by CJ Brightley
“I’ll do it,” I said.
The Ruler’s husband’s eyebrows raised. “You don’t even know what it is,” he said.
“What does that matter?” I demanded. “I don’t want to kill off magic. If I can help save it, of course I’ll do it!”
The Ruler’s husband gave his wife a meaningful look. Her eyebrows narrowed, and she watched me suspiciously.
“You seem to have a lot more faith in her than I would, Lancen,” she said dangerously. “Also, may I remind you whose decision the judgment is?”
“She was found in Central, wasn’t she?” the Ruler’s husband asked mildly. “The one place where you don’t have the ultimate authority.”
The Ruler’s face twisted.
Nodding, the Ruler’s husband stepped forward to stand next to her. He made no move to untie me, but he also looked straight at me without any apparent nervousness or shame. “What my wife told you is correct. But it’s only part of the truth. The first role of a rising Keeper is to destroy the old system. The second is to create something new in its place.”
I stopped breathing. What? What?
“Of course, you can imagine this is an awesome responsibility,” the Ruler’s husband went on calmly, as if he hadn’t just delivered something shocking. “It happens regularly, every three hundred years or so. Geo replaced sunstream. Agri replaced blood. Magic replaced geo. Status replaced agri. But the thing is, the Rulership doesn’t really need a new system. What is needs is for magic to keep on working. So, what I’m proposing is this.”
He glanced over at his wife, who glowered and said nothing.
The Ruler’s husband turned back to me and continued.
“When the time comes that you are responsible to create a new system,” he said, “I want you to create magic again. Exactly as it was before, no changes necessary. Do you agree?”
I swallowed. My mouth was dry. I was . . . I was . . . supposed to create a new system? The sheer scale of it boggled me. Except he didn’t want me to even do that. My feelings were a jumbled mess of uncertainty. A new system? Saving magic instead? I felt confused and frightened.
“I’ll make this easy for you,” the Ruler’s husband said dryly. “You’ll survive if you agree. You won’t if you don’t agree.”
I looked at his eyes, which were devoid of any sign of mercy, and shivered.
“She could always just lie, you know,” the Ruler said impatiently. “How could we possibly count on that as a guarantee?”
“Oh, because we know where she’ll emerge from,” the Ruler’s husband said lightly. “If she betrays us, we’ll simply see that she dies as soon as she makes the new system.”
“What good would that do?” the Ruler demanded. “Magic would still be dead!”
“True, but I suspect she has some sense of self-preservation,” the Ruler’s husband said. “What do you say, Raneh? Do you agree?”
Shock coursed through my veins. He knew my name. He’d actually used my name. I’d been beginning to think no one here would ever be bothered to learn it. Yaika was the only person who had called me by it since we’d come here.
“I . . . I agree,” I stuttered, feeling sweat break out underneath my sleeves.
“You see?” the Ruler’s husband said with a glance at his wife, his voice casually pleasant. “I told you she could be reasoned with.”
“You have more confidence in a criminal’s word than I do,” the Ruler said darkly.
Indignation rose in throat. I’m not a criminal on purpose! I wanted to scream.
But I looked at the two people standing in front of me, one hostile and one totally uncaring, and I got the feeling I was balanced on a teetering staircase that could topple any minute. So I wisely kept my protest trapped and said nothing.
The next part wasn’t any fun. They locked me in a small room off to the side of their bedroom, which I got the impression was normally meant for a Ruler’s birth child, but was currently empty because they only had one of them. It drove me crazy that I could hear slight murmurs, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying.
They’re definitely talking about me, I thought furiously, struggling to get my hands out of the ropes. They hadn’t even pulled me out of the chair before moving me. Shouldn’t I get to be part of it?
My hands burst loose. I lurched forward, startled, and craned my head to glance behind me. It seemed my magic had jumped out and frayed those past the point where they could hold me.
Well, for once, you were useful! I thought.
I scrambled to untie the ropes on my legs, and then ran to the door and pressed my ear against it. Unfortunately, while the murmurs sounded louder, I still couldn’t pick out any words clearly. I groaned in frustration and squeezed my hands into fists. If only magic could enhance sound!
Wait a minute. Maybe it could. If magic could enhance space, maybe it could make sound louder, as well. I stepped back, trying to remember what Lala did when she prepared our downstairs for a party. Then, tentatively, I put my hands out and moved slowly in a circle.
Louder . . . louder . . . louder . . . louder . . . I thought.
The walls began to expand around me. I gulped and jerked my hands back and stopped spinning. The walls obligingly stopped moving away. I stared at the now-slightly-larger bedroom with expanded, dusty furniture, and felt frustrated. That wasn’t what I needed. How did I get sound? If only I knew how magicians did things!
I looked over at the expanded window, wondering wildly if I could get out of it. The window had gotten bigger along with the rest of the room, so it might be possible to crawl out through it. But what then? I’d be outside the third floor, likely standing on the second floor’s roof, and I somehow doubted there were any ladders down to the ground from here.
Besides, there was still the basic problem that the Ruler knew where I lived. What would I actually do if I escaped? Spend my whole life running, like a wandering artist or something? Never see my family again?
Besides, there was the chance that I could still save magic. Running away now before I knew how would be horrible irresponsibility.
It’s all right, I told myself, trying to calm my beating heart. They’re not talking about how they secretly still plan to kill me and just offered me the other deal to make me docile or something. The Ruler’s husband wouldn’t have lied to me . . .
But would he? I knew nothing about him, after all. Beneath that unemotional exterior, he might actually enjoy giving people false hope before crushing them. Or maybe the Ruler was going to convince him that it would be better to just kill me. I had to hear what they were saying!
Wait. The murmur of voices had stopped. Did that mean they were coming —
The door jerked open. The Ruler took one look at me, standing up and without ropes, and glanced back at her husband with apparent irritation.
“You see?” she asked. “That’s just emphasizing my point.”
“That’s emphasizing my point,” her husband said. “Why wait for magic to die naturally when we can solve the whole thing today?”
“We can’t even trust her to stay where we put her!”
“We won’t have to trust her to stay put unless we try to keep her restrained for years.”
“Once upon a jumping rhyme, now I’m gonna bounce in time!” I sang loudly.
They both stopped and stared at me.
“Well, you were making about as much as sense,” I said defensively. “Can I have this conversation explained to me, please?”
The Ruler’s eyebrows narrowed. She did not look more inclined to show me mercy.
“There’s an option to finish the absorption of magic right away,” the Ruler’s husband said offhandedly. “Only a rising Keeper could use it, and only if they knew how. It was invented by the first Keeper of sunstream.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Y-you mean I wouldn’t have to keep on living in Central for years longer? I could just get it over with immediately?”
The Ruler shook her head. “We wou
ld need more time to prepare. Perhaps after next harvest season.”
Next harvest season?! I thought. That’s more than a year away! And I know you’ll keep me prisoner here until I’ve finished!
I frantically sorted through potential arguments that might convince her. I could run away during that timeframe? No; that was a false bluff, and she’d figure it out quickly. At some point during that year, I’d be able to persuade Yaika to help me? No; that would just get my sister in trouble, and perhaps convince the Ruler to not let her see me.
Aha! I knew what to say!
“With that much time, I might end up thinking about other ideas for systems,” I said, in a mild and logical tone. “Isn’t it better to have me start without having any other ideas?”
The Ruler’s eyebrows narrowed.
Silently, I wished I’d kept my mouth shut. I think I just made her even more eager to kill me.
“That was exactly a point I made,” the Ruler’s husband said, shaking the wrinkles out of his shirt cuffs. I blinked, realizing he must have washed his hands and changed his shirt while they had been talking. The one he was wearing now was pale green and had ruffles around the collar and cuffs. “Right now, she’s perfectly willing to cooperate. We should take advantage of that.”
Seriously? I thought. A life or death situation, and you’re changing your clothes while you’re arguing about it? Seriously?
“Have you forgotten,” the Ruler asked tightly, “what else will happen if we let her do as you’re suggesting?”
I stood up straighter, eager to hear her explain.
The Ruler’s husband paused. “Ah. I did forget about that. You’re right. There might be wisdom in spending time preparing.”
“At least a year,” the Ruler said firmly.
The Ruler’s husband nodded slowly. “Perhaps your point is well made. Very well. Next harvest season.”
I wanted to scream and throw things. I tried to keep my voice steady and reasonable. “But I think that overall —” I began.
“This conversation is over,” the Ruler said curtly. “What you think doesn’t matter. The decision is made.”
With that, she turned and walked out of the door. Her husband didn’t so much as glance back as he followed her.
I watched the door shut and heard the lock click, my mouth gaping in outrage. They really didn’t care about my input a bit, did they?
Well, that’s just dandy! I thought furiously. I’ll show you that I deserve some say in my own life! I’m going to find whatever that shortcut is, and I’m going to use it. Tonight.
Okay, so, the thing about determination is that it doesn’t replace actual knowledge. About anything.
It was all very well to say “tonight,” but three weeks later, I was still locked in, and in an even tinier room. It was dismal. The only bright spot was that I was no longer so full of magic that it itched like crazy and kept escaping, but the corresponding boredom from my situation was even worse.
At first, the Ruler had ignored my requests for groverweed, but after the outer wall of my room had crumbled while I was touching it, she’d glared at me and returned two hours later with some groverweed from outside of Central. Finally being able to drain my magic was a major relief.
But then she’d also escorted me out of her network of rooms, past a glowing pillar of light at the heart of the building, and into a barren, closet-like space. It was, apparently, a mathematicians’ room. It was, apparently, on the opposite side of the building from the room where her daughter slept. And it had no window. Just a pot of glowing flowers that dangled limply from the ceiling.
“Use magic on anything else, and you’ll find my patience vanishing about your unwelcome imposition,” she informed me. “I’ll bring you groverweed every morning. You’ll use it to drain all of your magic out. And you won’t attempt to use it, ever.”
That’s what I asked for in the first place! I thought indignantly.
The Ruler’s husband brought a plate of food for me three times a day, a little later than I thought were normal mealtimes. I figured he remembered to bring food for me whenever he’d just finished eating.
I kept trying to ask him questions, hoping to get useful information or at least engage him in some sort of conversation. He and the Ruler were the only people I ever got to see, and I was starved for human interaction. But she only ever pursed her lips and glared when she looked at me. And as for him . . . well . . .
“Why is magic dying in the north faster than anywhere else in the Rulership?” I asked him on the morning after I’d been shoved into my new room.
“Not straight north. North-northeast,” the Ruler’s husband said shortly, setting down a bowl of thin soup with a green, mossy garnish I hated on the huge desk that took up most of the space here. Even the bed was tiny. “I presume because you lived in the south-southwest. Magic would have been draining towards you.” He paused thoughtfully for a moment. “Actually, that would be helpful if we have to look for a new rising Keeper again.”
In case they decide to kill me? I winced. Okay, that question had backfired on me.
Another time, I asked him about the other systems. I had memorized the names he’d mentioned and kept hoping he’d say something else about them.
“What was the agri system like?” I asked eagerly, watching him collect my empty dishes from the last meal.
“Plants,” he said.
“What about geo?”
He put an empty bowl on top of a plate with a clink. “Rocks.”
“What about sunstream?” I asked, my heart hammering. That was the one he’d mentioned that had created . . . something that could get me out of this. I really wanted to know about it. “How did it work?”
“Light.” He didn’t pause on his way out.
I stared at the locked door in frustration. At least he was willing to talk, but he wasn’t saying much that was helpful to me.
This continued, like some sort of struggle of attrition, for weeks. I was steadily becoming more and more frustrated, and less eager to do anything they wanted from me. And then, one morning, something changed.
I’d been lying in bed, staring gloomily up at the ceiling, contemplating another day of wasting time as much as I could to try to get the interminable hours to pass.
At first the Ruler had let me sew, until she’d realized the spineleaf needle was too sharp and could be used to attack her. Then she’d let me paint, until she’d noticed that some of the colors could be toxic if eaten. Currently she was allowing me fold paper, an activity which was apparently popular in the northwest. I couldn’t think why, because it was exceptionally boring. I dreaded to think what kind of activity she would deign to let me do once she figured out that I could give her a papercut or something.
So when I heard the door unlock, I just turned my head languidly, knowing that it was the time the Ruler usually came. Then I saw my sister standing in front of her.
“Yaika!” I cried, scrambling up to a sitting position. “What are you doing here? How — why —”
“She’s finished her training,” the Ruler said coldly. “I told her she could visit her family today. She requested to see you instead.”
“Raneh!” Yaika cried, squeezing past the Ruler and around the desk to fling her arms around me. “I’ve missed you so much! I have so much to tell you —”
“And in so little time,” the Ruler said brusquely. “I don’t have any to waste, and I’m not going to leave you two unsupervised.”
“I wouldn’t mind going with you on your Road duty,” Yaika said eagerly. “I could take her with me, and we could talk in the same room as you, so you could hear every—”
“No,” the Ruler said shortly. “I’m not going to give her a chance to escape.”
Looking crestfallen and hurt, as if she couldn’t believe the Ruler would suspect her of such a thing, Yaika turned back to me.
“Well . . . how’ve you been?” she asked. “Have you . . . have you . . . been okay?”
<
br /> Are you kidding? I thought. I’m bored out of my mind, the only person I ever see besides the Ruler is her husband to bring food and take away the chamber pot, and I’m supposed to deal with this for another year! No, I’m not okay!
“I’m . . . I’m fine,” I said, eyeing our supervisor. “The Ruler has been quite generous with me.”
The Ruler nodded curtly, like she fully agreed.
“Why did you do it?!” Yaika blurted out. “Why did you use magic? Why did you cheat? You didn’t need to! We had plenty of status back home! And why did you do it in Central? Were you trying to show off? I just don’t get it, Raneh!”
“It’s not my fault!” I began indignantly. “I —”
The Ruler cleared her throat loudly. I glanced over at her. She had a very dangerous look on her face.
I turned back at my sister. “What did the Ruler tell you?” I asked, resigned.
Yaika sniffed. “She says she doesn’t know how you have it, but — but you haven’t taken the oath of the land yet, so they’re going to show mercy, and — and once they figure out what you did, you’ll take the oath of magic, and they’ll let you live. But why, Raneh?!” she wailed. “If you wanted to be a magician, you could’ve just done that in the first place!”
I squeezed my fists. I wanted so, so badly to correct her, to explain the whole thing. But I couldn’t, with the Ruler right there.
“I’m sure the Ruler can explain that to you somehow,” I said through clenched teeth.
“I imagine she was jealous of your competency,” the Ruler said. “That often happens with blood siblings of Rulers’ heirs.”
Thank you, I thought indignantly. Thank you very much. Come up with the worst possible reason for it, would you?
Yaika’s lower lip trembled. She looked like she was about to cry.
“No,” I snarled, glaring at the Ruler. “It wasn’t because of you. I can’t explain why, but it definitely wasn’t because of you.”
Yaika glanced between us, back and forth and back and forth. She looked less devastated and more confused.
The Ruler’s lips pursed, but she said nothing.