Firewalk

by Anne Logston

  “A spell?” Randon suggested. “Like Stevann uses.”

  “Words and gestures to focus his power?” Kayli asked.

  “Yes.”

  “A spell, then, yes.” Kayli brought into life again the small flame in her hand, showed him its dancing light “As I learn more, I will need such rituals only for complicated magics. So my rituals are not worship as one would worship a deity. And we may ask the wind to bring us rain, or the earth to yield us food, but we are not speaking to a deity so much as—as to a power within ourselves.”

  “Mmmm.” Randon rolled over suddenly so that Kayli lay on her back, his face just above hers. “And suppose I wanted to speak to something within you. How would I go about that?”

  Kayli laughed a little.

  “Then I would suggest,” she murmured, “that you use a language without words.”

  The next days fell into a pattern that Kayli feared would represent the rest of her life. Every other morning there were audiences until midday, sometimes later. If there was no audience, she would spend her morning studying. In the afternoon she would visit with Ynea, or study if Randon was still sorting his father’s old business; if he was free, they might discuss the day’s judgments, or they might sit down with Terralt or one or more of the ministers to discuss the complexities of Agrondish law or to sign documents and proclamations that needed their approval. Sometimes work continued at the supper table, where Terralt might or might not join them.

  After supper, however, Randon insisted—to Kayli’s relief, that the High Lord and Lady had retired for the evening, and he and Kayli would have their time together uninterrupted. Unfortunately this usually meant retreating to their quarters, locking the door, and ignoring the knocks that inevitably came. Kayli appreciated the quiet time, but when days passed and she realized that she had set foot outside the castle only once since she arrived, she almost despaired, wondering how Ynea could bear such confinement.

  But bear it Ynea must. Endra returned from her first visit with the frail lady very troubled.

  “She should never have borne this child,” Endra said without preamble. “I suspect she should not have borne the three before it. If I’d seen her sooner, I’d have given her a potion to lose the child, if she were strong enough, which I doubt. If she follows my orders strictly and this mage of hers is quite good, she may live. And then again, she may die.” Endra shook her head disgustedly. “She’s only ten years and seven, did you know that? Hardly two years out of her first decade when her husband put her belly up. Shame to the father who would barter off his daughter to bear at such an age, and shame to the healer who let it happen, and shame to the husband who couldn’t keep his manhood in his trousers long enough to let his wife grow out of childhood. And I’d say so and more to him if I was let.”

  “Then he would say you were not to see his wife again,” Kayli said patiently, “and Ynea, who will not speak against him, would lack your care altogether. So curb your temper, I beg you, and help Ynea as best you can. And whatever medicines you require, if Stevann cannot procure them for you, I will send to Bregond for them.” Kayli thought, but did not say, that she would be just as glad if Endra kept a full stock of all her medicines, in case Kayli herself should suffer such difficulties.

  Something in her expression must have revealed her thoughts, however, for the midwife laid a hand on her arm and smiled reassuringly.

  “You’ll have no such trouble, lady,” Endra said. “Believe me. Your cycles are regular and you have health and strength, and if I tell you you must drink blackroot tea between your children to prevent you from bearing too close together, you and Randon have the sense to listen.”

  Kayli thought wryly that she had little enough use for blackroot tea. The arrival of her courses proved that she had not yet conceived, and although Randon had assured her that it was of no consequence, that nobody expected her to conceive so soon, she had been disappointed and knew that he was, too. She had asked Endra whether she ought not try a different fertility potion, but Endra had only shook her head and said that whatever High Priestess Brisi had prepared, it was likely far superior to anything she could mix together. Kayli took the potion faithfully every night, even though it made her feel a little ill afterward and sometimes her stomach cramped painfully.

  Ironically, although it was her Order-trained self-discipline which sustained her, Kayli wondered whether that same training had not spoiled her for life at court. Although her days at the Order had been as busy and her free time as scarce as now, there had been a general tone of accomplishment, of peace, of—well, order—to her time. Here she felt hurried and frustrated and often ignorant, and even the decisions she made gave her no sense of accomplishment, usually leaving her worrying for hours whether she had made the right judgment.

  Randon was kind, and she knew he would understand her worries, but she could confide in him least of all. The Flame knew he had worries enough without the addition of hers, but more than that, despite their marriage, Randon remained essentially a stranger to her, someone with perhaps very different goals and purposes. She was his wife, but she was also, of necessity, a means to an end for him—and a replaceable means, too. That knowledge, and the importance of the child she must bear, remained a wall between them.

  When her courses ceased, Kayli went to Stevann to ask whether he knew any spells to aid in fertility.

  “There are no spells I know,” Stevann told her, “to assure pregnancy. Healers try not to interfere with the natural process; I’ve heard that in the savage west there were once powerful magics used to speed the growth of an unborn child, but it was found to be too dangerous to mother and child.”

  “High Priestess Brisi gave me a fertility potion,” Kayli said, handing Stevann the flask. “Is not the conception of Randon’s heir worth some risk?”

  “Mmm.” Stevann sniffed the vial, frowned, and shook his head. “It doesn’t smell like any of the fertility potions I’m familiar with, but then the herbs in Bregond would be different. It’s usually not a sound practice to mix potions by two different mages. Give your potion time to work. If you haven’t conceived in a few months, we’ll see what can be done.”

  Kayli was not satisfied with his answer, but there was little she could do to change his mind, especially when Randon agreed with the healer. So she did the only thing she could do: she waited, and she fulfilled her duties as best she could, and she tried to master the speaking crystal.

  It took, in fact, several days to learn the simple twist of her thoughts to activate the crystal. Once she had the trick of it, she was surprised at the simplicity of the technique. She chose to try the crystal in late afternoon, when she knew the High Priestess usually set aside time to meditate, and was gratified by the immediacy with which her mentor’s face appeared in the crystal. Even more gratifying, however, was the calm lack of surprise with which Brisi recognized the caller.

  “So you have mastered the speaking crystal,” she said serenely. “You look well, my student, although I had word that your caravan was set upon. Your parents were frantic with worry when two of your maids returned to tell of the attack. A fire-scrying told me you had escaped, but were gravely ill, and the country was in an uproar until High Lord Randon’s envoys arrived to say that you were safe and had recovered, and that the wedding had taken place. Your mother and father have dispatched another caravan to Agrond, as I understand.”

  “I thank you for the tidings of my family,” Kayli said, relieved to learn that her maids had escaped. “But what has transpired at the Order since I left?”

  “But for your absence, little has changed,” Brisi told her. “But all will be glad to hear your tidings.”

  Kayli hardly knew where to begin, so much had happened since she left home, but High Priestess Brisi listened patiently until she had finished. When she was done, however, she was surprised when Brisi laughed gently.

  “And you worried because you were unable to make your first firewalk here,” the High Priestess sai
d, smiling. “Kayli, you have completed a firewalk the likes of which few of our novices ever dream. If the Flame were to find you unworthy after such trials, no living soul could be deemed fit. Continue to study as you are able, and have no fear on that account”

  “My greatest concern is another matter,” Kayli said hesitantly. “As you know, it is urgent that I bear Randon’s heir. Yet despite the potion you gave me, I have not yet conceived, and—”

  Brisi chuckled.

  “Kayli, you are hardly a month out of the temple,” she said. “Only a miracle could make you conceive so quickly. The people of Agrond must simply be patient for a little longer. Continue to take the potion I gave you; I have sent a further supply to your parents, who will send it on with their caravan. And practice your meditations more often. I have heard it said that excessive worry can prevent conception.”

  “Yes, High Priestess.” Kayli was no more satisfied than she had been by Stevann’s and Endra reassurances, but there was nothing to do but obey. Brisi seemed pleased with her progress in her studies, which cheered her somewhat; she’d expected to advance far more quickly after her Awakening. She was reluctant to say good-bye to her teacher, and when Randon knocked on the door, she was only just putting the crystal back into its pouch.

  Randon glanced around puzzledly when he entered the room. “I thought I heard voices,” he said. “I thought perhaps one of the maids was in the room.”

  “No, I was speaking with High Priestess Brisi of the Order of Inner Flame,” Kayli said, showing him the crystal. “She gave me this speaking crystal before I left, trusting that I could use it later. With it I can speak to any mage in Bregond who holds such a crystal. I hope to reach my sister Kairi in the same manner soon.”

  She was surprised by Randon’s frown as she spoke, but his reply left her stunned.

  “Kayli, you mustn’t use that thing again,” he said slowly. “Promise me you won’t.”

  A surge of irrational anger—what right did have to make such a demand of her?—nearly blinded her for a moment. With difficulty, she calmed herself, although she clutched the crystal in its pouch possessively.

  “How could you ask such a thing?” Kayli said, forcing her voice to evenness. “Why would you ask it?”

  “Kayli, you have no idea how precarious our situation is,” Randon said earnestly. “The treaty with Bregond won’t be final until you and I are confirmed and crowned. In the meantime I need every bit of support and help I can get, and there are already those who mutter simply because they’ve learned you’re a mage. Do you know what Terralt would make of you having magical communication with Bregond, secret communications anytime you liked? He’d make you a spy sent here under guise of the treaty to learn state secrets, the strength of our military—who knows what the ministers would believe? Even the best of them would have some suspicion. Worse yet, what if word got out to the people? The supporters I have would turn against me, and Terralt would seem justified. No, Kayli. I’ve supported your magical studies up to now, but this is too much.”

  Kayli once more repeated a calming ritual to herself, forcing herself to consider Randon’s words carefully, but shook her head at last.

  “No, Randon,” she said slowly. “I cannot agree. What you say is reasonable, and if you say I must, then I will not mention the speaking crystal to anyone and will use it only in the privacy of the forge when it is locked. But there is no harm in my communications with my mentor or my sister, and if needed, I would swear it under truth spell. But this is a part of my training, something that lies at my very heart. Terralt and the ministers may not trust me, but I must know that you do.” She met Randon’s eyes squarely as she spoke.

  This time it was Randon’s turn to stop and consider. At last he sighed.

  “I don’t like it, and I wish you’d change your mind,” he said. “But if you won’t, you won’t. Just please, as you said, make sure no one else learns of it!”

  His words and his expression made Kayli realize with a sinking heart that in some way, at least, she had not yet earned his trust. A moment later she pushed aside her dismay. She could hardly expect more from him than she was willing to give.

  “I understand your worry,” she said, laying her hand on Randon’s. “But it is without cause. And the speaking crystal may serve to your benefit in time—why, from the High Priestess I learned that my parents are sending a second caravan to Agrond—and I know that Brother Santee, who resides at the castle, must surely carry a speaking crystal. So when he returns home, should great need ever arise, I could send a message for you to be delivered to my father and mother.”

  “You’re right, that could be useful.” Randon smiled, but the smile seemed forced. “The men finished cleaning the forge yesterday, did you know?”

  “Yes.” Kayli did not tell him that she had had to clean the forge herself all over again after the men had gone; apparently the men had a different notion of “clean” than the one Kayli had learned at the Order. “I will consecrate it tomorrow at dawn. You may watch if you wish,” she added, seeing his wistful expression, “but it is only a simple consecration. Most fire magics are much more impressive.”

  “All the same,” Randon said with a cheerful grin, “it’s an excuse to see something I’ve never seen before. Besides, if there are any more mutterings about your magic, it might be helpful for me to be able to say I know what you’re doing.” The twinkle in his eyes made his statement a sort of joke between them, and Kayli appreciated that, although it stung her that there was an element of truth to what he said. She quietly put away her speaking crystal, privately resolving to call Kairi as soon as possible, and let Randon believe what he would.

  Her conscience, as always, was her own.

  Chapter Seven

  Kayli rose well before dawn the next day in order to ready the forge for consecration. Randon, sleepy-eyed but eager, lurked in the doorway watching her every movement, and Kayli told him to inform her when the sun was beginning to rise. Randon ran back up the stairs frequently to check the sky so that Kayli could work unhindered until he reported that the sky was beginning to lighten in the east.

  A little thrill shot through Kayli’s heart. This consecration would be her first important ritual as an Initiate. She composed herself—somehow it was simple here in the forge—and gestured to Randon, indicating a corner where he might sit and watch more comfortably. She stepped to the torch she’d placed in its sconce on the east wall.

  “As the fire of the sun lights the sky,” she said in Agrondish, for Randon’s benefit, “as the Flame lights the center of the world, so I bring the Flame to this holy place and welcome it inside.” She touched the end of the torch with her thari, suppressing her pride as the torch flared alight. She’d worked hard to perfect the technique for this ritual.

  She repeated the summoning at the torches mounted on the north, south, and west walls, then walked to the forge itself, dropping her robe behind her. Randon was forgotten now, her concentration focused on the task before her. She knelt at the edge of the forge.

  “I summon the Flame from the heart of the world, from the center of the sun, from the depths of my soul,” she said. “As an Initiate of the Order of Inner Flame, I summon the Flame to bless and consecrate this holy place and dwell therein, to light the forge and serve my will.” She raised her head and extended her thari out over the forge.

  Kayli felt the heat building in the hard black coal in the firepit and knew her success long before the first orange-amber flame flickered upward. The fire spread slowly, but at last the whole firepit was alight.

  One by one, Kayli consecrated her tools, extending them into the flames; after she poured a little oil on the anvil and carried a coal from the firepit to light it, she carried the coal to the corners of the room, touching it to the stone of the walls and floor. Impulsively, and to Randon’s amazement, she took his hand and passed the burning coal over it, so quickly that he had neither time to pull away nor to be burned.

  “I summ
on the Flame to dwell in this holy place,” she said. “Live in each stone, in the air, in our flesh. Dwell in memory, burn unseen in darkness until I summon you forth.”

  She focused on the coal in her hands. This was the difficult part, for she must quell the fire in the forge, yet leave the torches burning. She felt the Flame all around her in its smallest manifestations. Each torch on the forge walls was a sort of pleasant itch at the back of her consciousness; the firepit itself was a more powerful sensation, drawing her forward as if luring her to immerse herself in the flames. Kayli dismissed the fire almost hastily, gratified that although the torches guttered slightly when the flames in the firepit subsided, they quickly recovered.

  Kayli replaced the now cool coal in the firepit, then sighed and let herself collapse to her knees on the stone, suddenly aware how tired and drained she was by the ritual.

  “Fire feeds on wood or coal,” Brisi had told her. “But the Flame feeds on you. In time only the greatest rituals will tire you severely, but it is important not to overreach your skill. One who summons more of the Flame than she can feed or control will surely be utterly consumed.”

  Kayli rested where she was, amused to find her loins hungry despite her weariness. Well, she’d been warned of that, too, as the fires of magic and the flesh mingled so closely together. When Randon hesitantly approached with her robe in his hand, she gestured to him to sit beside her.