“That sounds like an idea worthy of discussion. Please call for him,” the Imperial Dragon replied.
Mimio hurried out, her long skirt swishing against a table edge and the door frame. The others listened in silence to the heels of her boots clacking against the uncarpeted stone floor in the corridor.
Her head still a bit foggy, Lyra couldn’t decipher what ill feelings prevented Cullen and the two Guardians from talking. She had never seen him or anyone speak out against the Imperial Dragon before. The tension in the air made her nervous, and she listened for Mimio’s footsteps to return.
The Imperial Dragon paced along the wall of windows, while Cullen remained beside her, eyes fixed on the floor.
The Tortoise gave a grunt and moved away to work in his library stacks.
After several more long minutes, Mimio arrived with Faber. They talked in eager tones as they entered the room.
The gemmator placed his tool bag on a table and stepped into the center of the room, near the couple. “Sorceress Mimio has briefly related the urgent concern. She is correct. Some gemstones and various pure materials, even ordinary objects which possess pure energy, can be charged with powers of a specific star. Which star’s energy is required and in what measure?”
Cullen rose and looked him in the eyes. “We need to store a small portion of power from a fire star. Energy from Regulus—”
“Or better yet, Hamal, my birthmate star of Aries,” Lyra interrupted.
“Hamal rides low on the horizon in spring, often not visible for the tree line. But I can try.” Faber rubbed a hand over the dark, unshaven whiskers of his chin. “May I ask what purpose we are serving?”
“I need to be able to better balance my scribal powers. When I fought a cimafa with my magic, I used so much I was forced to recharge using Regulus. Those drastic changes caused a seizure, and now even small energy shifts seem to trigger attacks.” Although she felt fine, Lyra stood cautiously, uncertain what might bring on another seizure.
“In that case, perhaps we should also add energy from Castor and Pollux of Gemini, air stars of the spring sky.”
“Yes. To extend my powers. I remember that from my mystic astronomy lesson taught by a Qumeli tribe woman, a sibyl star watcher.”
“Good idea, Faber,” Cullen replied, and his shoulders relaxed.
“How much energy from the fire star should be used?” The Imperial Dragon faced the gemmator.
“Since Scribe Lyra is sensitive to shifts in her scribal powers, I think maximizing the effects of Venus will give a more stabilizing factor. In making the working apex gem for a wizard’s staff, I commonly imbue it to one-quarter strength with an extending star’s power. Then, the owner completes the empowerment using his or her elemental star. In this special case for our Scribe, maybe a ratio of one third to two thirds. Any thoughts?”
The Imperial Dragon lowered onto his haunches and coiled his neck low. “Sire Drake, what do you think?”
“Will this empowered stone serve power to Lyra continuously or only when called upon?” Cullen asked.
“Good question. Staffs are made to be used on demand, but maintain a base of power to insure a quick uptake surge. However, I can make the tool we need to work either way.”
“I feel it would be far safer to have a low grade constant flow. I would advise a one-quarter fire star component and no more. You can always increase the amount if more is needed, correct?” Cullen fingered the blue topaz at the top of his wizard’s staff.
Faber chuckled. “Sire Drake, you’ve worked with me enough to know. It is always easier for me to add more and very difficult to de-power a tool.”
“If it could be self-regulating, adjusting to Lyra’s need moment by moment, that would be best.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t have the ability to make an empowerment which reacts to its owner without a prompt. I’m only a gemmator and don’t possess the afflation of a lapidist who could complete your request.”
“This tool will then be worn on Lyra’s person at all times. Perhaps best in a convenient form like a pendant,” Mimio added.
“What stone will we use?” Lyra asked.
The gemmator stared up at the ceiling with a distant look in his eyes. Finally, he spoke. “Since it must be worn, I’ll have to pack a large amount of power into a small space. Therefore, an object with some significance, some connection to the specific type of powers will hold more. Perhaps a gemstone worn by a previous Scribe, or any object connected to your ancestors, Lyra. Can you think of any such item?”
“I might find something like that back at Aunt Jean’s cottage…but, it seems dangerous for me to go there with all the cimafa attacks.”
Cullen strode to the jewel box belonging to Nillea. “What about these trinkets?” He glanced back at Lyra. “You said they had some unusual varieties of magic. They might be worth a closer look.” He opened the lid and examined each item.
“How did this collection come to be here?” asked the Imperial Dragon.
“A non-magical woman convinced a young blue to bring her and her little girl here from the Meadow of Peace village for protection.” Lyra joined Cullen and accepted the glowing, green-stoned ring when he passed it to her. “The child is crippled and was nearly the victim of a cimafa before the security was set in place. The woman, Nillea, appealed to me and the Guardians to allow them to stay in the lair. She’s working hard in the kitchen in trade. These items are the family’s valuables, given in exchange for the daughter’s keep, if we chose to accept.”
The Tortoise and Mimio leaned across from the other side of the table, studying the items being passed around.
The Head Guardian’s head hovered close above the group. “Amazing items. Many are extremely old and from other worlds. I’ll request the sentry at the main corridor to bring the woman for her to explain their origins. You said her name is Nillea?”
Chapter Seven: The Brass Compass
Lyra winced at Nillea’s desperate tone, pleading with the guard who escorted her to the Imperial library.
“Please, I beg for your kindness. Let me and my kinchin stay back to the kitchen. They’ll send us away. My little Kessa, she can’t run like other children. Please.” She spoke fast, her words tumbling together.
When the heavy wooden door cracked open, she edged into the room, keeping her daughter tight to her side with an arm around the girl’s shoulder. After a quick scan of each face in the room, Nillea said, “Whatever you intend with me, I’ll bear. But, please take mercy on my Kessa.” She dropped her gaze to the floor. The pair stood quietly, although the young girl peeked from around her mother’s full skirt, one of her pig-tailed braids falling forward.
Lyra took Nillea’s shaking hand into both of hers. “Your breakfast this morning was delicious. We’ve called you here to tell us about the items in your jewel box.” Lyra nodded toward the case.
“Oh! I, I…” the woman stammered and patted the kerchief covering her head, adjusting it while she reoriented herself. “Yes. I can do that. Of course. Gladly.” The corners of her mouth turned up into the beginning of a cautious smile. Moving to where the box sat on a table, she guided her daughter with a hand against her upper back. “Kessa, come along. You can help Maema.”
The girl’s gray eyes brightened with flecks of green. She hobbled stiff-legged beside her mother, her arms outstretched toward the box.
“Kessa loves to take these special items out and touch them—always under watchful eye mind you, but she’s a careful child for her ten years.” Nillea bent to her daughter’s ear. “You tell them what you know about these coins.” She dropped the small velvet pouch from the box into Kessa’s open hands.
The girl rested her tummy against the edge of the low table and took the weight off of her braced legs. “Gramaema told me these are called testoons, made by a man named Henry from some far place.” She tucked a runaway strand of her dark blonde hair behind one ear and held up one of the metal pieces.
Standing beside the gir
l, Lyra picked up one and studied it more carefully. “Henry? Henry the Eighth-era England! These are around five hundred years old.”
Kessa rotated a coin between her digits. “I like to feel their magic wrapping around my fingers and hope it might go down to my legs.” She picked up one of the hair combs and displayed it in front of the jewel case. “Gramaema wore these in her hair when she dressed up.” She lifted its mate in front of her face and looked up at her mother. “May I show them how—”
“No. Not now, Kessa.” Nillea pressed the child’s arm gently to the table. “They aren’t wanting to see that.”
“You wear it then.” Persistent in her attempt to demonstrate the hair decoration, her thin arm shot up and passed the comb to her mother, who obliged and tucked it along one edge of her scarf.
Kessa examined her mother’s face. “It works better for me. Can’t I show them? Please, Maema?”
“I said not now.” Nillea quickly selected the green ring and placed it in her daughter’s empty hand. “Tell them about this ring instead.”
Lyra looked from mother to daughter, wondering what Nillea was trying to avoid. Strangely, the ring didn’t glow like it had when she examined it earlier. With its faceted surface and deep green color, she guessed it might be an emerald. The gold setting twisted and curved into leafy vines. Abruptly, a narrow beam of green light shot from the gem toward Lyra.
Waves of murmurs flowed around the room.
“It talks to you.” Kessa’s face lit. She motioned for Lyra to bend low and handed the ring to her. Cupping her small hands around the Scribe’s ear, the girl whispered, “It used to talk to my Gramaema all the time. And me too, sometimes.”
The thread of light absorbed into the set, casting the glow in a circle against Lyra’s skin. She stared at Kessa for a while, then glanced at the two Guardians. It surprised her to see them focused on the ring rather than the child.
“That might be just what we need for an amulet!” Mimio exclaimed.
Faber leaned closer. “Interesting. That gem responds to your aura. May I?” He accepted it from Lyra.
“What sort of magic does it possess?” the Imperial Dragon asked.
“This contains Alliance power but very different than is used today. I need to examine it more carefully.” He collected his work satchel on his way toward the window. With a jeweler’s magnifying loop in place over one eye, he selected a tool that looked like a tuning fork. Instead of striking the fork, he touched it to the gem. He studied it for several long moments.
Cullen brushed against her other side and conveyed a thought, From what Kessa said, her grandmother had to be a magical.
I think Kessa is too. But why would Nillea want to hide that? If trained, Kessa’s magic could help build her confidence, which seems to be lacking with her disability.
I don’t know. I’m very curious why the child gives no aura.
You’re right. She doesn’t. Strange. The Guardians don’t seem aware. They must not have heard what she told me. Lyra faced Nillea. “Was her Gramaema a magical?”
The woman fidgeted, rolling the long tail of her scarf between her fingers. The fabric snagged on her chapped skin. “Yes. She was. My maema. But not me. This collection was hers. She’s gone from us now.” She touched her daughter’s shoulder. “Kessa, let’s show another item.”
Lyra’s brows rose, and she glanced at Nillea, wondering why her answer seemed unusually brief.
“I’ll show them the buttons. Those always work,” the child replied.
Nillea reached into the jewel case and selected the brass compass instead. “Maybe later. This one is good, the way it spins so crazy like. Show them this.”
Lyra studied the woman’s face but learned nothing. She tilted her head, preparing to question Nillea about what she was hiding, but decided observation would reveal more than confrontation.
Kessa laid her hand flat on the table, the compass nearly covering her entire palm. Tarnished to a drab brown, the instrument didn’t look remarkable. The needle shook and flipped back and forth randomly.
“Amazing! This is exceptional,” Faber exclaimed from his position at the window. “The pattern of electrical vibrations this emits and the alignment of the inclusions, which hold specific power, exactly match gems in the Imperial study—dating back five and six hundred years ago. This is rare indeed.” He joined the others surrounding Kessa and her box.
“So, will that ring serve as the item you empower for Lyra’s amulet?” the Tortoise asked.
“No. Definitely not. This is too rare, I wouldn’t dare affect the alignment or storage of such an ancient power. Not unless no other object is available would I even consider the idea.”
“Nillea, you said these treasures belonged to your mother. How did she acquire them?” the leader asked.
“She claimed they were given to her by her gramaema, along with a small bit of her magic. Oddly, her own children and theirs didn’t get any. But my maema was never so powerful as her.”
The Imperial Dragon tilted his head to one side. “What power did her grandmother possess?”
“She was a seer.”
The Tortoise craned his neck farther to gain a better view of Nillea.
The dragon’s eyes widened. “Seers are exceptionally gifted higher magicals who often serve as advisors to the leaders, foretelling the future with their intuitive powers. The Alliance has not had a seer for hundreds of years. Did your mother have this talent in any way?”
“Oh yes. She knew wonderful small things before they’d come to be.” Nillea smiled. “She dressed me in the morning sunshine, for rainstorms that came on my way from lessons to do afternoon chores with Paepa. Another time, two cows bolted when he didn’t listen. He never doubted her again when she got him up during the night to tie the shed door tighter.”
“How did her grandmother come by these items?” the Tortoise asked.
Nillea fingered the hem of her scarf again. “I don’t know if this is really truth…I was always told a tale that they were given to her by Scribe Sorcha.”
“I like to touch these and pretend I’m Great Gramaema Heilia.” Kessa closed eyes and wrapped her fingers around the compass.
“Were these items from Sorcha’s possessions, or did she pass them directly to Heilia?” Faber asked.
Nillea placed a hand onto her daughter’s shoulder. “No one ever talked of that.”
Lyra decided to test her hunch about the girl being a magical. She reached out, cradling Kessa’s small hand, which held the compass, into her own palm. “Point to what will make a good amulet for me.” She actively prevented any of her scribal aura from powering the direction.
Cullen raised an eyebrow at Lyra.
The child let out a soft cooing noise, and her mouth contorted, but her eyes remained shut. She spread her fingers open against the Scribe’s.
The needle of the compass stopped jostling and pointed in a determined direction—directly toward Cullen.
Chapter Eight: The Amulet
Lyra spun around and faced Cullen. “What do you have that will make a good amulet?”
He looked down the front of his body, then examined his hands. “I’m not even wearing my usual jewelry. No earrings or pendant, since I’m about to depart with the next squadron for battle. Only my bloodswear ring and staff, which both aid my powerthrowing.” He took off the wide leather belt that gathered his tunic around his waist. He opened hidden compartments to reveal a dagger and short wand. He held those at arm’s length to the side. “Did the compass hand follow?”
She checked the angle of the pointer. “No. It’s something else.”
With his free hand, he patted the outsides of his pant pockets. “I almost forgot.” He pulled out a silver pocket watch. “The gift you gave me, a symbol of our engagement.” He held it to the opposite side.
“The compass moved!” Kessa squealed with delight. Lyra’s theory about the girl was right—she did have magic to guide the compass. She seemed pleased to be
able to use her magic to help.
Lyra studied the girl, then scanned the room, surprised to find all eyes on Cullen’s watch, not Kessa. They must have thought Lyra’s aura enabled the pointer to find the item, but she knew no scribal power backed the words of her direction. They only informed the girl about what she needed to find.
The Imperial Dragon leaned close, examining the watch. “How do we know with certainty that this is the object to charge as Lyra’s amulet?”
“Well, it did belong to Scribe Brigid,” Lyra replied. “The inscription inside is a message from her to her new husband, a family item, probably given as a wedding present.”
“That,” Faber said, “along with the intention you placed upon it as a symbol for Sire Drake, most certainly imbues it with the necessary feature of purity.” He approached Cullen. “May I examine it?”
Cullen nodded and handed him the watch.
The gemmator drew away from the group and, again, applied his instruments, a whole series of those odd tuning fork devices.
Lyra looked into Cullen’s eyes. “I hope the watch won’t lose the love it holds when it’s empowered.”
“This will work!” Faber called out, not even taking time to lift the loop from his eye. “It has the parameters I need to empower it. Scribe Lyra, I can assure you that the purity of your intentions will remain sound.”
“Excellent!” The leader gave a snort of smoke. “If all are in agreement, then begin your work at once.”
During a chorus of affirmations, Lyra glanced at Cullen, wondering if he’d accept. “Do you need this watch to take with you into battle?”
“It was in my pocket to always have you near me. Now, it will keep my mind clearer knowing you are safe from harm—a welcome trade.” He smiled and nodded to the gemmator. “You may proceed.”
“Is there a window here with a view of the western sky?” Faber asked the Tortoise. “This bank of windows face north. I need views of the air constellation Gemini, its stars Castor and Pollux, as well as of Regulus of Leo. I can work in the observatory on the other side of the lair, but time is valuable.”
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