There it was. A tiny, warm glow of energy in the center of her stomach, at her very core.
Step two: project the seed outward into a bubble.
She imagined her seed of magic expanding, reaching beyond the borders of her skin and into the room. At first, it seemed to be following her mental direction.
And then it popped, collapsing back into the small glow within her.
She opened her eyes, shoving a long lock of hair out of her face. And then she tried again.
The bubble popped so many more times that Quri had to take a break, combing her hair again, before resuming practice late in the afternoon. By the end of the afternoon, she could project the shield around her and was beginning to practice aiming it in specific directions.
But then she heard the whoosh of wings, the rush of a body through the air.
Quri’s heart leapt forward, pounding so quickly that the blood rushing through her body drowned out her hearing. She dropped the shield spell and slid across the floor to the bowl with the comb and knife, snatching the comb up and stroking her hair as if she had been practicing hair growth all along.
Chuki swooped through the small window, dropping the basket next to Inge, and transformed back into a human. She took her usual seat on the corner of the slab.
“What are you doing, girl?” she said. “Still at it? Don’t believe old Chuki?”
Quri paused in her brushing and looked up at her mistress. Her heart fluttered as she even considered the lie. “Just practicing, like you told me to.”
“You still haven’t cut it.” Chuki gestured toward the small knife in the ceremonial bowl next to her.
“No. You said I could experiment. See how long I could grow it.”
Chuki’s eyes roved over Quri’s hair. Since the previous night, it had grown by twenty feet, and still Quri brushed, strands of gold glowing throughout the deep raven black as she worked the magic. Parts of it were coiled like rope, keeping it out of the way of stumbling or dirtying the hair in the tomb’s dust as much as possible in the small space. Even with Quri’s daily cleaning, dust gathered as fast as the rains fell from the sky. It came with the age of the tomb, dust crumbling from ancient mortar and eroding stones.
“Don’t you think this is long enough for your experiment? What lady will ever want her hair so long?”
Quri shrugged, trying to keep her movements, her expression, her words, light. “You never know, right? I want to find the limit of the spell.” At least that was partly true. A maiden did want it this long. Her. And part of her still wanted to test, to see how far she could push the magic.
Chuki rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Young ones.” Returning her milky stare to Quri, she gestured to the basket. “Well, aren’t you going to set out dinner?”
Quri jumped up from her seat on the floor and lunged for the basket. If Chuki was happy, there was nothing to fear. She dropped her comb into the bowl with the knife and threw open the basket. Immediately, the fragrant aroma of dinner spread through the room, and she carefully set out the bowls, meal, and drinks. She handed a cup of wine up to Chuki, then sat back and began eating her one meal for the day with gusto.
Chuki leaned back and sipped her wine, smiling her gap-toothed grin.
Eleven
SUMAQ TIGHTENED THE rope around his waist and tugged at the rock anchoring him. He cast a look over his shoulder and down the cliff. The ground spun a hundred feet below, but he didn’t need to go all the way. Quri’s prison was only halfway down. The real challenge was going to be figuring out how to swing toward her, finding something he could catch to keep himself at her level.
He looked at Kochik, and they exchanged a nod. He was as ready as he was ever going to be. The guard wrapped the rope behind his back, then nodded again and began feeding it toward the prince as he edged his way over the side.
He glanced back down and squeezed his eyes shut. If he kept doing that, he would be sick. Blood rushed in his ears, loud and unyielding, as his heart pounded at a sprint. His head was faint, and sweat slicked his hair to his head. He looked back up the rock face, but he could no longer see Kochik. His hands slid down the rough rope, the rope leaving bits of dry fiber in his skin. There would be burns there later; he wasn’t used to this kind of exertion. Fighting, hiking? Yes. Climbing down a vertical rock face? No.
At least it wasn’t raining. For now.
His lungs burned as he approached the edge of the overhang, even though rappelling was far less work than climbing back up would be.
Oh, gods. He still had to climb back up.
“I’m at the overhang!” he yelled up.
A head popped over the side, and the guard nodded. Seconds later, Sumaq’s feet left the security of the rock to dangle in the air. Then, his hands. Then he swung freely from the rope, depending on the single guard above to keep him from falling to his death.
Perhaps he should have shortened the rope, but he wasn’t sure how much he would need to reach Quri.
He spun slowly in the air, the world turning around him as he hung suspended. Mountain. Jungle. Village. Tomb. Jungle. Village. Tomb.
He was even with the tomb now, but he would somehow need to swing inward enough to grab hold of something. And now, as close as he was, the rock wall of the tomb looked smooth, too perfect to find a handhold despite its age. It had been plastered and painted, and the only holds near it were farther back from the window, more rock on the sides of the tomb. It was like they had built a room and just stuck it to the side of the cliff.
Inwardly, he knew that wasn’t true. The tombs were part of an immense catacomb inside, a vast cave network that led down to the jungle. It would have been much easier to go through the caverns, but inside was a maze. And that was only if he could find the entrance, which was known only to the temple priests. It was impossible to see and even more impossible to use.
He began swinging his feet, trying to gain the momentum needed to reach the inner wall, anything under the overhang. The guard continued giving him slack until he was within five feet of the window on every swing. His stomach swooped uncomfortably with every swing, but it would be worth it to see her again. Excitement bubbled underneath the fear.
“Quri!” he called.
A head popped up in the window, and Quri’s eyes widened. “Sumaq! What are you doing?” Panic tinged her voice.
“Grab my hand!” He was swinging toward her again. He reached a hand out toward the wall.
“What?” She wrapped her fingers in her hair.
“Grab my hand!”
Her arm shot through the window, and he caught it. His sweat-slick skin slid along hers until their fingers snagged, and he jerked to a halt. The rope continued the swing below him, undulating like the thick body of a snake, and he heard her grunt as she hit the wall on the other side.
He reached forward and grabbed at the window. “Quri!”
Her face was next to his, her breath coming in small pants. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and he could feel her arm shaking with exertion. He grabbed the window with his other hand, releasing Quri. She stumbled backwards, huffing with the effort.
“What...are you...doing here?” she managed.
He grinned. “Rescuing you, of course!”
She looked even more panicked at this. “You can’t be here! She’ll find you!”
“Relax. I have guards watching her right now. We have time!”
“But you could fall!”
He tilted his head to the side. “Well worth it.”
“And how do you plan on rescuing me? You’re hanging from a cliff!” She still sounded indignant, but she was visibly calming.
He took the opportunity to assess her. She looked well, not like she had been starved or harmed recently. But her hair...it dragged along behind her on the floor, coiling over pots and decayed bags of goods.
“How did your hair get so long?”
She quirked a shaky smile at him. “Ignoring my question? Okay. Chuki taught me a hair growth spe
ll.”
“Why?”
“She said noble women want long hair, so I’ll need to know the magic when I take over from her.”
He blinked. “But why is it so long?”
She shrugged. “I’m testing its limits. Plus...I have a bit of an idea. Unlike you, I didn’t have rope up here.”
“What, did you plan on using your hair to climb out of here?”
“Did you have a better idea?”
“This window is barely big enough for a bird!”
Quri snorted. “Exactly why Chuki visits as a bird. Besides, now that you’re here, we can figure out how to make the window bigger.”
Sumaq peered through the window at her small prison. The room was sparse, furnished only lightly with burial goods. The only real piece of furniture was the burial slab on which lay a wrapped body.
“Tell me this is an old tomb,” he said, his eyes glued to the skeletal form.
Quri followed his gaze. “Do you think it would smell this dank and musty if it was new? That’s Inge, my cell-mate.”
“Inge.”
“Yes. Inge.”
Now he peered at her with a quizzical, concerned expression. “Does Inge...talk to you?”
She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Of course not. She’s dead.”
“How do you know her name? Did you...name her?”
“Sumaq. Her life story is written on the slab.” She stabbed a finger toward the skeleton, and he could just barely see the shadows between pictographs. “More than her story, actually. There is an abundance of spells I’m sure even Chuki doesn’t know. And I’m practicing them. One of them might be the key to getting me out of here, if I can master it enough to use safely. Some of these spells come with warnings. But I’m sure with Inge’s help, I can figure it out. It might take a while, though.”
“Ah.” He blinked at her again. Was there time for that? And was Quri’s practice really safe? Especially surrounded by a tomb.
What if Chuki caught her? His heart began pounding at the mere thought. Quri had asked Chuki to teach her more advanced magic so many times while he had been convalescing...and her mistress had refused again and again. If she were to find out Quri was teaching herself, Chuki might—
“So what’s your plan?” Quri said, breaking into his thoughts.
He refocused on her, pushing away his fear. As he spoke, his heart slowed its frantic beating, almost back to normal. “Well, originally I thought we might break open the seal on the wall.” He looked past her, past Inge, to study the far wall again. “But I’m not sure where the old door was. Or how to get there.”
Quri’s shoulders sagged, but they had no time to continue talking. A shrill whistle echoed around the cliff walls, and Sumaq jumped back, still clinging to the edge of the window.
“What’s that?” Quri asked.
“The signal. Chuki is on the move. I have to go.”
Quri ran toward him and leaned as far out the window as she could. Her head nearly fit. “Please be careful.”
Sumaq took a chance and brushed her lips with his. “I’m more worried about you. Play along. We’ll get you out of here.”
Quri nodded and stepped back. Sumaq tugged on the rope and released the wall, swinging away in a wide arc. Within moments, the guard was pulling him back up the cliff to safety. He drank in her face as he drifted away, memorizing every feature, every curve.
This was only the beginning.
Twelve
QURI PACED THE small tomb, wringing her hands together with worry. Sumaq had disappeared above the edge of the overhang nearly ten minutes ago, and she hadn’t seen him fall, but she now fretted that Chuki would see his retreat.
What a stupid thing to do! He could have been killed. Chuki could still see him and kill him!
And then that kiss. She touched her lips lightly, blushing again. She’d never felt such a warmth, a feeling of exploding with joy while also about to collapse with fear. She hoped for more. She needed more. She needed him.
Eventually, she tired of pacing and sat on the dusty floor, running the comb and the magic through her hair again. She gained another five feet by the time Chuki swooped through the window.
Chuki never mentioned Sumaq.
***
Sumaq began visiting every day after that, always with a guard watching Chuki’s movements. By the end of the week, Quri’s hair had grown long enough to reach the ground, and rappelling down the cliff was no longer necessary. Instead, Quri could drape her hair out the window, and Sumaq could use it like a ladder. They spent their stolen minutes close together, deep in conversation, Sumaq supported by lengths of Quri’s tresses wrapped around a stone support in the tomb.
On the first day he climbed instead of descending to her, he held her hand.
Quri didn’t think she could possibly be happier. But still she worried that one day his guards would miss Chuki’s movements, that Chuki would discover their meetings and it would all end.
What would she do to Sumaq? What would she do to her?
Quri feared Chuki might kill her for it, but she couldn’t bear to let him go, to miss seeing him for even one day. It was the only thing left that truly made her happy. Even the magic had faded into gray as Chuki refused to teach her any more, suddenly more paranoid than she had ever been before.
But Quri had been practicing Inge’s spells every day, every moment Chuki was gone, and some small part of her wondered if her mistress had somehow found out about it. Just like during her first attempt with the shielding spell, there had been several close calls. But surely Chuki would have punished her had she known. Right?
Quri took a deep breath. With or without Sumaq’s help, it was time for Quri to leave Chuki.
Inge’s tomb was filled with secrets. There were shielding spells, healing spells like those Chuki refused to teach, long-forgotten rituals.
And now, the spell Chuki used to shapechange. And another to force a shapechange on someone else, like Chuki had done to her. And a third that allowed for shapechanging without the assistance of that horrid green powder Chuki used.
And so, as soon as Chuki left after the evening meal, she began practicing again.
Quri sat in the middle of the floor. The text suggested starting small, changing only a single part of the body until the pupil learned the feel of the magic.
She held up a finger. What could she change into? A bird? A jaguar? A mouse?
No, not a mouse. She shuddered at the thought, the memory of becoming the mouse bringing all her terror and helplessness back to the surface. She would never be the mouse again, if she could help it.
A jaguar. She would try to shift her finger into the claw of a jaguar.
She focused on her finger, holding the image of the claw in her mind and urging her seed of magic to expand. But unlike with the shield, she tried to push it into her finger, to force it to mold and morph her own flesh.
The skin of her finger flashed with black fur, there and gone again so quickly she thought she had imagined it.
She took a deep breath, refocusing her mind and her energy. She would figure this out.
She had to.
An hour later, her eyes had glazed over as she tried and failed and tried and failed yet again.
And then her finger stretching, pulling, elongating. The nail hardening into a thick, dark black claw.
She blinked at the claw, frozen in surprise.
She’d done it.
The light was fading, but she pushed herself to her knees, still focused on the finger. She shook it, dislodging the magic focus and shifting her finger back into a finger.
Could she expand? Make it bigger?
Excitement bubbling in her chest, her breath shallow with anticipation, she tried extending the magic to change her entire hand this time.
An hour later, she easily shifted her hand to a paw and back again.
She kept practicing late into the evening, until the sun had retreated behind the mountains and
there was no light left to work by.
***
The next day, Quri awoke and dove right back into shapechanging. She worked with a fervor she had never felt before, anxious to complete the spell, to find ways to combat her imprisonment. She practiced for hours, interrupted only by Chuki’s sudden visits, often throwing her into a terror that she’d been discovered, and more pleasant visits from Sumaq. But she had no progress to show him.
Not yet.
However, three days after she had begun to practice, she dropped to the floor, discouragement winning out over her determination. She felt a tightness in her entire body, a constricting feeling squeezing her chest. Maybe she couldn’t do it. Maybe Chuki had been right all along, that she should focus on the simple spells, that she wasn’t ready for more advanced magic.
She held the jaguar paw up in front of her face, once again replacing her own hand, still the only transformation she had managed. Glaring at it, she shook it and dispelled the magic, trying to ignore the growing despair taking up residence in her body.
She took the comb from the bowl and brushed again. At least this magic she could do. But she didn’t need any more length; instead, she combed it with cleaning magic to keep it shiny and untangled. Without the magic, she was sure it would be a massive knot within minutes.
She was still combing when she fell asleep.
***
The next day, Quri focused on the other spells, practicing the shield spell to keep up what she had learned and trying out simple healing, which unfortunately forced her to practice on herself. Chuki certainly hadn’t meant her to use the knife for this, but she saw little alternative.
She drew the small blade across the inside of her thumb, wincing at the heat and pain spreading through the digit.
She had already begun trying this spell days ago...and she had the scabs and partially healed wounds to prove it.
But today felt different. After the disappointment the previous evening, she had to make something work. If not...well, if not, perhaps she should just stop trying and let Chuki guide her to her expected life as the Inti shaman. What else could she possibly do? Even a week after he had found her, Sumaq still hadn’t figured out a way to free her.
Seasons of Magic Volume 1 Page 5