Voice of Power (The Spoken Mage Book 1)

by Melanie Cellier

  I looked at her expectantly, and she rubbed her fingers against her temple.

  “You know of the Mage Council, at least?”

  I nodded.

  “Good. I thought they must teach that much in the schools. Well at the moment, members of Callinos hold four of the positions. Academy Head, University Head, Head of the Seekers, and Head of the Healers. General Thaddeus may talk loudly, but Stantorn hold only his position and Head of the Creators. No one from Devoras was there today, but generally they can be counted on to side with Stantorn.”

  She paused and frowned. “Although with the prince’s arguments, you never know. General Griffith might be persuaded…” She broke off and shook herself.

  “The Head of the Growers also comes from Devoras, so that pits the two sides at equal numbers—four against four. So Ellington is most often the deciding vote these days. And Prince Lucas seemed to convince Duke Lennox. The other Ellington on the council—the Head of the Wind Workers—will follow his lead if he chooses to side with Callinos.”

  She gave me a considering look. “And that is before the support of the royals themselves. If the prince is right about his father, then it seems your position here is safe for the moment.”

  “So reassuring,” I muttered without thinking.

  Jocasta laughed, although it wasn’t exactly a friendly sound. “Welcome to the world of the great families. You’ll learn to live in it, as the rest of us have.”

  I glanced up at her. Did she resent it? Did others from the minor mage families? But if Jocasta saw the question in my eyes, she had no intention of answering it. She briskly tapped the pile of parchment in front of her.

  “So. Reading and writing. You have a lot to learn.”

  And somehow, impossibly, the events of the last hour were driven from my mind. Finally I was to unlock the mysteries of the written word.

  Chapter 10

  I soon realized my error. I was clearly a long way from being able to unlock any great mysteries.

  I had watched with great excitement as Jocasta first put her pen to parchment, but nothing happened except that black lines appeared where she pressed the tip against the paper. I looked around the room, wondering if I had missed something.

  “Elena.”

  I looked back at her. She rolled her eyes.

  “These are prepared parchments for regular writing.” She pointed at a line of words already written across the top of the page. “See. Nothing is going to happen.”

  “I don’t understand. Writing releases power. You just wrote. Something must have happened.”

  She sighed and muttered to herself. “I keep forgetting the basics.” Looking up at me, she asked, “How do you think mages prevent the power from spilling out in unintended ways before their composition is complete?”

  I blinked at her. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen a mage work a composition. But isn’t that the whole point? That they have control? They’re the only ones who do.”

  “We have the ability to control the power, yes. But we still need to learn how to exercise it. We need to bind each composition. The first thing any trainee learns when they begin studying composition is how to compose binding words. Those words hold the power until the full composition has been written. Then it is completed with the words end binding. They release the power, ensuring the working takes the intended shape and doesn’t just flow into the first few words.”

  I chewed my lip. That actually made sense. And it explained what Redmond had been talking about in the class. The other trainees had been starting with binding words. My eyes flicked to the written line across the top of Jocasta’s parchment.

  “Redmond said something about expanding it. The binding. So that the parchment could be used for regular writing. Is that what that is?” I pointed at the line of words.

  Jocasta nodded. I felt pleased with myself, but she gave no sign of approval.

  “It is possibly the most simple of compositions—an expansion of the basic binding words. In this case, the purpose of the composition itself is to bind the parchment permanently. To make it safe to write on.” She gestured at the door behind her. “How do you think we have books and scrolls at all? Any mages who sign up to the creators discipline spend large chunks of their first year at the printers, preparing the paper for the books. An apprenticeship of sorts.”

  Her mouth quirked up. “As for the rest of us, we prepare our own parchments as needed. That’s how mage children learn to write before their control has solidified at age sixteen. Their parents prepare parchment for them.”

  I stared down at the table, my hands balling into fists. So anyone could write? Without unleashing uncontrolled power? All it took was one of these parchments? For a moment, my vision blurred.

  “Then how come we aren’t all taught to write using such parchments?” The words came bursting out of me before I could control them.

  Jocasta’s eyebrows quirked together. She regarded me silently as I tried to control my breathing.

  “There are too few of us,” she said at last.

  “What?” I looked up at her.

  “There are too few mages. We would have to spend all day creating safe parchments and books. And then who would heal or build or ensure the crops grow? Who would defend us against Kallorway’s mages? And even if we could do all of that and make enough safe parchment as well, it would be too dangerous.”

  “What do you mean?” My breathing was still ragged, anger fueling me.

  “It’s the same reason non-bloods are not permitted to learn to read.” She sounded matter-of-fact. “Reading by itself carries no danger and would greatly enhance the lives of many. So why is it not taught?”

  She looked at me steadily, and I forced myself to take a deep, slow breath. I knew the answer to this one. This we learned about in school.

  “Because reading leads to writing. If a commonborn learns how to read, there’s too much temptation to write something. Just once. Or cases of accidental writing. Tracing a word without thinking. That sort of thing.”

  “Exactly.” Jocasta nodded. “And one mistake from a non-blood can level a whole village…Ardann can’t take the risk that even one in a thousand will make a mistake just once in their lives. How much worse would it be if everyone was taught to write as well? One absent-minded moment. One slip of the hand on the wrong surface.” She shook her head. “No. We are all safer this way.”

  “But only some of us bear the burden of it,” I muttered. But the words were too quiet for her to hear, or else she chose to ignore them.

  I swallowed and tried to bend my mind back to the lesson. I knew this was the way my world worked. There was nothing new here, no real surprises. But it still burned inside me.

  Jocasta wrote a series of letters, a gap between each one. It didn’t look like the words already written on the top of the page, most of which were formed by a grouping of multiple letters. When she finished, she handed the parchment to me.

  “This is a list of all the letters we use. When arranged into different combinations, they form words. We call it the alphabet. You’ll need to learn this first.”

  “I think it’s going to be a long time before I can rejoin the composition class,” I said glumly to Coralie over breakfast the next morning. As at the previous meals, the two of us sat alone at one of the tables in the first year row. At least today I had managed to get out of bed at the first bell and make it down to the dining hall in time to eat before class.

  “Jocasta is tough, but she’s good,” she said, mouth half full of egg. “If you spend your whole afternoon with her, you’ll be reading and writing in no time.”

  “If I make it through combat first.” I groaned and put my head on the table.

  Coralie patted my back. “There, there. You’ll survive. I’m fairly sure after he had to step in yesterday that Thornton won’t let you pair with Weston again. And I’ll try to shake off Araminta more quickly next time, too. She was just terrified she was going to end up with We
ston herself, poor thing.”

  I raised my head and noticed the same speculative gleam in her eyes as had been there at the evening meal the night before.

  “Oh, go on,” I said with a sigh. “Whatever it is, just ask me.”

  She bounced on her seat, her eyes shining. “Lucas disappeared part way through composition class. A servant came for him. And when he returned, he looked very…thoughtful. Or something. I’m not the best at reading his expressions. But I heard one of the older trainees say they saw half the council arrive. And someone else said that it all had something to do with you.”

  She fixed me with an expectant look.

  “Was there a question in there?” I asked weakly.

  She rolled her eyes and gave me the same expectant look.

  “Fine.” I sighed again. “Yes, I was called out of the library to be tested. The University Head was there, and also General Thaddeus, and the heads of law enforcement and the seekers.”

  “Oooh,” she said. “The Reds and the Grays. They were serious, then.”

  I massaged my head and dropped my voice. “Of course they’re serious, Coralie. I did a magical composition with a spoken word. Me. A non-blood, as you all say. None of it makes any sense. And I have no idea how I did it, and no idea if I can ever do it again, and I’m just waiting for someone to kick me out. Or arrest my family or something. And I have no idea why any of this is happening!”

  I bit my lip and covered my eyes with my hands. I hadn’t intended the outburst. Coralie patted my back again until I peeked at her from between my fingers. Her eyes were wide.

  “So, are they going to?”

  “Going to what?”

  “Kick you out?”

  I groaned. “No, apparently not. Execute me, maybe. But not kick me out, it seems.”

  “Execute you!”

  My shoulders slumped. “Apparently I’m safe for now. Something about Callinos convincing Ellington and overruling Stantorn and Devoras.”

  Coralie nodded as if my words were entirely understandable. “That makes sense. I told you those Stantorns are a bad lot.” A look of dismay crossed her face. “Except for the queen, of course. I don’t mean her. Or the princess. Or Lucas.”

  “Stop now,” I told her kindly. “Before it gets worse.”

  She groaned and then laughed. “My mother is always telling me to think before I speak—but that’s so slow.”

  This time I laughed. I could relate, although in my case it was speaking up when I should be silent and saying the wrong thing to the wrong person, while in Coralie it seemed to result in a never-ending flow of words. My amusement stopped abruptly when Coralie seized my arm.

  “We’re almost the last ones here! We’d better hurry.”

  I looked around and realized she was right. The other trainees had disappeared while we were absorbed in our conversation. Together we hurried from the dining hall and made our way outside, winding around the building toward the training areas at the back. Coralie bombarded me with questions the whole way until I gave her a full account of my testing.

  “Wow, that’s amazing!” she said. “I wish I could just speak a composition. Think how much easier it would be.”

  I gave her a loaded look, and she laughed.

  “Maybe you’re right, that could be a bit dangerous.”

  “A bit?” I shook my head. “Be glad you don’t live in fear of opening your mouth one day and blowing up the Academy.”

  She just rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic! You didn’t blow up anything last time, did you? There’s a reason we risk teaching our children how to read and write before sixteen. Even if they make a mistake and write something in the wrong place, it doesn’t have as disastrous results. There’s always some measure of control. And you’re obviously the same.” She paused. “But different, of course. I can see why Lorcan and Duchess Jessamine are so fascinated by you.”

  “Thanks,” I grumbled, “but I’d prefer they go be interested in someone else.”

  “Someone’s grouchy this morning,” she said, bumping my shoulder. “It’s not all bad. Lucas stood up for you, didn’t he? That’s got to count for something.”

  “He didn’t stand up for me. He stood up for the value in studying me. Not the same thing.”

  Coralie waved away my objections.

  “He’s still the prince.”

  I gave her an unimpressed look, and she kept going.

  “Believe me, there was much private jubilation among our year mates when the news came out about…” She frowned. “I keep forgetting you don’t know anything.”

  I squawked, and she grinned at me. “Well nothing that matters, anyway. It’s like this. We all know each other. Even if we don’t live in the capital. Everyone’s been here for various celebrations or gatherings, so we all take the opportunity to scope out our year mates. Everything is more informal at the Academy than at court, so your years here are your chance to make connections that might serve you later in life. Especially for those from minor families like mine.”

  She paused for a brief breath before rushing on, trying to fit in as many words as possible before we arrived at our training yard.

  “You’re supposed to start at the Academy the autumn after you turn sixteen. But Lucas is seventeen already. He was supposed to be in the year above us. Only then the royal family got the chance to send that delegation to the Sekali Empire last year.”

  I vaguely remembered something about an Ardannian delegation to our vast northern neighbor, but I didn’t know any of the details. I had only heard about it at all because the invitation was so unusual. The empire didn’t usually show any interest in the affairs of either Ardann or Kallorway. Coralie rushed on, not bothering to stop and explain.

  “Naturally they didn’t want to risk sending Crown Princess Lucienne—being heir to the throne and all that. Who knows what those Sekalis might do? But they couldn’t offend them by sending a delegation without a single member of the royal family. So Lucas went. Which meant he couldn’t start at the Academy until this year. Our year.”

  She shook her head. “Which means we get to call him Lucas and spend every day with him for four years. Obviously I have no great hopes of becoming best friends with a prince. But I’m fairly sure Natalya and Lavinia, at least, have visions of themselves as princess one day. And I’m sure Calix and Weston are looking to utilize the opportunity, too. Well, probably everyone really. If they’re honest.”

  Her words cut off abruptly as we arrived at the yard and hopped inside the fence just as the bell rang. We really needed to get better at this running on time thing. Thornton regarded us both with disapproval but said nothing. Instead he instructed us all to run, and I took off with pleasure, glad for the opportunity to stretch my legs.

  Several taller trainees soon rushed past me, and I let them without trying to increase my own pace, settling comfortably into the back of the pack. From here I could observe most of the others, freshly armed with the information I had extracted from Coralie the night before.

  The tall, elegant Dariela—the Ellington who Coralie had predicted would top the class—led the group. According to Coralie, Ellingtons were generally on the friendlier side, but Dariela seemed entirely cold from what I had seen. And not just toward me. Weston kept pace with her, but neither looked at the other or spoke.

  Close behind them came a pack of three, occasionally joking among themselves. Natalya and Calix were twins, apparently, although you wouldn’t guess it to look at them, with Natalya so dark and Calix so fair. They were the daughter and son of General Griffith of Devoras, the Head of the Armed Forces. Which meant I would hardly have been searching out their company, even if they didn’t both send me poisonous glances at every opportunity.

  Their shadow was Lavinia—Weston’s cousin and another Stantorn. And Natalya’s best friend, apparently.

  Behind them ran the two Callinos cousins—Saffron and Finnian. They looked similar, the family connection clear, and their dark gold skin ma
rked them as northerners. I hadn’t yet heard Saffron speak, although Finnian kept directing jokes at her which occasionally earned a smile.

  Which left only one other trainee in the group ahead of me. Despite all my intentions, my eyes lingered on the prince. He ran with easy strides, and given his tall, muscled form, I suspected he could have pushed ahead of Dariela and Weston if he wished to do so. He seemed content to run in the middle of the pack, however.

  As my eyes lingered on his back, I couldn’t help my mind running back over the new revelations. Even here in the relaxed environment of the Academy, the instructors gave him special deference. And I had seen him silence a room full of the most senior and powerful mages in the kingdom.

  But Coralie’s words rang in my ears. Who knows what those Sekalis might do? And given that uncertainty, the prince’s family had decided he was the one to send. The expendable one. Perhaps there had been no choice. No other option. Although it seemed incredible for a family of the most powerful mages in the land—rulers of an entire kingdom—to be without options. But I knew nothing of the constraints of royalty, and Coralie had said that someone had to go.

  In spite of myself, I felt a pang of sympathy. I knew what it was like to have a family constrained by circumstance to view you as the most expendable. The one worth risking. And I didn’t like the sense of fellow feeling. Not with an arrogant prince who had known nothing but privilege and power his whole life. Who had never had to watch his younger sister fight to breathe or farewell his older brother, knowing he might not see him for years. Who had never been given the chance to be anything in life but an illiterate soldier. And then—if I was lucky—shopkeeper.

  No, I had nothing in common with a prince.

  I continued my mental review of the first years. The remaining three—the three from minor families—all ran behind me. In Coralie’s case because she was trying to bolster Araminta with a constant stream of encouragement. Clarence, on the other hand, was the tallest of the first year trainees, and should have been leading us all. But the pale tone of his skin suggested he wasn’t used to spending much time outdoors, and his breathing sounded labored.