by Dima Zales
“There were two older women with her.”
“Please describe them for me,” Augusta requested, although she was beginning to guess at their identities.
“It is Maya and Esther, as you would suspect,” Ganir interrupted. Looking at the man, he waved toward the door. “You can go now, clown.”
“Are you sure it’s those old crones?” Augusta asked when the man left the room. She remembered them well. The two old women had constantly meddled in her former fiancé’s life, showing up at his house unannounced and generally fussing over him. Blaise tolerated their attentions with good humor, but Augusta had found them annoying.
“Quite sure,” Ganir confirmed. “I had both witnesses use a Life Capture and recall the event.”
“So what’s next?” Augusta asked, taking a few steps toward his desk. “We now know where the creature is, right?”
“No, actually, we don’t.” Ganir leaned forward, looking at her intently. “Apparently, Esther and Maya’s house is abandoned. No one close to them was able to say where the women went. It seems like we’ll have to wait longer to locate the creature—or we could try reasoning with Blaise again.”
Augusta frowned. Talking to Blaise again sounded like a terrible idea to her. She certainly wasn’t about to confront him by herself. “Do you think he would talk to you?” she asked doubtfully.
Ganir considered that for a moment. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “If I thought he’d talk to me, I would not have gotten you involved in this. But it might be worth a try at this point.”
“Didn’t he vow to kill you on sight?” Augusta asked, recalling Blaise’s fury with the man he’d once regarded as a second father.
“He did indeed.” Ganir’s face darkened with something resembling sorrow. “But we have to get through to him somehow, to contain the situation before the rest of the Council hears about it.”
“Yes.” Augusta could see Ganir’s point. “Something must be done and swiftly, before this creature has a chance to wreak further havoc.”
The Council Leader nodded, but there was a thoughtful expression on his face. “Have you noticed that she saved a child?” he said slowly, cocking his head to the side. “This creation of Blaise’s might not be as monstrous as you imagine.”
“What?” Augusta stared at him in disbelief. “No. That doesn’t mean anything. One act of compassion—if that’s what it was—does not eliminate the threat that this thing poses. You know that as well as I do.”
“Actually, I’m not sure I agree,” Ganir said quietly. “I think we need to study her before we make any rash decisions.”
“Are you saying you no longer wish to destroy it?”
“I never said we would destroy it. I need to know more about her before I do something so irrevocable.”
“You just want to use it,” Augusta said incredulously, the truth beginning to dawn on her. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? You just want to use the creature to gain more power—”
Ganir’s expression hardened, his eyes flashing with anger. “You’re accusing me of grabbing for power? I’m already the head of the Council. Why don’t you take a closer look at your own affairs instead?”
Confused, Augusta took a step back. She had no idea what the old man was talking about.
“Leave me now,” he said, gesturing dismissively toward the door. “I will send word when I hear more.”
Chapter 31: Gala
The market was disappointing. Gala had been expecting something along the lines of the fair she’d seen the other day, but this was nothing like that. There were fewer products on display, and even the trinkets and jewelry seemed drab and of worse quality than what she’d seen in Blaise’s village. There were also fewer people actually buying the goods; the majority seemed to be simply browsing, often looking at the products with desperate longing on their emaciated faces. Still, Gala was glad to be out of the inn. Yanking off the shawl, she tied it around her waist, enjoying the cooling breeze on her hair.
As they ventured deeper into the market, Gala saw a number of stalls with foodstuffs, including a variety of breads, cheeses, and dried fruit. It was a more popular area of the market; most villagers seemed to be gathered in this section. Esther bought each of them a pastry filled with something rich and sweet, and Gala was greedily consuming the delicious treat when she heard some yelling behind her.
The noise came from the direction of one of the bread stalls. Curious, Gala turned to see what was going on and saw a figure running through the stalls. There were shouts from the merchant, and a tall man dressed in black started chasing after the runner.
Remembering the trial she’d seen at Blaise’s village, Gala wondered if the running person was a thief. She could hear the merchant screaming that he’d been robbed, and she took a few steps in the direction where the figure had been heading. The other market visitors seemed to have the same idea, and Gala quickly found herself swept up by the crowd, everyone pushing and shoving to get to whatever spectacle seemed to be ahead. Casting a glance behind her, Gala saw Esther and Maya hurrying after the crowd with anxious looks on their faces.
Desperate to figure out what was going on, Gala focused on her sense of hearing, and suddenly she could filter out extraneous noise. Now she could hear the sounds of the person running in the distance, as well as the heavier footsteps chasing after it.
“No! Please, let me go!” The high-pitched scream was undoubtedly feminine, and Gala realized that the runner was a young woman—a young woman who had just gotten caught, judging by her hysterical pleas.
As the crowd carried her forward, Gala could hear a harsh male voice speaking of justice, and she managed to break free, now running toward the middle of the market where the screams were coming from.
There were already spectators gathered there, surrounding a small figure huddling on the ground. The black-garbed man was standing over her, holding her arm in an inescapable grip. Looking around, Gala could see fear and pity reflected on many of the faces, as well as gleeful anticipation on a few. She didn’t know what was about to happen, but some kind of intuition gave her a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She wished Esther and Maya were here, so she could ask them about this, but they were far behind her at this point.
Staring at the girl, she noticed that she was thin—far thinner than Gala herself—and that her clothing was in rags. Her long brown hair was tangled, and the expression on her pale face was that of sheer terror.
Another man, this one dressed in richer, more elaborate clothing, pushed his way through the crowd, joining the young woman and her captor. There was a sword in a leather scabbard hanging on his left hip and a cruel smile playing on his lips. “You are going to be honored, thief,” he said, addressing the frightened girl. “I am Davish, the overseer of these lands.”
The thief visibly flinched, the expression on her face changing to that of utter despair. It was as if she had given up all hope, Gala thought, transfixed by the scene in front of her.
“You are being accused of stealing,” the overseer continued. “Do you know the punishment for thievery?”
The young woman nodded, tears running down her face. “My lord, please spare my life . . . I took a loaf of bread to feed my two remaining children. My youngest already passed away from starvation. Please, my lord, don’t do this—”
The overseer looked amused. “You are in luck,” he said. “In honor of the upcoming games at the Coliseum, I am in a good mood and inclined to be merciful.”
Gala exhaled, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She was glad the woman would be spared. Had they been seriously considering killing her for stealing a loaf of bread? The girl had only done it to save the lives of her children, and it seemed incredibly cruel to punish her for that.
The thief sobbed with relief. “I am forever in your debt, my lord—”
“Guard, take her to the execution stone.” The overseer issued the order to the black-clothed man. Looking up at the crowd
, he announced, “Because I am merciful, her life will be spared. As punishment, she will simply lose her right hand, so she remembers never to steal again.”
And before Gala could register the full meaning of the man’s words, the guard took action. Holding the girl by her arm, he dragged her, kicking and screaming, toward a slab in the center of the square. Ignoring her struggles, he pressed her forearm against the stone surface, causing her to release the small loaf of bread that she had been clutching in her fist. The evidence of her crime fell to the ground, rolling in the dirt.
Gala instinctively started forward, trying to get through the crowd, but the people around her were packed so tightly that she could hardly move. Her anxiety spiking, Gala squeezed her eyes shut and tried to recall how she had teleported that one time. Nothing came to mind; she simply couldn’t make it work.
Opening her eyes, she stared in helpless horror at the scene unfolding in front of her.
The girl was still screaming, her voice hoarse with terror, and Gala could see Davish unsheathing his sword and approaching the girl.
No, Gala thought in desperation, this could not be happening.
Making one last heroic attempt, she started shoving her way through the crowd, elbowing and kicking to make her way to the front. People were pushing back at her, yelling, but she didn’t care. She needed to get to this girl before it was too late. Up ahead, Davish lifted the sword into the air.
Gala doubled her efforts, heedless of any injury to herself.
The sword swung down with deadly force, and the thief’s agonized scream pierced the air. Bright red blood sprayed everywhere, covering the stone platform and splattering on the overseer’s elaborate clothing. The guard released his hold on the girl’s arm, taking a step back.
Stunned, Gala saw the girl’s severed hand fall to the ground next to the bread—and felt something inside her snap again.
“No!” Every bit of her outrage poured out of Gala in an ear-splitting shout. All around her, the crowd seemed to stumble, most spectators falling to their knees and clutching their heads. All of a sudden, Gala found herself free to move, and she ran toward the bloody slab of rock where the girl was huddled, moaning and crying.
It seemed like there was blood everywhere, the metallic scent permeating the air. How could there be so much blood? Then Gala saw that the girl was not the only one bleeding. Everyone around them was holding their ears, trying to contain the red liquid trickling out.
And Gala realized with sick horror it was her fault—that her shout had somehow caused this awful occurrence.
Dazed, she approached the thief, who was practically bathing in blood at this point and clutching desperately at her stump of a wrist. Driven by some unknown instinct, Gala put her arms around the girl, hugging her gently. And in that moment, it was as though their bodies became one.
With every fiber of her being, Gala reached out with love and kindness to the victim of this unspeakable injustice. She could feel warm energy slowly flowing from her body into the girl’s. Everything inside Gala was focused on one goal and one goal only—to undo the damage that the executioner had caused. She could feel the girl’s pain, and she took it into herself, freeing the young woman of that burden. The feeling was agonizing and illuminating at the same time; until then, Gala had had only a rudimentary, book-learned understanding of pain and suffering. Now, however, it was real to her, and she vowed silently to make it so that there would be less of it in the world.
What was happening now was being done by the part of Gala’s mind that she had no control over; she was vaguely aware of that. But it didn’t matter, because Gala could sense that it was working, that the girl’s pain was slowly dissolving and ebbing away. When there was no more pain left, Gala let go of the girl and stepped back.
The young woman stood there, her dirt-streaked face serene and joyful, showing no trace of pain or fear. The bloody stump of her arm was no longer gushing; instead, as Gala watched, the hand slowly re-grew itself, each bone, muscle, and tendon gradually lengthening and thickening. Soon, the fingers appeared, and the hand was as it had been before, slim and feminine—and very much alive.
When Gala looked back at the crowd, she saw that everybody was kneeling, the expressions on their faces strangely blissful. There was blood on their clothing, but nobody seemed to be bleeding or in pain anymore. She had done this too, Gala realized with relief. She had not only taken away the girl’s pain, but also that of others in the vicinity, undoing the harm she herself had inadvertently caused.
In the distance, she could see Esther and Maya approaching the edge of the crowd, but Gala knew she was not done yet. The guard and the overseer were next to the girl, kneeling in the same position as the rest of the crowd and rapturously staring at Gala. She came up to them, knowing what she had to do.
She started with the overseer, putting her hands on his temples. She needed to understand why he had done something so horrible. “How could you?” she thought, letting the question reverberate in her head, over and over, as she lost herself in what felt like a series of Life Captures.
He was a small child of rich parents—a child who looked nothing like his father, a child who wished daily that he had been born to a different family. The child relived the many cruelties he had suffered, the endless beatings and demeaning words. Time sped forward, and the child was a young man who acted more like his father with every passing day—a young man who needed to lash out at others to cope with the pain left inside. As the young man matured, he found himself becoming someone who craved power, someone who needed to control others so nobody could hurt him again.
Now Gala understood. The cruel man was as damaged in his own way as the unfortunate girl he’d tried to hurt. The warm, sharing feeling from before came over Gala again, and she reached out to the man’s broken mind, trying to mend it as she had healed the girl’s hand. The mind resisted, and Gala understood that by doing this, she would be changing the man fundamentally, making him become someone else. Deep inside, she knew she might not have the right to do this, but the instinct to heal was too strong. She needed to do this so he would not hurt anyone else in the future. Gathering her strength, she pushed harder into the overseer’s mind and felt it finally letting her in.
“Gala! Gala, are you listening to me?” Maya’s voice penetrated the haze surrounding her, bringing Gala out of her mindless state.
Blinking, she stared at Maya and Esther, becoming aware for the first time of the deep exhaustion overtaking her body.
“Come,” Esther said, reaching for Gala. She looked anxious, and Gala let her guide her away, too weary to resist as the two women led her out of the square. All around them, she could see the spectators slowly coming out of their strange bliss-like state and starting to look around with confusion. Maya quickly wrapped the shawl around Gala’s head again, covering her with the thick scratchy material.
When they got back to the inn, Gala collapsed on her bed and was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Chapter 32: Blaise
Blaise was analyzing his last spell when he heard knocking at the door. His heart jumped, and a tendril of fury snaked down his spine. Was this the Council making their move?
Rushing down to the storage room, he swiftly grabbed a bunch of cards he had written for just such a confrontation after his brother’s death. It was a mixture of offensive and defensive spells, each optimized for the particular strengths and weaknesses of the Council members.
In the meantime, the knocking continued.
Thinking furiously, Blaise took a generic defense spell and fed it into the Interpreter Stone. It would afford him some protection against both mental and physical attacks, hopefully buying him some time. Approaching the entryway, he called out, “Who is it?”
“Blaise, it’s me, Ganir.”
Blaise’s anger doubled. How dare the old man show his face here after what he’d done to Louie? Ganir’s betrayal was in some way worse than Augusta’s; the old sorcerer had
always treated Louie as a son, and nobody had been more shocked than Blaise to learn of Ganir’s vote in favor of his brother’s punishment.
Filled with fury, Blaise began to speak, instinctively resorting to a spell designed to paralyze his opponent. He didn’t think; he just acted. If the spell succeeded, he had no idea what he would do with the unmoving body of the Council Leader, but he didn’t care at the moment, too consumed with anger to be fully rational.
After he was done, Blaise took a deep breath, trying to regain control of his emotions. He didn’t know if the spell had been successful, but there was a chance that he had surprised Ganir. When it came to battle, unanticipated moves were the best, and it was unlikely the old sorcerer would’ve expected him to use such a simple spell.
He felt himself getting calm and clear-headed. Very calm.
Too calm, Blaise realized. Ganir was using a pacifying spell against him—a spell that had partially penetrated Blaise’s mental defenses.
The thought of being manipulated infuriated Blaise again, and he felt the unnatural calm dissipate, bringing back some of the volatile emotions he’d experienced earlier. However, Ganir’s spell must’ve been at least somewhat effective, since he was no longer feeling quite so murderous toward the Council Leader—something that Blaise bitterly, but calmly, resented.
At that moment, he heard Ganir’s sorcery-enhanced voice. It was loud and clear, as if the old man was standing right next to him and shouting. “Blaise, I am extremely disappointed,” the voice said. “I know you hold a grudge, but I thought you were better than this. Attacking me without even looking me in the eye? That’s not the Blaise I remember.”
Blaise felt his fury returning. The old man was a master of mental games, and Blaise hated being manipulated.
“I will give you a second to walk away,” Blaise shouted back, speaking to Ganir for the first time. Tauntingly, he added, “And you’re right—I’m not the Blaise you remember. That Blaise died along with Louie. You remember Louie, don’t you?”