by T. A. Miles
“Korsten, you’re awake!” came a sudden, loud, and entirely too cheerful voice.
Korsten looked up to the source of the shouting and was unable to either frown or smile at the bright face of the young woman who lived above him, leaning over her own balcony, the ends of her long blond hair dangling almost within arm’s reach. If he hadn’t recently been told that mages were unable to procure offspring, Korsten would have bet his father’s fortune that this charming girl child belonged to Ashwin. Except that her eyes weren’t green. Still, she resembled the man Korsten pictured if Ashwin had not been layered in glamour from his ingestion of the blood lilies; very blond and still very handsome with a winning smile.
“I’m coming down!” Lerissa announced.
“Can’t you use the door?” Korsten asked her as she began climbing over the edge of the balustrade above, onto the trellis that connected the balconies.
“It’s too far away,” she told him, completely disregarding the damage she might have been doing to the oversized blue robe she was wrapped in, or herself, as she scrambled over vine and latticework, catching more than once. No less than five curses escaped the girl before she was finally on the stone railing that rimmed Korsten’s balcony. He decided to help her before she lost her balance and fell the remaining stories to the stone yard below.
Smiling, Lerissa dropped her hands onto Korsten’s shoulders while he hauled her to safety by the waist. Once on her feet, she laughed. “See how much faster that was?”
“As long as Merran doesn’t take the same route,” Korsten replied dryly.
“I don’t think that he will,” Lerissa said, making a vaguely amused face as she apparently tried to picture it.
Korsten drew away from her and leaned back onto the balustrade. He looked the blue-clad girl over, then said, “You don’t strike me as particularly rational.”
“I’m particularly clever,” she replied. “Quick is my Ambient talent, linked to blue. My predecessor focused on black and gave me Balance, Strength, and Quick, of course with a physical emphasis.”
“And yet you wound up in a tangle of silk and vine upon my balcony the first time you dropped onto it.”
Lerissa folded her hands behind her back. “Well, I’m still trying to get them to Resonate. I thought it might help if I exercise them. That was partly how my life-mentor got my main talent to make Ambience so rapidly. She had me working cryptic puzzles and solving complicated logic problems day after day for hours on end. I thought I was going to lose my mind! And then one evening I came upon a tactical plan Mage-Superior Ceth had been drawing up for a battle in South Meadows and worked out all the little flaws. I didn’t know anything about war strategy, but somehow I managed to make sense out of it and, though the odds were terrible, I saw how the four mages Ceth wanted to send in could make the necessary difference in pulling out a victory.”
“Against?” Korsten prompted.
“Against the Morennish army. They’d gotten very active in the southern regions at that time.”
Korsten nodded slowly, eyeing the very young woman curiously. “Yes, I would have been probably around two at the time. How long have you been here?”
Lerissa took a moment to consider. “I was fifteen when I arrived … and it’s been almost thirty-eight years. I really shouldn’t be at Adept status yet. All that qualifies me is my Ambient talent, but they’ll only let Adepts operate in the field and there just aren’t enough of us.” She narrowed her eyes contemplatively. “I think they plan to push you a great deal.”
Korsten wasn’t paying much attention to that last bit. He was stuck on the first part of her statement. Thirty-eight years. Gods, the girl is old enough to be my mother and she looks young enough to be my niece. I have nieces as young as she looks. And Ashwin … four hundred years? Was he serious? I wonder how long Merran’s been here. Maybe a century … maybe longer? And what did she say about pushing? Could that have been what Ashwin was doing yesterday by running me all over that training room? Did it work? Is that why I was standing on my head this morning? I don’t feel any different, though.
Lerissa distracted him, by suddenly reaching out and laying her fingertips gently upon the wound at the base of his neck. “Does this hurt much?” she asked, and then her light touch drifted away.
Korsten touched it himself, checking for more blood. It felt as if it had crusted over. Grimacing, he answered the girl. “It stings a bit and refuses to heal. I’d like to know where it came from.”
“You don’t remember?” Lerissa asked him, serious now, appearing somewhat sympathetic as well. “That’s where the demon bit you.”
“The demon … bit….” Korsten thought too suddenly of Renmyr. He recalled now, vividly, how his lover had been kissing him. He remembered giving himself to the seduction, staring over Renmyr’s shoulder, feeling strange, and then feeling a sudden pain … at the base of his neck.
“Most of the time the Vadryn make a ghastly mess of their prey,” Lerissa told him. “I’m sure you’ve seen that. Sometimes, though, they can get strange and if they’re in a mood, there’s no telling where they’ll try to siphon the life out of their victim. If they want the individual to last, which is usually only when they’re feeding out of desire rather than to satisfy hunger or unguarded bloodlust, they’ll sometimes leave their mark relatively small and in a less conspicuous place.”
The girl drew a pause, then added carefully, “The way it was told to me … the Vadryn who tried to take you wanted to keep you … as a lover.”
“We were lovers,” Korsten told her as civilly as he could, ignoring the tears suddenly throbbing behind his eyes. “But he wasn’t….” Catching the sob that tried to escape, he gained control and said conclusively, “Renmyr Camirey is my love and he always will be. I have nothing to live for without him.” Before the girl could contradict him, like everyone here seemed so bent on doing, he added, “I have nothing that I care to live for without him.”
Lerissa lifted a hand to push back strands of her blond hair caught by a sudden breeze. She didn’t smile when she said, “Maybe that will change.”
“It won’t,” Korsten assured her.
In the stubborn silence that followed, Lerissa eventually carried herself to the trellis and scrambled up onto it. She looked back at Korsten before proceeding up to her own room. “I hope it does,” she said in parting.
Korsten watched a black moth flutter after her. Hessath, he reminded himself for no real reason.
At some point after the sun had fully risen, breakfast was brought to him. Korsten found a comfortable chair in his room and carefully took in his first solid meal after months of being sustained by magic. He expected to reject it, but somehow everything sat well in his stomach, including a pair of rolls smothered in a faintly blushed golden glaze that tasted like honey and that he recognized for as much long after the fact.
He’d taken in his first actual taste of the blood lilies, so far as he knew. And he couldn’t say he didn’t feel any different. He certainly did. Afterward, he performed more than a few handstands, among other acrobatic feats, in his wonderfully spacious room and by the time he decided to give attention to the bath a thoroughly impressed Apprentice had drawn for him during his exercise, he was quite glad that Ashwin wasn’t around to tempt him again. With as much energy as he’d suddenly been given, he was in no state to resist the opportunity to burn some of it away.
“You’ll get used to it,” Merran said to him much later, having found Korsten pacing the library while he read. “In fact, you won’t find it near so much of a stimulant after just a few weeks. It comes as a shock to a new body, but your system will conform to it soon enough and know what to expect from then on.”
“I was leaping off the walls,” Korsten told the man, glancing up from the pages spread before him. “Literally.”
Merran was seated at the bottom of one of the iron staircases, doing no
thing in particular. “Coincidentally, I would say, some of your talents Resonated near to the same time. Unless you’ve always been so nimble.”
“Not even as a child,” Korsten answered, still unable to sit.
Merran shrugged. “Well, then no one can oppose your holding full Mage status. You’ll begin to learn spells now. Of course, until Reasoning elevates to Resonant level, the only spells for you to study are somewhat difficult. But that’s always the way with red. It’s the most complicated interval of the Spectrum. Perhaps because it relates so closely to humans at their most complicated state of being.”
“Would you be talking about sex, Merran?”
The black-clad mage scarcely glanced at Korsten. “Sexuality effects the mind and the body. It often confounds both. I prefer the medical perspective myself.”
“Why does that fail to surprise me?” Korsten went back to his reading. He paced a bit more, then finally willed himself to stand still. “Merran, tell me something, would you? What does it mean, having a particularly strong gift of Allurance? I’m not going to be expected to act as a glorified whore, am I? Seducing enemies or something?”
Merran looked at him. And then he said, “You have a way with words, Korsten. Has anyone ever mentioned that to you?”
Korsten nodded absently, eager for the explanation he’d requested. “Well?”
Merran gave his gaze back to nothing in particular. “I wouldn’t expect you to seduce allies, let alone enemies. Nor would anyone else here. Having a gift of Allurance means that you will have a considerable advantage over those who are susceptible to your excessive charm. A demon who might kill another mage outright is liable to hesitate just for the hope of trying to seduce you. Moreover, someone possessed might be drawn to you and, with your focus being red, you’ll be able to detect the demon easier.”
“Why does that make a difference?”
“You’ll be sensitive to blood, whether it runs hot or cold … or foul. It won’t even require a spell. You’ll simply know.”
“I’m not sure I like that,” Korsten admitted. “I’m not sure I can appreciate any of this, but I’m willing to go through with it. Tell me what else red entails.”
Merran thought a moment, then said. “In your case, as you’ve already learned, your physical abilities will become heightened. Always a benefit to facing off with one of the Vadryn. If Song ever comes out of its dormant state, and you master the Siren spell, you’ll be able to lull an individual into a trance just with the sound of your voice.”
“Even a demon?” Korsten wondered aloud.
Merran nodded. “They may be the foulest creatures to walk any plane, but they are also very sensual creatures with the same desires and weaknesses as many humans. Beauty can enchant them. Wanting someone can make them burn … and make them careless. Some demons even provide themselves with the illusion of love and become romantically obsessed with an individual.”
“Illusion?” Korsten echoed, wondering if the Mage-Adept was referring to Renmyr, who was not a demon, but a victim.
Merran looked at him again, as gravely as he had in Haddowyn. “The Vadryn torment the subject of their infatuation. They lie to them and hurt them, willfully, making them little more than their own mindless doll before they are done. Demons are corrupters and murderers, not always in that order.”
Korsten started pacing again and reading, deciding to let the subject alone. If he didn’t he and Merran were going to be arguing again. Truth be told, the man had his faults, but Korsten was getting used to him being around. He gave answers when he had them and he usually meant well, even if his bedside manner was a bit coarse at times. Aside from that the man served as a kind of link to Haddowyn, a last hold on the reality Korsten had left behind him. Without Merran’s presence and the solid memories it was constantly reviving, Korsten might truly have believed he was dreaming.
It seemed both ironic and cruel that Merran would say what he said next. “I came to tell you that I’ve been assigned to a matter in Sulerese.”
“Oh,” Korsten said, ignoring the pangs of bereavement and panic that assailed him inside, with unexpected immediacy.
“I’ll be handing the matter of your physical health to Mage-Adept Lerissa,” Merran continued. “Her talent for Healing has only recently resonated, but she is a fast learner and should be able to care for any injuries or discomforts you acquire in the time that I am gone.”
Since he mentioned it…. “How long will you be gone?”
“It is difficult to say,” Merran answered. “As long as it takes to investigate the nature of the problem and to resolve it, I expect.”
“Oh,” Korsten said again. “Well … try not to get devoured.”
He felt Merran’s very blue eyes on him just then and could only imagine the look on the humorless creature’s face.
Korsten decided not to look at him. He added, “And perhaps this time you could play your hand at diplomacy, rather than storming into town with news of devils and murder. You might earn a warmer reception.”
“Well, I suppose that will all depend on how convinced I am that I’ve fallen into the company of a fool.” Korsten glared at him now, and Merran added, “Over an educated man capable of accepting even the most outrageous claim as a possibility.”
Korsten wasn’t so sure he was going to miss the stability of Merran’s presence after all. “I’m sorry I turned out to be such a disappointment.”
“Did you?” was all Merran said before he rose from his seat on the steps and left the library.
Korsten’s glare softened just a little and while he was sure he would miss the company of the only person he felt he actually knew here, he felt inclined to say, “Bastard.”
“Why do mages serve only Edrinor?” Korsten wondered aloud.
He’d come to be in a room that reminded him very much of Lady Camirey’s solarium, except that it was at ground level and the windows were open archways draped with flowering vines, rather than glass overlooking a rose garden. The only way to not think of Renmyr was to think of everything he’d read in the library earlier that day. The sound of a lute in the background, played by Lerissa, who for once gave an example of grace, offered some distraction as well.
Ashwin’s voice blended with the music, rather than interrupting it. “The Seminary and Edrinor have a mutual arrangement. Mages serve varying entities and sometimes only themselves. Those chosen by our own are guided here by whatever means necessary and encouraged to stay. However, sometimes they do not. Those not chosen and granted the Essence by one who has passed from this world are either natural mages … wild mages, they’re sometimes called, bringing new magic into the world … or thieves of magic.”
“And there are varying degrees of thievery when the object of theft is magic,” Korsten replied knowingly, having read as much.
“An example of a petty thief would be a simple magician,” Ashwin said. “Casting harmless spells to entertain or maybe even to create mild charms and potions for profit. The worst thieves are the Vadryn, taking the magic from the very blood … the souls of others.”
“And somewhere in between lies Renmyr,” Korsten said absently as he stood in one of the archways with his back to the stone and his arms folded in front of him, gazing out at the darkening sky of evening. His eyes misted helplessly, but he didn’t cry.
Ashwin wandered into his line of sight, making a gradual path onto the veranda overlooking a stone yard and surrounding cloisters, marked periodically with iron lanterns that a pair of Apprentices had come along and lit an hour or so ago. The Mage-Superior was once again wearing layers of white silk. Delicate patterns were embroidered upon the soft fabric with silver thread. His very long hair cascaded down his back, shimmering softly beneath both starlight and firelight. He scarcely looked real.
“Long ago, mages were the guardians of magic,” Ashwin said. “Their objective to understand an
d preserve. There is no one source of magic. It exists in nature, spreading itself thinner with the birth of each new creature or the sprouting of each new seed. Life promotes new magic and is given back with death. The Vadryn changed that. They interrupt the cycle, prolonging their existence with that which should have gone back into the earth. The world fades for their greed.” The Mage-Superior drew a fragile pause, then added, “I have seen it fading.”
Korsten pushed himself away from his lean against stone and joined his mentor on the veranda. He walked past him, to the balustrade, where he braced his hands upon the smooth stone. “Mages are forced to commit the same sin in order to battle the Vadryn,” he presumed, and correctly, judging by Ashwin’s deliberate silence. In a moment, Korsten said, “The Vadryn are winning this war, aren’t they?”
“They have the advantage,” Ashwin admitted. “The tide turned strongly in their favor with the fall of Edrinor’s ruling family.”
Korsten glanced back at him. “Why should that make such a difference? Why can’t another king be appointed to restore order?”
“The Rottherlen family carried the Essence strongly in their veins.”
Korsten was surprised by this information. “They were mages?”
Ashwin shook his head carefully. “They weren’t mages, as such. However, they did have the potential to be and they had a very unique access to the Spectrum.”
“How so?”
“There is an interval not mentioned in any of the books you’ll find here or anywhere else in this world. The Rottherlen family could reach that interval and were therefore given a very rare talent. There’s no actual label for it, but it’s something like charismatic virtue.” Korsten lifted his brow, curious. Ashwin satisfied that curiosity with further explanation. “It enabled them to rule with minimal resistance from the people, who could feel that gift emanating from their ruler. It made them feel safe, protected, guided. They trusted and worshipped a leader who would not betray that trust or take advantage of the people’s affection. Unfortunately, that level of reliance made the family’s death a greater tragedy. All of Edrinor felt the loss, just as it felt the gift. The land fell into chaos. With the Vadryn’s increased power and numbers, it also fell into depression. Countries such as Morenne would seek to take advantage of the state Edrinor has come to be in. So we at the Seminary must fight them as well.”