Who knew training was going to involve so much scrutiny and judgment? How was this helping her? Alizhan didn’t want to talk about it, and she knew just how to change the subject. Mala might’ve shut her out for now, but she’d been a thief of secrets her whole life, and Mala had let her in. Their moment of mental contact had been more than enough.
“All this stuff about only relying on yourself, because some time in the future you might be alone,” Alizhan said, as though she were posing a very serious question. “Is that why you haven’t slept with Djal even though you want to?”
One side of Mala’s mouth curved up. “Little shit.”
“Me or him?”
“The both of you,” Mala said, shaking her head. “Back to work.”
Ev and Djal came back after half a shift, although to Alizhan it felt like they’d been gone for years.
“You found something,” Alizhan said immediately.
Mala didn’t move when they came in. She hadn’t finished teaching Alizhan to meditate, and she’d only just started letting Alizhan practice touching her hand, but Mala couldn’t possibly expect her to continue sitting around in this room now that Ev and Djal had found the house.
“We found your priest,” Djal confirmed. “He wasn’t wearing robes, but Ev recognized his face from a pamphlet she read. Anavik, she said. Mean-looking, shriveled-up old guy. There are other people in the house, too. I’m not sure how many, but definitely more than were in any of the surrounding houses. We were too far away for me to get an accurate idea, and it’s likely there were a lot of people in the house who could shield themselves from me, anyway.”
Ev hadn’t known about the others. She was surprised, but not mad. They’d left Gold Street as quickly as possible without arousing suspicion, not wanting to alert anyone in the house that they knew about its real purpose. Ev was still a little breathless from their walk back.
She’d enjoyed it. Ev was happy. Alizhan usually liked it when Ev was happy.
“What next?” Ev said.
“We have to find Kasrik.” Alizhan felt like that was all she ever said. “I’ll break in and see if he’s there.”
“It’s a place where they hurt—and maybe kill—people like you!” Ev said.
“They’re not going to catch me.”
“You don’t even know how many people are in the house,” Djal said. “Let us go back. We’ll be more circumspect. We’ll watch the house for a shift and get an idea of who comes and goes.”
“I’m going,” Alizhan said. She reached for Mala’s hand, fixing her gaze on Ev and Djal, and then she squeezed. “I made a lot of progress. Right, Mala?”
She didn’t expect any support. They’d barely gotten anything done.
Mala was looking down at Alizhan’s hand in surprise. “Yes,” she said, and Alizhan realized it was the first time she’d touched Mala without feeling the effects of her gift—this only happened when Mala was in control—or accidentally hurting herself. Mala’s hand just felt like a hand.
Alizhan got so caught up in the sight and sensation of touching another person that she forgot the point she’d been trying to make.
“We’re not finished,” Mala said. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go out into the city, and especially not into that house.”
“I didn’t say it was a good idea,” Alizhan said, dropping Mala’s hand and snapping back to attention. “I still have to do it. Kasrik might die.”
Mala nodded, and when Djal saw that, he nodded, too. “We’ll come with you,” he said. “If there are children being mistreated, we’ll help you get them out.”
“You might be getting yourselves in a lot of trouble,” Ev said. “You might be making some powerful people very angry.”
“Two exiled criminals like us?” Djal said with a brightness beyond even his usual cheer, and Ev laughed. “We can take care of ourselves.”
“We should watch during the busiest shift. It’ll be easier for us to loiter if there are lots of people in the street,” Alizhan said. “In Gold Street, that’s probably Rosefinch.”
“That gives us half a shift until we go back to the house,” Djal said. “Mala and I have an errand to run. We’ll meet you here just before they call the shift change.”
Mala stood, and the two of them walked out of the room, and no sooner were they gone than Alizhan found herself blurting, “You’re in love with him.” Alizhan didn’t even know why she’d said it, or why the words had come out in that tone. Was it an accusation?
Ev was very, very surprised, but also a little bit embarrassed, which meant Alizhan was right. Vindication wasn’t as sweet as she thought it would be. Maybe she didn’t want to be right.
Ev didn’t say anything for a long time, which gave Alizhan an opportunity to expand on her argument.
“You kissed him!” Alizhan continued. “And you laugh at his jokes and you were excited to meet him and you liked spending time with him, and you’re always thinking about his face.”
Ev started to laugh, which was absurd, because Alizhan was only stating the facts. Then she said, “Of course I think about his face sometimes. I’m a human being with eyes and a pulse.”
“What are you saying, that I’m not?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. But… I don’t know how to explain it to you. You know sometimes you look up from the city streets, and you realize we live surrounded by these majestic cliffs, and you see the way the sunlight hits the ocean, and for a second, you can’t breathe because of how beautiful it is?”
“His face looks like the ocean?”
Ev laughed again.
Alizhan didn’t. It was a perfectly logical question, after Ev had said all that nonsense.
“No. It’s just… distracting.”
“I’m glad I can’t see his stupid face.”
“Oh, Alizhan. Don’t say that. I’d let you into my head just for the pleasure of seeing his face.”
“It doesn’t work like that.”
“I know,” Ev said. “But he’s beautiful. And once I decided to trust him a little, he was good company. I’m not in love with him, I promise. It’s like looking at a landscape. A very smooth-talking landscape.”
That was a lot to think about. Alizhan closed her eyes, ran back through what Ev had just said, and focused on what really mattered. “You’d let me in?”
Ev shrugged. “Of course. Faces are nice. I wish you could see them. I’d share that with you if I could.”
Why was Ev so eternally confusing? Alizhan could see into her head and still not understand her. “But you don’t like it when I read your mind the rest of the time.”
“You don’t barge into someone else’s house when the door is closed, right?”
“Yes I do.”
“Bad analogy. You understand what I mean, right? Just because I want to close the door sometimes doesn’t mean I’d never open it for you.”
“Oh,” Alizhan said, because something important had just happened, and she wasn’t sure what. It was as if the ground had lurched beneath her feet—she had to find new footing, and she was left wondering if there were more tremors to come.
17
Lyrebird shift, 8th Triad of Alaksha, 761
IT WAS NOT HARD TO persuade Laalvur that I was grief-stricken—I was, of course, but not because of my parents. My long, severe period of isolation only heightened the public’s pity and admiration for Iriyat ha-Varensi, beautiful forlorn eighteen-year-old orphan. So many people had lost family members to the wave; the tragedy brought us together.
They would doubtless have had less sympathy for Iriyat ha-Varensi, unmarried pregnant patricide, no matter how beautiful.
I hid my condition as best I could. This required cultivating a fiercely loyal staff, which I did with money and promises where possible, and with my hands, otherwise. You could interview my entire household right now, and every single one of them would swear up and down that I am a virgin. They would tell you how deeply religious I a
m, and how I swore never to marry after my parents’ death. Iriyat ha-Varensi has no children. How could she? She has never been pregnant. Some of my staff genuinely believe all of these things. The rest of them are very convincing.
I spent those months of seclusion searching. The literal search for my mother was as fruitless as my figurative search for answers. I called priests of the Balance and priests of Doubt to Varenx House to talk with me about what their faiths had to offer. After our talks, I was always careful to take their hands in mine and give them a heartfelt squeeze. They reported to their friends and colleagues that Ha-Varensi was radiant, even in modest grey mourning clothes, and that she had asked many probing questions about why the Balance allowed such disasters to happen. Then they would shake their heads, and sigh, and remark on what a shame it was that tragedy had struck such a beloved family, but that only in times of hardship is our true strength revealed. How admirably pious that young Iriyat was observing such a long period of mourning! How tragic that such a virginal young beauty had sworn never to marry!
These accounts were immeasurably helpful to my reputation.
Please do not think me entirely cynical. I also hid my pregnancy to protect you. The world was already so cruel, and I knew it would be crueler to a fatherless child.
My search for answers was genuine, as well. I prayed a great deal at that time, when I still believed prayer could bring me consolation. I prayed that all of us who had lost loved ones in the wave might learn to live with the pain. I prayed that those we lost might find peace in death. I prayed that a wave would never strike our shore again.
And I prayed that you would be like Arav, and not like me. I did not want you to bear my affliction.
Prayer brought me nothing but frustration, as did all my long talks with priests. Priests of Doubt only ever answered questions with other questions. Priests of the Balance took refuge in platitudes when faced with the hard truths of an unjust world. All things are contained in God’s Balance—but perhaps some things shouldn’t be.
I could not let you grow up in a world that would treat you as this world had treated me.
Long contemplation led me to two conclusions. In a just world, there would be no more waves. In a just world, there would be no more Lacemakers. Instead of being daunted by these two goals, I was invigorated. Here, at last, was a solution to my grief. No more lamenting the mysterious, random cruelty of the Balance. No more questioning why I had survived. Here was a purpose: fixing the world.
For you.
I had the political power, the wealth, and the motivation to accomplish what no one had ever dreamed of accomplishing. And I was still young; I had the rest of my life to devote to this work. There was a long history of attempts to predict or curtail the power of the ocean, all of which had been futile. I would need to use means that no one else had yet considered. And I would need to work in secret, preserving my reputation, since it was no small fraction of my power. Our world does not take kindly to ambitious women, and what is more ambitious than controlling the planet itself?
Finding the other Lacemakers might seem a trivial problem compared to the vastness of the ocean, and in those first few years, I considered it to be a separate and less urgent task. Finding one particular Lacemaker—my mother—was urgent, though, and I set about that right away. My mother had hidden herself well after her escape. She did not seem to be in Laalvur at all. I expanded my search, sending people to other cities to watch and listen, but she proved evasive.
Other Lacemakers were not so difficult to find. Neither were other people possessed of magical abilities. I soon discovered that there were many more kinds of magic in the world than Lacemaking, and I began to see connections between my projects where none had been evident before. In my hunt for Lacemakers, I discovered people who could calm or excite others with a touch, people like Arav who could intuit moods or thoughts, people who could aim or catch objects with uncanny accuracy, people who could acquire the knowledge of hundreds of languages with the barest of introductions, and people who could always guess the outcomes of games and wagers. It was these last few categories that interested me the most. It seemed to me there was a similar thread tying these abilities together, a sort of recognition of patterns that otherwise escaped notice. That kind of predictive power could perhaps be turned toward reading the signs of the ocean.
I could not kill the thing that had killed Arav, as he had killed the medusa to avenge his friends, but I could conquer it. I could take control of the waves.
As for these other people with magical abilities, I did not have such a visceral reaction to them as I did to my own kind. All magic is a product of the mind, but some magic is done exclusively with the mind. The other category, into which Lacemaking falls, requires use of the hands. I think of them as sense-magic and touch-magic, not having found any other adequate terms. Both kinds must be carried in the blood, as they run in families, and truly strong ability seems to be rare regardless of kind. Magic has remained so reviled and so hidden in our world that it is difficult to find literature on the subject. I detailed all of my findings, as is my nature, but I doubt that anyone but you will ever see them. I need no monuments, no histories. Achieving my goals will be reward enough.
Over the course of years, it became clear that I would need access to the islanders. That their cultures persist on those tiny islands despite the waves is proof that they know how to protect themselves. The islanders, somewhat like the Adpri, are also far more accepting of magic. I began to suspect a connection: they had found a way to train people to predict the waves.
The other elusive secret of the islanders is their knowledge of medusa venom. Initially, I was interested in the venom for profit—this quest requires resources—and also as a convenient cover for my true goals. It was easy enough to persuade Mar ha-Solora and Prince Ilyr that this was the case last month, when I finally had the opportunity to take a step forward in this years-long quest.
It was only a few triads ago that I had word from Prince Ilyr that he is preparing a voyage to the islands. I wish him success.
Until I know what the islanders know, I will have to continue to buy venom. It has been tedious and expensive, acquiring it discreetly in Laalvur. But it is worth it.
Properly treated venom affects most people in a way similar to many intoxicants. It loosens inhibitions. It is useful for pleasure and for managing pain. Venom in its raw form inflicts pain, as Arav’s scars had taught me. It is a powerful substance. Most importantly, it dampens magical abilities. Venom might be the key to eradicating Lacemaking.
As my ancestors hid themselves and their craft, I also worked largely under cover of secrecy. But in many ways, I have also been hiding in plain sight. It was useful to stir up fear and suspicion among the people, that they might lead me to anyone manifesting strange abilities. I accomplished this primarily through the Temple of the Balance, although of course the priests all think it was their own idea. I founded an orphanage at the Temple, and desperate citizens began to abandon their children there. Many of them were ordinary poor children. These, I simply fed and housed until they were of age to make their way in the world. They left the Temple orphanage none the wiser about my real project, but filled with gratitude toward the beautiful, wealthy patron who visited them so often and brought them presents at festival times. Many have come to work at Varenx House over the years, and they are dear to me.
But not all of the children were ordinary. Perhaps one in ten manifested some kind of power. The orphanage numbers are no doubt skewed; people are more likely to abandon unruly children with abilities that make them impossible to control. Only two children with a calming touch have ever been left at the orphanage, but I suspect this ability to be far more common than that. When children with magic were left at the orphanage, they were discreetly moved to a townhouse on Gold Street at the edge of the Knuckles, not far from Denandar, a narrow little stone affair, one of many city properties I owned and had no interest in. There, priests watched
over them and conducted studies of their powers. In exchange for food and shelter, the children went out into the city and sought more of their own kind. Occasionally, if they had abilities that made them useful to me, I had them do other work. I refused to let my own personal distaste for the use of magic hinder me in my ambitions.
I never used Lacemakers, of course. Their skills were of no use to me, being no match for my own, and it was dangerous to let untrained Lacemakers roam freely. The ones who came to us had undoubtedly already done a great deal of damage in their short lives, and I do not regret putting a stop to them. They had to be weeded out.
I expected trouble from the priests, but instead they were willing participants in my plan, having believed every word about the dangers of magic. Indeed, they had to be stopped from disposing of the other children, the ones who might still be of use. Still, they dug graves, and I dug holes in their memories. It was cleaner that way.
You may think me ruthless. Think instead of all the people who lived their lives in peace, whole and unharmed and alive, with their memories untroubled by my kind, thanks to these interventions of mine. That is what I do, and I feel no remorse at all.
18
Thin Black Scars
ALIZHAN HAD GROWN FOND OF all the clothes Ev had bought her, which was stupid, because she’d had to crawl under some bushes to get to her perch and now her yellow tunic was torn and dirty. There were leaves in her hair. Things like that used to be advantages in her work—reasons for people to look away from her. But she’d never had clothes worth caring about until now.
Alizhan split off from the others. She hadn’t liked the idea of waiting in Gold Street and watching the front door. Ev and Djal had already done that, and they’d seen that thin priest come out. He’d seen them, too, even if he hadn’t realized what they were doing.
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