up, breathing heavily. He felt strange and drained and he could feel his body trembling in fear.
A smile appeared on Master Go’s narrow lips. “It’s alright. It seems that little spell was a bit too much to start with. You may go. That’s enough for today!” He opened the door with a regal wave of his hand.
Jokon staggered out of the tower room as quickly as his trembling legs would allow. He fell twice on the spiral staircase. Only the curve of the wall prevented him from rolling straight down them. On the way to his room, he crept along the corridor wall, looking for something to hold on to. Karados, the night servant, came toward him in the entry hall. Without saying a word, the large man picked him up and carried him to his room. Jokon was asleep before his head hit the pillow.
Progress
The next morning, Jokon awoke with a splitting headache. He barely made it to the toilet before he vomited. Washing up proved difficult. He could barely stand up. He was just about to skip breakfast and go back to bed, when he saw the dresser was open, as it had been when he arrived five monsoon seasons ago. The robe inside was green.
Finally! He was allowed to leave the novice class and move to the corridor upstairs! Jokon was so relieved, he got dressed immediately. There was no way he was going to miss breakfast now. He had to show the others that he was now a Green.
Jokon appeared at the breakfast table, his legs still somewhat wobbly, but with a grin on his face. He could see the other Grays’ envious looks. The Greens smiled at his eagerness and waved him over to them. The servants were smiling, too. If their smiles weren’t quite whole-hearted and their eyes betrayed their sympathy, Jokon didn’t notice.
“Finally,” said Tevi, who had been with the Greens for nearly five moons. “Now we can go to our lessons together!”
Life with the Greens was more interesting. Much more interesting. The Greens had a much larger library. They were allowed to teach the Grays. They were allowed to order the servants around. And they were given new learning material.
Jokon looked at his new classmates. Kabato, who wouldn’t even speak to him when he was a still Gray and he was already a Green, seemed to suddenly remember they came from the same village. Tevi had become his best friend over the many long years. He only knew Nuda, Kuron and Isito as instructors. The same applied to two of the girls, Thealina and Pacatin. The beautiful Tisca, however, he had come to like during the two monsoon seasons they had both been Grays. She was a specialist in very powerful, elegant conjuring spells.
Currently, there were unusually few Greens and many of the rooms in the Green corridor were empty, but a whole group of new Grays, more than a dozen, arrived when Master Go returned from his next trip. The Greens were very busy training the new pupils. Jokon didn’t even have time to think about it. He soon realized that teaching lessons was much more difficult than taking lessons. Especially the Grays who were older than he seemed not to take a Green, who had only seen twelve monsoon seasons, seriously. It annoyed Jokon. If they didn’t accept him as a full-fledged instructor, he would make sure they didn’t learn a thing!
He soon found out the other Greens weren’t faring any better. They barely knew more than the material they were supposed to teach the Grays. The only thing that gave them any self-confidence at all was their magic because now they were learning proper sorcery.
Jokon was completely lost during the first lesson.
All of the Greens sat around their classroom; a large hall without furniture and only furnished with large, thick mats. There was a black porcelain bowl, filled with black water, on each mat.
The Blue, Kunto, was his first instructor. Without much of an introduction, he simply shouted, “Concentrate!” into the room as he swept in, his robe billowing behind him. They all obediently lowered their heads over the black bowls. Jokon did the same, looking anxiously to the right and left to make sure he was doing it right. Then he felt Kunto’s broad hand on his neck.
“Stop fidgeting!” he commanded with a threatening boom. “Just sit still and look into the bowl. That is your first scrying mirror. You should see something in it. Concentrate!”
“What am I supposed to see?” Jokon asked, helplessly.
“Anything. Whatever you want to see. The kitchen. Your room. Or the ox stalls for all I care. Simply concentrate on it.”
At the end of the hour, Jokon was seeing stars and his backside had fallen asleep, but he hadn’t seen anything in the bowl.
“It’s okay,” Tevi consoled him, “scrying is always difficult in the beginning. But you will see, you’ll get it in a few days!”
“Isn’t there an incantation for this?” Jokon asked.
“The incantation is you concentrating,” Tevi explained. “Only your thoughts work; you have to sink them into the mirror like a focal point.”
A memory flashed through Jokon’s mind. “But Master Go said an incantation when he transformed the mirror into a spring!”
“Just meaningless hocus pocus,” Tevi responded. “We learned incantations like that when we were Grays. And did they do anything? They are only there to make things appear more impressive!”
“Not entirely,” Thealina interrupted, “if you know an incantation by heart, it helps you concentrate faster and better, but Tevi is right; you don’t really need them!”
Jokon grew pensive. So, he had been both right and wrong when he had suspected, during the first monsoon seasons of his training, that they weren’t really teaching the Grays sorcery.
In general, the Greens’ lessons were more rigorous but also far more satisfying. Jokon met old acquaintances, like Martei, who had been his first Green instructor and now taught him summoning spells as a Blue. There were new subjects. In addition to summoning spells, incantations and conjuring, they also had lessons in scrying, the history of sorcery, herbalism and medicine. Not that Jokon was able to successfully perform any of the spells. If anything happened at all, it was always the wrong thing. Jokon summoned a dog, but the only thing that came to him were its fleas. Jokon conjured a cool breeze, but a hot gust of wind swept
through the hall and swirled everyone’s papers around. He couldn’t do anything right. He wasn’t able to do the scrying spells at all. All he saw in the depths of the water bowl was his own brown eyes behind his disheveled, black curls.
Finally, Gavila, a Blue who was two monsoon seasons older and, judging by her accent, came from the north, took pity on him. After another pathetic, long, boring lesson with Kunto, as Jokon left the Greens’ hall feeling like a complete failure, he found Gavila standing in the hall. She teased him with a mocking glint in her light-gray eyes. “Well, Master Good-for-Nothing, was your sight foggy again?”
Jokon just shrugged his shoulders, ashamed. “It just doesn’t seem to work.”
“Come.”
Gavila turned around and hurried to the stairs without looking back. Jokon followed her with a sigh.
Gavila took him straight to her room. Jokon ducked, startled, when something touched his hair as he entered the room. He cautiously looked up. A long strip of fabric hung from the ceiling. Gavila’s entire room was full of these hanging strips of fabric. It was a large room, more than twice the size of the Greens’ rooms. A warm, fluffy, soft, dark-blue carpet lay on the floor. There was a large bookshelf against one of the walls, and the room had two large windows. There was a strange structure under the first window with a strip of fabric stretched across it.
“Feel free to take a look around,” Gavila said, kindly.
Jokon took a closer look at the structure. Parts of the strip of fabric were painted, and there were paint brushes and ink blotters on a small table in front of the structure. The peaks on the fabric depicted mountains. A landscape. Jokon looked at the hanging strips of fabric again. They all had the same motif: high, bare, foreboding mountains; gray, steel-blue, fading into brown and green toward the bottom. Several had light-blue and white areas on the peaks.
Royal Falcon Page 4