by Rin Chupeco
It didn’t feel right for her to be here, forced to take up house in a nameless cave on a sea of skulls bordering on the edge of the world. It didn’t feel right that she be forced to live on this lonely beach like a nomad. It didn’t feel right to see her so sad, and it angered me that so many misunderstood.
The taurvi approached to lick at her hand, and a fog cleared from my mind. The rush of affinity I felt for her diminished. My sympathy remained, but it was no longer racked by the growing, passionate force that seized me when she first rose from her vanity table.
“That’s been another problem with these spells,” she said. “A taurvi diminishes magic the way its bezoar does, and only the Dark runes are most effective on it. That is why most rely on Dark asha to put it back into the ground.”
I stared at her. She only shrugged.
“You knew; still you were affected by the charms I wear. Now imagine the subtlety it can wreak on an unsuspecting world.”
12
The Dawnseed apotheca had the most peculiar fragrance, smelling like everything and nothing at once. Scents of orange and thyme and sandalwood warred with durian and dried herring and coal, fighting for supremacy. Dried herbs were stacked on the shelves, and clumps of plants grew in pots overhead, foliage spilling down the walls. Its proprietress, a middle-aged woman named Salika who still managed to look youthful, scrutinized the list of items Rahim had written out, bustled off, and soon came hustling back with a basket full of oddly shaped glass vials and containers. They all held liquids of varying colors. Behind her, an assistant stirred a large cauldron bubbling over a clay oven. It was filled with something too thick to be water.
“Here, Lady Tea. Tell me what you think of this.” I bent my head to take a cautious sniff of one of the bottles Salika offered me, but I could barely get a whiff of the scent before the woman yanked it back, stoppering the lid. “No, this might be better for you.” I leaned forward again, but all too quickly, she had rescinded the offer, picking up yet another vial.
“I think this one would be more to your liking.” This time, she held it long enough for me to inhale a heady scent of strawberries and rosemary. This bottle she set down on an empty tray while she found another. For the next hour, I did nothing but take in smell after smell, and we went through almost a hundred bottles in this manner before the apothecary was satisfied. Of these potions, she set aside only twenty-three on the side tray.
“She is a mix of both Water and Metal and a faint touch of Fire,” she told Mistress Parmina. “Determined and highly intelligent. This is good. She will strive for perfection, and she has a strong sense of righteousness. She accepts change quicker than others might, but she will always be questioning herself and her abilities, no matter how far her training takes her. That is not necessarily a good thing.”
I didn’t know how she could say that much about me by shoving vials under my nose, but because I was “highly intelligent,” I knew enough to keep my mouth shut.
“She must look after her lungs and her stomach, for she is weaker to poisons taken through the air. I will prescribe her gingerroot tea, taken every morning for as long as she is able to. She will not require any further modifications when it comes to the lesser spells, but she will need some extensive changes for several of the stronger ones to take hold. It will take some time to make and may be expensive.”
I was expecting Mistress Parmina to grow angry over this new expense, but she looked pleased. “Which ones?”
“The strengthening spells, for one thing. Commonplace magic will have little effect on her. She will get the usual headaches, but she shall see through them easily enough.” She moved across the room, and the jars she selected this time were tinier in size, holding no more than a few ounces of liquid or several grams of powder in each. Finally, she stepped toward the boiling cauldron.
“Dusk mushrooms,” she pronounced, tapping a few of the contents of one vial into the bubbling liquid. “Quickroot,” she said next, sprinkling bits of a green substance into the water. “Eyetails,” she said next, and I cringed at the name. But my fears were unfounded; she added two pieces of pale petals into the mix and watched as they sank to the bottom.
“And finally.” Salika reached into an ornate-looking jar and slowly took out a small gray pebble. I thought for a moment that it was an ant of some sort, because I could have sworn it wriggled between her two fingers. But the woman added it into the cauldron, and it dissolved the instant it hit the hot surface.
“Yes,” she said. “It is part of the bezoar of the taurvi that Lady Mykaela very kindly offered for my collection. It is not a requirement for the potions, but it is an extremely potent addition that will greatly enhance her skills.”
“But why?” I wasn’t sure I wanted one of the daeva anywhere on my person.
“Bezoars help to enhance a Dark asha’s magic, Lady Tea. You’re quite lucky; none of the other apothecaries have had bezoars in such a long time. Kings claim the right to take the bezoars of daeva whose graves fall within their kingdoms.”
“King Telemaine is a good man,” Mistress Parmina said. “This is an honor, Lady Salika. No one has taken a bezoar in their potions since a nanghait was presented to my predecessor, Simika.”
“Because of Lady Mykaela’s generosity, I add this free of charge for you. But I cannot say the same for the other ingredients, which, though a little easier to come by, are nonetheless costly.”
“Well.” Mistress Parmina leaned forward, her green eyes sparkling. “Why don’t we talk about that?”
I sidled closer to Fox while the two women quibbled over price. My brother was inspecting the cauldron, which had turned a bubbling brown after Salika had added the last ingredient. “What’s a nanghait?” I whispered.
“It’s another daeva. I’m told that it’s got a tongue as long as a street.” He turned to look more closely at me. “Are you all right, Tea?”
“I am now.” I looked back at the two women. I could not stop my lower lip from trembling. “Fox, they say I’m to be an asha.”
“I would say that much was obvious, Tea. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“But I don’t understand. I caused a lot of grief and damage to the teahouse and to many parts of the city. That’s what Lady Mykaela told me, because I hadn’t been allowed outside the Valerian until today. Why would they do this?”
“Think about it, Tea. Given the power you’ve displayed, I would think turning you out with all this magic at your command is the last thing they would want to do.” Fox’s expression softened. “Just say the word, Tea. I’ll throw a few bottles through the displays to distract them, and we can make for the forest outside the city.”
“No.” Leaving was the last thing I wanted to do. I recalled the strength surging through me when I had summoned the rats, the panic I had caused. What would happen to me if I left Kion untrained? How many more people would I inadvertently harm? Leaving now would be the most irresponsible I could do, and it would justify the hatred people had for bone witches.
But talk of the taurvi and the nanghait had stirred up another memory. “I don’t think this is only about me. I think there’s something wrong with Lady Mykaela.”
“About her heartsglass?”
“Not just about that. I overheard a conversation between her and Mistress Parmina not too long ago.” I tried to swallow the lump I could feel lodged in my throat. “Fox, I think she might be dying.”
Behind us, the two women chortled their agreement and finalized their deal with a lengthy handshake.
• • •
The zivar shop was less chaotic than Rahim’s atelier workshop but was almost every bit as colorful. Long, traditional hairpins were mounted on different stands as we entered, decorated in every kind of motif imaginable. There were paper-crepe flowers, silk paper fashioned to represent seasonal scenes, lacquered combs, and fan-shaped metal streamers. I saw a few simpl
e designs, such as a long, silver stick unadorned save for a small, ceramic rose at the end of its chain and extremely elaborate works of art, such as a tortoiseshell comb depicting a long bouquet of paper goldfish and silk flowers woven along its length, so large and cumbersome that I wondered how anyone could walk around balancing such a heavy display on their heads.
The store proprietress was a sunny-faced young woman named Chesh who talked a mile a minute as we browsed and never once came up for air that I could tell. She knew the details of every pin and comb in her store and had admitted to crafting most. “People want what everyone has nowadays.” Chesh wore eight or nine of her own pins in her hair. Jewels and flowers dangled down on either side of her face, before her ears. She shook her head, and the bright jewels swung back and forth as a counterpoint. Fifteen boys and girls worked for her, but unlike Rahim’s workshop, hers was neater, with lesser suggestions of constant chaos. “Last year, everyone wanted rubies carved in the shape of twin hearts offset by white clovers. The year before that, it was yellow lilies in green jade, mounted in white streamers. Only a few weeks ago, we were inundated with people asking for pink jasmines and silk rabbits on emerald-studded leaves, just because they saw Princess Inessa wearing them at a dance.” She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t they understand that the point is to cater to your personality and not others you see wearing zivar?”
I couldn’t say that I understood the point of zivar yet either, so I just nodded, still somewhat awestruck. Fox, overwhelmed by all the beauty and femininity inside, had opted to wait outside the store.
“I’ll help you find what kinds of zivar appeal to your tastes,” Chesh promised. “And knowing Mistress Parmina, I would be more than happy to come up with one-of-a-kind designs for you, as I have always done for the Valerian. I will talk to Rahim and Mistress Salika with regard to the color patterns and spells Mistress Parmina has decided for you. In the meantime, please feel free to look around and tell me anything that you might find appealing.”
I had already decided that there was no way I could wear some of the larger designs, out of a small fear they would somehow dislodge themselves and tumble to the floor, taking most of my hair with them. Instead, I idled by the simpler hairpins and combs and found that I enjoyed looking through them. Quite a few caught my eye, but I hesitated, not sure how many I could choose. I would have been satisfied with two or three, but Mistress Parmina would have none of that.
“Why are you concerning yourselves with these cheap trinkets?” she demanded, uncaring that Chesh was within hearing range. “Do you think people will look up to the Valerian if their asha walk around with things in their hair that you would need a magnifying lens to see?” She was about to say more had Chesh not smoothly intervened.
“We have a new supply of gold combs like the ones you prefer, Mistress Parmina, and I want you to look through the collection before I put them up for display. I have made the silver silk doves you’ve been asking for, but there is the matter of selecting which comb to pair them with…”
“A new supply, you say?” Interest piqued, the old woman turned to her, and I took the opportunity to get out of the way, retreating to a display stand where I exhaled noisily.
“You shouldn’t bother yourself too much about her,” someone said. “We’re all used to Mistress Parmina, and we don’t see her all the time. You live in the same house, so why aren’t you?”
He was easily one of the loveliest boys I have ever met, a few years younger than I was. I knew it was a strange thing to say, but “lovely” suited him well. He was clad in the simple frock that all the other shop assistants wore, and he had long lashes and a gently rounded face. He also had eyes of the brightest blue, a magnificent complement to his tanned skin. He bowed low, and his heartsglass spilled out over his shirt. The boy looked younger than I was, but Lady Mykaela had said that those who worked in the Willows were allowed to receive their heartsglass earlier if they wanted. His was a rich-red color, but there was something strange to it, something I couldn’t quite place at the moment.
The boy slipped his heartsglass back inside his robe, then held a silver hairpin out to me. It was shaped like a wing, with blue sapphires embedded along intervals on its metal feathers. It reminded me of the sapphire pin I had to sacrifice to the oracle when I first arrived at Ankyo.
“It’s beautiful,” I gasped. “But how did you know…?”
The boy shrugged shyly. He had long hair tied neatly back in a small ponytail, and he tugged at its end. “I just thought it suited you.”
“I love it,” I told him, smiling. “My name’s Tea.”
“Mine’s Likh.”
“Well, Likh, thank you. You’re really good at this.”
Instead of beaming back, the boy looked a little sad. “That’s what Chesh says too. Do you want me to help you pick out some more pins? I know a few other things that you might like.”
“That would be good because I don’t even know what I like yet.”
He grinned. “This place seems intimidating, especially if you’re new to zivar. The whole of the Willows seems intimidating, really. The trick is to remember that we’re all here to make you look prettier, so it can’t be that bad a thing.”
We laughed, and he led me to a few more display stands.
I spent most of the day happily occupied and found enough items to sate even Mistress Parmina’s need to show me off. She settled the bill, Chesh promised to deliver them to the Valerian as soon as she finished them, and Likh waved at us as we left. “This is enough for one day,” Mistress Parmina announced.
I expected us to return to the Valerian. We didn’t, and I started to break out into a fresh sweat when I realized where she was taking us.
The Falling Leaf had seen better days. The garden had escaped mostly unscathed, save for a few disturbances in the soil. But the roof above the room Zoya and the other asha had entertained Prince Kance and his friends had collapsed, and the door leading in had been ripped out. Some attempt had been made to clean the area, but I could still see bits of broken wood and debris. The smell of sawdust clung to the air. Though it was the only room that looked to have been severely damaged by my mishap, there was a small sign by the entranceway announcing that, while the Falling Leaf would be closed until repairs were finished, visitors were still free to come and enjoy their gardens.
I was horrified—had I done all that? How had the rest of Ankyo looked?
I knew who the owner of the tearoom was: a short and stocky woman of middling age was supervising some of the cleaning and was deep in conversation with a few men whom I assumed were carpenters come to assess the damage. I understood immediately what Mistress Parmina wanted me to do. I hurried forward, my cheeks scarlet and my hands trembling, and stood before the woman, waiting for her to acknowledge me.
Once she did, I knelt forward and bowed until my forehead lay pressed against the earthen floor. I had once seen an apprentice do this to a mistress from a neighboring asha-ka for carelessly ruining one of her expensive hua. She had remained in that position for the better part of the afternoon, out in the street for all to see, until the mistress had determined she had been humiliated long enough.
“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” the Falling Leaf’s mistress exclaimed when she saw me. Oddly enough, it was she who was embarrassed. “It was an accident. It couldn’t be helped, I’m sure.”
“Nevertheless,” Mistress Parmina said, “my apprentice was somewhere she was not supposed to be, and your cha-khana suffered as a result. House Valerian pledges to pay for any damages made during her visit.”
“That is very kind of you, Lady Parmina,” the woman said, “but House Imperial has already offered the same thing.”
“I understand that Zoya had an important role in all of this and must share the blame. But,” the old woman added firmly, “as my apprentice was guilty of at least the physical consequences of this incident, I insi
st we assume the financial responsibility. And because you receive no profit while the Falling Leaf remains closed, please also accept a small daily stipend from us as well, until you are ready to reopen.”
The teahouse owner paused and finally nodded, if a little nervously. “I hope Mistress Hestia will understand…”
“Mistress Hestia shall,” Mistress Parmina assured her. “I will personally inform her of my decision.”
The other woman seemed to wilt in relief. “Thank you for your kind generosity, Mistress.”
“Get up, Tea.” Mistress Parmina told me, and I scrambled to my feet. “We will take our leave, Mistress Peg, and thank you for your clemency.”
“Wait.” If I was to beg forgiveness from the cha-khana mistress, I may as well ask forgiveness from everyone. “I would like to apologize to the girl who brought me to the Falling Leaf that night.”
“A girl?” The woman look astounded. “I sent no girls out that night.”
“But one came to the asha-ka and asked me to bring Lady Shadi’s hua and her instrument…”
“All my girls bring such matters to my attention before I send them out. I do not remember any of them doing so that night.”
“My charge must have been mistaken,” Mistress Parmina said smoothly. “Thank you again for your consideration, Mistress.”
Confused, I bowed low again before we departed, keeping my eyes glued to the floor until we had put the Falling Leaf some distance behind us. Before we entered the Valerian, Fox squeezed my hand reassuringly. “I will be nearby,” he promised, slipping away before Mistress Parmina could command him to leave.
The old asha had other things planned. “You will begin your lessons tomorrow. Lady Shadi and I will accompany you to your classes. In the meantime, I find it insulting how gracelessly you stood after Mistress Peg accepted your apology. That is not the way asha should stand, and fortunately, she was aware of your situation and did not take offense. But tonight, you will practice until I am satisfied with your performance. Kneel as you did in the tearoom.”