by Rin Chupeco
“I haven’t what?”
“Has no one been teaching you?” Polaire sank back against the cushions and frowned. “No use keeping you in the dark like this, girl, no puns intended. Most Dark asha make their debut first before they get to keep their familiars, but it would appear that you are not most Dark asha.” Polaire took a drink from her bowl and then marched out of the door, returning momentarily with a piece of twig. She threw herself back down on the pillows. “See this?” With deliberate quickness, she broke it in half. “This is your familiar as he is at the moment. He receives no strength other than the rapport you share with him, and he is denied sustenance through the usual means, like food and drink. But this.” She picked up her table fork and tried to bend it in the same way she had the twig. “See how it does not break? Now, tell me why this is so.”
“Because the fork is made of metal, and the twig is not.”
“Excellent. Our blood is made up of a certain kind of metal—I am hazy on the details; Althy will tell you more about it if you’re interested—that also works the same way with familiars. If you give him a bit of your blood, he will better simulate life. He will look like he breathes, blinks, has normal digestive tendencies without needing any of them to work. And when he hurts himself, he will heal almost instantaneously with blooding. One of the many advantages the dead have over us.”
I remembered Fox’s limp, an injury that had never went away. “Can I do that now?”
“I see why they have neglected to tell you.” Polaire waved a bread roll at my face. “He has all his limbs intact, so whatever aches and pains you think he has should wait until your own debut. There are repercussions to drawing runes you have no business drawing yet, as you should do well to remember every time you walk past the Falling Leaf.” The asha snapped her fingers, and the twig was immediately enveloped in Fire, reduced to ashes in the time it took me to jump back in shock. Polaire rubbed the soot off her fingers and then did the same to the fork. It sparked briefly, and its tips glowed a cherry red before fading again.
“Just as your familiar will break like a twig until he is blooded, so will you be reduced to embers if you draw in too much of the Dark. Wait until the time you are trained so you can glow like the iron in this fork.” Polaire leaned back and smiled. “Tea of the Embers. That’s a nice name, don’t you think? I’ll be sure to suggest that to the association should that time ever come. Ah—Farhi, isn’t it? And with Althy’s special haleem! You ought to try it, Tea. Althy stays up late the night before preparing, and the turkey melts like butter in your mouth… Incidentally, Farhi, would you be so kind as to bring in the Fox boy who waits outside?”
Farhi looked horrified by the command, but Polaire raised an eyebrow. The maid quickly left.
“Mistress Parmina forbids men from entering the Valerian,” I said.
“I’ve seen Rahim traipsing in and out of here at all times,” Polaire said. “For lack of a better word to describe him, ‘man’ works. Familiars follow different rules. Mistress Parmina won’t make changes until you petition her to. The old woman’s a shrewd player, though stingy as the seven hells. I’ve been told you’ve visited the Heartforger and were given a gift.”
I slipped the small stone over my head and handed it to her for scrutiny.
“I’m surprised he would give you something so precious at first meeting. You must have made quite an impression on the Heartforger and His Majesty.”
“His Majesty?”
“Didn’t you know? The Heartforger’s successor is Prince Kance’s older brother. Kance holds some sway over the old man, though that coot won’t admit it.”
I froze. I remembered the sense of tension in the room, Prince Kance’s and Kalen’s reactions. I now understood why Junior’s face had looked so familiar—behind his spectacles he had the king’s eyes and the same high cheekbones as the prince.
“Of course, when you’re in line to be the Heartforger, you’re expected to renounce all claims to your royal house. Must be hard on the brothers, but I know Kance has been doing his best to stay close. He’s always been the unflappable of the two—it’s Khalad who’s the hothead.”
Farhi hurried back into the room, followed shortly by my brother, puzzled and wary.
“Do you know who I am, Sir Fox?” Polaire asked.
He thought carefully before replying. “Yes. You’re Lady Polaire from House Hawkweed. I’ve seen you and Lady Altaecia of House Yarrow around here often.”
“You’re observant, which is a plus. And from the way you’re toying with that dagger you’ve got hidden up your sleeve, protective, which is even better. You’ve obviously done your research on us, so your brains haven’t deteriorated since dying, which is something to be thankful for. If I had a shekel for every corpse who’d literally allowed their heads to rot… Today is Tea’s khahar-de. Later tonight, I want you to join the procession heading for the Dawnbreak. I know you’ll do that anyway, but this time, I want you walking with us out in the open instead of stealthily as you often do.” She grinned at the faint start he made. “See? I can do my research too.”
“And what do you intend to accomplish with this?”
“Dark asha may not be looked on with disfavor in Ankyo when compared to other kingdoms, but they are nonetheless treated differently, even inside the Willows.” Polaire’s heartsglass blazed brightly, not with anger but with faint disgust. “Many view people like you and Mykkie as a necessary if unwanted means to an end, a way to take credit for keeping the lands secure from daeva while distancing themselves from the hatred the commons have for them. Dark asha never stay in the spotlight long enough to enjoy the adulation they deserve, and I mean to change that with your sister. I’ve seen Mykkie wither and age under the heavy burden of her responsibilities, Tea. I will not see you follow the same path. And I’m sure neither will your brother. Mistress Parmina might be against it now, but if I put it in a different, more financially rewarding light, I’m sure she can be persuaded to relax her rules. What do you say, Sir Fox? Do you want to officially be part of the Valerian?”
Fox considered it. A slow smile spread across his face. “It beats having to skulk about, with the old woman pretending I’m no better than shadows on the ground,” he said. “And I say this as one without a shadow.”
“There’s something I want you to know,” I began hesitantly, addressing Polaire.
“What is it?”
But already I felt ridiculous. I had thought to tell her of the strange figure I’d seen flitting around the Willows, the shadow at the Falling Leaf and at Chesh’s, but I couldn’t manage the words.
Oh, it’s nothing.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” I said.
• • •
Khahar-de is considered a private affair between a young novice and her sisters. Only the most important people in her life are invited, which is apparently more than even I had thought. I had shyly asked if Kana, Farhi, and Likh could come along. Farhi turned down my invitation, as I had expected. Kana and Likh both accepted eagerly.
Cha-khanas’ most distinguishing feature are their gardens, and the Dawnbreak’s most arresting character was its miniature, interconnected waterfalls that flowed down into the center of the enclosure. Master Anoush was already waiting in the Dawnbreak’s biggest guest room. My three soon-to-be sisters sat among the cushions in a half circle around a low table, which held a flagon of runeberry wine and four simple, ceramic bowls to drink. The others took up seats against the adjoining wall. I don’t know what Polaire had told Mistress Parmina to allow her to include Fox, but it worked, though the old woman still ignored him.
“Where is she?” Polaire complained. “Did our fourth sister back out so soon?”
“She will come.” Mistress Parmina made it sound like an ultimatum.
The door to the room slid back. Zoya stood there, not looking happy at all.
Neither was I. “What�
�s she doing here?” I whispered to Lady Mykaela in a near panic.
“She’s going to be your sister, Tea.”
“I don’t want her to!”
“What’s done is done, Tea,” Mistress Parmina said sharply. “I would expect more courtesy from a novice of the Valerian.”
I swallowed hard but kept my silence. Zoya sank into the empty spot beside the old woman. “If it makes you feel any better,” she hissed under her breath, low enough for me to hear, “I would rather scald myself with hot water than be here, had I a choice.”
It was an awkward session. A generous amount of runeberry wine was poured into each of our bowls, which we sipped from time to time. The whole purpose of this ritual was for my new sisters and I get to know each other and for me to listen to any advice they doled out. Polaire took up most of the conversation, chattering cheerfully away, with Lady Mykaela and Althy chiming in. Rahim was never the type to stay quiet for long, and soon he was regaling us with tales of his home in Tresea. Zoya refused to talk, more interested in her bowl than in any of us. When Lady Shadi rose to her feet though, Zoya’s head snapped forward in the pretty asha’s direction.
“I’ve stayed for as long as I’m able to,” the pretty asha said regretfully. “Sir Ballard and his family requested for me at the Green Bough.”
“That’s all right then.” Not even a khahar-de could interfere with Mistress Parmina’s desire for money. “You go ahead and tell Chester Ballard that I send him greetings.”
“Yes, Mother. I’ll see you all back home. Congratulations again, Tea.” Lady Shadi left amid a chorus of good-byes.
Zoya watched her leave, then reached for her bowl, drained her wine, and set it back down with a noisy thump. “Well then,” she said with a small snort, “let’s get this over with. What exactly is the kind of advice you seek from your betters, novice?”
“It would be best to teach them how not to get into trouble, Zoya.” Mistress Parmina may have chosen her to be my sister, but Polaire was just as much opposed to it as I was.
“Did she not benefit from our little accident at the Falling Leaf? And I’ve heard stories of you as a novice, Lady Polaire. You are the last person to tell me to stay out of trouble.” Zoya looked at me and smirked. “It looks like I am saddled with you, novice. What other mischief shall we get into, hmm?”
“Surely not the mischief you had planned when you summoned Tea to the Falling Leaf when her novitiate had yet to begin,” Althy murmured.
“Has the little girl been telling lies so early into her apprenticeship? I summoned no one to the Falling Leaf that night. If she chooses to sneak out and explore the Willows on her own time, it would not do to have her blaming others for her trouble. And imagine—in no time at all, you shall take Lady Mykaela’s place, putting daeva back into the ground, sapping away inches of your life with every summon!”
“Zoya,” Mistress Parmina said, and the girl shut up. For the rest of the evening, she sulked, nursing her wine, and stared at Lady Shadi’s empty seat.
I had always thought asha were sorted according to the elemental magic they wielded—there would be Fire asha and Water asha, who would specialize in Fire and Water magic, respectively. Books called Taki of the Silk a Fire asha because she had set fire to the beard of a man who had insulted her in King Marrus’s royal court at Highgaard, for example.
“But that wasn’t the case at all. Most asha are well-versed in different kinds of elemental magic, so to call one a Wind asha would be misleading, for they can use Earth and Water and Fire and Wood magic just as well.”
The girl was hard at work, emptying the contents of the cauldrons now that she had taken samples of each in her phials. The tauvri drew close, prodded at one of the discarded pots with a clawed paw, and shuddered.
“There were asha who could dance and sing but whose command of the runes were minimal enough that they would be useless in a real fight. Lady Shadi fell into this category. I don’t think anyone would have expected her to go out and do battle. They often earn the most money for their asha-ka, and they are the most likely to have patrons outside of the Willows who would further finance their careers in the arts. It’s not unusual for them to wind up being wives of powerful rulers and noblemen. This ensured that those in power would always look favorably on asha.
“There were asha who were known for their expertise in battle rather than onstage. Althy was this type. She could wield the runes with ease, and I have seen her win a match against three Deathseekers at once.
“What few people know of are the asha who are highly skilled in politics, in management. They often wind up managing their own asha-ka, and they have the most influence. Mistress Parmina is one and—though she would never admit it—so is Polaire. And then there are those who can sense magic, though not enough to command them. They often become ateliers and apothecaries and hairdressers instead, easily discernible by their purple hearts.
“Dark asha are the grunts of the system. We do the most important work—raising and banishing daeva—but we rarely receive acclaim for it. We are more likely to be known for our mistakes than our successes. Lady Mykaela had summoned and put down daeva for the greater part of a decade, and yet she will always be known as the bone witch who had bespelled a king, one who had her heart taken as punishment.”
She upended the last of the large pots. We watched it mix with the waves, the seawater diluting its colors until we could no longer distinguish it from the rest of the surf.
“And then there’s me,” she added.
19
Life after my khahar-de changed. Aside from my usual lessons, I was now also obliged to attend some of the parties the asha went to at least twice or thrice a week, which gave me even less time to myself. I didn’t see Fox as often, and I grew to rely on his steady presence in my mind, because it was better than nothing at all. I was encouraged by Lady Mykaela to call her and the others “sister,” although my dislike for Zoya prevented me from ever saying this to her face. I was also encouraged to call Mistress Parmina “Mother,” but I found that equally difficult and never did so unless she prompted me to.
Although I could not draw other kinds of runes, Lady Hami began to teach me the combat stances asha used—I had to recognize and understand the movements they made when they drew in their magic, even though I couldn’t use them.
“Tell me everything you know about runes,” she demanded as I stood shivering in the cold. We were outside Ankyo, in an open field used for Runic training, to minimize the injuries and damages that came with the territory. I was clad only in a short tunic and very thin pants my instructor called a sirwal, which did nothing to keep out the chill of the morning. Lady Hami was dressed no better than I was but ignored the morning cold.
“There are three thousand characters in the Runic language,” I narrated, my teeth chattering. “But only five hundred runes of the old language are known today. Of these, only two hundred runes are used for magic—no one yet knows how to make use of the other three hundred. There are ten words associated with meditation and healing, thirty for Fire magic, thirty-five for Water, thirty-seven for Wind, twenty-nine for Wood, thirty-one for Earth, twenty-five for Metal, and three for Dark magic. The more complicated the rune drawn, the more powerful a spell it can—”
“That’s enough. You’ve been paying attention to your lessons, but theory is useless without practical applications.” With one finger, Lady Hami sketched out the rune for Wither in the air, an aspect of Wood magic. It was roughly the size of her head, and it dissolved easily as soon as she directed her will downward.
The grass around us started to decay. It spread out like a disease, until we stood in a brown circle roughly a yard across.
“Now spot the difference.” Lady Hami flung her arms out above her as high as she could and then brought them back down. She drew the Wither rune in this manner, so that this time, the symbol was as large as she was,
shining a bright, sickly green light.
The circle of decay around us spread farther, five times the size of the original.
“The bigger you draw the rune, the more damage it can cause,” she said. “You would expect, then, that bigger runes are always better when in battle, yes? But that is not always the case.” She whipped out an arm, punching at the air for a few seconds, and three small holes popped up, one after the other, alongside the large decayed circle, so that from above, it resembled a dog’s paw.
“Or perhaps this.” She gestured, this time drawing the Rot rune, and the circle around us sank to a lower level than the rest of the ground. She sketched out Rot and Mud next, weaving both runes together, and a large patch of land beside me turned into sticky quicksand. She did it again, rushing her movements so that the runes were poorly drawn, like bad handwriting. Another area of the ground roughly the same size as the quicksand appeared, more solid than the first—a fact Lady Hami demonstrated by deliberately stepping onto it. Her boot sank an inch or so but went no deeper.
“There is no point in drawing so large a rune when someone could get off three smaller runes and incapacitate you before you can complete the spell. But there is no point in attacking with three smaller runes if they do little damage and allow your opponent to finish. There is also no point in writing your runes poorly, as slovenly written runes to make quicksand will not make it quicksand. Some runes do more damage but take longer to create. Every fight is unique. There is no blueprint for opponents, and you must learn to decide quickly in the course of a battle—or you will be dead.”
“But I c-can’t do any of these.”
“On the contrary, you know three Dark runes and then ten more.”
I stared at her. “But those runes are for healing and for meditation. I don’t know how—”