by Jenna Glass
For the first couple of nights after she’d had her vision, it truly had been a charade, and she’d spent the hours in her makeshift tent idle and bored to tears. Then she’d decided she might as well keep herself busy and started trying to improve the memory potion she’d been given.
Perhaps it was an act of arrogance to think she could improve a potion the spell crafters of the Academy had given up on—especially when she had no familiarity with the unique feminine elements of Women’s Well—but it at least passed the time.
That was all it was to her at first—passing the time. But the longer she worked on it, the more invested she became. Enough so that she decided to risk testing the experimental potions herself. Of course, before she tested any potion, she formulated an antidote as well. Most potions could be transformed into an antidote to their own effects by adding Grae, a neuter element that, thankfully, was produced by the Women’s Well. The number of motes of Grae required for an antidote varied for different potions, and it didn’t work with all of them. But Grae seemed to work with the original formula, and that gave Mairah reasonable confidence it would work with her variations, should they prove to have ill effects.
It took many nights of trial and error, but eventually Mairah had a potion that could restore old memories and not wear off. She used that potion to help her remember—word for word—a conversation she’d had with the midwife who’d come to help her mother through the birth of her little sister. Mairah had been only six years old at the time—too young to fully comprehend that she was not supposed to talk to the kindly, red-robed abigail—and the woman had not rebuffed her childish questions about magic.
She had long remembered the conversation as something magical and fascinating, despite having forgotten the details, and some part of her had hoped remembering it word for word would offer some useful insight into her current practice. In that, she was disappointed, for the abigail had fed her only the most basic facts—ones that a six-year-old was capable of absorbing. But still, when she found that she still retained that memory when she woke up the next morning, it was all she could do not to dance for joy.
Success was, apparently, a heady drug. As was the freedom to work on the magic she wanted to do. At the Abbey, her magical practice had been limited to producing potions that others had invented, doing so over and over and over so that it was nothing but rote, boring drudgery. Then she’d invented the seer’s poison, but she had only done that because of the threat of losing her position, not because she actually wanted to. And of course there were the many hours she spent at the Academy, willfully sabotaging her own work.
Was it any wonder she had derived no satisfaction from those endeavors?
After her trip to the Well with Kailee, Mairah decided her next nocturnal project should be for Kailee’s benefit—as an act of reparation for deceiving her about the memory potion. No matter how much Mairah wanted to believe that Kailee could find a way to keep her from returning to the Abbey, Mairah was too much of a realist to allow the fantasy to hold sway. Which meant that when she was gone, Kailee would once again be friendless. The girl might be better accepted here in Women’s Well than she had been in the land of her birth, but those blind eyes of hers would always set her apart. Mairah assumed the spell crafters of the Academy had been assigned the task of curing Kailee’s blindness, but she saw no reason that she herself shouldn’t tackle the problem. What better gift could she give the young woman who had come to mean so much more to her than anyone else she knew?
Kailee had made an offhand comment once that she didn’t want to be cured, and that gave Mairah momentary pause. But it was incomprehensible to her that someone who was blind might not want to see. Perhaps Kailee was merely afraid that if her blindness was cured, she would lose her Mindsight, which was all she had known. An easy enough fear to dispel, for it took a concerted effort to make the effects of any potion permanent, which meant Kailee would always have the option of skipping a dose to use her Mindseye.
Because she’d been making antidotes at the same rate she’d been making potions, Mairah was struck by the idea that the potion she needed would be something like an antidote to a potion that already existed. There were very few people who were born Rho-blind—unable to see any elements at all even when their Mindseye looked to be open—but the disability was considered so devastating (at least to men, who were universally allowed to use magic) that a potion had been developed to treat the condition. The potion was frustratingly short-acting, and it only granted the user the ability to see Rho, but it was better than nothing. With the potion, at least the Rho-blind could turn on their own luminant or activate a cheval when necessary.
Working with the Rho-blindness treatment—which she had to use her own memory enhancement potion to remember how to create—and Grae, she hoped to create a potion that would force Kailee’s Mindseye closed so that her worldly vision would function.
Testing this particular potion was riskier than testing the memory enhancement potion—the last thing she wanted to do was strike herself Rho-blind—but for Kailee, she would take the risk. After all, the base potion had the advantage of being short-acting, so as long as she was careful with her modifications, any effects should wear off in a few minutes.
Mairah had no way of knowing whether any potion she concocted would work for Kailee’s specific condition, but she figured if drinking the potion would close her own Mindseye when it was open, it was worth trying. She lost track of how many different variations she tried—in ideal circumstances, she would take meticulous notes, but such was not an option when those notes could too easily be spied—and she was close to admitting defeat when, in the wee hours of the night, she surprised herself by succeeding.
With her Mindseye open, Mairah drank her latest potion, fully expecting it to be as disappointing as the previous ones. But within seconds of swallowing the potion, her Mindseye closed of its own accord. It was all she could do to keep from whooping in joy and triumph. She made every effort to reopen her Mindseye—unable to keep a lick of panic from running through her veins when she could not—but as expected, the potion wore off only a few minutes later. With a sigh of relief, Mairah opened her Mindseye again and took a careful mental note of exactly which elements in what proportions she had put into this particular variation.
She still did not know if the potion would have the same effect on Kailee, and even if it did, it would be of minimal use if she could not make it last longer. But it was a hopeful starting point, and if it worked as she hoped, she would spend the remainder of her time here in Women’s Well—as little of it as there might be—trying to make a longer-lasting version.
For a brief moment, Mairah wondered what she could accomplish if only she could remain here and join the Academy, throw herself into her work. Creating new magic was…well, the best word she could think of to describe it was magical. It was the only work she had ever found herself actively enjoying, and to spend the rest of her days doing it…
But it was still an impossible dream. One far too dangerous to allow herself to dwell on.
* * *
—
Mairah had assumed her walk down to the Well with Kailee was a one-time treat, but somehow Kailee had managed to make it part of their everyday schedule, a mid-morning break that was by far Mairah’s favorite part of the day. Kailee did not bring up again the possibility that Mairah might stay in Women’s Well—though Mairah doubted the young woman had given up—and their conversations tended to meander in such strange directions that Mairah never knew where they would end up. She told Kailee more than she ever would have expected about her life at the Abbey, her tongue probably wagging too freely. She didn’t come right out and say that her ability to stay abbess depended on her convincing the king she had a chance to reverse the Curse, but no doubt Kailee could easily read between the lines. The only thing Mairah truly held back was her responsibility for the death of Mother Wyebryn.
Kailee minimized or forgave every other sin Mairah admitted to, but even her forgiving heart would not condone murder.
For her part, Kailee told Mairah about growing up in Rhozinolm. About the long-ago death of her mother, about what it was like to feel her father’s love for her coupled with his shame at her disability. And she told of the joy that had lit her heart when she’d realized she could have a husband after all, as well as the raw ache of marrying a man who was in love with another.
“I don’t mind, really,” Kailee claimed with a careless shrug. “He never lied to me about it, and he’s given me a life that seemed completely out of my reach before.” She smiled at Mairah. “I don’t think he will ever be as good a friend as you, but he is a friend nonetheless. And although I’ve assured him I don’t mind his relationship with Lady Chanlix, he’s being so discreet about it that even I don’t know if and when he is with her.”
Mairah snorted, wondering if Tynthanal’s ambivalence toward his pretty new bride had anything to do with those sightless eyes of hers. In Mairah’s experience, even men who were genuinely in love with a woman were easily tempted by a pretty face, and Kailee should have been tempting enough to lure anyone. Surely Kailee wanted more from a husband than just friendship. And she deserved more.
It seemed the perfect occasion to present her with the potion Mairah had been working on. “I’ve made something for you,” Mairah said quietly, reaching into a pocket in her skirts and pulling out a vial. “I cannot guarantee it will work for you, but I can guarantee it won’t harm you, because I’ve tested it myself.”
Kailee was frowning at the vial, no doubt trying to identify all the elements in the potion. Mairah had been helping her identify those elements they could both see, although Kailee had picked up a surprising amount of knowledge on her own. Kailee tilted her head up in such a way that she’d be making direct eye contact if she could see.
“You have something in there that is…unexpected,” she said.
Mairah should have known Kailee could see all the elements in her potion—the girl did not have Mairah’s ability, but she was nonetheless quite skilled. Which meant that she could see the element Nex, which occurred nowhere else in the world but here and which Mairah should not have been able to identify or utilize. The element was so frequently used in Women’s Well that Mairah had spied it in potions and spells that no one had thought to hide from her. It had taken only a few experiments to figure out that Nex seemed to intensify the effects of certain potions and spells, and it had turned out to be the key Mairah needed to make her potion work.
“I know everyone’s been very careful to keep me from learning too much,” Mairah said, “and I understand why. But sometimes I pick up on things I’m not meant to. A trait that I suspect we share.”
Kailee’s frown deepened for just a moment before her more habitual smile returned. “That I cannot deny.”
“And can you identify the other elements in the potion?”
“Enough to have some idea what you mean it to do,” Kailee replied, the frown returning. “I thought you understood that I don’t want to be ‘cured.’ ” There was a hint of hurt in her voice.
“I do,” Mairah assured her, though of course she couldn’t comprehend the why of it. She figured it was enough to understand that Kailee did not want to be cured. “But if this potion works, it would not be a cure. A cure would have to be permanent, and this is not. What it is at the moment is a potential treatment. Something that would temporarily give you the ability to see.”
Kailee was still frowning and did not take the vial. “I’m not broken,” Kailee said, looking vulnerable for the first time since Mairah had met her.
“Of course you’re not!” Mairah replied.
“Then why are you trying to fix me? I’m so tired of everyone trying to fix me!”
Kailee closed her eyes, and Mairah felt a flutter of panic. She had created this potion meaning for it to be an act of kindness, but apparently her years of scratching and clawing for survival had left her out of practice.
“I’m not trying to fix you,” Mairah insisted. “I just want to give you…a choice. Something with which neither you nor I have had much experience in our lives. You have never had a choice as to whether to close your Mindseye or not, and if this potion works…well, then you will. Even if you decide never to use it, the choice would still be there. And if you do use it, and you decide you would prefer eyesight to Mindsight, it’s always possible a permanent formulation could be made.” She scrubbed at her face, frustrated at her inability to give voice to her own thoughts and feelings.
“No one else need ever know I made this for you,” she concluded. “And you need never try it if you don’t want to. I made it because I wanted to thank you for the kindness and friendship you’ve shown me during my stay here.”
Kailee let out a shuddering sigh, then took a moment to compose herself before responding. When she turned her face toward Mairah again, her usual smile was back in place, if with perhaps a little less brightness. “Forgive me,” she said. “I did not mean to be ungrateful.” She took the vial of potion from Mairah’s hand. “I hope you will not think ill of me if I take a little time to consider before I decide.”
“Of course not,” Mairah assured her. “I also wouldn’t think ill of you if you decided to show the potion to Lady Chanlix and ask her advice and opinion. Having more experience with the special elements available here, she may be able to improve on my formulation.” And assure Kailee that the potion was safe to drink. Mairah had seen no sign that her friend suspected any foul play, but if their roles were reversed, she would have sought a second opinion before trying an untested potion created by the abbess of a rival nation.
Kailee slipped the vial into a pocket, but when she withdrew her hand from the pocket her fingers were still closed. “I have something for you, too,” she said. “Something it’s best our observers don’t see me giving to you. Can you reach over and take my hand and make it look like a natural gesture?”
“Something for me?” Mairah repeated stupidly, for she could hardly believe she had heard right.
The corner of Kailee’s mouth twitched. “It’s called a gift. I know you are familiar with the concept, seeing as you’ve just given me one.”
At a loss for what to say—and more curious than she could put into words—Mairah slid her hand into Kailee’s and felt the small, smooth stone that rested in her palm. The stone was small enough that Mairah could easily conceal it in her own palm when she let go, at which point she dropped it into the pocket that had contained the vial.
“What is it?” she asked, for she didn’t know how she could bear to wait until she found true privacy to examine it.
“It’s a Trapper spell,” Kailee responded.
Mairah could only gape at her young friend. She had heard of Women’s Well’s famous Trapper spell.
“It’s only a small one,” Kailee clarified, “but it is big enough to hide a person. You can still give yourself away by making noise or bumping into things, but you can become invisible to both physical sight and Mindsight when it’s active.” She turned to face Mairah. “I know it’s not enough. You cannot live your whole life within the influence of a Trapper spell. But it would help you escape your guards, and it might help you stay hidden long enough to create a spell to change your appearance so that you need not live your life in hiding.
“If you wish, I can speak to Princess Alysoon on your behalf. From what everyone has told me, she has a remarkable ability as a spell crafter, as does my husband. The two of them working together would be a formidable force. If anyone can find a way to permanently alter your appearance, it is the two of them. I feel confident that if I can present Princess Alysoon with a fully formed plan, I can talk her into offering you a place here in Women’s Well.”
Mairah’s treacherous heart leapt with hope, a hope she struggled to rein in.
“If I were to disappear, King Khalvin might suspect Women’s Well of having helped me. I imagine that might create significant difficulties.” Surely the sovereign princess would not risk the well-being of her principality for someone like Mairah. Mairah had exchanged no more than a handful of words with the princess when the delegation had been formally introduced and had scarcely set eyes on her since then, but her first impressions were hardly those of warmth and trust.
“It would be dangerous,” Kailee agreed. “For all involved. But Alys means for Women’s Well to be a refuge for women like you and me. Women no one else would value or want.”
Mairah was a long way from convinced, no matter how much she wanted to believe it was true. “Let me think about it,” she said, for though her natural skepticism told her it was wisest not to get her hopes up, she could not resist trying to come up with a plan that felt…well, if not safe, at least not suicidal.
“Think fast. Your time here is almost up.”
Mairah winced, for it was nothing but the truth. In four days’ time, Lord Solvineld would pack up their entire delegation and hurry them back home. She surreptitiously touched the stone Kailee had given her through the fabric of her skirt. The Trapper spell might make possible what had once seemed impossible, but there were a great many more hurdles to climb over before she dared allow the stubborn seed of hope that had taken root in her heart to bloom.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“Close the door,” Delnamal said abruptly when his secretary answered the summons, not even giving Melcor the chance for a polite greeting and bow. Melcor’s face showed only a trace of surprise and curiosity before he quickly obeyed.