A Shaper's Birthright

by Karen MacRae

  The others were in the house within five minutes. There was no one else on the small property.

  “Which one of you has the Language gift?”

  “Me, Mistress Elona,” answered a dark, stocky man. “My name’s…”

  “Do I look like I care what your name is? Encourage her to talk and get your ear in. Do whatever you need to but leave them alive and useful. The rest of you, get yourself settled for the night. The Healer and I will have the main bedroom.”

  Nijel beamed.

  Mystrim laid claim to the big armchair and footstool in the lounge. It was comfortable enough to sleep on, right next to the fire and it had a perfect view of the sailor tormenting the woman. He was tempted to help, but he knew he had to conserve his energy so his gift could recharge. He was sure he’d have the chance to play soon. Watching would do for now.

  Elona returned with a mug of caffe and a chunk of mutton. She watched the sailor at work for a while but grew impatient when her meal was over. “You got it yet, Language?”

  “Enough, Mistress Elona,” the sailor said politely, accepting his new name without comment. “I was just having a little fun.”

  Elona grunted. “Business first. I want to know if there are any peristone beads in the house. Tell her I’m a Reader. Tell her I’ll know if she lies. If she lies, we’ll chop off one of the brat’s fingers.”

  The Reader didn’t like the first answer. The woman hadn’t lied, but she definitely hadn’t told them everything. Ignoring her sing-song pleas, she walked over to the sofa, put the child’s hand on the wooden arm and took off its little finger with one quick, downward slice of her dagger. The tiny digit left a trail of blood as she flicked it away to make room for her blade over the next finger. “Ask her again,” she asked, making a mental note to get something to plug her ears at the earliest opportunity; all the wailing was really getting on her nerves. She moved the knife to the child’s throat. “Tell the mother to shut it up or I’ll shut it up for good.”

  The woman wrapped the bleeding stub in a piece of fabric torn from her skirt then pulled the child back into her arms, rocking it gently and speaking to it in that singing voice. The brat stopped screaming, but it wouldn’t stop crying.

  Elona sighed, accepting the inevitability of a young child crying when it hurt, but told Language to ask again and waited patiently for the woman to give a fuller answer. She waved the bloody blade around to make sure.

  “She only has a big set. She wouldn’t call them beads. They’re upstairs in the chest at the end of the bed. There are some other bits and pieces of peristone around the house, but just things they use in cooking and storage. There are a couple of ornaments that her father made for her, but they aren’t worth anything. If we want beads, we’ll probably have to go to Deas or Tuath. She swears she’s never heard of black peristone.”

  The removal of another finger got a better answer. “She’s sure old Mistress Petrie has a set of good beads. She lives about ten miles inland of here. She might know about black stone. Her husband was a Stone Crafter.”

  The screaming was becoming intolerable; Elona couldn’t think straight. “Nijel, Heal the ends of the brat’s missing fingers. Just enough to shut her up. Pyteor, find somewhere to lock them up for the night. She can lead us to this Petrie woman in the morning. No one touches them overnight.” She turned to look straight at the weather mage. “Absolutely no one.”

  Mystrim smiled. There was always tomorrow.

  “You, you’re on first watch,” Elona ordered, pointing at one of the men. “You, you take the second. You, you take the third. No one gets anywhere near here without us knowing. And shut those damn dogs up. Their howling’s giving me a headache.”

  High in the hills, Finn was also organising the watch. He’d been tempted to stay overnight at the convivial Mistress Petrie’s croft, but they’d still had two hours of daylight left so they’d set off for a cave Euan knew of up the trail. They’d just made it before it became too dark to carry on.

  “I can take a watch, Finn,” offered Anna, reluctantly dragging her eyes away from Euan.

  “I’m thinking Nystrieth himself could walk straight up to our fire if either of you were on watch,” Finn replied.

  Anna blushed, but Euan gave an honest, “Aye, probably. Give us a day or two, though. We’ll be fine once our gifts have adjusted. Or so o’papa told me.”

  “Can you still Shape, Anna?” Finn asked, concerned about the word ‘adjusted’.

  “I can’t see why not.”

  “You can try on me,” Seleste offered. “I could do with getting straight to sleep if I’m being woken up in a few hours.”

  Finn overruled her. “No, nothing that dangerous. How about you kill some weeds or something?”

  “It’d be a mercy if you could get rid of some of the cassacai,” suggested Euan. “It’s forever catching people unawares.”

  “Which is cassacai?”

  “The stuff I told you not to go near. Over there. Looks like nothing but sticks like glue. Gets wrapped around legs within a step or two. There’s not a huge amount of it, thankfully, but it still manages to cause a load of broken bones every year.”

  Anna couldn’t see the weed’s aura, but she didn’t need to see it to kill. She pushed firmly at the weed and was astonished to see it grow. The stuff was coming straight for them.

  Finn shot round to the other side of the fire. “I said kill it, not us!”

  Anna pulled blindly at the weed, sending whatever her gift caught into her pendant. The weed’s growth slowed, but it still kept coming towards them. She thought through other possibilities as Malik lifted a burning branch from the fire.

  “No, don’t burn it,” warned Euan. “Fire activates its seeds. We’ll end up with even more of the stuff.”

  “You might have thought of that before you suggested it,” Finn retorted angrily. “It’s not exactly a fair test! How do you normally kill it?”

  “You have to kill the root. It goes straight down from its centre.”

  White energy pulsed through the peristones straight at the heart of the weed had no effect. If anything, it sped up the growth. The only other thing Anna could do was to upload black from crystal. She doubted human ailments would have any effect so she drew a tiny bit of crested blade poison from the crystal in her pocket. Only then did she realise she’d have to cross auras with the weed.

  “What’ll happen if I touch it, Euan?”

  “It has to be scraped off. Takes an age and a couple of layers of skin with it. Definitely best avoided.”

  “Whatever you do, please do it soon, Anna,” begged Malik, his back pressed to the cave wall, his face a few shades paler than its normal ebony.

  Anna took a step towards the still expanding weed, but Seleste told her to stop. “If you’re going to do what I think you’re going to do, make your aura bigger rather than get close. Even better, can you not form some sort of link to send the poison down rather than get close at all?”

  It was such a simple idea, Anna wondered why she’d never thought of it before. She sent a tight beam of white light streaming into the centre of the weed then visualised a drop of crested poison swimming along the channel from her crystal. The weed shrivelled and died the instant the poison touched the root.

  “I’m going to have nightmares,” said Malik.

  “If it’s any consolation, everything feels like it’s working fine. It was that stuff, not me, that was weird,” said Anna.

  Euan looked sheepish. “Sorry. I guess I need to know more about how this Shaping stuff works.”

  “Me too,” laughed Anna. “Seleste seems to know more than I do. Thanks for the tip, Seleste.”

  The assassin shrugged. “I can see what you’re doing and I’ve had a lot more training to kill than you, Anna.”

  Euan was astounded. “You’re a Dancer and a Reader and you’re trained to kill?”

  “Long story,” murmured Seleste.

  “Tomorrow. Now, sleep,” ordered Finn.
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  CHAPTER 24

  T he first of the King’s teams decided they’d got the best deal. They’d been treated to a mug of caffe and platter of freshly baked biscuits at the first home, mutton soup and a mug of ale at the second home and now they were warming themselves in front of a glowing peat fire, hardly able to move after Beitris’ aunt had plied them with a huge supper. Spider reluctantly called the evening to a halt. They had an early start in the morning.

  The second team had been less fortunate but were happy enough. Ailie had insisted they give their borrowed horses their heads and not try to do anything except ride in single file so it hadn’t been the most sociable of journeys, but the rain had held off and they’d arrived none the worse for wear at their first destination just before nightfall. The owners had been delightful despite the reluctant loss of their prize peristone beads and the team had been well fed and shown to the basic, but perfectly adequate, accommodation the farmhands shared.

  All the King’s spies slept well, even Malik, although he swore blind he’d dreamed of cassacai swarming over them all night. He woke shortly before dawn and found Finn looking at a set of beads in the firelight. They looked just like eight small, nondescript pebbles strung on fine leather. “I don’t get it,” said Malik. “What’s so special about them?”

  Euan heard the question as he came out of the cave with Anna. “My best friend says they look like ordinary stone, but to me and others like me, they glow as if they’re a tiny bit of a rainbow. Like a jewel catching the sunlight. Even in the dark, they shine. O’papa explained to me how Aura Shapers use them to craft light, but I’ve never seen it done before last night.”

  “Craft light?”

  “Aye, that’s what we call it. We craft stone. Shapers craft light. The light just happens to be the energy of life.”

  “There’s a phrase to have nightmares about,” said Finn.

  “Aye, there’s none more powerful than Shapers. Can’t hurt us though. Stone Crafters are immune from any gift that affects auras. It doesn’t mean much here on the island, but it’s a useful quirk for any who go travelling.”

  “Now that is a fascinating fact,” Finn replied, his mind starting to work on the possibilities if a few Stone Crafters worked for the King’s Circle. He wondered if any fancied a bit more of that travelling Euan had just mentioned.

  Seleste came out of the cave and wandered over to join Malik watch the sun come up and begin saddling the horses. The green tint to the sky didn’t bode well for the day, but it was dry for now and the view was spectacular. The terrain might not be particularly pleasant close up, but the variations in landscape formed undulating patterns across the land which were criss-crossed with an intricate pattern of stone walls and dotted with white cottages and tiny white dots of sheep. Movement caught Seleste’s eye.

  “You see that?” she asked Malik.

  “I do. It’s early for locals to be making their way across country, is it not?”

  “Euan, come look at this,” Seleste called.

  “The crofts near there are owned by bachelors or couples and I can’t think of any reason for a group of neighbours to be heading across the moors together at this time of the day, especially on foot.”

  Finn came across to look. “It has to be Mystrim and Elona. They must know Mistress Petrie had beads. We need to get moving.”

  “But we can’t just go. We need to go and warn them!” Euan protested.

  “We can’t risk these beads falling into their hands. I’m sorry. Elona won’t hang around once she knows we’ve been there so your friends may be all right. We have to go on.”

  Euan started to argue, but Anna shook her head at him. “Finn’s right. Nystrieth already tortures and kills with his gift. Add peristones and he’ll wipe out everyone who stands against him.”

  The Stone Crafter gave Anna a long look then, rather than head for his horse, he went to rummage around under the stumpy trees near the cave.

  “We don’t have time for whatever you’re doing, Euan,” said Finn.

  “It’ll only take a second and we may as well make the most of what tools we have to slow them down.” He pulled a dry branch from under some leaves and lit it in the dying embers of the fire then jogged across to a patch of cassacai. He paused with the branch just above the heart of the weed. “You ready, Anna?”

  Knowing instinctively what Euan needed her to do felt as normal as breathing. Anna didn’t question it. It felt… nice. “I am.”

  The Stone Crafter stuck the burning branch straight into the weed then crossed the path to do the same to another two small patches. He ran at full tilt over to the horses, his heels narrowly escaping dozens of small nodes that suddenly started popping out in all directions. They rooted and began to sprout almost immediately.

  As soon as Euan was safe, Anna pushed crystal energy at the seedlings. The plants merged into one within a few seconds then started growing in every direction until there was a huge, sticky trap covering every inch of the path and the slopes around it.

  “More nightmares!” said Malik.

  “Such a baby,” teased Seleste.

  Down below, Nystrieth’s team had set out before dawn, their unwilling guide assuring them that the first hour was mostly free of obstacles. Elona and Mystrim rode the two ridiculous-looking horses they’d found in the barn, Mystrim carrying the child. Language walked close to her mother, in the lead. Pyteor and Nijel walked immediately behind the horses, Pyteor unhappy about having to walk, but for once knowing better than to mention it. Language’s four crew mates brought up the rear.

  “What do you think she meant by ‘mostly’?” Pyteor whispered to Nijel.

  “You think I can see any better than you when I’ve got a horse’s ass in my face and I’m not supposed to step sideways?” the Healer whispered back. He sighed. The Concealer was not the sharpest arrow in the quiver. “When we zigzag, it’s to pass that green stuff over there or a wet bit. I think anyway. It’s not like the light is brilliant. Just be glad she seems to know where she’s going.”

  Pyteor was bored. He liked the action bits of the job, but Elona was right: he wasn’t really cut out for it. He thought longingly of the three light benders competing in the alley in Ionantis City, but he doubted Nystrieth would appreciate a message saying, ‘Sorry, decided to go to University. I quit.’ He shivered as he remembered the pain he’d felt in Alscombe before Nystrieth had added the most incredible pleasure he’d ever felt. He’d honestly thought he was going to die and that had been Nystrieth going easy on him for being honest, but the sensation of the agony mixed with more bliss than he’d ever imagined… now that he would do anything to feel again, even if it meant trudging over endless boring islands.

  Elona was also bored. The sun coming up had revealed the path meandering across the flat, soggy land to the hills beyond but also the child’s mother looking round anxiously every few paces. Elona was happy she was motivated, but it was starting to get under her skin. An hour of it was too much. “Tell her to keep her eyes on the path and up the pace or I’ll let my friend here explore under the brat’s skirt.” Mystrim grinned evilly for effect, but the girl was much too young for him. He was no pervert.

  Looking for something to occupy her, the Reader fished in her bag for the huge beads they’d found in the chest at the bottom of the crofter’s bed. She rolled them in her hands and wondered what they did, why Nystrieth wanted them so badly. All he’d said was they were Shaper tools and that the black would make him unstoppable. He was unstoppable already, she thought proudly. Rybis and his ginger spy certainly had nothing to match the Emperor. A memory of the White they’d come across a few weeks ago flashed into her mind. Nystrieth had said others would deal with her so she was almost certainly dead by now though. Weak and inexperienced, she would have been easy pickings.

  “They look like nothing,” Mystrim said.

  “We have the wrong gift, weather mage.”

  “Do you think that White is still around?”

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p; Elona was surprised how closely Mystrim’s thoughts mirrored her own. “I doubt it.”

  “Still, if she came on that ship with Braxton and she has peristones…”

  “We deal with it when it happens, if it happens. Our master told us someone was taking care of her. We must have faith.”

  “Like we had in Sesi?”

  Elona glowered at her companion and silence fell for another hour.

  “We’ve passed that marsh at least three times already,” Pyteor complained.

  Mystrim realised the Concealer’s whining hid a valid point for once. “What kind of game is she playing, sailor?” he asked. “Is she taking us in circles?”

  “She says not,” replied Language. “Much of the land looks similar and we have to go around lots of bits that are too dangerous to cross so it seems like we aren’t going forward, but if you keep your eye on the hills, you’ll see we’re making progress. We should be a Mistress Petrie’s in three or four hours.”

  “Six or seven hours to do ten miles?” Elona exclaimed. “No way. Tell her to up the pace. We get there less than two hours or the brat is a plaything for every man here.”

  The woman set off at a jog and the men lengthened their strides to match. One caught the back of Nijel’s heels and stumbled off the path. His comrades almost fell about laughing when he tried to walk back and his feet wouldn’t move. Elona turned in anger at their foolishness but found herself chuckling as the man fell flat on his back. It seemed he was glued to the ground.

  “What is this stuff?” he screamed. “Help me!”

  “Something to be avoided, it seems,” laughed Elona. “You there, yes, you. Get his pack.”

  A second sailor gingerly edged his way forward to pick up the sailor’s discarded bag as the others continued their journey. “Sorry, mate,” he whispered unconvincingly before swinging the bag over his shoulder and jogging to catch up with the others. The Captain had promised an equal share of the thirty gold a day he’d negotiated for their services. The fewer who made it back, the more they earned.